DISSOLVING STITCHES

by Decadentjackal, 2025
Free PDF available to download HERE!
Originally published in NOCTURNALIS, a free original 18+ zine {sleep, dreams, nightmares & sex}
follow the above link if you would prefer to download the pdf of the whole collection!
(available in light & dark mode)

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The surgeon had long since come and gone, and the house lay quiet.

He’d cleaned up well, though a trace of iodine still lingered on Lilian’s skin, and the color had not yet returned to his pale cheeks. Osprey had opened the windows at Lilian’s request, letting the scent of fir trees and ocean brine drift in to wash away the medical stench. It was as fine a room as any for convalescing; Lilian’s bedchamber was well-furnished, its high windows framing a tranquil tree-lined view. Elegant wood carvings coiled around the headboard of Lilian’s bed, where Osprey had piled a fine array of pillows to prop his body up while he rested.

Lilian had always been frail, and the invasion of the surgeon’s knife had not done his delicate health any favors. But despite the warnings of doctors and Osprey alike, Lilian had opted for surgery anyway, having long since decided the procedure was worth its risks. In the end, Lilian always got what he wanted.

After the anxious months of preparation and fretting, Osprey was relieved to have the whole affair finally over with, even if tending to his lord’s recovery was far from easy. Lilian was as willful as any young nobleman, no matter how fragile his health.

Osprey leaned back in the chair beside his lord’s bed, his attention drifting as Lilian dozed beside him. It had been four years since he’d pledged his life to Lilian as his knight. As such, it was his duty to protect his lord with his life. Considering Lilian’s fragile constitution, Osprey found his duties usually resigned to more menial tasks than defending him from danger or dueling on his behalf. Instead, he’d inadvertently become a sort of personal nursemaid to his lord, administering his various medications and fussing over his health. It certainly wasn’t what he’d spent years of his life training for, but Osprey didn’t particularly mind.

Osprey sighed, his eyes trailing longingly over the boy who had grown so familiar to him. And how lovely Lilian was, even in his suffering– especially in his suffering– pale and faint and bruised, sprawled before him like a doll with slackened limbs. Despite his lord’s abhorrence of the flesh the surgeon’s knife had cut away, Osprey was so used to seeing the slight rise of his breasts beneath the bedsheets that it was strange to see them gone so suddenly, the line of Lilian’s body whittled down to a smooth, flat plane.

Of course, this was how it ought to be; how it always should have been, as his lord had so often said. And seeing him like this, Osprey knew he’d been right. Now that the deed was finally done, Lilian would look the part of a young nobleman in every way that mattered…

Osprey fidgeted with the leather band around his neck, the silver insignia stamped on its clasp denoting his position as a knight. He was required to wear it always, clothed or unclothed, a reminder to himself as much as everyone around him that he was sworn above all to be his master’s protector. His dog, more like; obedient, subservient, never acting of his own accord.

A knight must not allow his lord to become demeaned, vulnerable, or otherwise stripped of dignity. Osprey grimaced as his eyes passed over his lord’s recumbent form. It wasn’t exactly his own fault, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the sight of him; as vulnerable as he’d ever been, to be sure, but Lilian had a way of retaining dignity in even his weakest moments.

A knight must obey his lord’s every word, excepting cases when he must prioritize his lord’s safety. That one was particularly tricky, especially with Lilian. It was surprising that a boy who spent so much of his time bound to his bed could possibly test him so often, but Lilian had his ways.

A knight must never, under any circumstance, enter or otherwise harm the body of his lord. Osprey frowned, pulling at the leather band morosely. Plenty of knights had physical relationships with their lords, as long as they knew their place was below and beneath their master. It was forbidden to act without the express commands of one’s lord, to take a position of dominance in matters of intimacy. As much as he desired Lilian, the thought of truly consummating his feelings was nothing more than a fantasy. Osprey was but a tool to his lord’s whims; his protector, his nurse, his plaything, but never his equal.

Even so, there were times when his mind wandered, and seeing his imperious lord so weak and defenseless had set his mind to wandering. He was trained and collared as any knight, but he was still human.

As if sensing Osprey’s wanton thoughts, Lilian’s eyes fluttered open, flickers of opal blue winking out from beneath long, dark lashes. Beneath them, his lord’s pretty lips moved; a moan, a murmured phrase, the words too fuzzy and indistinct to make out.

