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Chapter 13:

Yours

Hatchet held another piece of cheese up, the human on his lap eagerly accepting the offering between careful teeth. As the human chewed and swallowed, Hatchet chuckled, reaching for another morsel to feed him.

“Guess he was hungry after all.” Cypress mused flatly.

“I think he's enjoying himself.” Mortar chimed.

“Who, Hatchet, or the summoned?” she chided.

“Looks like both, I guess?”

“You know I can still hear you, right?” Hatchet grumbled. “And I'm just feeding him because he likes it. There's nothing erotic about that?”

Cypress and Mortar shared a knowing look.

Hatchet added, “Now you're making me feel weird about it.”

“Good. You deserve to be shamed.” Cypress countered.

Mortar laughed loudly. “You only say that because you envy him, don't you?”

It was Cypress who grumbled next. “Can you feed him faster? This is painful to watch.”

Hatchet offered a final piece to the human, lightly scratching along his smooth jaw after. “Fine. Do what you need to.”

Cypress held her hands up into her familiar window pose, taking a deep breath and releasing a long sigh before her chant.

She dropped her hands after, cursing under her shallow breath. “No good. My magic has officially depleted. I'll need at least a week… It's been years since this last happened. We really are dealing with the spells of another Divined.”

Hatchet only smiled, moving to slice off another bite of the ham. It seemed to be his human's favorite this meal. “That may be for the best. I'd like to get him settled in at home soon. I want him to feel safe there, and if you're visiting again soon, I think some time before then will do him good.” Hatchet offered the ham up to the human, who was more than happy to take it.

She stared at the scene in daydream fascination. “I suppose that's fair. I do tend to get carried away sometimes, and he's been through enough. Is there anything else you need before you go?”

“Only for you to know how grateful I really am to you, Cypress.” Hatchet flashed his fangs, extending his hand. “Even if you do get on my every nerve.”

“You're just lucky this human likes you.” She countered, taking his hand and giving it a shake. “I'll send over what you need in a few days.”

= = =

‘Food tastes better from the Master’s hand.’ It was the strangest fact, but undeniable for the human. He loved being fed, spoiled, and caressed so gently. He snuggled back against his Master’s chest, enveloped in the warm weight of the fur and his new cloak. He sighed after swallowing the last bite offered, relishing the meal almost as much as he relished his place on that lap.

His sigh turned to a yawn, and the Master gently patted him on the thigh, coaxing him to stand.

‘Must have more to do before sleep.’ He reasoned, trying to hide his disappointment at standing up. By the time he'd complied, his disappointment had nearly passed. The Master still had a few surprises in store.

‘A leash?’ The human swelled inside. He was worried he wouldn't get a new one, but he was finally learning he shouldn't assume such things of Master Hatchet.

The human lifted his head, presenting his collar to the wolf — who attached the lead in a smooth motion, the leash sliding through his hand, drawing it tight until Hatchet caught the loop of leather at the end.

The human stared, examining his new lead. There were links of lightweight chain from the latch of his collar to the center of his chest, where a length of black leather with a red stripe began. This leash was no mere strip of animal pelt, it was two layers of leather carefully sewn together, polished and smoothed just for him. The loop that was fashioned on the end would fit the Master’s palm and knuckles snug, hanging down just enough where the wolf could hold it while still resting a hand on the human's lap.

He shuddered, doting to himself about all the spoils he was certain he didn't deserve.

The Master stood, tugging that leash so very gently. The human happily followed him to the door, stepping back into the warmth of the evening sun. His breath caught, humbled beyond measure.

Showing him kindness was one thing. Accommodating the mare was another.

She had been saddled, pad and all placed over her sturdy back, her coat freshly-brushed. The saddle was made of firm, polished leather, and it seemed to be fitted with both her and him in mind, the sizing surprisingly accurate. A mask of brown leather with metal plating had been affixed over her new bridle, shielding her too-blue eyes from any bugs or vulnerabilities.

Her head tilted, her ears picking up on the human's steps, eager to greet his approach.

His hand came to rest against the side of her face. ‘It seems the Master has spoiled us both. I hope it's comfortable?’

