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He was back on the ship. The ship was not the «Wandering Eye», and its crew consisted only of pawns whose minds were clouded by the Emperor himself. But still he was at sea again.
The freedom he had longed for since being captured by the Netherbrain was finally in his hands. He also retained his power, gained at the cost of ceremorphosis and increased by the Githyanki prince. At the end of the journey, which began with that life-changing expedition to the Moonrise Towers, and ended at the starting point — in Baldur's Gate — he received what he wanted all this time.
The Emperor was once again left to his own devices. There, in the Astral Prism, next to the captive Orpheus, he felt the flicker of a thought in Tav's mind, who had partially embraced his potential and become a half-illithid, to complete the ceremorphisis entirely. However, at the last moment, Tav handed the Netherstones to the Emperor, allowing him to consume Orpheus's brain, and rushed into battle sword in hand, side by side with his companions.
This mortal, fiercely wanting to save everyone and everything, defiant and full of contradictions, ready to challenge the decisions of the Emperor, but remaining loyal to him and his word to the very end, would have been a good ally in carrying out his further plans to restore the Knights of the Shield and regain control of Baldur's Gate and the entire Sword Coast. Would have been, had he forsaken his humanity and embraced the potential of the illithid. But Tav did not do this and, having rid himself of the tadpole, went down to Avernus along with the demoness and the duke’s son to mete out his justice there.
Well, so be it. Gathering new allies and rebuilding the network would take time, which the Emperor now had in abundance. He needed to think things through. To think about his future plans far from the city, which, after a freshly inflicted wound, began to pose a threat to him in his current illithid form. The easiest way to hide from prying eyes was on a merchant ship, which does not stay in one place for long.
Standing at the stern, the Emperor crossed his hands behind his back, and his penetrating gaze was fixed on the city receding in the reddish morning fog. Tiny figures of people swarmed among the destruction, sorting through the rubble. The Emperor had already seen a similar picture, when he himself still had a different name, and the city was just emerging before his eyes.
Now Baldur's Gate lays in ruins, under which the Heart of the Gate was buried, second time murdered with the participation of the Emperor. His relationship with Ansur has always been... intense.
The Emperor turned away from the city and turned his gaze to the horizon. The silent azure sea stretched ahead, only in the distance, where the sky merged with the sea surface, could the outlines of the Nelanther archipelago be seen. He knew the location of all these islands by heart. To the southwest of Nelanther were the Lantan Islands... The Emperor narrowed his eyes, but allowed his thoughts to rush further, deep into his memories.
_________
The «Wandering Eye» rocked rhythmically on the waves, lazily sailing from one small island of the archipelago to another. The recent journey through the waters of Yal-Tengri in search of the Great Peak turned out to be extremely difficult, with death breathing down their backs throughout the entire journey. There they have lost several members of the crew. Others, like Balduran himself, were crippled by an unknown illness, from which they took a long time to recover.
Once again at sea, Balduran decided that the crew of the «Wandering Eye» needed a break. For several days now, on his orders, they had been exploring the waters near the Sword Coast in order to create an accurate map with all the islands and currents, which could then be sold in Amn. Balduran entrusted control of the ship to his senior mate, which made him beam with pride.
There was no intense work for the crew these days, only the young cartographer worked diligently: squinting under the blinding rays of the sun, he swiftly and confidently applied charcoal strokes to the the parchment spread out in front of him, and under his deft fingers a sketch of a map took shape, which he refined in the evenings in his cabin.
Looking for an opportunity to relieve boredom, Balduran challenged one of the sailors to a friendly duel. The young man accepted the challenge, baring his teeth, which seemed snow-white on his tanned face. He and the captain took off their shirts and began wrapping pieces of canvas around their wrists and knuckles.