“Osprey,” came the voice more sharply, “my medicine.” Blearily, Osprey jolted from his reverie, his eyes darting to the timer he’d set on his lord’s portable.

“It’s only been two hours since your last dose.”

Lilian let out a miserable moan, thrusting his head back against his pillow. “What a severe nurse you are. If you knew the sort of pain I was in, you wouldn’t make me suffer so.”

Osprey side-eyed him. Lilian was so often dramatic that it was sometimes hard to discern the intensity of his pain. Since he reacted poorly to most available painkillers, most of the drugs Lilian could take were expensive and specially formulated. Even so, his usual mix hadn’t been able to do much more than take the edge off his suffering. Osprey narrowed his eyes, reaching for one of the pill bottles on Lilian’s desk to examine the label. He was already taking more than he should.

Lilian pouted, his tone turning petulant. “As my knight, aren’t you sworn to obey my commands?”

It was also his job to protect Lilian, even if that meant protecting him from himself. As he replaced the bottle far from his lord’s reach, Lilian whined in defeat.

“Fine,” Lilian snapped. “If I can’t have more painkillers, I want my valerium. At least that will knock me out long enough until I can take my next dose.”

Of all Lilian’s many pills and tinctures and ointments, valerium was his drug of choice. Because of his poor health and chronic insomnia, Lilian had long since become reliant on the specialized sedative for his sleep. A more accurate word might be addicted, though Osprey knew to hold his tongue when it came to that particular concern. To Lilian’s great distress, he’d had to refrain from his usual nightly dosage for several days before the procedure, and had not yet been permitted to resume it.

“Not until the anesthesia’s out of your system,” Osprey recited automatically.

Lilian hissed. “Osprey, please. This is downright draconian.”

Osprey narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you’re being unreasonable,” Lilian snapped. “It’s been nearly three days.”

Had it really been so long? Osprey glanced out the window as he pondered the passage of time. The sun had indeed risen and set, risen and set, risen and nearly set again a third time. Evening’s dying light glimmered through the dense cluster of fir trees beyond Lilian’s bedroom window, casting a lingering pink glow over his lord’s porcelain skin.

He checked the date on Lilian’s portable and frowned. While he’d had his attention so focused on his lord’s recovery, the hours had mingled together in a disorienting blur. Apparently, he’d been awake for three days straight.

Osprey cast a bewildered glance back to the window, to his lord’s exasperated face, to the abandoned dishes of several meals’ worth of picked-over food, and back to the time ticking away on the device in his hand. Even Lilian had managed to doze on and off for an hour or two at a time, but Osprey had found himself too wired to even manage a nap of his own.

From his long silence, Lilian seemed to have decided he required further persuasion. Having failed in commanding him outright, his lord’s tone softened to something sweet and cloying, a pale hand reaching gingerly for his wrist.

“Osprey, I just want a proper night’s sleep. Don’t you? You look like you haven’t caught a proper wink in days yourself.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Lilian smirked fondly. “You’ve barely left my bedside since I woke up. Since I first woke up, I mean. And you look a little…” He trailed off, as if attempting to find the most polite way to say Osprey looked like absolute shit.

“...bad?”

“Sunken,” Lilian said finally. Osprey wasn’t sure he liked that word any better.

“Not as bad as me, I’m sure,” Lilian added appeasingly, even if they both knew it wasn’t true. “Though I’m sure a good night’s sleep would do wonders for my healing…”

And even if it was only because Lilian wanted something out of him, Osprey couldn’t help but fall for that look of his– that irritating twinkle in those pretty blue eyes, that smile that was somehow both weary beyond his years and so sweetly innocent. Lilian’s fingers drummed playfully up his arm, his eyes sparkling beseechingly.

Osprey sighed in defeat. “Alright, enough. I’ll let you have your beauty rest.”

Lilian relaxed his fingers against him, triumphant. “And you’ll have yours, I hope.”

Osprey huffed. “We’ll see.”

“Osprey,” Lilian trilled, “if you aren’t careful, it’ll be you who needs medical attention next. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for you, you know.”

Osprey made a noncommittal grunt, letting Lilian’s hand fall limply from his wrist as he rose from the chair to prepare his sedative.

He ached all over, the days of vigilance spent in the same not-quite-comfortable chair seemingly hitting his body all at once. Osprey gave his shoulders a half-hearted roll and his arms a little shake, but it didn’t do much to offset the bone-deep exhaustion. Only sleep could do that, he supposed, reticent as he was to prove Lilian right.

