Chapter Text
“My lord, thank the Maker I found you, your hound has-” pleaded the elf, a young man by most standards but one whose features had already begun to age from work and the tension of serving under the Couslands: a kind and generous family in all, barring one son of course.
“Later” growled the young Cousland in annoyance, waving his hand dismissively, not adoring the interruption to his reading in the slightest, nor even raising his head to look at the servant as he did so. It seemed it was forever the prerogative of servants to interrupt him as he was enjoying the sauciest of scenes in his private collection of books. It forever horrified his tutor Alduous that a man of wit and privilege such as Niall, would cripple his potential by reading only to the most brazen of erotic tales. Truth be told, he would love to read more widely, but that he wished to read tomes of magic and blood rites would only serve to horrify Alduous further. The young noble felt his fat cock begin to go limp in his trousers as the image of his tutor's scowl entered his mind and the drone of the servant's pleas regarding his mabari hound went on.
Niall looked up, a grim look upon his eyes, shadowing his expression, one hand violently closing the book he had been reading with a loud thump, his other forming a rest upon which he laid his cheek. He was no adonis but by virtue of his youth his features were still firm and unweathered. He wore his dark hair at medium length, though unlike the wavy strands of his father and brother, his was a shaggy mess no matter how much a servant worked it over. His untameable hair earned the affectionate name 'Pup' from his father, and his disposition the name 'dog'; only uttered by servants when they were sure no one else was around.
“What is it knife ears?” he questioned, wishing for answers, if only to expedite his “lordly” duty of managing what affairs pertained to him.
The elf, still skittish from the thumping of the book and the young Cousland's aggression, stuttered at first, his words all over the place and nearly incomprehensible, but from what Niall could gather his hound had cornered a servant in their quarters and she was too terrified to escape and no one dared approach the hound themselves out of fear of being bitten. Niall was sure he knew the servant in question, after all he had told his hound to harass her; he did so love watching the elves squirm.
Unfortunately his mischief was not as well thought out as he had hoped, for here he was, interrupted in his private time, by an elf, of course. He rose from behind the desk where he had been sitting and reading and motioned the servant to come closer, masking his annoyance to stop the servant's shaking and whimpering. As the elf approached with trepidation, the young noble extended one arm slowly and calmly and let it come to a rest on the elf's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze as his own stomach churned slightly. A sigh escaped the elf's mouth as his face relaxed for the briefest of moments before Niall threw the elf forward into the desk.
“My lord-!” exclaimed the elf in fear as the noble pushed his face down into the desk, enough to pin him but not enough to bruise as he brought his other hand raining down on the elf's bent ass in heavy smacks.
“You. bloody. knife. ears. know. better. than. to. interrupt. my. reading.”
He sang out each word in tandem with the spanking, each blow rocking the desk and the elf, who whimpered and cried out at the stinging impacts. When it was over the elf crumpled at the foot of the desk, his face wet. If he didn't know better than to interrupt Niall's reading before, the message was clear now.