by M. D. Grimm
A long sigh rumbled through Asagoroth. When Asagoroth cupped his face with his hands, Trystan had no choice but to raise his head and look at Asagoroth. He thought he’d see anger or impatience, but instead there was understanding and even some concern.
“Trystan, all my power, all my strength, I give to you. They are yours to command. I am yours. That was a decision I made a millennium ago.”
“Why?”
Asagoroth’s eyes suddenly became sad. “It was the only way I could win Roland. For all my strength and power, I would never have him unless I gave them up. They hindered me in winning him. I cannot change what I am, and I have no wish to. But I had to find temperance if I was to have him.”
“But”—Trystan gripped Asagoroth’s wrists—“why did you want him? What was he compared to conquering all the realms and having them under your command?”
Asagoroth suddenly looked confused and tilted his head slightly. “Why do you ask that? You should know the answer.”
Feeling unsure and confused himself, Trystan pushed Asagoroth’s hands away, but Asagoroth only gripped Trystan’s wrists in return.
“I told you,” Asagoroth said, his voice gaining volume. “I told you as I awaited your decision and for the barrier around Emphoria to drop, that Roland made me happy. Conquering the realms would not bring me joy, but he did. Now you do. That is my answer. You seem to have trouble accepting it.”
Trystan opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I suppose I just don’t understand it. I’ve never seen myself as—”
“Worthy?” Asagoroth said, reading his mind clearly even though he wasn’t in it currently. “Far more precious than all the treasures in this temple, than all the riches in all the realms? No, you never did. You never saw yourself as I did. As I do. But you saw me as worth abandoning your home and your people for. You see me as precious, do you not?”
Trystan knew the truth shone in his eyes. “Yes. By the Light, yes.”
Asagoroth nodded as if everything was settled. “Then we are in agreement. Now—” He set Trystan’s hands on his chest and let his own drop. “I believe you were touching me.”
Trystan laughed. He couldn’t help it. Asagoroth’s eyes warmed with adoration when he did. Leaning forward, Trystan pressed his lips to Asagoroth’s chest and let his hands slip down to his lean thighs. Sliding his hand behind Asagoroth’s body, Trystan nervously cupped his firm butt, and Asagoroth jerked slightly but never told him to stop. Proving his words true, Asagoroth never stopped Trystan. He only threaded his fingers through Trystan’s hair, the touch gentle and encouraging.
Asagoroth’s lower half was under water, and Trystan wondered if he could hold his breath and taste Asagoroth at the same time.
He felt pressure inside his head—the kind that indicated Asagoroth had intruded—and heard Asagoroth grunt. Looking up, he saw Asagoroth’s eyes brighten with anticipation.
“You wish to taste me as I did you?”
Trystan cleared this throat and nodded, squeezing Asagoroth’s firm butt with his hands, thrilled that he could, that Asagoroth wanted him to.
Asagoroth moved to the side of the pool and levered himself out, sitting on the edge, his legs spread. Heart pounding, Trystan let Asagoroth grab his hands and set them on an erection of glistening onyx. He would never manage to fit all that in his mouth, but Trystan was determined to try. The pressure in his head faded as he stroked the shaft with both hands and received a deep groan from Asagoroth. He didn’t know what he was doing but he didn’t let that stop him. Trystan glanced once at Asagoroth before lowering his head and closing his lips over the tip.
Asagoroth threaded his fingers through his hair as Trystan gained more confidence, as he began to massage and suck the shaft, enjoying the taste that danced on his tongue. Closing his eyes, he went with instinct.
“By the Dark,” Asagoroth groaned, now gripping Trystan’s head with his hands. “You have not forgotten. Like that, just like that.”
Encouraged by Asagoroth’s evident pleasure, Trystan continued his slow ministrations, his pounding heart and Asagoroth’s panting the only sounds he could hear. He boldly cupped Asagoroth’s large balls as he continued to suck, and Trystan enjoyed the weight of them in his hands, the way they filled his palms.
“Enough,” Asagoroth said suddenly, the sound echoing fiercely off the walls.
