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He’d checked the door at least five times, made certain it was both locked and deadbolted. And still the possibility of someone walking in on them haunted the back of his mind as he worked along the side of Emet-Selch’s wretched shaft, his head between the man’s thighs, surrounded by layers of shed silks and furs. Thancred cast the Ascian an upward glower as he moved back to the head of his cock and guided it into his mouth to be ravished by lips and tongue.
“Is this the look you give all your suitors?” Emet-Selch replied, utterly nonplussed– bored, if anything. Thancred grunted unhappily through the Ascian’s member, closed his eyes, and doubled his efforts. He knew damn well how good he was with his mouth, and yet nothing seemed good enough for his unlikely partner. “My, no wonder you’re out of practice.”
Gods, if I could only shove something in that smart mouth of yours and shut you up.
He lapped and lapped at the slit, sucked the glans, and still Emet-Selch sat a statue on the bed, naught but a single moan to give– and it was not a moan of arousal. “If I had known this was going to take so long, I would have brought myself a book.”
Thancred froze, pulled away from the cock, and stifled the urge to shoot a most venomous glare. Fingers clutched at the sheets by Emet’s hips, a fist of frustration, and without looking up from the floor, the Scion hissed: “If my tongue alone is insufficient, there are more productive ways of making that clear, Emet-Selch. Unless you’d prefer to simply prattle on and waste both of our time.”
“Hm. Keep your head bowed, for one. I do find it much more attractive than your murderous stare,” Emet-Selch replied, much too quick on the draw for Thancred’s liking. Had he been waiting for Thancred to address it himself? Gods, he was insufferable. With a sharp sigh, Thancred moved to shrug out of his coat and make himself comfortable at the very least, only for Emet to stop him with a sudden, “No, no. Keep that on. If I had to gaze upon your physique I daresay what little you’ve accomplished would be all too quickly undone.”
“Glad that we find each other equally attractive, then,” Thancred snapped back, though the bait was tantalizingly sweet. Care to elaborate on what exactly that means, you miserable bastard?
There was no point in asking, he had to remind himself. Dramatically, the Ascian fell back against the bed, arms outstretched, and stared dully at the ceiling before he draped an arm across his eyes and gave Thancred a dismissive wave. “Continue on, then. It isn’t as though I have much else to do while our brave Warrior of Darkness takes his rest.”
Thancred pursed his lips together, stifled a thousand curses hot on his tongue, and rose up on his knees to lean in over the Ascian’s groin and take his cock in mouth once more. Perhaps more infuriating than Emet-Selch’s cold indifference was the way his own member had begun to stiffen in its leather confines. While a hand clutched at Emet’s hip, a second laid idle on his own thigh. Fingers itched to unclasp his belt, to free the rising erection from its prison.
But why? It baffled him what he found attractive about the situation– given he was only here in the first place to put the Ascian’s claims to the test. Aether dense cum? It sounded absurd; years of struggle in a magickally-inept body surely would not be reversed by a mouthful of seed. Yet Emet-Selch’s claim echoed in the back of his head as he sucked, almost painstakingly determined to tease out that bliss: your little problem would most certainly be remedied if you ingested a good mouthful of aetherially dense fluid. Which, coincidentally, I happen to possess. Though I needn’t explain what that process entails…
“Oh–” a sudden half groan from Emet-Selch stirred him from his thoughts. Hips twitched toward his mouth. Had he finally found the Ascian’s sweet spot?
“Oh… oh, yes. Oh, I–” Emet-Selch’s spine hung in an arch, before abruptly and unceremoniously, he settled limply upon the bed again with a huff. “Ah. No, you lost me. Isn’t that a shame.”