Like most of Lilian’s medications, valerium was a specialized formula that probably cost more for one bottle than any of Osprey’s few possessions. Unlike most of the others, it required administration by syringe and injection directly into his lord’s bloodstream. As he measured out the dosage, Osprey squinted in concentration, his vision swimming deliriously as he tried to focus on the measured lines. He was probably too out of it to be administering a drug like this, Osprey thought, frowning as he held the syringe up to the window’s dwindling light.

Osprey let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you want this, or not?”

“I suppose I’ll have to trust you not to overdose me,” said Lilian in his usual singsong voice, his eyes glimmering tauntingly in the low light.

Just for that, Osprey ejected a portion of the dose back into the bottle, and Lilian huffed, rolling his eyes.

When Osprey returned to his bedside with the needle in hand, Lilian tactfully kept quiet, though Osprey felt his eyes on him as he angled himself to prick him. As gently as he could manage, he took hold of Lilian’s arm, eyeing the network of veins beneath his lord’s translucent skin. Even in the low light, he could find them easily; the fine webbing like azure branches painted on porcelain, the angry smudge of a bruise where his IV had been. It was delicate work, considering the state Osprey was in. But despite his fatigue, muscle memory saw him through the task. After a moment’s hesitation, he pressed the needle into his lord’s soft skin and plunged the syringe.

A sigh escaped Lilian’s lips as he removed the needle, his lashes fluttering like the beating wings of insects as the sedative hit his bloodstream. It would take another few minutes for sleep to wash over him; Osprey could see him watching lazily from the bed as he disposed of the needle and packed the precious bottle away again. When he returned to his bedside, Osprey examined his lord clinically, fussing over his blankets and adjusting his pillows to make certain he was properly positioned.

“Comfortable?”

He was met with a faint laugh, Lilian’s head turning languidly on the pillow to meet his eyes. “Not at all, but I’ll soon forget that I’m not.”

Even when he was half asleep, Lilian was dramatic as ever. Osprey rolled his eyes, his chair giving a creak of protest as he sat back to watch his lord drift to sleep. With nothing more involved requiring his attention, Osprey felt the weight of his own exhaustion sink over him all at once. It took everything he had to fight it off, to keep his head upright and his watering eyes open.

“It’s alright, Osprey.”

Osprey blinked blearily, his head impossibly heavy. “Hm?”

“Go to sleep,” his lord murmured gently. “That’s an order.”

Osprey responded with a groan of protest, but his body had long since decided to follow his lord’s orders and ignore his own. Lilian sighed beside him, his arm falling limply from the bed to pat his hand. “And sweet dreams. That’s an order, too.”

More often than not, Osprey’s dreams were violent and troubled. He had to laugh at the suggestion, knowing how little control he had over the contents of his subconscious, but Lilian must have thought himself amusing.

“You too,” he replied without thinking, and his lord responded with a faint laugh of his own.

“You know I don’t dream with this shit,” Lilian murmured sleepily, his eyelids drooping as his head sank into his pillow.

Osprey slumped into his chair, his head tipping heavily over the chair back. The room fell into a placid lull, the silence filled only by the soft, slowing breaths of a drugged lord and his exhausted knight.

At first, Osprey wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. He was back in Lilian’s bedroom, in the chair beside his bed, his lord’s sleeping body at his side. Everything appeared dull and murky in the shadowed room, the fine wooden furniture and its sinuous carvings swirling as if they’d been granted life. That might have clued him in that he was dreaming, but then, he could just as easily be delirious.

Osprey peered around the familiar space of the bedroom. It was as he remembered it, but then, memory was not always faithful. Certain details remained indistinct, like vague outlines of a drawing left unfinished. When he turned his gaze to the bed, however, he found Lilian rendered in perfect clarity. He supposed he spent enough time looking at him, he ought to be; his fine, noble features at rest, his pale face dusted with wisps of dark curls. Oddly, the blankets had fallen from his body, his loose, silken robe unclasped and spread open.

Puzzled, Osprey rose from the chair and bent to examine his lord. Aside from the missing blankets and open robe, Lilian was just as he’d left him, the surgical vest around his incisions undisturbed. Osprey watched the smooth line of his chest rise and fall with placid, sleeping breaths. If it was a dream, it was certainly realistic, but he had the distinct sense that the scene before him was not quite as it should be.

