by Nunn, PL
“No,” Bloodraven agreed.
He grasped the arm of the chair and moved it aside. Yhalen let go and stood his ground, staring resolutely at Bloodraven’s chest. The hair on the top of his head was parted somewhat erratically, having dried that way without the aid of a proper comb. Bloodraven reached out, plunging his fingers into the soft mass of it at the back of Yhalen’s neck. He made a fist of his hand, drawing Yhalen forward, and forcing his head back as he bared the column of his neck. One of Yhalen’s hands came up to rest on Bloodraven’s stomach for balance.
They were small hands, long-fingered and slender. The pulse at his throat fluttered frantically, and Bloodraven longed to see the concurrent rise and fall of his flat belly. Longed with an ache that came upon him as a sudden, stabbing ache at his groin to feel the thump of Yhalen’s life surrounding the length of his cock, hot and pulsing and tight.
“Take this off. Now!”
He released his hold on Yhalen’s hair, flicking at the tunic the lord of this keep had provided. He didn’t wish to rend the fine leather and marvelous stitching. But his patience had limits and he doubted his overeager fingers were up to the task of unlacing it without damage.
Yhalen’s eyes narrowed, mouth tightening into an angry line. Bloodraven could feel the tremor in his body through the hand that had not withdrawn from his chest.
“I’m not your slave.” His voice shook with the vehemence of that declaration.
Bloodraven considered, as much as he was able to consider anything at length, what with the pounding surge of blood at his crotch. It was true. A slave was a weak, powerless creature, conquered and helpless to free itself. Helpless to strike back. Physically, Yhalen was weak in comparison to any ogre, full or half-blooded, but he was hardly powerless. He possessed a power that frightened Bloodraven no small bit, truth be told, and had used it to Deathclaw’s detriment and Bloodraven’s advantage.
Still, there was Bloodraven’s mark on his back, which pleased Bloodraven to no end, and the way his hands shook and his own small phallus had twitched and stirred with interest the most recent times Bloodraven had laid hands to him.
“Perhaps not.” Bloodraven allowed him that much before grasping the neck of the tunic himself, bunching it in his fist and drawing Yhalen up to his toes. “But you’re mine.”
Yhalen swallowed heavily, throat spasming, but he didn’t deny the claim. There was a pink flush at his cheeks, half seen under the fall of gleaming hair. A labored rush of breath. A swelling hardness between his legs where he leaned against Bloodraven’s thigh.
It pleased him immensely. A ridiculous satisfaction that Yhalen stirred at his touch and the prospect of what they would do. He loosened his grip on Yhalen’s shirt front, moving that hand to trail down Yhalen’s back.
And Yhalen spun, shoving off him with unexpected violence and retreating to the hearth where he snatched the iron fire poker so hastily that the stand it had hung from, clattered to the stone of the hearth with the rest of the dull iron tools.
“No!” he spat, his eyes narrow and glittering from under thick lashes and tumbled hair.
He looked like nothing so much as a wild, cornered animal, gone feral in its desperation. He backed away, edging along the wall. Bloodraven canted his head and watched him, not entirely unconcerned about the violence Yhalen might do him. He’d cut him before with a lesser weapon.
“This is not…I won’t…I can’t…. You cannot do this to me,” Yhalen cried out, hands white knuckled on the poker. It was steady enough in his hands.
Bloodraven moved a step towards him, silent and cautious, heart beginning to race with more than the expectation of sexual release. The hunt stirred his blood. The chase made his cock ache painfully.
He spread his arms, a faint grin easing over his lips, and moved to intersect Yhalen’s path.
Yhalen brandished the poker threateningly, changing his own course, eyes darting towards the bolted door. He made a lunge that way, and Bloodraven surged forward to stop him, but Yhalen feinted back the other way, quicker and more agile than Bloodraven as he darted past the fire place, under Bloodraven’s arm as he made a grab for him. He leapt onto and over the bed, having made Bloodraven circle back to chase him, and made a rush for the door while Bloodraven had the bed between them.