To hell with it. If the Ascian was going to be such a bastard about it, then Thancred decided he damn well would at least enjoy himself. Belt unbuckled, he continued to suck and run his tongue along the underside of Emet’s shaft to no avail. Brows pinched inward with frustration, and he took himself in hand. Thancred stroked himself liberally. Emet-Selch spoke, some droning instruction of some kind– a little lower, no, that’s too low–
But he tuned it all out, and all the arousal Emet-Selch lacked, Thancred felt in his cock with a hot throb. An Ascian with his pants down, right in front of him, completely and utterly ignored aside from a half-assed blow job in favor of Thancred’s own pleasure. The Scion couldn’t help but give a quiet moan against Emet-Selch’s member. His rubbing quickened, and the smallest droplet of precum rolled down his shaft, into his fingers…
Emet-Selch sat up with such suddenness Thancred nearly choked on his cock. “Really? Is this why your performance has been so underwhelming?”
Irate, Thancred opened his mouth to snap back, only to be interrupted still with a sharp frown and a most annoyed sigh: “You invite me to your bedchambers, an offer most graciously accepted by yours truly, and leave me wanting while you touch yourself so brazenly? Oh, no. No, no, no. Such selfishness will not suffice.”
Emet-Selch snapped his fingers, and from the snap manifested shadows around Thancred’s wrists, quick to jerk them behind his back and solidify as thick cuffs. Startled, Thancred began to rise, but before he could even stray too far from his kneel, the shadows took his ankles too, binding them with rattling chains of darkness to the cuffs.
Pride be damned. A cold jolt within tore open his heart. From its depths spilled the most frigid of his fears. It compelled him to open his mouth, to howl for help, more than willing to cry out for his ally in the adjacent room if it would spare him a wicked fate at an Ascian’s hands. Yet before Y’shtola’s name could slip his tongue, Emet-Selch jolted forward to stick his fingers into his mouth, the yell muffled as both fell back. Gloved hand withdrew before he could bite in favor of clamping down firmly over his lips. “I would rather not be caught with my pants down, thank you very much. Nor would I like your allies getting the wrong impression– will you settle down? ”
They exchanged a stare. Thancred’s greys wide with fury and nerve, the Ascian’s golds alight with warning. Once certain he would not be outed instantaneously, Emet-Selch clucked his tongue, rolled his eyes, and rose off Thancred’s writhing form to sit down on the bed once again. Breath heavy with dread, Thancred struggled back up onto his knees, an instant away from crying out again when Emet-Selch added sternly: “What, are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”
“Am I not meant to perceive being bound against my will as an attack?” Thancred snarled, and gave a sharp tug at his bindings. Cuffed above his clothes, there certainly was plenty of wiggle room–
“I see you’re allowed to enjoy yourself, but I’m not permitted to have my fun,” Emet-Selch replied with a shrug. “Very well. If it bothers you so, allow me to collect my belongings, and I will cut you loose and see myself out…”
He rose to his feet, and at once Thancred stopped him: “Wait.”
The devious glint in the Ascian’s eye was not lost on him. Thancred took a deep, steeling breath, then hissed: “Explain yourself, Emet-Selch.”
“One cannot be blessed with brawn and brain both, I suppose,” Emet-Selch sighed. He raised his hands in half-hearted surrender, then settled back on the bed to elaborate in most begrudging tone, as though speaking to a child: “I came here with the expectation of being pleasured. I am not being pleasured. You are far more preoccupied with pleasuring yourself. Ergo, am I wrong for taking matters into my own hands?”
“I would call ‘tying a man up without warning’ a rather extreme measure… doubly so when that man is your known enemy.”
“After all my toils to gain the trust of you and yours, do you truly believe I would squander it all to eliminate you of all people? Come now. At least make an attempt to use your head.” He leaned forward, reached out, and took Thancred’s chin in hand to give it a squeeze, glove still wet from his own saliva. “Now... are the two of us on the same page, or not?”
Beneath the irritation, Thancred realized, was more excitement in Emet-Selch’s expression than he’d managed to tease out with his tongue thus far. The Ascian’s cock, despite the lack of stimulation, remained fully erect.