Sailors not busy with work stood nearby to watch the fight. The crew of the «Wandering Eye» didn’t often see their captain in direct combat, as he typically managed to either strategize all possible outcomes in advance and choose a path that avoided conflict, or he would talk a potential adversary into submission, turning them into an ally in the end. Their captain was a silver tongued devil, of that the crew had no doubt; now, however, it was time to assess the captain's fighting skills.
With his peripheral vision, Balduran noticed that Ansur, who until that moment had been intently peering into the horizon, turned around and, leaning his elbows on the side of the ship, began to watch them.
The sailor, who temporarily became the captain's opponent, was a young man of about twenty named Stavros. This youth was bursting from him: muscles filled with strength rolled under his tanned skin, it seemed that he was making a lot of effort to contain the energy rushing out of him.
Balduran chuckled to himself and stood up, covering his jaw with half-clenched fists. Stavros relied not on technique, but on superiority in mass and physical strength, which could have given him the upper hand if Balduran had been less experienced in combat.
Stavros made the first move. Accustomed to fighting in a drunken stupor, without any special tactics he tried to strike with his fists at the unprotected parts of Balduran’s body, but captain deftly avoided his blows, dodging and slipping under the striking hand.
Stavros quickly became angry because his blows were so close to the target, yet could not quite reach it. However, due to the speed and unpredictability with which Stavros advanced on him, Balduran was also unable to strike back. He decided to change his approach.
Allowing Stavros to push him back into the ring of sailors surrounding them with his furious attacks, Balduran ducked swiftly and stepped sideways, opening himself up for a blow. This was exactly what Stavros expected and immediately took advantage of the opportunity.
From the blow to his torso, Balduran sharply exhaled, while Stavros, breathing heavily, fell into a momentary confusion, as if he hadn't expected to land a hit on the captain, and it came as a surprise. This moment was enough for Balduran to quickly deliver a series of three strikes — two straight to the face and one hook to the jaw. Stavros couldn't react in time to the last one.
The tense silence was broken by the dull sound of a fist hitting a jaw. Stavros leaned his hands on his knees and spat a clot of blood directly onto the deck. Balduran extended his hand, and Stavros, smiling with bloody lips, shook it.
“You’re not so bad in a fist fight,” Stavros croaked approvingly.
Balduran patted him on the shoulder and smiled, “I know.” There was no pride or boasting in this, only strong confidence of a man who is ready to take responsibility for his words. The sailors around them hummed approvingly.
When Balduran put on his shirt, for a moment it seemed that his skin was burning, the hairs on his arms stood on end. He shook off the feeling, associating it with the fight he just had. A second wave of heat swept from his neck to his lower back and ignited somewhere in his stomach.
Balduran doubled over. When the delusion subsided, he slowly straightened up and saw Ansur standing in front of him. Ansur cocked his head to the side and looked past Balduran at the outlines of the islands in the distance.
“You felt it too,” more of a statement rather than a question.
“What was it?” Balduran asked, taking a breath, trying to follow the Dragonborn’s gaze.
“It’s magic. Very strong magic.” Ansur said thoughtfully. “But I don’t understand where it’s coming from.”
A sharp pain suddenly pierced Balduran's brain and he bent over again, clutching his head in his hands. The world around him fell into ringing silence for a moment and he stopped hearing Ansur calling him, shaking him by the shoulder, he didn’t hear his sailors screaming, because he heard the song.
The enchanting singing pushed all the other sounds from his world. A gentle, flowing like a silky ribbon melody carried away all the pain and worries. The song filled Balduran from the inside, spreading bliss throughout his body to the very tips of his fingers. Everything he ever desired, everything he craved, was forgotten, gone. All Balduran wanted now was to be near the source of the singing, to plunge and dissolve into it, to press his lips to it and absorb...
Suddenly Balduran felt someone's strong arms grab him around the waist and drag him away, away from the beautiful song. He resisted and struggled, but the grip was too strong.
