The elf lifts his chin, defiant. “I wasneverin danger.”
“You were twenty feet from a warlock who could have shattered your illusions with one word.” I crowd him against anoverturned wagon, hands braced on either side of his head. “I gave you a direct order.”
Gamble’s breath hitches. “And Iimprovised. We won, didn’t we?”
I lean in until our noses brush. “We won. But disobedience is disobedience however you figure it. Now you face the consequences.”
His pupils blow wide. “Here?”
“Here.” I spin him, press his chest to the wagon’s frozen side. His cloak falls open. I yank his trousers down just far enough to bare that perfect, heart-shaped bottom. The cold air kisses his skin, the curve of his buttocks delectable to my eyes.
“Sarak—” It comes out a needy whine.
“Count,” I growl, and bring my bare hand down hard.
The crack echoes off the cliffs. Gamble jolts, a shocked cry tearing from his throat.
“One!” he gasps.
Another. Harder. His back arches beautifully.
“Two—fuck—Daddy!”
By five his voice is ragged, by ten he is sobbing into his forearm, hips rolling helplessly. This isn’t the somewhat playful spanking from before. This is real. This is essential correction.
Gamble’s skin is furnace-hot under my palm, glowing crimson against the snow. I pause at twelve, rubbing soothing circles, letting him breathe.
“Color?” I murmur against his ear. My dragon is listening for any true distress.
“Green,” he whispers, trembling. “So bloody green.”
I smile against his nape. “Good boy.”
The last eight are slower, deliberate. Each one draws a broken moan, a plea, a litany of “I’ll be good, Daddy, promise—” until he is limp and submissive, traces of tears freezing on his lashes. When I finish, I pull him into my arms, wrapping my cloak and wings around him to shield him from the wind.
He burrows into my chest, shivering with aftershocks. “I hate you,” he mumbles into my neck.
“Liar.” I kiss the salt from his temple. “You’re dripping. Your ache is close.”
He whimpers when I slide a hand between his legs to confirm how his hard cock is at the point of no return. I stroke him once, twice, slow and possessive, until he cums with a gasp and guttural moan against my throat. I hold him through it, murmuring praise in old draconic, words that meanmine, precious, perfect.
When he can stand again, I right his clothing, buckle his cloak.
My own need is a fierce, banked coal, but there will be timelater.
For now, the pass is clear, and the sun is sinking toward the far ridges.
Gamble looks up at me, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. “Still carrying me over the next ridge?”
I scoop him up without a word. He squeaks, then settles against my chest like he belongs there… because he does.
“Next time you disobey me in a fight,” I warn, voice rough, “I won’t stop at twenty.”
He nips my collarbone. “Next time I’ll earn thirty.”
I laugh despite myself, the sound rumbling through both of us, and launch into the sky. My wings catch the updraft; the pass falls away beneath us.
Ahead, the Emberfall Glades shimmer on the horizon, green even in winter, lit from within by ancient magic.