A swift nosing into his palm was answer enough. ‘_I'm glad.’ _

His hand slipped around the short lead rope, noting the absence of reins. He was happy to see it. They didn't require forced direction. Communication was all they ever needed.

He patted on her side, turning to his Master, taking a knee as he signed in humble appreciation, “Thank you.”

His Master stepped forward, taking the human's leash and guiding him back to a stand. He pulled him close into his chest, his snout brushing softly against the human's cheek. It wasn't sign language, but the answer was just as clear.

= = =

“We will probably visit a day or two before Cypress does. First, I need to ready this guard for his role, but we will get him to his station before too long.” Mortar confirms his plans a final time. They'd soon separate from Hatchet on the trail.

“I have a name.” The young soldier adds.

“Right. Sorry.” Mortar chimes. “We will get Bastion to his station before too long.”

Hatchet scoffed. “By all means, drag your paws.”

Mortar chuckled, looking towards the illusion of a wolf riding in Hatchet's lap. “Don't worry, I'll give you two a few days to uhhh… get cozy.”

Hatchet glared. “Like I said; take your time.”

Mortar winked, drawing his reins to the left. “See you, Hatchet.”

“Thanks, Mortar. I really do owe you for what you've done.” Hatchet nodded with genuine respect for his friend as Mortar waved goodbye.

And suddenly; it was just the two of them again…

Hatchet eased down the reins, letting Shade follow the trail. He pulled his human closer with his arms freed, nosing into the nook of that neck bearing his collar—inhaling. He squeezed. He snagged the loop of the leash around his knuckles, his hand lingering at the human's waistband. He eased the summoned back, letting him relax against him in familiar fashion.

The human yawned almost immediately.

Hatchet smirked. He expected as much, it's why he had them ride together. His human had a long day behind him and a full belly for the ride home. He'd earned all the rest he wanted.

Hatchet snugged his arms around the summoned, supporting him in his usual way.

The human relaxed into the hold, pressing his face into Hatchet's bicep, taking a deep breath followed by a measured exhale.

It wasn't long before Hatchet was chuckling at the bundle in his lap snoring so softly.

= = =

‘Great. You two again.’ Hatchet's human sighed the moment the dream began.

‘Nice to see you too!’ His first self answered with a smile.

His slave self remained silent.

‘I never realized how annoying my optimism was back then,’ he sent the thought to both.

The slave nodded in agreement.

‘Your pessimism is hardly any better…’ Hatchet's human scolded before sighing again, his hand covering his face. ‘So why am I here this time? You two aren’t exactly wanted company.’

‘You shouldn't be so hard on yourself.’ his first self grinned madly at his joke.

Hatchet's human scowled.

‘Can I touch it?’ The slave added from nowhere, his stare cast to the dirt.

‘Sorry, but no. As much as I like masturbating—’

‘Master Hatchet's collar… our collar. May I touch it?’ he clarified.

Hatchet's human lifted his fingers to the smooth leather on his neck, smiling. He opened his eyes and started towards the slave, answering more softly, ‘Yes. You can touch it.’

He knelt before his ragged self, letting the filthy hands slowly raise up to his throat. The fingers were trembling—eyes hiding behind matted hair widened with awe. The slave passed his bony digits over the leather, marveling at the gift. ‘It's… It's beautiful.’

Hatchet's human smiled. ‘I know—’

‘Never wish the collar off,

for Master holds our lead.

Keep it on and keep it taut;

he handles every need.’

Hatchet's human just stared at the slave's sudden outburst.

‘We need a new gospel. We need to serve this master. We need to serve him properly.’

Hatchet's human stared for a moment before nodding. ‘It's a good start.’

‘I think so too.’ His first self chimed_. ‘Has a good rhythm with decent rhymes.’_

The slave just kept swooning over the collar, mumbling to himself. ‘So much lighter now… yet a whole new weight.’

_‘Were we always good with rhythm and rhymes?’ _ Hatchet's human asked.

His first self nodded. ‘Yeah, up until—’

“?#%[•`&%@¤——”

The sentence distorted, an abrupt screech followed by a mess of unintelligible noise that made Hatchet's human sink to his knees in agony. It struck at something within him.

Unbearable silence followed, as did tears.