And it would be a lie to say he’d lost his own erection. If anything, he felt…
“If you had been forthright from the start about wanting to see me tied, we could have avoided all this,” Thancred murmured, an unspoken, yes, now take your Godsdamned hand off of me so I can finish you and be done with it.
Emet-Selch laughed, spread his legs, and beckoned for him to slide forward once more. “And you would have been agreeable to this proposition? Would you have been a good boy and gotten on your knees had the detestable Ascian only asked nicely?” Thancred hovered by his cock and bared his teeth while Emet’s voice oozed with mockery: “‘Most glorious Emet-Selch, tie me up nice and tight and render me defenceless, never you mind that if looks could kill, I’d have killed you thrice over by now’.” Emet-Selch paused, shoved Thancred’s head roughly between his thighs, and grumbled: “Somehow I struggle to fathom those words in your voice. I wonder why.”
With nowhere else to go, Thancred’s nostrils flared, and lips reluctantly met the Ascian’s member to ravish the head. He shifted, awkward and uncomfortable in the chains, and tried so desperately to ignore the throbbing between his legs. Tongue lapped at Emet-Selch’s slit, a brief tease before he took the shaft as deeply as he could. “See, now you’re getting into the spirit of things,” the Ascian replied, voice stern but not bored– an improvement above what had been, Thancred supposed. “The miracle of proper motivation. Yet still I find myself wanting…”
Grip loosened on his hair enough for Thancred to jerk back. “‘Twould seem there is a flaw in your scheme. If I cannot please you with mouth alone, do elaborate on how removing my hands from the equation is meant to improve my odds.”
Emet-Selch did not reply; not immediately. He scratched at his chin, tilted his head to one side, and stared before an epiphany dawned upon his face. “Ah, yes. I know precisely what we’re missing.”
He snapped again, and the shadows came for his throat. A cold steel collar, thick as the cuffs, and a sudden bar at his backside that dug into his spine. It connected the cuffs to his neck, he realized with a tug. The cold pang of dread in his stomach clashed most terribly with the blaze of his loins. Jaw agape, he swallowed his fear, and covered it all with a bare-toothed snarl. “Anything else to suit your fancy while we’re at it?”
It forced him to maintain a most uncomfortably stiff pose, and to crane his neck up toward Emet-Selch allowed the collar to bite into the back of his head. An intentional pain, he realized, when the Ascian grabbed him by the hair and forced him again between his legs. “I would appreciate it if you listened when I gave instruction. Keep your head down. I’ll not be kind about it should I be forced to repeat myself a third time. The tedium of making this arrangement work is wearing thin, quick.”
The Scion’s cock begged for touch. Achingly hard, he suddenly found it difficult to focus as he sucked– again– as thoughts wandered. Emet-Selch seemed genuine in that he had no truly malevolent intentions in the moment. And if his life was not in danger, then…
Could he push the other to bind him more? How far would the Ascian go? The curiosity ate at him, so much so that he absentmindedly groaned quietly around Emet-Selch’s member. The subtle rock of hips against his lips was a good sign, and distantly Thancred wondered if perhaps this would be it–
Only for the Ascian to bark: “Wait, wait, wait, wait.”
Gods, Thancred thought, what now?
Emet leered down at him with a strangely bemused smile. His erection, ever present, seemed so far from the Ascian’s mind that he wondered what the point of all this torment was. He certainly didn’t seem to be getting off from it– not as much as Thancred expected him to, in any case. No, the Ascian simply chortled, and lazily extended a boot to nudge teasingly at Thancred’s cock.