Bloodraven growled and lunged as Yhalen’s fingers grasped the bolt, sliding it up and back, the door half open before Bloodraven’s weight hit it, smashing it shut with Yhalen trapped between. The impact had been bruising. He’d not meant to be so, but desperation had won out over practiced grace. He slid the bolt back into place, even as he caught Yhalen up. He was gasping for breath as he forced Yhalen’s fingers to release the poker with pressure on his wrist. It hit the floor with a dull thud, forgotten a second later as Yhalen began to fight him, kicking and flinging his head back against Bloodraven’s chin, sobbing on broken breath all the while.
“Goddess…Goddess…God—”
He left off his breathless curses when Bloodraven dumped him onto the bed, coming down atop him. Not as heavily as he might have, catching the bulk of his weight with one hand and protecting Yhalen from a second impact of a body that outweighed him twice over or more. Face down, with Bloodraven pinning him from behind, there was little room to maneuver and no reasonable way to fight the inevitable.
Bloodraven drew himself up to his knees, pinning Yhalen’s lower body and legs as he worked the lacing at the sides of Yhalen’s tunic, loosening them enough to draw the thing up and off.
“You can’t do this,” Yhalen ground out, profile obscured by hair.
“I am,” Bloodraven said simply, gathering the abundance of shining hair and drawing it away from Yhalen’s back and neck, baring his face. There was the glitter of wetness at the tips of fluttering lashes.
Bloodraven leaned down and pressed his mouth to the back of Yhalen’s neck. Caught a naked earlobe between his teeth and gently pulled. Yhalen shuddered and sobbed and not completely with revulsion.
No, revulsion wasn’t even foremost in that particular sound.
Bloodraven slipped a hand under his belly, felt the hot, fully erect proof of the hypocrisy of Yhalen’s plea. Satisfied, he slid his hand up the smooth expanse of Yhalen’s belly, found a taut little nipple, and rubbed the rough pads of his fingertips across it in lieu of the fondling he’d have preferred. But his hand pressed between the bed and Yhalen’s body prevented that.
Yhalen gasped regardless, flexing his back as his skin quivered in response. Bloodraven lowered his head, fastening his mouth to the sleek muscle that joined Yhalen’s shoulders with his neck and tasting the faint flavor of the soap they’d both used to wash, the compelling tang of sweat, the rich scent of human male. He bit down, relishing the feel of pliant flesh beneath his teeth. Not enough to draw blood, but a mark would be left in his wake.
Yhalen made a sound. A little whimper of not quite pain. His hips pressed back against Bloodraven’s cock, rubbing the fabric of his trousers against hypersensitive skin. Bloodraven licked the spot his teeth had marred. Ran his hands down Yhalen’s ribs to his waist, trailing his mouth in the wake of his touch. He traced down the line of Yhalen’s spine until he reached the vivid black of his brand.
He caught the lip of Yhalen’s trousers and pulled them down, baring the swell of firm buttocks, of long, lean thighs and graceful calves. Yhalen didn’t protest it. The fight had gone out of him. He lay there, his thighs parted enough to see the plump sacks of his balls and the blushing pink head and hard shaft of his cock, dragged down from his stomach by the extraction of his trousers. Bloodraven put his hands on Yhalen’s thighs, stroking from the back of his knee to his buttocks and back again, shifting Yhalen’s legs further apart as he did and baring more of his pretty, pink-tipped cock. He brushed his thumb across the head of it and heard Yhalen’s intake of breath. Saw his fingers curl in the blankets. He lowered his head and touched it with his tongue, lapping at the clear liquid that gathered at the delicate tip.
Yhalen so
bbed with need. The smell of his sex so close and vibrant made rational thought an incoherent, distant thing. Bloodraven’s indignant cock would be denied no longer with trivial foreplay.
He tore at the lacings of his trousers, releasing his hot, thick length. Took his cock in his hand and stroked it once or twice to relieve some of the intolerable demand. The scented oil was within arm’s reach, and he grabbed for it, fumbling with the stopper and pouring a draught across Yhalen’s buttocks.
He licked his lips in a tremor of almost painful anticipation as the clear oil dribbled down the crack and pooled in the small of Yhalen’s back, where his brand rested.
He took a breath, forcing patience. Forcing calm. If he didn’t take the time to prepare, there would be damage done and he’d never mindlessly damaged anything in his care, be it dogs or human slaves that had meant nothing more than a symbol of status, much less one that held a baffling and not altogether comfortable value.
“No pain. No pain.”
