No more Pomeranians and distressing news from Haytham, so Charles is back to his evil bastard self. ...have to say it felt good to write evil bastard Charles. :)
Master of the House
Chapter 12 - Two Steps Back
“I’d like a moment of your time, please.”
The request took Charles by surprise. He paused, the lapel of his jacket still clutched in his mind but the sight of one of the maids waiting nearby prompted him to finish removing his outerwear.
Best not keep the maids from more important chores anymore than necessary.
“What is it?” he asked the Omega brusquely, now working to remove his boots and locate his house slippers.
“The matter is of some sensitivity and requires discretion.”
Charles halted, laces partly untied. He glanced up at the Omega watching him intently. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the rather...intense but open expression the man wore.
Strange.
It was more open than he’d seen the entire morning, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what brought it on.
Still, he was rather curious what this ‘sensitive matter’ might entail. If the man had discovered anything about how to treat his wife in the brief time they’d been outdoors...
Well, that would be ideal, wouldn’t it?
He turned back to his bootlaces.
“I have business affairs to sort out—“
“With the new government?”
Again, he looked sharply up at the Omega, dark gaze inscrutable.
“...Quite,” a bit of uncertainty crept into his voice. “May I ask how you know?”
James’s Omega stared back at him in confusion.
“You were one of the principle players who pushed back King George’s forces. The new governing body cannot exclude you.”
Oh. That.
Yes, it was the obvious connection most people would make, wouldn’t they?
Charles shook his head to clear it. Evidently, he was still too high-strung from the morning’s events, despite the relaxing session with the dogs.
“As I said, I have business affairs to sort out until supper. However,” he paused, handing off his boots to one of the man-servants and easing his feet into his comfortable slippers, “I can spare a few minutes in my office presently.”
“Thank you.”
Charles looked perplexingly at the odd expression on the Omega’s face but decided to let it be. He would see what this matter was.
-----
Clipper’s thoughts ran nervously, wildly in his mind as he followed Lee to his office.
This, this thought he had, when he had been regaling Connor (and what was he doing regaling a man who did not respond, who was in all likelihood unconscious?) with stories of James, it would not leave his mind.
And he found that he had to know. Had to ask Lee even though he knew that Lee would rage at him for it, that the tenuous peace they only just built in the last hour would be destroyed.
But it was worth it. Would be worth it.
It was one of the things that made all the difference in his own relationship with James, and while Lee clearly wasn’t James, he had shown some indication of...humanity. Of an ability to feel affection for something that was not his own person. Of what may possibly be a kinder side.
At least to his Pomeranians.
But it was a chance that Clipper had not thought possible before. That that particular man was capable of such emotions...
Well, it was hope.
But first, he needed to see if his suspicions were correct and, if they were, if he could change anything.
He would be amazed if he could change anything.
They entered the office, and Lee sat down at his leather chair and ornate desk. While Clipper looked around curiously, his eyes were immediately drawn to the oil painting of Lee himself, hanging on a wall.
Wasn’t that...?
Clipper wasn’t terribly certain about it, as Connor mostly went to them to hand out missions rather than requesting that they travel all the way to Davenport Homestead, but he could have sworn that that particular portrait had hung in their secret basement room.
However, he saw no sign of the other portrait that had survived unscathed, that of the Grandmaster’s who was, by all their reports, greatly admired by the man in front of him. It was unlikely that the portrait he was looking at was the same one, then.
“Well?”
Clipper turned back to the man he had been contemplating. He wetted his lips, suddenly very, very nervous.
“I was wondering—“
No, no, that was too direct, too personal.
“—that is, this morning, when we arrived—“
No, that wouldn’t do either.
Clipper took a moment to take a breath, before blurting out...
“Do you still have...carnal relations,” his cheeks flushed, “with Connor?”
The worst part was when, for a moment, Lee just stared at him, almost disbelieving, uncomprehending that such a question had been asked.
For just one moment.
-----
When the boy started stuttering in sheer nervousness, Charles almost smiled.
As personally distasteful as he found the idea of Assassins and his wife’s little recruits, this one, at least, was rather...cute.
Though God forbid that James should ever hear him utter such. He did believe that the man would cheerfully disembowel him for it.
Or at least stab him a couple of times.
But that was rather before the man’s actual question came out.
He was sure his ears had to be playing tricks on him. The man couldn’t possibly have—
One look at the still blushing Omega removed all doubts.