He slipped his strong hands under Trystan’s arms and lifted him easily out of the water, as if he weighed no more than a feather. He gripped Asagoroth’s shoulders as he settled on Asagoroth’s lap, the erection nudging against his own. Asagoroth claimed his mouth, thrusting his tongue inside, and Trystan gripped his horns, kissing him for all he was worth.
“You taste good,” he whispered this time.
Asagoroth grinned before playfully nipping at Trystan’s lower lip. “Prepare yourself. I aim to claim you again.”
Just thinking of the force of Asagoroth inside him had Trystan eagerly awaiting his domination.
“Then you better hurry, or I might find someone more worthy.” Trystan blinked at his own words. Light, where had those come from?
Asagoroth’s eyes widened, and Trystan held his breath in fear. But then Asagoroth laughed and rolled them, lying on top of Trystan. The cool stone against Trystan’s back was a stark contrast to the heat above him.
“No, mate,” Asagoroth said softly. “There is no one else worthy of you. Only me.”
Mate. That word said so much, even more than “love.” It was something deeper, a link that went far beyond emotions and promises. It spoke of destiny, fate, and some greater design. Did Asagoroth think that? That the One Who Brought the Light planned on them coming together?
“Stop thinking,” Asagoroth gently chided. There wasn’t pressure inside Trystan’s head, so he must have seen something on his face. Asagoroth was far too intuitive.
Asagoroth proceeded to stroke Trystan’s intimate entrance before probing slowly, stretching gently. Trystan couldn’t stop the whimper and spread his legs farther, relishing the violation. He was still slightly sore from the first time, but that only made every sensation more powerful. Every touch of those talented fingers sent a bolt of pleasure to his groin, and his shaft was hard and dripping.
“Asa,” Trystan moaned. “I need you. Please.”
“You will have me.” Asagoroth bent his head first and replaced his fingers with his tongue. Trystan shuddered and closed his eyes, nothing but a ball of sensation and need.
He barely realized he was begging by the time Asagoroth mounted him and pushed into his body. Legs spread wide on either side of Asagoroth’s lean hips, Trystan kept his eyes closed, his hands gripping Asagoroth’s arms to keep some semblance of balance.
“Open your eyes,” Asagoroth demanded. “Mate, open your eyes.”
Trystan did as he was told, staring directly into Asagoroth’s bright blue ones, unable to keep his cries inside. Asagoroth was slow but forceful with his thrusts, and Trystan felt like he might fly apart in a million pieces if he didn’t keep a tight hold on his lover.
“There you are,” Asagoroth panted. “There is that golden light.”
Trystan cupped Asagoroth’s face and stared into the blue fire as Asagoroth quickened his pace, stretching Trystan to his limits. But he wanted more. Trystan wanted more. He wanted all of it. Wrapping his legs around Asagoroth’s lean waist, Trystan began to push up, to increase the friction. Surprise flickered on Asagoroth’s face, but on the heels of that came burning desire and a powerful look of triumph, as if he had won a victory.
He gripped Trystan’s erection with a large hand, and one jerk was all it took. Trystan bowed backward and screamed as he came violently.
“Trystan.” Asagoroth groaned his name again and again before he came, the heat of his seed making Trystan wonder if he’d be burned. But his trust in Asagoroth only made that a fleeting thought with little fear.
Asagoroth rolled them to their sides and held Trystan close. Tryst
an snuggled in, gasping for breath, body limp with exhaustion.
“I cannot tell you,” Asagoroth whispered, “how I have longed for that connection with you. How much I have agonized for it. Thank you.”
Trystan tucked his head under Asagoroth’s chin and refused to dwell on the unpleasant thoughts that entered his mind at his lover’s words.
I’m not Roland. Is his love for me or for who I once was? Is he just using me? Trystan swallowed hard. Or am I just using him?
Trystan woke lazily, feeling loose and slightly sore. He didn’t move for a time, simply enjoying the warm and limp state of his body. He smiled, snuggling deeper into the warmth, but he couldn’t fall back asleep. Sighing in defeat, Trystan opened his eyes and realized he lay curled in Asagoroth’s paw. He blinked and sat up. An instinctual fear flashed through him at the thought of his little, itty-bitty body lying in a monstrously large, clawed paw. It was there and gone again since he knew Asagoroth would never harm him. But it was intimidating to see those serrated glossy black claws rise up, encircling him. Yet his palm was smooth, warm, and made a delightful bed.
