Riven, who had been stretching his fingers, blinked in surprise. He glanced down at Soren’s hands working over his skin, then back up at the man’s face. He had a gentler smile on his face, it was not teasing.
"You won’t let a healer do it?" Riven asked, his voice holding a mix of curiosity and amusent.
Soren didn’t answer imdiately. His fingers glided over the marks with slow, deliberate movents, making sure to cover every irritated spot with the cool salve.
Riven felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest. Compared to the treatnt he had received in the past, this was already leagues better. He’d expected to be tossed aside the mont Soren got bored. But now, seeing him like this—seeing this odd contradiction of care and possessiveness—Riven couldn’t help but smile.
Soren caught that smile. His fingers froze.
His eyes darkened.
That cheeky grin. That foolish expression of amusent.
He hated it. He would rather see him cry, with tears in his eyes yelling his na over and over again.
Hated how it made his chest tighten. Hated how it made his mind wander to thoughts he couldn’t explain.
His voice dropped, laced with sothing darker.
"And let soone else touch you?"
The room seed to grow colder in an instant.
Riven’s smile faltered, and he swallowed.
That tone.
It was a warning.
His mind raced.
Would Soren still be this calm if he found out Riven had already been touched all over by soone else? That another had already laid claim to his body in the past?
Well, that would be a future him problem.
Soren’s grip on his wrist tightened just slightly, his fingers pressing into the still-sensitive skin.
Possessive?
No.
This wasn’t possession.
Possession implied sothing softer, sothing romantic.
What he felt was sothing else entirely.
Soren was no fool. He had no grand illusions of love or devotion. He knew that people lied. He knew that trust was a fragile, aningless thing.
But Riven was his now.
And he wouldn’t let anyone else lay a hand on him.
Ever.
Soren finished applying the ointnt, his fingers lingering for a mont longer before he released Riven’s wrist. He closed the jar with a soft click and set it aside, leaning back slightly.
His dark blond hair was slightly tousled, strands falling over his forehead as he studied Riven with sharp black eyes. The dim candlelight flickered across his bare skin, highlighting the defined lines of his muscles.
Riven knew he should be wary.
He knew that Soren wasn’t soone to take lightly.
But that didn’t stop his tail from wagging slightly behind him.
Soren’s gaze drifted downward, watching the slight movent of Riven’s tail. A smirk twitched at his lips again.
"So eager?" He murmured. This half-breed was really one of a kind, he knew no fear.
Riven shifted slightly on the bed, his ears twitching as he watched Soren with a curious gleam in his eyes. His usual cocky smirk softened just a bit, and in a quieter voice than usual, he asked,
"Will you indulge for once?"
Soren, who had just finished applying the salve to Riven’s wrists, narrowed his eyes. His fingers stilled against the jar’s lid, his expression unreadable.
"What?" he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.
Riven’s tail swayed slightly, and he tilted his head. "You tossed around so much," he muttered, stretching his arms as if to emphasiee his point. "Can’t you fulfil one request of mine?"
Soren raised an eyebrow. The half-wolf had a way of weaving amusent into his words, but this ti, there was sothing else beneath the playful exterior. Was he testing him? Was this another one of his tricks?
Still, curiosity won over. With a slow nod, he gestured for Riven to speak. "Fine. What is it?"
Riven imdiately perked up, his tail flicking behind him. He lifted a hand and pointed toward it.
"It’s all ruffled. Can you comb it for , please? I can’t reach it!"
Silence.
Soren blinked.
Then, without hesitation, he scoffed. A sharp, unimpressed sound. He stood up, turning his back to Riven, his posture stiff with irritation.
Riven watched as Soren moved to leave, not bothering to put his shirt back on. The candlelight flickered across his skin, casting shifting shadows over his muscles as he strode toward the door.
The half-wolf leaned back against the pillows, grinning lazily. At least the view was nice.
Soren didn’t acknowledge the comnt. He stepped out, leaving the room in silence.
Once outside, his amusent faded. He hadn’t intended to stay this long, but that wolf had a way of dragging things out. It was frustrating.
Instead of heading to his chambers, Soren made his way to his study.
By the ti Xavier entered, Soren was fully dressed, seated at his desk with a cold, unreadable expression.
Xavier, ever dutiful, bowed slightly before stepping closer. He had been summoned, though he was uncertain as to why.
"You called for , Master?" He inquired.
"Yes, I need a dog collar made," Soren said with a dark expression on his face.
Xavier froze for a second but quickly recovered, "Yes master, the size..."
Soren lifted his hand and rembered the ti when it perfectly fit Riven’s throat. When he grabbed Riven by his neck, he could hear the whimpers escape his mouth. He smiled at the thought.
He needed the collar to go all the way around his neck so he spoke slowly and deliberately, "A bit longer than this." He smirked.
Xavier gave a firm nod upon receiving his master’s order and turned on his heel to leave. His steps were as precise as ever, his posture rigid with discipline, but the mont he stepped outside the study, sothing weighed on him. A gnawing hesitation.
He hated it.
His entire life had been built on unwavering loyalty to Soren. He had never doubted, never faltered. His master’s word was law, and Xavier followed it without question. That was how it had always been.
So why, now, did he feel this conflict clawing at him?
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