by Natalie Wish
“Oh? You actually succeeded?” Vitorous’ brows raised.
“What’s with the surprised tone? Did you think we wouldn’t?” Mexi confronted him.
“Hmm, no need to get so offended. I’m just used to people falling short of my expectations.”
It was amazing how the guy could offend you, while insisting you shouldn’t be offended.
“Well then, you will be happy to know we exceeded all expectations, even our own.” Mexi raised his chin. “We not only got your body, but we fixed the Crimson Wasteland as well.”
“Oh?” Vitorous’ eyebrows rose even higher. “Do tell. How did you manage that?”
Mexi opened his mouth, but closed it thinking furiously about the trap he was walking into. But Rogan didn’t hesitate to spill the story.
“We combined healing and light spells to get rid of the twisted tree idol that was causing this magical scourge,” the guard explained and just as Mexi expected Vitorous fell upon those words like a vulture on a carcass.
“How wonderful! So, it’s we that ended this curse, not just you. I knew my powerful artefact would save the day,” the mage boasted and Mexi wanted to knock the smirk off his face.
“Whatever,” Mexi scoffed. “It’s not like you were there.”
“Oh, if I was there I would have dealt with the whole thing without a problem.” Vitorous’ eyes slid over their tattered and bloodied clothes judgmentally.
You are the problem, Mexi thought spitefully, and then paused in his tracks.
Huh, maybe he really was.
“You said you did the ritual to bind your soul to the Dungeon underground... was that place where we found your body where you did it?”
The elf shrugged.
“How would I know; you didn’t tell me where you found it.”
Mexi took a piece of parchment from a nearby table and sketched a quick map, then showed it to Vitorous. The mage hummed and traced his fingers over the tunnels and chambers.
“I see they added a few things, but the general layout stayed the same. I did the ritual in this room,” he pointed at one of the chambers on the map.
It was the one with the evil tree.
“You motherFUCKER!” Mexi exploded and slugged the surprised mage across the face.
Weix rushed to catch Vitorous when he stumbled back.
“Why did you do that?” The cleric asked, disappointment in Mexi evident in his tone.
Judging by the expression dawning on Vitorous’ face the mage connected the dots, as Mexi was sure did his team. The only one still in the dark was Weix. He was a good man, but it was precisely because of this that he had to know.
Saainren took it upon himself to explain:
“It seems Vitorous underestimated his impact when he told us the Crimson Wasteland wasn’t his doing.”
Weix’s mouth hung open.
“But it happened a hundred years after he died!”
“Enough time for an evil blood-hungry tree to grow up from a seed that was polluted by powerful magic. And for a cult to grow around it. Gee, who would have thought spilling your own blood and offing yourself during a magic ritual could leave some negative energy behind,” Mexi deadpanned.
Vitorous coughed slightly, straightening himself up.
“To be fair there was no blood spilled, I just... disintegrated.” He shrugged.
“That... doesn’t exactly make it better,” Weix said in a tight voice. “Did you really...?”
“I suppose it is possible I had some unplanned impact on Arcadia,” Vitorous admitted.
“I...” Weix lowered his gaze to his boots, not meeting the mage’s eye. He opened his mouth to continue the thought but closed it again and instead turned his back to them and marched out of the room.
Vitorous sighed in that manner of an inconvenienced person, who has to deal with someone’s unreasonable huff.
Mexi was wondering if he should slug him again, when Vitorous dropped another bombshell on them.
“We need to power up the dungeon to teleport to the next place. And I would suggest hurrying up with it, as it is not impossible for the Imperial mages to find the entrance.”
“Would they be able to come in if they found it?” Rogan asked with creased brows.
“No, I can keep them out. But the Imperials would know there was a powerful outside interference involved in their matters and seeing as our next destination is in the Empire...” Vitorous trailed off, letting them come to the conclusion that it would be an unwanted complication on their own.
“How can we power up the Dungeon?” Mexi asked the question that was on everybody’s mind.
The corner of Vitorous’ mouth quirked up and he gave Mexi a smoldering gaze.
“You have to ask?” the owner of the Dungeon purred.
It took all three of his companions to keep Mexi from hitting the bastard again.
∞∞∞
Saainren could see Mexi still buzzing with nervous energy when they parted ways with Vitorous. Honestly, he couldn’t blame him for being so agitated. The mage was more dangerous than they earlier anticipated. He promised himself to get back to this thought later. But for now, he was more interested in soothing Mexi and getting them all away from this risky place as soon as possible.
And if that meant powering the Dungeon with sex? So be it.
But he would not make his companions do anything they are unwilling to do and Mexi didn’t look like somebody who wanted to have sex now. The first point of order was to make Mexi feel better.
“We are all dirty and tired,” he said softly. “Let’s take a bath.”
Mexi huffed and strode towards the painting that was the door to the bath. The little elf was soaking in the warm water before they could even start taking off their clothes.
They started disrobing and Saainren caught Xanran’s wrist when the dragon was almost naked.