“You are surprisingly endearing, you know. I had wondered what your comrades saw in you worth keeping, meat shield aside, but I do believe I understand.” Golden eyes watched him with hawk-like intensity. Thancred suddenly found himself longing for the Ascian’s disinterested, wandering gaze from earlier; at the very least that didn’t force a blush to his cheeks, a low ‘tch’ from deep within his throat. “There is something hilariously delightful about a man who, instead of enjoying himself, finds it imperative to save face in front of his so-called enemy. And all the while, through the snarling and the glaring, he sports the most erect cock I’ve seen in all my many years among your kind. Does it not hurt, being so… hard? ”
Emet-Selch’s every word oozed with joviality. His every word, dismissive and degrading as they were, were genuinely spoken. Thancred searched and he searched, and yet he could find no audible tell that they were anything but simple observations to the Ascian. Did that make it better or worse…?
He couldn’t tell, and frankly, the boot that rubbed slowly at his aching member was far more important to him than his impromptu dissection of Emet-Selch’s overbloated ego. “I beg your pardon for failing to fawn and grovel at your feet, your eminence.”
“Oh, I quite like the sound of that,” Emet replied, tauntingly, “The title, I mean. Do refer to me as such from here on. The mere sight of how humiliated you become at such simple demands is almost as amusing as watching you try not to rut against my foot.”
He rubbed methodically at the Scion’s cock, and pressed further into his groin with mounting pressure. Thancred bit back his moan, though a chuff escaped him, the sheer exertion of his silence almost too much to bear. Emet-Selch laughed gleefully. “Even now! Tell me who gains from your stoicism? Certainly not you. Go on. My boot is all yours for the humping. I am most eager to see what your face looks like when you can no longer contain yourself.” Very nearly did Thancred cave, ‘til Emet-Selch added: “Although if you do decide to pleasure yourself first, I’m afraid I will have to rescind my offer of saturating your aether-deprived body with my fluid. It is only proper manners to tend to your guest first.”
Emet-Selch rose and tugged his pants up, though he didn’t tuck away his hanging cock. Slowly he paced around Thancred; grey eyes followed, until a hand bowed his head forcibly, the command hissed with such venom that it gave him pause: “Head DOWN.”
Venom that vanished as suddenly as it came as Emet-Selch descended onto a knee behind him to wrap an arm around his shoulder, a loose caress that slid quickly beneath his breastplate, and murmured smugly into his ear: “Ooh, feel the beat of that heart. Your pulse races at my every command. Does it quicken more if I do this?” Opposite hand wrapped around his waist and danced at his cock. Fingers ran up and down the underside of his shaft. “It does! Whatever could this mean?”
"If I had only known that this was all it took to disarm you," Emet-Selch continued, lips so close to his neck that every word left hot breath against his skin, "Why, perhaps I would not have bothered attempting to ally myself with you all in the first place. Ah, but it is too late to change my course now… fortunately for you." Emet-Selch took him in hand and stroked his length, up and down, in firm pumps that made Thancred want to curl back into him, were it not for the rigidity of the pole at his back. "A brave and noble warrior, reduced to a sweet and obedient boy at my hand all in pursuit of a single orgasm!"
Thancred's moan withered into a stale laugh– and with a sudden backwards lurch, snatched Emet-Selch's cock in his bound hand, firm and threatening, as he turned his head the best he could in the collar to offer a frigid glare. "'Sweet and obedient'? Oh, no. You are very much mistaken, Ascian."
"Go on," Emet-Selch murmured back, his every word goading, "Crush it. Crush it in your hand! But don't forget–" he fingered the slit of Thancred's glans and laughed, low and ominous, "You are in my hand just as much as I am in yours. Not that I would resort to such brusque methodology to impress upon you who is truly the one in control here.”
Oh, how badly he wanted to call the Ascian’s bluff. Emet-Selch hummed in his ear, rubbed at his glans until Thancred very nearly squirmed. Then he played right into the bastard’s hands and released his grip. The Scion bowed his head, furrowed his brow, and then stifled a groan. Emet-Selch palmed the head of his cock and pressed ever more firmly upon his breast, in prime position to give his nipple a slight pinch beneath the breastplate.