Trystan stood, noting he was naked and also realizing he didn’t care. What did he have to be self-conscious about? Asagoroth had kissed and licked and touched every single inch of him. It was obvious Asagoroth liked what he saw, liked what he possessed.
Looking around, Trystan saw they were in the treasure chamber. Asagoroth’s body was curled on top of the gold and jewels, and Trystan had to turn in circles to view his entire length. His tail was nearly as long as the rest of his body; it curled around and passed Asagoroth’s mighty head. It was there Trystan’s gaze landed and held. Asagoroth was asleep, his fiery, piercing eyes closed.
Trystan decided to take a moment and really look at the one he had bound himself to. He still felt an overwhelming sense of insignificance as he stared at Asagoroth, and he doubted that would ever go away. The sheer deadly beauty of him was something Trystan could never have imagined.
He climbed off Asagoroth’s paw and walked unsteadily to his head. He didn’t have far to walk. Black scales gleamed and formed different patterns around his eyes. Trystan stepped closer, fascinated. The skin of Asagoroth in his other form was so similar to the onyx scales, but vitally different. Heat pulsed against him, and Trystan realized the deep rumble he felt and heard was Asagoroth breathing.
It was truly amazing such a creature as him would want Trystan. Reaching forward, Trystan touched one of the gleaming scales. Smooth heat seared his skin. He made his way toward Asagoroth’s eye, skimming his fingertips from scale to scale. They became smaller as he moved down the large, sharp face. He didn’t need to duck under the horn that jutted out of Asagoroth’s jaw; he was far shorter than it.
He paused at Asagoroth’s eye. For a moment he simply stared, his hand on a scale that was no bigger than his outstretched fingers. Then Asagoroth opened that great eye and stared at him, the pupil dilated very slightly. Trystan saw himself reflected in the black, and his heart stuttered before speeding up.
“Hello,” he said softly. It was lame, but he didn’t know what else to say. Then, as if it were already their routine, Trystan scratched the scales encircling Asagoroth’s eye. A deep rumbling purr came from Asagoroth, and his eyelid drooped. The pupil dilated further, focused intensely on him.
Trystan was amused by Asagoroth’s reaction to the scratches. His feet twitched now and then and he flicked the end of his tail back and forth. It would seem Trystan had just found a sweet spot. Asagoroth leaned his head closer, and Trystan used both hands to rub his eye ridge. Trystan’s arms were aching by the time Asagoroth pulled away and shook his head. Some gold coins had stuck to his chin, and they rained down on Trystan, who laughed as he raised his arms above his head.
Asagoroth laid his head down again, always keeping Trystan in sight of at least one of his eyes.
“You are not Roland,” Asagoroth said gently, his voice a pleasant baritone. “But you know things about him, and us, that only he would know. That was his morning greeting for me.”
Trystan stared, then looked at his hands. He wasn’t sure he liked knowing that, but what could he do? Asagoroth obviously liked it, and he wasn’t petty enough to deny him pleasure if his past life had offered it before. If, indeed, he had once truly been Roland. All evidence pointed to that conclusion. Should he really keep trying to fight it?
There wasn’t pressure in his head, but Asagoroth obviously sensed something was wrong. He turned his head and gently, so gently, nuzzled Trystan’s cheek with the tip of his snout. How could someone so massive know how to be gentle?
Trystan closed his eyes, accepting the comfort.
“I do not say these things to hurt you.”
Trystan let out a large sigh and nodded. “I know. I just….”
“What, my love?” Asagoroth continued to nuzzle him, and he moved his paw and cupped Trystan on one side—a protective gesture.
Trystan took a deep breath and forced his eyes open. He stepped back and Asagoroth tilted his head, eyeing him. Trystan gathered his courage.