He murmured the promise, settling between Yhalen’s legs as his fingers spread the oil across the glistening swell of his buttocks. He slid his fingers between Yhalen’s cheeks to massage the sensitive spots there, knuckles brushing Yhalen’s balls, then the head of his cock, evicting more moans and twitching of muscles. There would be pain though, of that he was sure, no matter his promises on the matter. But he knew from experience that it would be endurable and that this little human, once engaged, would find pleasure in it. He spread the cheeks of Yhalen’s buttocks, baring the puckered pink entrance to the place his cock so longed to be. Lowered his head and circled the soft, slick flesh with his tongue.
Yhalen whispered something, muffled by the blankets he pressed his face into. Bloodraven brushed his tongue across the taut, red balls, sucked the head of Yhalen’s cock between his lips, and then went back to the spasming lips of his hole. He circled it, teased it, pressed the tip of his tongue inside and the muscle gave way easily, grasping at him even as Yhalen’s hips pressed into the mattress, then arched backwards.
Bloodraven slipped a finger inside him, curled it around inside tight, velvet heat and found the spot that made Yhalen cry out and lift his hips off the bed, seeking more.
“You bastard…bastard…,” he cried, breathless and shaking.
Bloodraven pulled him up to his knees and back to the edge of the bed, where he could stand with an arm around Yhalen’s waist and his cock level with Yhalen’s fine ass. He added a second finger, twisting, stretching, smoothing the way. With his other hand he encircled Yhalen’s twitching cock, smothering it within the confines of his large palm and giving it as tight a sheath as Yhalen would provide him.
“Do it. Do it. Just do…it….” Yhalen pressed his face into the mattress, fingers curling and uncurling in the folds.
Bloodraven scissored his fingers, stretching pliable flesh. Yhalen let out a keening moan.
“Please…please, please, please….”
It wasn’t a supplication that could be ignored. Bloodraven withdrew his fingers and used his thumbs to spread the firm flesh of Yhalen’s buttocks, then pressed the weeping head of his cock to the oil-slicked hole. He pressed in, grasping Yhalen’s hips and holding him firm, knowing very well that no gentle pressure would get him where he needed to be. Only sheer force would get the thick head of his cock past that fleshy barrier, and the quicker it was in the sooner that flesh would learn to accommodate him.
He let out a shuddering breath himself as the bulbous head of his cock disappeared behind the stretched mouth of Yhalen’s hole. The skin was sleek and taut around it, all trace of pucker erased as the mouth distended to its capacity and beyond. Fascinating to see the way it sucked at the sides of his cock as he slid further inside, then pulled out a little to watch the flesh cling to the sides of him as though reluctant to let him go.
Yhalen made little, aborted sounds, his body trembling, tensing up, then relaxing, then trembling again as if it didn’t know how to react to the intrusion. But his cock stayed firm and hard between his legs and Bloodraven reach down to caress it once while he was still half in and half out, causing Yhalen to move against him, impaling himself another few inches on Bloodraven’s erection. Bloodraven took firm hold of his hips again and began to move, pulling out a little, then plunging back, deeper still.
A few more thrusts and he felt his balls brush the back of Yhalen’s thighs. It was heaven he was buried within. Some gift of the gods made flesh that welcomed his body and heated it and compressed it and drove it wild with the tight velvet heat of its grasp. Sensation so intense that it banished reason and left animal instinct, so that all he could act on was reflex and the driving need to follow this escalating sensation to its culmination.
He bent over Yhalen and drove brutally into his body, only his own strength keeping Yhalen on his knees instead of forcing him flat onto the mattress.
After so long without proper release, Bloodraven’s stamina was regrettable. With Yhalen’s impossibly tight, clinging heat surrounding him, the thud of his life beat throbbing around Bloodraven’s cock, the feel of his smooth skin and the small sounds of he made, muffled by the bed sheets—with all this, Bloodraven’s dubious control shattered and he spilled with great spasming shudders, deep into the fleshy vessel that encased him.
With a final bone-jarring surge of release, the tension drained out of his body. He rested for a moment, dropping to his elbows so that his torso lay pressed against Yhalen’s slim back, his now much softer, smaller cock still buried within Yhalen’s body. Even spent, he wasn’t so inconsequential that he might easily slip out without conscious effort. He enjoyed the clasping heat. He enjoyed the feel of Yhalen’s body against his skin. Enjoyed, now that he had the presence of mind to appreciate it fully, the strong tremors of life beneath him. The intake of breath, the thud of a healthy heart, the slight trembling of lean limbs as Yhalen knelt braced beneath him.
