Page 135 of Plug and Tame

He was content to wait.

For her, he would wait forever.

For his part, he was still too numb to grieve and even be angry. After his father’s death, his strategy had been to distract himself by focusing on Kira and helping her assume power. Sooner or later, though, it would hit him: that his father was gone, leaving a heavy responsibility on their shoulders. That he had been a cruel and arrogant man, unsympathetic to vulnerable persons. That the last memory he had of his father was the way he’d brutalised Kira.

When the time came, when he finally crumbled, he knew Kira would be there.

In the meantime, he served her in every way. He stood by her side dutifully, wearing elaborate court clothes, including a turquoise coat, puffy breeches that reached his knee, and silk stockings with pointed buckle shoes.

Kira had jokingly asked him to adopt the current fashion, and he’d done so without argument—an experiment that had resulted in her laughing at him for minutes on end in the privacy of their bedroom and ended with his cock in her. It had been one of the only ‘normal’ moments between them, but he was glad of it.

There was something else he wore for her: A long stainless-steel plug with knots along its length. The dynamic of their relationship had changed, and there were times when Kira took control in the bedroom.

At his suggestion, she had first plugged him before the court in the Great Hall. They had made a ceremony of it, a public act that was brief but heavily symbolic.

The gesture was supposed to be brief, at any rate, but it had led to them fornicating before the whole court. Which, he supposed, helped to reinforce the symbolism of uniting wolves and vampires.

The act of Kira plugging him had sent shockwaves through the audience, which had been the whole point: to shatter their misconceptions and open them to a new way of thinking.

Nathaniel didn’t mind wearing a plug, aside from the eternal erection it gave him. He’d rather enjoyed the experience of submitting to Kira publicly. There was no shame in it. She was everything he wanted, and he enjoyed kneeling at her feet as much as he’d ever had dominating her.

Sometimes, at night, Kira asked him to be rough. Those were deep moments, and he was always very careful to ensure he didn’t hurt her. Afterwards, he was attentive, nurturing her and helping her to feel safe. That was what he truly yearned for: the gentle moments.

He snapped out of his reverie as a gust of air blew through the open balcony doors, causing the new white flags to swirl majestically. Nathaniel and Kira stared at them long after the fabric had settled.

It was the new royal colour; white. Kira had initially wanted black on the grounds because it was not a colour, and it was therefore not excluding anyone.

Nathaniel had pointed out that black was officially the colour of wolves, and adopting solely that colour could inadvertently send the opposite message, suggesting favouritism of shifters whilst excluding other factions.

Seeing Kira’s disappointment, he hurriedly added, “But, if you’re aiming for full inclusivity, may I suggest white, instead? It encompasses all the colours of the spectrum, and it could symbolise unity between all your people.”

The old Kira might have argued her point, but the new Kira quietly considered his suggestion for several moments before nodding. “White,” she’d agreed, and the order had promptly been placed with the royal artisans to craft new banners, flags, guard uniforms, and all manner of fabrics.

The craftsmen had worked diligently, and by the end of the first week, the luxurious white banners decorated the halls. Together with the updated furnishings, which included wolf-friendly mats by the fireplaces. The transformed Wintermaw Keep represented hope for a brighter future.

It was only in the quiet early hours of dawn when Kira had woken from a nightmare that she’d confessed what she really thought of the new banners. It was with a sinking heart that Nathaniel had listened to her describe the milky white of Henrikk’s eyes and the way they’d blended with his pale irises.

Her words had stayed with him. Now, as he stood by her throne, the proud white banners were a haunting reminder of his father. Now, every room in Wintermaw Keep, every bannerman, and every flag mounted on the battlements reflected his father’s eyes, and he could no more unsee them than Kira could recall her words.

He leant close. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to change the colour?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kira scowled without looking at the banners. “These are fine.”

“Are you sure? If they remind you of my fath—”

“They do. But they also remind me that he is dead, and I think that should be our focus.”

Nathaniel nodded. “So…is that a ‘no’ to fuchsia pink?”

Kira poked her tongue out in mock-disgust, and his heart leapt. She had almost smiled, and it was another small victory for their relationship.

Nathaniel hoped that in time, once the events of his birthday were no longer so fresh, that it would be fine.

Time would heal, or so he hoped.

Mary and Byron had stayed for the first two weeks of Kira’s rule, helping her deal with the aftermath of Henrikk’s death. Their previous status as guards had helped inspire more wolves of their generation to come out of hiding, as well as others who had remained loyal in their hearts to King Bakker. The rift between Kira and her foster parents had mended, but the scars would always be there.

The scars I’m responsible for.