_“_Wh–what was—”

“I’m sorry… I didn't mean to….” His first self answered, stepping back, that smirk finally wiped from his face.

“_Didn't mean to _what? What were you going to say? What was that?” Hatchet's human rose to his feet.

“We can't.” His first self begged.

_“_I'm quite tired of hearing th—” his voice fell silent. He hadn't even realized he'd been speaking instead of thinking.

The realization fell upon him: I can hear… I could hear. That's why I know how rhymes sound—how my own voice sounds. I used to be able to hear; to speak.

Nothing about this realization made any sense to the human. He was abandoned as a kid… He was abandoned, and deaf, and mute. He was unwanted and defective. He was always those things… wasn't he?

A light lit up the room behind him, a familiar glow cast over his shoulders. He turned to face the golden light of the door. “Are all of my answers there?”

“Only the ones we don't want to know.” The slave added in his hollow tone.

“So, could we always speak, too?”

The slave lingered on the question, silent in deep thought. Finally, he answered, “I… think we've forgotten why we stopped talking in the before world, but the first collar didn't allow it in this one.”

Hatchet's human scoffed, the notion slowly building into an unstoppable laugh. “What kind of fucking hell am I trapped in? This is fucking crazy. I really am so fucking crazy.”

“We thought it would be too painful. It's easier to be without if you don't know what you're missing.” his first self answered.

“Don't be tempted by the bread.” The slave added.

“I understand why we had to become like this…” Hatchet's human looked at the slave. “I know why we had to bury so much to survive, but can't we heal now? The Master lets us heal, now. The Master will want us to speak.”

“We will only heal if we want to. We will only speak if we want to.” The first self answered.

“And if I say I want to? If I want to speak to Master Hatchet?”

“Nobody is stopping you—except you.”

“I–I want to…”

“Seems like you're trying to convince yourself.” His first self replied.

The slave added, “Some things don't need words, only intent. Sign will suffice. If we want to serve our new Master, it won't be our voice that makes us his. It's never been about words between us. There are other ways to show our devotion. There are pleasures our Master deserves—pleasures we want to give.”

Hatchet's human laughed again, closing his eyes and tossing his head back. “Well, we can agree there, at least. I suppose it's time we—”

The scenery had shifted, his other selves gone when he reopened his eyes. His perspective had changed. He hid among the brush now. He smelled Mother's sickness with his sharp nose. He tasted her death in the air. He felt how cold she was, he heard the sounds her festering gut made… but he was starving. He was too small—too young… Too weak to see.

He nursed. He hurt. He would die even slower now.

He begged the spirits to kill him faster…

And then the death-god reached for him.

Hatchet's human awoke with a gasp—the strangest itch in his hand.

= = =

The human awoke with somewhat of a jolt–as usual–but with a reassuring squeeze from Hatchet's hand on his waist, the human settled back against the wolf.

Probably weird dreams again. Hatchet mused.

The human looked back to the sellsword, making eye contact and flashing the most adorable smile.

Hatchet nodded his greeting. “Good morning.”

The human nodded back, still staring up at Hatchet in a way that kept the wolf pondering. Sure, the human doted on him, but this look felt strangely….

Mischievous?

The human glanced around the trail, seeing they were quite alone on the meadowy plains. He spooned snugly into Hatchet, clasping one hand over the hand on his waistline and the other on the wolf's thigh. Hatchet could feel the human's heart thumping faster and faster against him.

Hatchet was content with riding together, but the human apparently had other plans. With clear intent, he bucked his hips, grinding against Hatchet's sheath through the thin fabric between them.

His member jolted in response, Hatchet sucking in a breath. He held still.

The human did not. He did it again, pressing his rear deliberately into Hatchet's sheath—which was stirring from the attention.

Hatchet's eyes locked onto the human's, their faces side by side. Those sad eyes didn't seem so sad at that moment. Hatchet pulled the summoned back by his grip at the waist, better lining up his crack with Hatchet's other sword.

The human blushed, repeating his motion with the sheath nuzzled right between his cheeks this time. Hatchet's emerging tip rewarded the effort with a warm spurt.

Seems he's quite set on teasing me. I'll let him have his fun, but two can play this game.