Charles felt familiar anger rush through him.
Why that impertinent little...
Who does he think he is, to be asking that sort of...
Has the man no sense of propriety?!
He was mortified. Past mortified.
With effort, he reined back his temper and calmed the angry blush on his face.
He would not let the little—the little tart affect him so!
“I fail to see what business it is of yours.” His voice, he was dissatisfied to note, trembled in outrage.
The Omega looked suitably abashed at his, but then seemed to draw strength from somewhere and stubbornly lifted his chin.
“It is my business as one of the few people who can help you with him.”
Oh was it? Stubborn man.
“We are married.”
There, that ought to suffice.
“And do you still...visit him nightly?”
Clearly not. Charles gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Yes,” he bit out, shame blooming on his cheeks.
The man’s mouth tightened, and Charles was taken aback.
Did the Omega not understand what happened in the marriage bed? Surely James could not have been so remiss as to let his wife escape his wifely duties.
“Has he come to,” the man paused, “welcome your advances?”
Confound the man, his incessant questions, and his seriously lack of boundaries!
“Do not be obtuse, Omega,” he snarled. “My wife will fulfill his marriage obligations, will he, nill he.”
The Omega jumped up, eyes enflamed with righteous fury.
“You would force him even now?!”
Charles glared coldly at him. “Yes. He is my wife. It is his duty.”
For a moment, Charles was certain the man was contemplating strangling him with his bare hands. Or, remembering tales of the man’s marksmanship, thinking about using him as target practice.
“Can you give him a reprieve?” The man was clearly grappling with his emotions, trying to remain calm.
Charles was genuinely curious. That this should upset the Omega so...
“For what reason?”
“So that he has some semblance of control again. So that we can show him he hasn’t lost everything and can coax him back.”
Then, “please.”
Charles thought about it for a moment. But the thought of his wife’s body, of that tight arse milking him, of giving that up...
“No.”
Flat. No room for an argument.
“But—“ Clearly, the man wasn’t used to taking hints.
“If there is nothing else, you may let yourself out now.”
The Omega stared at him in disbelief, and Charles was startled by the glint of tears in his eyes.
“You monster,” he spat before turning around and rushing out.
Charles felt that slamming his poor door was a bit excessive.
Master of the House - part 14
Master of the House
Chapter 12 - Two Steps Back
“I’d like a moment of your time, please.”
The request took Charles by surprise. He paused, the lapel of his jacket still clutched in his mind but the sight of one of the maids waiting nearby prompted him to finish removing his outerwear.
Best not keep the maids from more important chores anymore than necessary.
“What is it?” he asked the Omega brusquely, now working to remove his boots and locate his house slippers.
“The matter is of some sensitivity and requires discretion.”
Charles halted, laces partly untied. He glanced up at the Omega watching him intently. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the rather...intense but open expression the man wore.
Strange.
It was more open than he’d seen the entire morning, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what brought it on.
Still, he was rather curious what this ‘sensitive matter’ might entail. If the man had discovered anything about how to treat his wife in the brief time they’d been outdoors...
Well, that would be ideal, wouldn’t it?
He turned back to his bootlaces.
“I have business affairs to sort out—“
“With the new government?”
Again, he looked sharply up at the Omega, dark gaze inscrutable.
“...Quite,” a bit of uncertainty crept into his voice. “May I ask how you know?”
James’s Omega stared back at him in confusion.
“You were one of the principle players who pushed back King George’s forces. The new governing body cannot exclude you.”
Oh. That.
Yes, it was the obvious connection most people would make, wouldn’t they?
Charles shook his head to clear it. Evidently, he was still too high-strung from the morning’s events, despite the relaxing session with the dogs.
“As I said, I have business affairs to sort out until supper. However,” he paused, handing off his boots to one of the man-servants and easing his feet into his comfortable slippers, “I can spare a few minutes in my office presently.”
“Thank you.”
Charles looked perplexingly at the odd expression on the Omega’s face but decided to let it be. He would see what this matter was.
-----
Clipper’s thoughts ran nervously, wildly in his mind as he followed Lee to his office.
This, this thought he had, when he had been regaling Connor (and what was he doing regaling a man who did not respond, who was in all likelihood unconscious?) with stories of James, it would not leave his mind.
And he found that he had to know. Had to ask Lee even though he knew that Lee would rage at him for it, that the tenuous peace they only just built in the last hour would be destroyed.