Something else was missing. For a moment, it tugged at the edges of his mind, like a song he couldn’t quite recall the words to. Subconsciously, he touched a hand to his neck, just as quickly drawing his fingers away in surprise. The leather band that denoted him as a knight was nowhere to be found. Without it, he felt naked; he hadn’t removed it since he’d first sworn himself to Lilian, neither for sleeping nor washing. Frowning in confusion, he searched around for it in the dim room, though he could hardly see more than the outline of his own hands in the shadows.

It was not long before he abandoned his efforts. The sky beyond the bedroom window was too dark to see anything by, and for all it symbolized, the collar was nothing more than a strip of leather. He hardly missed it; in fact, he felt good without it, as if all his usual rigid confines had melted away along with it.

As he relinquished his search, Osprey returned to Lilian’s side, admiring his delicate features in the darkness. He looked serene, his lips relaxed in a placid smile. It would be wrong to touch his lord while unconscious, but Osprey’s usual inhibitions seemed strangely absent. When he tried to recall the oaths he’d taken, he found them gone from his mind, the words like sand through grasping fingers.

Maybe he really was dreaming. And it was a pleasant dream, seeing his lord like this, as though Lilian had made himself into an offering to appease his knight’s long-suffering desire. The way he was positioned, Osprey couldn’t help but think his lord had arranged himself on the bed just for him, his limbs splayed out in invitation.

Osprey bent over his sleeping lord, carefully avoiding putting any weight on the fragile body beneath him. Experimentally, he trailed a finger along Lilian’s cheek, passing lightly over pink, loosely parted lips. A breathy sigh graced his finger, but Lilian remained otherwise unmoved, a sleeping beauty enchanted by a chemical spell.

Surely it wouldn’t matter, then, if he kissed him. There was no one there to see him do it, just he and his sleeping lord and the swirling darkness. Osprey angled his jaw toward him, hesitating at first, as he might before stepping into a pool he didn’t yet know the depth of. And then, before he could think better of it, he met his lord’s lips, feeling the soft give of warm flesh against his eager tongue. Gently, he coaxed Lilian’s lips open, grazing against pearly teeth and velvety tongue. It was strange to meet no resistance, from himself as much as the object of his affections– and indeed, without his usual impudence and biting words, it was hard not to think of Lilian as an object. A beloved, precious object, like a fine doll or an elegant marble statue, but an object nonetheless.

It was not quite as satisfying as he imagined it might be if Lilian were conscious, but he’d take what he could get. After years of denied desire, Osprey was desperate enough for anything, even this strange, delirious fantasy. He might as well enjoy it while he could; the next time he dreamed, he might not be so lucky.

Having decided this, Osprey grew bolder, lowering his lips to Lilian’s long, pale neck, tracing reverent kisses along his bony clavicle. He moved steadily downward until his lips came up against the barrier of Lilian’s surgical vest. Perhaps, for just a moment, he’d sneak a glimpse inside…

Osprey unfastened the close-fitting garment, peeling away the stiff fabric from his lord’s inflamed flesh. His wounds were still fresh, his bruised skin like ink-stained porcelain. Osprey traced a finger gently above the incisions, peeling away the sticky gauze from the still-leaking lacerations. Beneath the bandages, the puckered flesh looked raw and angry, the fresh scars weeping at his touch. He felt a pang of pity for Lilian; it would be many days yet before the sutures healed over.

Gently, he bent his lips to his lord’s raised skin, planting kisses on each of his swollen, winestained nipples, grazing across the lines of stitched-together flesh with his tongue. Lilian tasted of blood and iron, alcohol and iodine. The taste was bitter and unpleasant, but like the dog he was, he ran his tongue along the stitches, as if to rid Lilian of the offensive medical odor. He knew how Lilian ought to smell; fresh and sweet as honeyed snowdrops, delicate as winter jasmine. Willing the flesh to knit itself together again, Osprey bathed his master’s wounds, dutifully swallowing the bitter taste of metal. He was Lilian’s closest attendant, his devoted animal, and in this strange, swirling netherworld, he would cleanse his lord and make him whole again.

But that would just be greedy, he thought, to take more than his share. He’d tasted the dew on his lord’s tongue, he’d lapped up the bloodstained tears oozing from his wounds. Hadn’t he tasted enough?

