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It was a teasing though serious warning, one that made him smile, content. "Don't want to say it to anyone else." He paused, the humor disappearing. "All those years I was teaching myself to fight, thinking it was to go up against my father if ever he tried to make me helpless again... Sounds stupid and obvious, but it's only lately I realized that wasn't what I was fighting."
She nodded against his chest. "What was it, sweet boy?" Her voice was a whisper in the darkness. He closed his eyes.
"It was my memories, my anger at my father. So much futile shit, stuff I was fighting against. But the night they tried to hurt you..."
His arm constricted around her, an automatic reassurance to them both that that horrible moment was a memory, well in the past. He still had to take a steadying breath before he could continue. "That night was the first time I'd ever fought for something. The difference was the difference between choking and breathing. That's the one kind of fighting I'll do now and forever, Mistress. Always for you." He took another breath. "And for myself. The right way."
When she released the other cuff, he sat up in the darkness, and gathered her to him. She didn't mind being treated like a girl, his Mistress, and when he had her cradled in his lap, his arms surrounding her, she rewarded him, both for his care and the words.
"I'll hold you to that," she said quietly, stroking his chest, his jaw and throat. "Because I think I'm keeping you forever. I may even marry you."
"Do I have any say in it?" he asked.
Her voice had a smile in it. "Not a damn bit."
He sighed. "Thank God."
The End