“Now, now. Let’s not get carried away,” he said as soon as Thancred leaned fully into him. Emet-Selch stopped cold, stood, and meandered back around to the bed. Despite how badly he wanted more touch, Thancred said nothing, gave no reaction aside from a shivering exhale and a clench of his bound fingers into fists.
He kept his head bowed.
“If it is my touch you seek, I suggest you do what it is we came here to do in the first place– and do it properly, this time.” Legs spread, Emet-Selch invited him forward, ever forward, and with a thick swallow, Thancred obliged him. Indeed, the creature knew how to offer proper motivation. A fire lit in his belly, he wasted no time in lapping at the Ascian’s cock, every lick and every kiss hungrier than ever.
Starved for the vague promise of reward… and not simply in the form of aether renewed.
“Now that is more like it,” Emet-Selch cooed. Hand met the back of Thancred’s head, took a fistful of hair to brace him, and gave a delighted moan. “If I’m invited to another man’s bedchambers, I expect him to behave a man parched, his thirst unquenchable by naught save my fluid!”
Pay him no mind, Thancred reminded himself, yet nonetheless played the part as described. Focus on getting this done… while the bastard is still in the mood.
It was a far cry from the Emet-Selch he’d pleasured at the beginning of their encounter. The Ascian crooned liberally– and dramatically, too– while Thancred felt the subtle clench of thighs, the flex of fingers against his scalp. The taste of salty precum on his tongue was a blessing. A light at the end of the tunnel, that the Ascian was indeed capable of ejaculating after Thancred had begun to suspect the contrary.
Though distantly he bade Emet-Selch be quiet, his “Oh– oh! Oh–” a little too loud for the Scion’s liking, he forgot that worry as a hot gush of semen filled his mouth, followed by a second, his duty finally complete.
Thancred pulled back, swallowed eagerly, and instinctively tried to wipe the thin strand of cum that hung from his lip off upon his shoulder, only to remember the limitations of the damnable collar. He looked up to Emet-Selch, who leaned back upon his elbows, chin craned to the ceiling, eyes shut in bliss as he breathed deeply the satisfaction of his release.
Only to quickly look back down between his legs as Emet-Selch sat up properly. His aching cock, red and stiff as a board, begging for that same release…
“I feel no different,” Thancred murmured.
“Is that truly your priority right now?” Emet-Selch replied with another nudge of the boot against his member. Thancred winced. He wasn’t wrong, and as Emet-Selch leaned forward, elbows upon his knees, he began to rub once more with his boot sole, devious smile all Thancred could see with his lowered gaze. “I am a man of my word… now that I’ve had my fill, you may have yours.” He planted his boot firmly on the ground betwixt Thancred’s legs, and slid it in until his calf pressed against his cock. “But do make it quick. I’ll not sit here idly whilst you continue to pretend your petty sense of dignity is more important than the pleasure I offer.”
Mayhap it would be better to just have a wank than cave to the Ascian’s demands, Thancred thought, and though his abdomen trembled with the smallest bit of friction against his cock, he held himself still. Teeth bared fully, eyes squeezed shut, until Emet-Selch replied with a disgusted cluck of the tongue: “Quite the obstinate one, aren’t you? Would it be easier to pretend I’m not here?”
Emet-Selch snapped his fingers, and this time, the restraint that materialized in a wisp of shadow bound not his limbs, but formed across the bridge of his nose as a thick blindfold. Thancred startled. “Don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor with any of this,” he snapped.
“Spare me your supposed aversity,” Emet-Selch replied, “You’ve only gotten harder with each new gift of mine. I would wager that if we continued down this route, by the end of it, you would be a quivering disaster at my feet. And while it does amuse me so, I’m afraid my patience is nearing its end for the moment. So…” he leaned in close, caressed Thancred’s cheek, and hissed: “Rub yourself on my boot and come. Now.”