But this was just a dream, wasn’t it? In a dream, he could do anything he wanted.

Four years of denied desire urged him on, and dazed and senseless as he was, Osprey did not question his body’s demands. He could feel the ache of want pulsing in him, his trousers growing tight from constraining the rising heat between his legs. His body had already made known his intentions; he had only to follow them.

Carefully, he hauled himself onto the foot of the bed, the wooden frame creaking beneath his weight as he positioned himself between his lord’s legs. His straining cock found the groove between Lilian’s thighs despite the layers of fine cloth between them, and he rutted desperately into it, seam against seam, his lord’s motionless body a silk-sheathed receptacle for his burning desire. A stifled moan leaked from his lips at the feeling, but Lilian remained ever silent, ever serene, rocking with his movements as if carried on a raft over rolling waves.

Osprey rocked against him until he could bear it no longer, until the whispering fabric between them grew damp from the dew of his dripping cock. Gasping roughly, he freed himself from the constraints of his own trousers, then moved to peel the fine layers of silk from Lilian’s hips. There was no hesitation in his trembling hands, only pure desperation as he tore away the protective casing of cloth from the delicate nether regions of his lord’s body.

And how perfect he was. Osprey drew in a reverent breath, glad this region had remained untouched by the surgeon’s knife. These delicate folds of flesh were all for him, to fondle and fill as he pleased. He dragged his fingers along the supple lips of his lord’s cunt, his devotion turning to greed as he pushed past his entrance to the warmth inside. His cock ached as he fingered his lord impatiently, feeling petals of flesh melt and unfurl at his touch.

Osprey’s fingers grew slick as he caressed his lord’s rosy folds, and he withdrew his hand impatiently, aching to fill that sweet, velvety cavity with his length. He teased at the curtains of his entrance with the head of his cock, and then, with a sharp intake of breath, pushed his way inside.

The silken depths strained against him as he slipped inside; Osprey released a quaking sigh at the sensation as he probed deeper into his lord’s warm body, relishing the press of amorous flesh against his own. With a grunt of effort, he jolted into him, and like a limp and lovely doll, Lilian’s body languidly accepted his movements. In his eagerness to fill him, Osprey almost forgot to be gentle, though if it was only a dream, perhaps it didn’t matter.

As he thrust deeper into his lord, Osprey dragged his hands down his pale, naked torso, feeling the gentle slope of Lilian’s abdomen, the narrow jut of his hip bones. It was a marvel that such a dainty body could accommodate him; Osprey let out a shuddering breath in admiration. How he ached to be ever closer, ever deeper… he grasped hold of Lilian’s hips, holding his sleep-laden limbs in place as he rutted into him.

In that illusory way of dreams, the moment seemed an eternity and yet too brief. Osprey savored each thrust into his lord’s fine, delicate body, an uncollared beast stealing his forbidden bounty. The swirling night was filled with the rhythmic drum of creaking wood and the soft, canine panting of his own breath as he labored for his own selfish pleasure. All the while, Lilian slept on, generous in his oblivion.

Osprey woke with a gasp, his hand wet with the pearly strands of his own seed.

It took a moment to register where he was and what had he done. But then, what had he done? Horror washed over him as he recalled the events of his dream. He was back in his lord’s bedchamber, his surroundings had solidified, and everything was as it should be… everything but him.

In a bleary panic, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in the chair by Lilian’s bedside, legs spread and trousers undone, his softening cock in one hand. It was still dark, though he hadn’t the slightest idea what time it was. When he turned his eyes nervously to his lord, he found Lilian still asleep, his blankets seemingly undisturbed. Instinctively, he slapped his free hand to his neck. His collar was back. He breathed a tentative sigh of relief at this discovery, though he was far from soothed.

Quickly, Osprey stuffed his cock back into his trousers and rushed to the washroom, scrubbing the evidence of his depravity from his hands. His heart thrummed in his chest, a cold sweat washing over him as he returned to Lilian’s bedside.

This time, he examined his lord more closely. He certainly didn’t look like he’d been tampered with; the blankets were tucked neatly around his chest, his pretty head lolling serenely to one side against his pile of pillows. He glanced at the screen of his lord’s portable; just past midnight. Even with the reduced dosage he’d given him, his sedative wouldn’t wear off for a few hours yet…

Uneasily, Osprey glanced to the murky landscape outside the bedroom window, watching the curtains flutter in the breeze drifting through the open gap. A crescent moon had risen above the wall of fir trees, hanging like an iron-red grin in the star-studded sky. As if he expected to see anything different, he turned back to Lilian, but the valerium was working its chemical magic; his lord slept on, placid as ever.