But it was worth it. Would be worth it.
It was one of the things that made all the difference in his own relationship with James, and while Lee clearly wasn’t James, he had shown some indication of...humanity. Of an ability to feel affection for something that was not his own person. Of what may possibly be a kinder side.
At least to his Pomeranians.
But it was a chance that Clipper had not thought possible before. That that particular man was capable of such emotions...
Well, it was hope.
But first, he needed to see if his suspicions were correct and, if they were, if he could change anything.
He would be amazed if he could change anything.
They entered the office, and Lee sat down at his leather chair and ornate desk. While Clipper looked around curiously, his eyes were immediately drawn to the oil painting of Lee himself, hanging on a wall.
Wasn’t that...?
Clipper wasn’t terribly certain about it, as Connor mostly went to them to hand out missions rather than requesting that they travel all the way to Davenport Homestead, but he could have sworn that that particular portrait had hung in their secret basement room.
However, he saw no sign of the other portrait that had survived unscathed, that of the Grandmaster’s who was, by all their reports, greatly admired by the man in front of him. It was unlikely that the portrait he was looking at was the same one, then.
“Well?”
Clipper turned back to the man he had been contemplating. He wetted his lips, suddenly very, very nervous.
“I was wondering—“
No, no, that was too direct, too personal.
“—that is, this morning, when we arrived—“
No, that wouldn’t do either.
Clipper took a moment to take a breath, before blurting out...
“Do you still have...carnal relations,” his cheeks flushed, “with Connor?”
The worst part was when, for a moment, Lee just stared at him, almost disbelieving, uncomprehending that such a question had been asked.
For just one moment.
-----
When the boy started stuttering in sheer nervousness, Charles almost smiled.
As personally distasteful as he found the idea of Assassins and his wife’s little recruits, this one, at least, was rather...cute.
Though God forbid that James should ever hear him utter such. He did believe that the man would cheerfully disembowel him for it.
Or at least stab him a couple of times.
But that was rather before the man’s actual question came out.
He was sure his ears had to be playing tricks on him. The man couldn’t possibly have—
One look at the still blushing Omega removed all doubts.
Charles felt familiar anger rush through him.
Why that impertinent little...
Who does he think he is, to be asking that sort of...
Has the man no sense of propriety?!
He was mortified. Past mortified.
With effort, he reined back his temper and calmed the angry blush on his face.
He would not let the little—the little tart affect him so!
“I fail to see what business it is of yours.” His voice, he was dissatisfied to note, trembled in outrage.
The Omega looked suitably abashed at his, but then seemed to draw strength from somewhere and stubbornly lifted his chin.
“It is my business as one of the few people who can help you with him.”
Oh was it? Stubborn man.
“We are married.”
There, that ought to suffice.
“And do you still...visit him nightly?”
Clearly not. Charles gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Yes,” he bit out, shame blooming on his cheeks.
The man’s mouth tightened, and Charles was taken aback.
Did the Omega not understand what happened in the marriage bed? Surely James could not have been so remiss as to let his wife escape his wifely duties.
“Has he come to,” the man paused, “welcome your advances?”
Confound the man, his incessant questions, and his seriously lack of boundaries!
“Do not be obtuse, Omega,” he snarled. “My wife will fulfill his marriage obligations, will he, nill he.”
The Omega jumped up, eyes enflamed with righteous fury.
“You would force him even now?!”
Charles glared coldly at him. “Yes. He is my wife. It is his duty.”
For a moment, Charles was certain the man was contemplating strangling him with his bare hands. Or, remembering tales of the man’s marksmanship, thinking about using him as target practice.
“Can you give him a reprieve?” The man was clearly grappling with his emotions, trying to remain calm.
Charles was genuinely curious. That this should upset the Omega so...
“For what reason?”
“So that he has some semblance of control again. So that we can show him he hasn’t lost everything and can coax him back.”
Then, “please.”
Charles thought about it for a moment. But the thought of his wife’s body, of that tight arse milking him, of giving that up...
“No.”
Flat. No room for an argument.
“But—“ Clearly, the man wasn’t used to taking hints.
“If there is nothing else, you may let yourself out now.”
The Omega stared at him in disbelief, and Charles was startled by the glint of tears in his eyes.
“You monster,” he spat before turning around and rushing out.
Charles felt that slamming his poor door was a bit excessive.