A Blooming Pleasure Pt. 02

Mercifully, there was nobody in the hall outside Jiorich Reindling's study. There was no one in the stairwell either, or on the second floor landing. In fact, the entire house was so quiet that only the muffled sounds of clattering from the kitchen below, and birdsong in the far-off summer evening, assured the half-elven Ambassador that all life hadn't been somehow wiped cataclysmically from his entire estate.

They made it all the way to Jiorich's private rooms without seeing anyone, which was odd but a relief. Feyhr Gielz, the big orcish gardener, had followed behind him the whole way, as docile as a kitten; his cheeks flushed purple, the top of his shirt open where Jiorich had touched him. None of Feyhr's coworkers-- Jiorich's own staff-- ought to see them like this, the thick haze of desire clinging to their every movement.

Someone had been in Jiorich's rooms unasked, and drawn a bath, which was also odd. The stone basin was full of warm, scented water.

"Sit," Jiorich directed the orc to the edge of the bath, and was rewarded with one of the panting, submissive glances that sent warm shivers down his spine. "Good boy."

It was amazing how beautifully Feyhr responded to orders: immediate, graceful, resolute. Jiorich went into the other room and removed his cloak and boots, and when he returned there was Feyhr, completely unmoved: head bowed, hands behind his back. Jiorich went to him then, and kissed him. He kneaded one of the orcs big...