#derogatory language

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"Sparring?" Navarre glanced up sharply from the letter he was penning.

"It's been so long since I last saw you train, my lord. You were a master of the blade. Do you remember our duels when we were young?" Inigo smiled. Though he was supposed to be guarding Navarre's study, he leaned against the wall casually, watching the young lord's actions with interest. The only indication that he was on duty was the sword strapped to his waist.

"Of course. My father took it upon himself to punish you for daring to challenge his heir so brazenly. In retrospect, you were looking for an excuse to spend time with me instead of training, weren't you?"

"You are as sharp as your own blade, my lord. I admit it... I was far more impudent than your father feared."

"I do wonder how you turned out to be such an insolent slave. Have I been a poor master?"

"Nay. You have long since earned my loyalty without need for this collar." The knight lightly touched the spell-infused collar that demanded utter obedience to his master. "Rather than controlling my body, you have taken control of my heart."

Navarre set his quill down with a soft tsk. "I should not have taught you to read. You wax poetic in a way that does not befit a knight addressing his lord."

"Hm? Are you pretending you dislike it now? Cute."

"...You said you wanted to spar." The young lord beckoned Inigo closer. "You lost to me frequently back then. Do you miss that feeling?"

The tall knight leaned over Navarre's desk, a smile playing on his lips. "...Perhaps."

"Ill-mannered as always. Then I'll make this a learning opportunity."

Suddenly, Navarre was drawing a lethal penstroke across Inigo's throat with his silver-sheathed quill, black ink dripping down the knight's skin like droplets of blood. Inigo gasped, staring as it stained the frilled neckline of his white shirt.

"You've lost." Navarre grabbed the taller man's collar, pushing his unfinished letter out of the way before pinning Inigo to the desk in a single move. "Kneel."

The knight weakly slid from the desk into a kneeling position, bowing his head as Navarre rose from his seat and drew near.

"'Dog Knight.' They gave you this title because you're a subservient mutt, always following me without question. You're ill-behaved, rabid, and violent, yet you tuck tail at a mere word from me. And the real reason for your title... Everyone knows you're a slave. No matter how loose your leash is, you're still a collared mongrel."

Navarre hooked a finger into Inigo's collar, tugging it carelessly. The knight bit his lip and shivered - the magically conductive material was malleable to the owner of the spell, but unyielding to all others. The sensation of magic thrumming so close to Inigo's throat made his breath catch and stutter.

"Really. The most feared knight in the northern territories, reduced to a shivering, panting mess with a few words?" The young lord bent down, pulling Inigo's collar to force eye contact.

The knight suddenly surged forward, hungrily seeking a kiss, but Navarre was faster.

"Stay down." The command seared through Inigo's consciousness, burning into his neck, and the knight whimpered as he sank back onto his haunches. "You think a mutt has the right to lick his master's face?"

"N-No, my lord."

"And yet you try anyways? Your insolence truly knows no bounds."

"My lord, may I ask a question...?"

"Speak."

"When will we spar?"

Navarre stared, then ground his foot into the tent in Inigo's trousers. "It seems you've already raised your sword against me."

The knight sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, groaning in pain. "I-I didn't mean... n-not like this... nngh, my lord, f-forgive me, it hurts..."

"I cannot even discipline you without you becoming like this. Are you truly so far gone that something like this excites you?"

"M-My lord is handsome and fair, even when he is being— cruel."

"You've lost two duels thus far. Do you know what happens next?"

Inigo struggled to speak, sweat beading on his brow as pain radiated from his groin. "W-We had a rule that— That the loser of a best of three— ugh... would have to fulfill a w-wish..."

"Correct. You challenged me to a sparring session, and have lost twice already. As punishment, you must fulfill a wish for me." Navarre finally lifted his foot, and the knight shuddered, shielding his tender genitals from further abuse.

"My lord, these... were not fair duels."

"Is it fair when you play tug-of-war with your dog?"

The knight suddenly stiffened. Sensing an opening, Navarre leaned down, whispering in Inigo's ear. "Have I wounded your honor? You've been fighting my battles for all these years, yet I won't face you in single combat. You sound so desperate to see me in action. How did you call me before? Oh... 'Cute.'"

"...My lord..." This time, when Inigo met Navarre's eyes, his gaze was no longer meek and subservient. A primal light had kindled in his eyes, and he lifted his chin. "If your dog is strong enough, he may yank you off your feet."

The young lord's face finally split in a smile. "You are right. Sir Inigo... My wish is for you to duel me in the courtyard after dinner. Hold nothing back."