“Let me,” he murmured and unbuckled the man’s collar, the sigil on it recognizing its master and laying dormant, the alert spell staying silent. He let himself indulge by running a gentle hand down the exposed throat as Xanran’s breath hitched. He leaned close to him and whispered:
“Let’s focus on our little elf now, hmm? And I will reward you later for being a good boy.”
Xanran grinned at him.
“No need to tell me, I already have plans.”
Saainren caught his eyes.
“Just don’t push him,” he cautioned.
Xanran shook his head.
“I know it’s not what he needs now.”
“Can I get some help if you two are done whispering?” Rogan called them out and gestured to one of the buckles of his armor that didn’t seem to want to open. It was already hard to take the armor off alone, but it seems it got damaged in the fight as well. Saainren walked over to provide a hand with some of the difficult parts. Before both he and Rogan get undressed, Xanran was already in the water with Mexi.
The water that was... foaming. And had flowers in in. And smelled like the finest of courtesans.
Did Xanran add in everything that was stocked here at once?
Apparently not yet, because there was another bottle in his hand-
“You are not putting it into the water as well.” Rogan snatched the bottle from Xanran’s hand, and the dragon pouted,
“It doesn’t go into the water. It’s hair oil.”
“You and your hair fetish.” Rogan rolled his eyes, lowering himself into the water, leaving the glass bottle at the edge of the enormous bath.
“Uh-uh. Like you don’t have it as well. Just imagine the prince with long hair.” He wriggled his brows and was visibly surprised when Rogan made a face.
“No,” the guard said firmly and Saainren giggled, while he positioned himself in the bath.
“I already had long hair. Wh
en I was eight or so,” he explained, amused at his guard’s expression. “I had to cut it off because I kept getting it so tangled it sometimes took hours to get it sorted out.”
“You used a twig as a hair stick once. Just a dirty twig from the ground, with bits of bark falling off. With half dried leaves still on it,” Rogan reminisced, like somebody recounting a nightmare.
Xanran looked impressed.
“Your Highness, were you a little troublemaker? Tell us more!”
“Shouldn’t it be Rogan who tells us more? After all he has all the dirt on the prince,” Mexi contributed and Saainren was satisfied to see the elf’s shoulders relax a little, even if it was at his expense. Oh well, he could take a bit of embarrassment for a good cause.
“My loyalty is to my prince. I would never-” Rogan started, but Saainren patted him on his thigh under the water to signal it was fine. “...I would never spill his secrets without a proper incentive.”
“Now we are talking!” Xanran pumped his fist.
“Hmm... what would a proper incentive entail?” Mexi mused.
Saainren caught Xanran’s eyes and tilted his chin subtly in the direction of the hair oil.
Xanran grabbed the glass bottle from the edge of the bath.
“How about this: if you tell us some fun facts from the prince’s past you can use the hair oil and play with Mexi’s hair?”
Rogan didn’t look impressed.
“I’m pretty sure there’s more hair oils in that collection over there.” He gestured to the shelves filled with various bottles and boxes full of decadence, soaps, oils, and everything else you could dream of for a bath.
Mexi leaned a bit on Xanran, letting his beautiful red hair spill to the side and gazed at Rogan from beneath his leashes.
“Let me reiterate: if you won’t tell us what we want to know you won’t get to play with my hair because I will not let you.”
Saainren tried to hide his smirk with his hand, but Rogan saw it anyway.
He got a short glare from his guard and Rogan relaxed back a little, apparently no longer weighed down by guilt when his prince was laughing at his predicament.
“He adopted a duck once. Or maybe it adopted him. Anyway, it was trailing after him all the time and it was adorable. He ordered the staff to move his room, so he had the pond the duck lived in outside his window.”
“That’s so cute!” Mexi gasped.
Rogan nodded and Saainren hid his face in his hands knowing what was coming.
“It was. Until the duck could barely move because the prince fed her so much.”
Saainren groaned. “I thought I was being nice!”
“We had to separate the duck from him, because he wouldn’t stop feeding it bread and other things ducks shouldn’t eat,” Rogan continued relentlessly.
“You monster!” accused Xanran, who always made triple sure anything he fed to his bunny (he missed BunBun dearly) was good for him.
Saainren sighed, lowering his hands, his cheeks dusted pink.
“I promise I was educated in the error of my ways. Rogan made sure of that.”
“I made him only eat the food a duck should eat for three days. He remembered that different species have different needs after that.”
“I never knew how much I wanted bread until it was gone.”
Mexi exploded with laughter at his wistful tone.
Mission accomplished!
They spent a lovely time in the bath with Rogan tending to Mexi’s hair and everybody exchanging funny stories from their childhoods.
They could finally relax and leave the thought of Vitorous being as problematic as a the spawn of a chaos god behind.
Chapter Three
∞∞∞
Here they were again, in their now familiar room with one huge poster bed, dried and relaxed after the wonderful soothing bath.
Were they going to just go to sleep and ignore Vitorous’ hints to have sex to power up the Dungeon? Even if he suspected the other pair was doing the horizontal tango from time to time as well, he doubted Vitorous and Weix would produce any amount of energy that night, seeing as Weix was giving the mage an understandable cold shoulder. So, it was up to them.