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Trystan said softly, voicing his worse fear. “I don’t want you to regret. I don’t want you to grow bored with me.” Even as he saw Asagoroth’s gaze darken, he pushed himself to continue before he lost his nerve. “Some things I do or say will be what Roland did or said. I don’t want to be compared to him, but I know I always will be. I was him once, but I’m not anymore. I’m Trystan. I have his essence, as you said, but is that what you love, or was it the entire being of Roland? You love my essence because I was once Roland, but could you ever love Trystan? Could you ever love the entire me? He and I are different angels.”
Trystan’s heart raced. He trembled, aware of his nakedness, his vulnerability. But he couldn’t remove the doubt that gnawed inside. Though he wanted Asagoroth’s love and devotion, he couldn’t understand it, even after what Asagoroth said earlier. He couldn’t fathom it. He didn’t think he was worthy of it, and he feared, down-in-the-gut feared, Asagoroth would realize that and either toss him aside or simply eat him.
Asagoroth stared silently at him for a long, tense moment. Trystan crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he weren’t naked.
“Did we not make love, you and I?”
Trystan looked up as Asagoroth stood on the mound of treasure. Fire flickered between his scales with every movement, and he fluttered his wings, though they remained folded along his back. There was no room for them outstretched.
Trystan’s heart jittered and he took an unconscious step back. Asagoroth’s bright eyes darkened further at his retreat. Trystan winced.
“Have my words to you fallen on deaf ears?”
There was an obvious warning growl, and Trystan hunched his shoulders. He knew he’d made a great mistake with his words.
“Asagoroth—”
“Do you love me?”
Trystan’s eyes widened as he stared at him. Asagoroth watched him out of a fierce eye, his head slightly turned.
Trystan’s words stuck in his throat. “I—” He faltered.
“If you do not love me, then I truly have wasted my time.”
Trystan’s vision blurred at the hurt and the anger in Asagoroth’s voice.
“Asagoroth—” His voice cracked.
“You have Roland’s essence,” Asagoroth said, rolling over Trystan’s tiny voice. “I love you for that. You are not so different from him in the way you move, speak, taste, and sound. But you look nothing like him. You are light where he was dark. You are petite where he was tall and had a warrior’s build. Your similarities I cherish. Your differences are a delight; they are secrets I wish to learn. But all is for naught if you do not love me the way he once did. The way I do you.”
Trystan stared in awe. Words failed him.
He realized too late his words were what Asagoroth wanted. Those fierce eyes flashed, and he dragged his onyx claws into the treasure, clenching in anger.
“I
see the angels have defeated me after all. I truly have lost my love. My reason for ending my campaign all those ages ago.”
Asagoroth crouched, and Trystan suddenly realized he was about to leave.
“Wait—”
Too late. Asagoroth leapt out of the chamber and pounced up through the broken ceiling, spreading his wings wide. Trystan scrambled after him, shimmering his wings visible, and tried to follow him. But he had no chance of following those powerful flaps.
“Asagoroth, wait! Don’t leave me!” Trystan collapsed on a small section of the crumbling roof, staring in disbelief. Asagoroth was now only a small black speck on the horizon, and soon he wasn’t even that.
Trystan gripped his hair, gasping, tears raining down his cheeks. What had he done? What had he not done?
In that moment of loss, he knew how he felt.
“Dear Light!” He covered his face with his hands. He remembered Asagoroth’s earlier words, the way they had touched, the way they had made love. He remembered every sensation all at once and knew the truth, as he should have known it all along. “I do love you. Of course I love you. I loved you even when I thought you only a stone carving. Dammit.”
Trystan pressed his knees to his chest and curled into himself. He hated himself at that moment: his self-doubt and how it had caused him to question the one who had given everything to him, for him… in two lifetimes.
“Come back to me,” Trystan whispered.
Though he wasn’t hungry, he had to keep his strength up, so Trystan ate from the garden. He had no idea what he would do. Would Asagoroth return? He prayed he would. He had to. Trystan kept his eyes trained on the sky, waiting for the first sign of his return. He also awaited the familiar pressure in his head that indicated Asagoroth was listening in to his thoughts. But neither sight nor feeling alerted him to Asagoroth’s presence.