By the time Shel deposited Ctirad back at the house with a pile of clothing, Ctirad wasn’t particularly sure if he felt more or less like himself than he had in ages.
He felt different, that much was for sure. His head was swimming. Shel had gotten him joking, laughing, and relaxed in a way he couldn’t remember ever being.
And now he was back in Timaios’ master suite, waiting for his master to arrive home.
It was like getting off the roller-coaster. He felt like his legs were swaying under him.
He knelt down on the floor and tried to find his calm place. The pants moved strangely with him, and he thought about taking them off.
He’d been told he had permission to wear clothes.
He hadn’t been told he had to.
He considered that for a moment before stripping down to nothing but his collar and kneeling where he’d been. There was something peaceful in it if you got the right position, a calm that he couldn’t remember feeling anywhere. His master would be home eventually. His master would give him order. His master…
His master, whom he actually, as far as things went so far, liked. His master who had – who had – Ctirad began playing over the morning in his head, the way that Timaois had touched him, the way he’d spoken to him. Crawling over to Timaois and feeling more alive and more wanted than he ever had before. The way he had felt under his master. The way he had felt afterwards – sated, wanted, pleased and having pleased, rather than used and then discarded
He was growing erect thinking about it. He noted it, smiled a little, and settled in to think about the rest of the day. She had been patient with him, taking him to quiet lunch and coffee spots in between trips so that he never felt like he was on display, never felt too exposed.
Ctirad was happy. He distrusted the feeling. It could lead to trouble so quickly. If he wasn’t happy, he didn’t risk being let down. He didn’t get that whiplash of joy followed by misery.
But for the moment, he was alone, he was doing absolutely nothing no master could fault, and he was going to be happy. He made sure every bit of his posture was perfect and he waited, letting the smile widen on his lips.
He was uncertain how much time had passed. He enjoyed the feeling of timelessness he could fall into when he knelt like this, and the peace that it brought when he wasn’t worried. He could have been reading, he supposed, or working out in the gym.
Right now, he just wanted to be.
“Waiting for me, kitten?” Timaios’ voice didn’t startle him as much as it washed over him: warm, pleasant, affectionate. “You look absolutely gorgeous, but you know you don’t need to wait like that.”
Ctirad opened his eyes slowly. “I know, sir. I find it…” he considered the word options. “Restful.”
“All right then. How did your shopping go?”
“It was – there were a lot of clothes.” That was a lame answer, and he held still, waiting for the mocking. When it didn’t come, he looked up at his master’s face.
Timaios was smiling, but it didn’t look like he was about to laugh. “Yes. Shel told me that you will be quite outfitted in a few days. and yet here you are, nude.”
Ctirad felt heat coming to his cheeks and struggled to keep his composure. “Sir…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s comfortable this way, sir. Timaios. Restful,” he repeated. “Do you want me to dress?”
“I want you to come eat dinner. Do you want to be dressed for that?”
Want, again. Ctirad gave the question as fair of consideration as he could. “I.” He shook his head, thought about it again, and swallowed. “Sir, you said something about kneeling at your feet…”
Timaios raised his eyebrows. “When you are ready, when I want you to submit to me in a much more intense manner. Not as an everyday thing. You are not a pet, Ctirad.”
Ctirad swallowed a surge of misery at the rejection and plowed on. “No, sir. I’m… I am learning what it means to be Kept, here. But right now…” He couldn’t make himself go on. He bent down to the ground and pressed his forehead to the carpet. He didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he could speak right now.