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

[bleak_midwinter]

He turns around to look at them, clenches his jaw. "Whatever you see fit, Your Grace. My apologies. I'm here to serve, of course."

He doesn't say it sardonically. He just says it with the pain and exhaustion of a man ground down enough to want to rise up. He knows the words and has said them so often that they've lost their meaning.

[oohforeshadowing]

"You are. But you act like you're here in chains, on some intolerable sufferance."

They get up and walk not to him, but to the sideboard where Thomas left their new purchases earlier.

"Is it truly so unbearable to show basic respect?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"I've known you barely a month - even you must admit you've hardly done a thing that warrants my respect. My obedience, you have."

Sort of.

"What does it matter to you if you have my respect, if I take care of your affairs?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Because respect informs competence, as I'm sure you'd know if you read more than the occasional dirty pamphlet. You take care now, while I'm watching, but who knows what you do when my back is turned?"

They run their fingertips along the edge of the sideboard.

"Take off your boots."

[bleak_midwinter]

"What?"

He puts a glass down on the trolley, hard, clinking it against the china. He's very careful not to damage it, but he may as well have.

"I've never done anything behind your back. I've served the estate well for a decade. I'm competent."

[oohforeshadowing]

They act like they haven't heard him.

"Take off your boots."

[bleak_midwinter]

If he's going to refuse, he's going to prove them right. That he's not obedient, and not competent. He waits a beat, then takes them off. He puts them in a corner of the room, then stands there to look at them.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Thank you. Face the fireplace," away from them, while they look between their tools as if trying to choose a treat.

"As you said, you've been loyal for years. To the household. To my father. But I think it will take a little more to ensure your dedication to me."

[bleak_midwinter]

Not knowing what they're going to be choosing to hurt him with is - exquisite. He can't help the shuddered intake of breath as he turns around, back straight, hands stiff beside him.

"You should accept that it takes time. It took time for me to respect your father. It ought to take time."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Oh, well, yes, I could do that. Live with your muttering and sulking for - months? Years? Or I can accelerate matters."

They move as good as silent across the room, and the first thing Tommy will feel is a leather strap closing around his wrist and pulling snug. One side of the hobble. They reach for his other arm.

[bleak_midwinter]

He turns, but in the wrong direction for his own sake - it moves him right into their hands, purposefully, so they can snag the other arm.

"You're treating me like a - like a criminal!"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Oh, and you know so intimately how criminals are treated? I learn more about you every day."

They shackle the other wrist in leather and tighten the straps behind his back - it holds his arms together with just over a foot of slack between them, more comfortable than being cuffed.

"There. Now you'll be a little easier to handle."

[bleak_midwinter]

He clenches his jaw and turns around to look at them, hands shackled behind his back.

"The pamphlets are right about you people. You're so eager to abuse your power, you don't know how to do anything else."

[oohforeshadowing]

"We wouldn't have to, if people like you weren't begging for correction," they tell him, voice low and supply.

They open the collar of his shirt and tug the hems out of his waistband, then start pulling it upward. It's impossible to take off with his arms tied, but they can get it over his head and bundled behind his back.

[bleak_midwinter]

It's not too easy - the fabric doesn't give, and Tommy doesn't make it easy on them either. He's not going to go down without at least a semblance of a fight.

"Correction for - what - " He gets tangled, but they do get the shirt up over their head and trap him even more thoroughly. "We were fine before you came along. We don't need correcting now."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Who's we?" they wonder. "You're the only one here, Mr Shelby."

The one thing about shapeshifters which isn't obvious from their slender bodies, their slim limbs, is that they're very physically strong. Double is no exception. They've spent a lifetime learning to pull their punches, so to speak, in a world built largely for humans and magic users.

This is all to say that when they pick him up around the waist and throw him down over the arm of the couch, face down, it seems to take no effort at all.

[bleak_midwinter]

He puts that soundproofing to the test and cries out in genuine shock as he goes, hitting the arm of the couch with his stomach now that he can't brace himself somehow. He goes hard, so much harder than he'd thought they'd be capable of.

It's incredibly arousing, that unexpected strength. His hands clench in their bonds, but he isn't silly enough to try and get up now.

[oohforeshadowing]

Unseen, Double shivers at the sound, trembling in pleasure to the tip of their tail.

"Quiet for a moment at last? Thank goodness."

Time to unlace his breeches, which they thankfully can get all the way off now that his boots are out of the way.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Are you going to spank me?" He bites at them, breaking that blessed silence. "Like a naughty little boy?"

[oohforeshadowing]

Double laughs at him, a little sharper than usual, a little meaner.

"No. No, darling."

They lean in to speak against his ear.

"I'm going to break you. Like a horse."

[bleak_midwinter]

He can't help it - he's really in the role, but those words make him let out a soft sound of pleasure. They're perfect. He shudders and pushes back against them, like he'd fight them if he were even a bit as strong as they apparently are.

"I welcome you to try, shifter. I won't break for anyone."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Mmm. We'll see, shan't we?"

They palm his ass with both hands, kneading the firm muscle hard enough to hurt, digging in their nails. As much as it's an indulgence, as lovely as he is to touch, they've learned that starting with a cane or similar on cold skin can make these games much shorter than they need to be.

[bleak_midwinter]

He hangs his head as he pants through the warm-up, hips squirming a little. He wonders if they're getting hard off this, getting wet while watching him squirm around, manhandling him. The mere fact that he's naked and tied up, against their clothed form is a little hot.

[oohforeshadowing]

He'll find out soon enough. Double is a little slower to warm up than the average human, sexually speaking, but it's certainly happening. They can feel a lovely heat and heaviness between their thighs, a sweet tension. Their voice is lower.

"Oh. You can't help but move for this, can you? You're squirming like a whore, Mr Shelby."

[bleak_midwinter]

He gasps in shock at the words, a thrill going through his entire body when the sentiment hits him. He tries to get up, but can't even try to really get up if they want him to stay down. He can't fight physically, so he can at least try verbally:

"Fuck - you - "

It would get him dismissed at the very least, under normal circumstances, but he's heard of humans punished in worse ways by Fae.