Hatchet's hand slipped lower. Tender claws dipped past the human's waistband, fingers curling around the mast already raised in his pants.

Hatchet was uncertain if the human knew he could make noise yet, but the gasp he took was lined by the cutest squeak the mercenary had ever heard. It only made Hatchet squeeze his dick harder.

The human adjusted his hand, as if to stop Hatchet, but the wolf briefly released the tool, lightly swatted the hand, and grabbed right back ahold.

His message was clear, “Don't touch.”

The human leaned back, both hands now squeezing a thigh, accepting the command, but still squirming. When Hatchet gave him a stroke, the human bucked again, Hatchet's malehood firing another spurt; marking the ass ground against it.

The human let out something between a moan and a whine.

Hatchet thrust to meet the human's motion the next he shifted back, the rhythm of friction building between them.

They shuddered.

Hatchet's left hand kept playing with the dick–squeezing it, stroking it, rolling it between fingers to coax pre from the tip–while his right hand rose higher to his human's throat. He slipped a finger beneath the collar. The leather slacked slightly at his touch. He balled his fist some, putting a little pressure on the neck as he tugged.

His human was a writhing, blushing mess that was clearly desperate for more. Hatchet half expected him to melt into his hold at any moment. Teasing him was among the most satisfying things Hatchet had ever done. He could not wait to absolutely spoil his human with all the pleasure he had to give. Hatchet wanted to fulfil every desire and tend to every need the summoned had.

Hatchet pulled his hand away from the cock, bringing it up to his muzzle. He took a heavy whiff of the scent, letting his mouth water. He licked his palm–savoring the flavor–coating it in spit before returning his lathered touch to his needy human.

The fleshy-member rolled effortlessly against rough pads, gliding between greased fingers—the pre and spit a slimy feel that had the human biting his lip in obvious bliss. Hatchet could tell his human was enjoying this by the way his fingers dug into Hatchet's legs; by the way he pressed his entrance even harder against Hatchet's growing girth.

Such blistering need.

Hatchet's thumb passed over the cock-head, grazing his human's ridge as he exposed the head. Hatchet had learned it was a sensitive spot for his human. He slid his thumb over the tip, stealing some extra lubricant before making another swipe along the ridge.

The human bucked violently, tensing as his eyes shot wide.

Hatchet leaned in closer, huffing; his form nearly swallowing the human in his lap. He looked into those wide eyes desperately seeking his own. The summoned was already on the edge. His human was asking for permission.

Hatchet shook his head the slightest–smirking–watching his human struggle to comply.

The eyes of the summoned went even wider upon realization: Hatchet wasn't finished with him yet.

Hatchet twisted his hand, dragging his thumb along the near entire rim of that head in one merciless motion.

The human squeezed his eyes, clenched his teeth, buried his face into Hatchet's fur, and tensed every muscle he had trying to not cum.

Hatchet almost felt guilty for edging him this way, but the human started it, and they would have the entire night for release. He thought it would be easy to tease him until then. They had a while before they would reach home…

He stroked his human again, earning another whimpering buck. It was going to be a fun ride.

= = =

By the time the sun had nearly set, all the human could manage was to not drool on himself—and even that was becoming a challenge. He was fairly certain it had been hours by that point, and the darkness of night wasn't the only thing getting closer. The fact he hadn't blown already was a miracle as far as the human was concerned.

Another pass of a hand—another blistering blush. It was amazing, yet agonizing. It was unbelievable, yet unbearable. It was wonderful, yet oh so wicked.

The first master had denied him for years, trapping his tool by endless means, ensuring he could never enjoy even a second… But this? To be denied pleasure only to prolong it? To have it grow, and coaxed, and stroked so softly… so endlessly….

Another breath shuddered out, the human nearing tears. His hips thrust into the hold again, sliding his ass back against his Master’s meat after. The back of his pants were drenched with the Master’s pre, the scent of heady arousal as thick as smoke. Sweat rolled down his brow in rivers, his skin aflame–his balls so blue that even the thrum of the horse's steps sent pain surging into what was left of his lustful guts…

Or pleasure… He confessed, unsure which of the two it truly was—far too ruttish to discern the answer.

