His Little Bird

Puzzle

Ethan's POV:

I snap a photo of Birdie before sending it to Weston. I pocket my phone, looking down at my Little Bird as she sleeps peacefully.

I reach over to tuck her in more, making sure her face is not obscured by the blanket. I kneel down next to the bed to watch her expression change ever so slightly as she falls deeper into sleep.

Oh, my Little Bird.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I check to see that Weston has replied with a thumbs up.

I set my phone aside, focusing back on Birdie. I caress her cheek, making her purse her lips. I chuckle, kissing her forehead before giving her space.

My bones crack as I stand. I check Birdie one last time before leaving her to rest.

I pull out the documents I printed out at work, situating myself in the living room.

I stare at the top of the document for a while, imprinting it in my head: Title of Ownership.

I have not talked to Birdie's father about a price, but I'm not concerned as I simply could not put a budget on my submissive. No, money isn't infinite, but I know her father will be reasonable.

I look through the paperwork, acquainting myself with the government document. I'll have to fax this in to the ownership office for them to put it on file and transfer everything, but I need to wait till I have finalized the contract with Mr. Astor.

"Master Ethan?"

Birdie shuffles into the living room, dragging a blanket on the floor behind her. I extend a hand out to her and she shuffles over, stopping short of the sofa.

She flops down on the floor unceremoniously and lets out a huff, hugging my legs to her chest. She looks up at me expectantly, waiting for me to pet her once she sets her head on my lap.

I humor her, caressing her head. "You feeling okay, Little Bird?" Birdie nods silently, turning her face into my legs to hide.

I chuckle, leaning back to relax. Birdie frowns, looking up at me expectantly as I stop petting her.

"Demanding little thing, aren't you?" She smiles coyly as I start to pet her again. "I called your father earlier and asked if he wanted me to drop you off. I'll take you home after I've gotten you ready for bed—I still want you to make dinner and there are a few things I'd like from you."

Birdie nods, her smiles slowly fading away. I sit in silence for a moment, contemplating my course of action.

"Do I need to move us to our chair?"

She doesn't move her head, just her eyes as she looks up at me. "No, Master Ethan."

"...I don't mind." She nods her head dismissively.

"Can I ask you something, or do we have to go to our chair?"

I can't quite read the emotion in her voice and it frustrates me. She doesn't seem happy and that confuses me immensely.

"...I want to enforce a routine... we sit in our chair when we need to talk... but that doesn't mean you can't ever talk to me if we aren't at our chair." She thinks on my words and I try to decide if I should just move her there myself.

I have too little information to decide though.

"It is a... serious conversation..." My stomach drops, my brain unable to procure a serious conversation that isn't negative.

"I'll carry you. Will you sit in my lap today?" I don't know why my desire to hold her is so strong right now, but having her kneel doesn't feel right.