“Xanran, come here,” Saainren ordered and Rogan’s breath caught at that tone. It was his Dominant’s tone.
Oh, they were playing tonight.
The dragon moved fluidly towards the prince, who was seated on the bed, and sank down to his knees, placing his head on the human’s thigh, glancing adoringly up at him. Saainren’s hand stroked his hair while he talked:
“I promised a little something to my pet here.” Rogan didn’t miss the sharp inhale the dragon made at the word pet. “But I understand we are all tired, so if you to want to go to sleep we can relocate somewhere else...”
“OR...” Xanran dropped the towel around his waist, arching up shamelessly against Saainren’s legs.
Who was Rogan to resist such invitation?
He slapped the displayed ass hard.
Xanran yelped and jumped a little. His eyes fiery when he turned them to Rogan.
“Is that how you treat your pets? Maybe someone should teach you how to take care of them.”
Mexi tsked.
“How can we know how to treat you, if we don’t know what kind of a pet you are? Didn’t we establish that different species have different needs?” He came closer to kneel next to Xanran. “Tell us; what cute little pet are you?”
“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” the dragon stretched again, his fingernails digging a little into Saainren’s thigh, moving his face to rub against Mexi’s cheek. “I’m a cat.” Xanran played along. “But if I’m a cat... that definitely means Rogan is a dog.”
What?!
Rogan blustered at that challenging smile. Xanran’s eyes crinkled with mirth.
“Is that so?” Saainren asked seriously and after a moment of hesitation patted his thigh twice as if he was summoning a dog.
Rogan blushed furiously and stayed rooted to the spot. But it was the prince’s outstretched hand, waiting in the air, ready to give a petting that did it.
He never thought before of doing something like this, but he really, really wanted to be petted. He came closer and cautiously lowered himself to the floor. He nuzzled into the offered hand.
“Good boy.” He heard as a reward.
He followed that hand closer to Saainren’s body and was going to lay his head on the prince’s thigh like Xanran did...
Sharp fingernails raked over his skin.
Xanran hissed at him, the hand that just swiped at his arm still raised and ready to attack.
“You...!” he started.
A swat landed on both their heads, delivered gently by the prince’s hands.
“Xanran, be nice, kitty. And Rogan... dogs don’t talk.”
Rogan blushed even more furiously and only glared at the dragon, who guarded his space protectively, smugly taking over the prince’s left side.
“This is great,” Mexi giggled. “But it could be better. Be back in a second!”
The young elf hurried out of the room just to return with a bundle of things.
Was that...?
Rogan was too stunned to react when the dog ears were put on his head. He blinked and reached up with his hand to touch the headband and the long, silky ears sticking out of it.
He opened his mouth to... protest? Just say something embarrassing? But when he looked at his prince he remembered. Dogs don’t talk. He made a distressed whine instead.
It was worth it, if only for the way Saainren shifted Xanran aside and pulled Rogan closer.
“Hey, we can stop anytime,” the steady voice of the prince reminded him. “But you look really cute like this.”
Mexi appeared in his peripheral vision to comment.
“He just needs to feel like he belongs to somebody. Don’t you puppy?” Mexi asked in a cheerful tone. “Do you think he deserves a collar?” he asked the prince casually, twirling a strip of red leather around his finger.
Rogan’s breath caught for a moment.
He looked at Xanran who was rubbing against Mexi’s legs now, fully embracing his cat role. The black collar that was the prince’s gift from The Trial looked stark against his skin. He wore it everyday. Rogan wouldn’t be comfortable with doing that... But sometimes he was jealous of the sign of ownership, a constant reminder of their prince’s regard. And now... maybe he could have it, just for a while. The prince took the collar from the elf’s hand and inspected its make, running his long, aristocratic fingers over the red leather and the black buckles.
“Does my puppy deserve a collar? I don’t know. Let’s see if he can obey orders,” those blue eyes stared at him, when he commanded sharply. “Sit!”
Rogan fell back on his hunches without a second thought, so used to obeying his prince that the nature of the order didn’t really register until he had already done it. But that was fine, it could be something much more humiliating like...
“Good boy. Show us your belly,” Saainren ordered, in that specific tone, one used when speaking to a baby or a cute animal.
Rogan clenched his fist knowing that just showing his belly won’t be enough. They wanted the whole act. He was a pretty bad actor, but gods, for this pretty collar he would try.
He thought about just falling on his back straight from the sitting position, but then decided to fall onto his fours first. The humiliation shot through him when he crawled for a few paces and then rolled onto his back. He couldn’t just lay there stiff like a log, could he? He cautiously pulled his limbs up, arms and legs imitating the position a dog would take when asking for pats to his belly. His expression was probably too screwed up to be inviting, definitely not a doggy grin with a rolling tongue, but the pose was enough for the prince to rise from the bed and join him on the divan that covered the cold floor.
A giggle almost escaped his mouth, when Saainren ran a gentle hand over his stomach, but then the soft touch turned into a brisk petting, saving him from the ticklish sensation.