He squirmed again. The Master’s breath was on his skin—his muzzle lain over the human's shoulder. The hand that wasn't edging him had trailed its way over the human's body countless times; the whisper of claws against a nipple, the traces of a circle around his belly-button, and even the squeeze of his upper thigh that made the human buck just a little harder. The Master never stopped tending to every bit of flesh within reach, but the human's favorite touch was when that large hand sat squarely on the small of his back.

He'd arched so naturally for Master Hatchet in that instant. He'd pleased the Master with the motion, too. He could tell by the low feel of the wolf's growl rumbling into his labored chest.

The Master pulled his hand away from the human's dick, bringing it back to his snout with a look so lecherous as he inhaled.

The human expected him to lick it and resume his terrific torture again, but was surprised to find that wasn't the case.

Master Hatchet lovingly lapped his tongue against the human's cheek, motioning ahead with a nod of his head.

The human followed the direction, finally paying attention enough to see that they were stopping.

Like right out of a story-book. The human mused, gazing at the house.

A house was built on the outskirts of a small forest, rows of evergreen on either side of the path leading up to the entrance. The Master guided their horses around back, where a fence surrounded a field. Several buildings were raised on this field, the Master taking them towards a larger one with a pen on the side. By the time they rode inside, the human realized it was a barn of sorts.

The Master made quick work of clearing the horses of saddles and cargo, brushing them down. They were given buckets of oats from a sack, and a few buckets of fresh water pulled from a well.

Despite the lack of attention for a few minutes, the human remained hard throughout. It was nice seeing his Master be such an efficient caretaker. It was nice knowing he'd be properly tended to also.

It was even nicer when the Master walked closer, towering over the human with a flash of ivory fangs beneath eyes of ruby.

The human swooned, still just a heated mess.

He nearly came again when the strong wolf leaned over and plucked him from the earth, carrying him bridal-style out of the barn and towards the house. The human's blush deepened at the thought of being Master Hatchet's wife.

Hell… I'd have his puppies if I could. He snuggled into those safe and strong arms, his cheek pressing against the leather band on Master’s bicep. He took a deep breath, getting a wonderful mix of the wolf's stout scent and the leather that signified their bond. It smelled right, like he just belonged there…

It smelled like home.

The master made it through the backdoor easy enough, bee-lining towards one room in particular while ignoring the others. When they crossed through, the human found himself in a west-facing room—one where the dusk streamed through the large window, casting the room in amber brilliance.

A bed awaited, a massive bear-pelt strewn across a mix of others. It looked surprisingly cozy.

The human was placed back on the ground, the stone floor cool against his feet. The Master made quick work of the human's clothing, setting his cloak and pants aside before removing his own pants.

The human watched with bated breath, eager to see the wolf at full-attention.

Hatchet smirked, turning around to hide his tool as he undressed. His bushy tail lightly swiped across the human's swollen cock.

The human didn't mind being teased longer, but his knees almost went a little too weak for a second.

The wolf paced over to the bed, casting a final smolder over his shoulder before turning and plopping down, his legs spread wide with arms tucked behind his head—fuzzy pits on full display. His fat dick stood at the ready above hefty nuts. The human thought the whole package looked in desperate need of servicing…

The Master moved a hand, gesturing down towards his large paws first, and slowly climbing up those sturdy legs–passing over his mass of wolf-meat–and on up that hefty chest to stop at his head. When he'd completed the full-motion, he raised his hand into a familiar sign.

“I am yours.”

It was all the direction the human needed.

= = =

Sorry for the long silence. Work's been a bit crazy, and had to wrestle with the human character to figure out exactly what paths he wanted this story to take. Had a lot of decisions to be made before continuing this one, so that also contributed to the delay.

I do hope you enjoyed seeing these two again, and really hope you like the next chapter.

As a side note: chapters 11 and 12 of my other story Breath of Storm will also be done soon, releasing exclusively to the discord beta readers. If you like gay dragon on human stuff, you'll probably enjoy the series. (Free to join, just ask to not share stories from there elsewhere.) There are other short stories there as well, if one-shots are your thing.

Thanks for reading, as always! Would love to hear any thoughts or feedback you may have for me. Even a like, comment, or rating goes far for me.

Until next time,

~ Bayou