Thancred’s pride and lust waged war within, and it was the lust that won. Lips twisted into a grimace. He bowed to the command and thrust forward, at first with reluctance– but with every buck of his hips the resistance melted away, overpowered by the raw arousal of it all. Bound and made to kneel in front of another, so powerless that it was all he could do to hump their boot like a dog when they gave the order. Thancred bit back a moan. It emerged nonetheless, a trembling gasp. Cock throbbed and leaked. Every hump edged him closer and closer to the brink…
“Twelve,” he whispered. Head craned back naturally; the collar was the only thing that kept him from tilting his chin toward the ceiling with bliss. The heat of orgasm blazed through his thighs, compelled every inch of his being to freeze. Muscles tensed, and against Emet-Selch’s calf he rubbed himself, until finally his cock spurted. A thick, milky rope of cum, ejeculated with a moan and a cry of ecstasy.
The cuffs, the chains, the rod and the blindfold. All of them vanished so suddenly that he was left dizzy, and leered off to one side before he caught himself with a hand. The warmth of the afterglow, pleasant and relieving as it was, left him stunned for several long moments as Emet-Selch pulled a handkerchief from his robes and wiped delicately at his boot to clean the cum from the leather surface.
Thancred blinked himself from his stupor, and realized how quickly most of the emotion had left Emet-Selch’s face. Fatigue crept back into his expression, though golden eyes cast him a warning glare as they flittered briefly in his direction. “I will thank you for making such a dull evening a little… livelier. Even if I nearly had to wring the cooperation from your neck myself. Though I wonder if I can even blame you for your ineptitude… it isn’t as though many suitors are lining up to lay with a man so doggedly determined to pretend he is too good for them.”
“You misunderstand, your eminence,” Thancred retorted, “It isn’t a matter of being too good for just anyone… it is a matter of being too good for you.”
“And yet here we are,” Emet-Selch said, flatly. He began to redress himself, furs and silks collected from their abandoned piles. “Your words and deeds are in conflict, dear hero, and I think it in your best interest to revise your thoughts.”
Thancred wiped his lip and rose, legs stiff and knees sore from kneeling. Emet-Selch donned his overcoat and pulled himself to his feet with a weary sigh, before he paced slowly toward Thancred to once again lean in close. “Either that, or amuse me sufficiently with this wanton hypocrisy that I see fit to tie you up again. You would like that very much, wouldn’t you?”
Thancred tolerated the proximity for but a moment longer. Then he stepped back, tucked himself away in his pants, and growled: “When am I going to feel the effects of your ‘aetherically dense fluid’, Emet-Selch?”
He went ignored as the Ascian preened himself, gathered up the rest of his things, and began to saunter toward the door.
“Emet-Selch!”
The bark of his name brought him to a halt. Emet-Selch sighed; shoulders fell with a slump, as did his head. “It could be immediate. It could be never. I merely said it may remedy your little issue… it was never a guarantee.”
“So you–” You lied, Thancred began. Rage welled instantaneously in his ribs.
“I upended my end of the bargain, to the letter,” Emet-Selch interrupted, coldly, as the shadows around him shifted and swelled, a gate to the abyss ready to swallow him whole. “It isn’t my problem if you hear only what you want to hear.”
No, I am certain you gave your word, Thancred thought, and yet his jaw could only flutter uselessly, betrayed. Emet-Selch shook his head, scoffed, and vanished without a further word. Left alone in his bedchambers, it was all Thancred could do to pinch the bridge of his nose, resist the urge to slam a fist into the nearest available surface, then collapse upon the bed. Liars and traitors, the whole lot of them. He was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. Yet that wasn’t even the worst part.
By far, the worst of it was how his stomach fluttered every time he replayed Emet-Selch’s words in his mind: you would like that very much, wouldn’t you?
I would, Thancred thought, his throat quick to tighten at the realization. Undeniably, I would.
He wanted more of his enemy, more of the Ascian so intent on bringing their world to ruin. For ruination of all he held dear was unacceptable and terrifying– but his own ruination?
It felt far sweeter than it had any right to be.