The memory of his dream played back vividly in his mind. Too vividly. Osprey squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, but the frantic flutter in his chest would not slacken.

He had to be certain.

Steeling himself, Osprey pulled back the blankets from his lord’s body. Everything was in its proper place, his robe fastened, his trousers undisturbed. Osprey frowned. A good knight would leave it there and not question any further. But then, a good knight wouldn’t dream of doing such perverse things to his lord in the first place, let alone find himself in such a compromising position upon waking.

Osprey clenched his teeth, his thoughts a muddled swirl of self-disgust. Was it worse to look for the sake of his own peace of mind, or to feign innocence and pretend nothing had happened? It was wrong to look at all without his lord’s permission, of course, but drugged as he was, Lilian would be none the wiser.

At the very least, he should check his bandages. That seemed sensible enough; if anything had happened, he didn’t want his wounds to get infected. What the fuck had he been thinking, running his tongue along fresh incisions, like some kind of animal… Osprey took a sharp breath and unbuttoned Lilian’s robe, and then, carefully, he unlatched the surgical vest below.

His bandages were… fresh. Not a hint of leakage through the gauze, each strip applied with perfect precision. It was as though they’d only just been changed. From what he could discern in the low light, Lilian was healing perfectly; everything was clean, his skin less inflamed, and even his bruises seemed fainter. Osprey’s eyebrows furrowed. It didn’t make sense. It had been hours since he’d last changed them, hours since his lord’s last sponge bath, during which Lilian had winced and whined dramatically the entire time.

Osprey shook his head, baffled. It didn’t have to make sense, as long as Lilian was alright…

Hurriedly, he fastened the vest and robe back up again, his attention turning ominously to the place he had not yet checked. He’d be quick. It’d be like he hadn’t seen anything at all.

It was not particularly sound logic, but logic had been far from Osprey’s mind that night. With fumbling hands, he loosened the fastenings of Lilian’s trousers, ever so gently tugging the fine layers of fabric down his hips to expose the region most forbidden to him. Those lovely folds of flesh were just as his subconscious had painted them… yet they appeared undisturbed, not a hint of moisture or amorous flush. His lord’s purity, Osprey concluded, remained untarnished.

With a shaky sigh of relief, Osprey hastily refastened Lilian’s garments, replaced his blankets, and miserably fell back onto the chair. If anything was certain, Osprey knew that he would not sleep again before the rest of Lilian’s sedative wore off.

The first light of dawn had just begun to peak over the horizon when Lilian finally opened his eyes. It had been a miserable few hours, Osprey’s thoughts a rapid-fire torrent of guilt and self-loathing.

As consciousness returned to Lilian, his lord let out a soft whine. It was a relief to hear the honeyed strains of his voice again; the silence of those tortuous hours beside his lord’s motionless body had begun to unnerve him.

Lilian let out another groan as he shifted in place, the rumpled sheets rustling softly beneath him. “Is it morning yet?”

Osprey’s gaze flickered to the gray light filtering weakly through the window. “Almost.”

“Strangely enough, I am feeling a little better. I guess a little extra sleep was just what I needed.” Lilian turned to face him, wincing a little as he repositioned himself against the pillows. Osprey stiffened as his lord examined him, feeling naked beneath the glare of those moon-bright eyes.

As he inspected Osprey, Lilian clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You look a proper wreck. I thought I ordered you to sleep.”

“I… tried,” Osprey muttered, turning guiltily from his lord’s scrutiny.

“So you just sat here, for hours, watching me sleep?” Lilian let out a laugh that seemed too sharp in the quiet room, his eyes passing over him pointedly. “You didn’t do anything to me while I was out, did you?”

Osprey’s heart beat faster, a cold sweat gathering beneath his clothes. “I would never–”

“I’m only joking.” Upon seeing his mortified expression, Lilian laughed, extending a hand to his cheek. “You know what happens to knights who put their hands and cocks where they don’t belong, don’t you?” He winked and gave Osprey’s clenched jaw a little pat.

“Good dog. Now go and fetch me some water.”

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