He felt between Yhalen’s legs. Found the limp flesh of his cock and felt the sticky substance of release upon his belly. Somewhere along the way he’d found his satisfaction as well, regardless of his protests before the fact.
He pulled out, shutting his eyes and sighing as Yhalen’s body clamped around his limp organ upon its retreat. Yhalen made a soft sound as Bloodraven’s cock left him, a trickling trail of clear semen following in its wake, dribbling down the inside of his smooth thighs and across the loose sack of his balls. A small blurring of red blended with the mix, stemming from a tear at Yhalen’s puckered entrance. Not so terrible a wound, considering Bloodraven’s urgency in the matter.
“You’re valiant,” Bloodraven said with a grin, grasping Yhalen’s hips and lifting him to the middle of the large bed, then urging him onto his back. “No cry of pain escaped your lips, even when blood was drawn.”
A baleful green eye stared up at him from beneath tumbled hair.
“Or perhaps you liked it too much to scream.”
“You’re small in comparison to your brethren. Nothing to scream about,” Yhalen retorted with a glint of maliciousness in his eyes.
Bloodraven lifted a brow, surprised at what could be taken as a blatant insult. A warrior might be mortally offended if he were thin-skinned. And if he’d not been so recently sated by the author of the slur.
He grinned, revealing the sharpened points of his canines, and chose to be impressed at Yhalen’s courage rather than insulted over his insolence. He lay down on his side next to Yhalen, casually trailing his fingers through the sticky residue on Yhalen’s flat tummy.
“It seems as if the lack of size meets well with your approval.”
He brought his fingers up and rubbed his semen-covered thumb across Yhalen’s bottom lip, then pressed against Yhalen’s teeth with an index finger equally coated with Yhalen’s leavings. After only a moment’s hesitation, Yhalen relaxed his clenched teeth, allowing Bloodraven’s finger entrance into the soft depths of his mouth. His tongue touched the rough pad of Bloodraven’s finger, testing, licking, before he took a
shuddering breath and closed his lips around the tip of Bloodraven’s finger and sucked it clean.
It stole the breath from Bloodraven’s chest, that simple submission. Made a little spark of something indefinable flutter in the pit of his stomach. He muttered an ogrish curse and pulled his finger free, leaning over instead to clasp Yhalen’s face in both hands and plunge his tongue into the sweet depths of his mouth. Yhalen yielded to his assault with a suddenness that was only one more jolt to Bloodraven’s self-possession, tongue curling around his, mouth open and inviting and devouring.
Distantly, Bloodraven felt fingers digging into his arms, blunt nails biting at his skin. He felt his body stirring again, and eagerly. He ran his hands down Yhalen’s sides, then back up again to brush the tiny, hard nubs of his nipples. The feel of his flesh was electric. His cock twitched and he pressed it against Yhalen’s hip, between the heat of their bodies. It demanded attention again, and not politely.
And why not? He’d promised himself that this supple body beneath his would sate whatever needs arose this night. Repeatedly. And yet, he was aware of the fragility of Yhalen’s body. Of the blood he’d drawn and the difference in their sizes. It occurred to him that when he’d murmured the promise of no pain, it had been more than an idle pledge. He didn’t wish to damage Yhalen.
He reluctantly moved his mouth from Yhalen’s lips, working his way to the side of his jaw and neck instead, fumbling for Yhalen’s hand and drawing it down between them, to his still-hungry cock.
Yhalen’s fingers touched the sensitive head. There was a little shudder of indrawn breath, a flinch of hesitation before his slim fingers encircled the head, gauging its width, judging the shape of it by feel alone.
Bloodraven rolled onto his back, propping himself up on one elbow while he urged Yhalen into the nook between his legs. He gave him a look of silent direction, which Yhalen returned with wary, half-lashed eyes. His lips were pink and swollen from Bloodraven’s kisses, and Bloodraven longed with a desire that was almost painful to have them on his cock. It was either that or he’d have a go at the other end of him again, but one way or another he’d be inside Yhalen again in very short order.