The attraction to the source of the song has weakened sharply. Balduran opened his eyes and realized that he was in the cargo hold of the “Wandering Eye”. Ansur held his head in his hands, covering Balduran’s ears with his palms. When Ansur saw that Balduran had come to his senses, he carefully removed his hands from the captain's face.
As soon as Ansur let go of him, and wonderful singing touched Balduran’s ears again, a warm wave of bliss washed over the captain. This time the influence of the melody was not so strong, muffled, but enough to make it difficult to concentrate.
“Balduran, look at me!” Ansur shouted at him. “Listen to my voice.”
“What is this?” Balduran said, convulsively breathing.
“Somewhere on one of these islands there is a nest of harpies,” answered Ansur. “We won’t have time to get the ship out of here.”
“Why?..”
“Because sailors are attracted by their singing, and the navigator has already set a course for the island where the singing is coming from, without even having time to realize what he is doing.” Ansur explained quickly. “The closer we get to the nest, the stronger the influence of their singing will be, people will rush overboard just to get to the source of the song.”
“Why doesn’t their magic work... on you?” It required Balduran enormous amount of concentration to pronounce these words.
“Because I am magic,” Ansur answered, and steel sparks danced in his eyes. “We need to get closer to the nest so I can kill the harpies. But I can't take on my true form right here, the ship won't hold up.”
This sobered Balduran up a bit. It was necessary to immediately take control of the “Wandering Eye” before it crashed on the rocks.
“But when I go up on the deck, I’ll hear the harpies singing again and I’ll become useless,” Balduran said slowly.
“We need to make sure you don’t hear them,” Ansur answered. “And then deal with the crew.”
Glancing around the cargo hold in search of something that could solve their problem, Balduran noticed a neatly folded canvas in the corner of the hold. Nearby stood a clay pot with wax, which was used to waterproof the sails.
Balduran came up and took the pot in his hands. “Can you melt it?” Balduran asked Ansur.
Ansur understood his intention and nodded. He cupped the pot between his palms and closed his eyes. The heat of his body seemed to concentrate in his hands, and scales on their backside shimmered. The solid chalky mass quickly yielded to this warmth and began transforming into a transparent liquid.
Ansur dipped his finger into the pot — it could not harm him — and rolled a thin layer of wax, which instantly hardened in the air, into a small ball. He repeated this several times until the ball was of a sufficient size.
Balduran took the wax ball and put it in his ear. The wax firmly sealed the ear canal, blocking the path to even the distant sounds of wonderful singing.
Preparing the second ball, Ansur spoke, “Straighten the ship’s course when you see where we’re heading. When we get close enough, I'll row a boat to the nest and destroy it.”
Balduran nodded and closed his other ear, plunging him into complete silence.
Once on the deck, Balduran rushed to the captain's bridge, which was left unattended. All the sailors huddled on the starboard, leaning over the side, extending their arms towards the rocky coastline of one of the islands looming on the horizon.
One of the sailors, a tall wiry man with sun-bleached blond hair, put his hands on the side and leaned too far, almost falling overboard. His comrades did not pay any attention to this, and if Ansur, who ran up just in time, had not managed to grab him by the back of his shirt, he would have fallen into the water.
Without letting go of the helm, Balduran took a deep breath and shouted: “Tie them to the mast!” Balduran felt the sound of his own voice as a muffled tremor in his throat, but Ansur quickly raised his head in his direction, and then turned his gaze to the mast. Having dragged the struggling sailor to the mast, Ansur tied him tightly and rushed to the others.
The closer Balduran brought the ship to the island, on the rocky shores of which harpies nested, the stronger the madness that reigned on deck became. The sailors crowded on the starboard, they stretched their hands to the island, obeying the call of the song, they tore off their shirts, as if wanting to feel the gentle touch of the melody with their skin, they scratched their chests and shoulders in an attempt to absorb the delightful singing even deeper.
Ansur forcibly grabbed from the clustered crowd those sailors who were ready to jump into the water, and dragged them to the center of the deck, quickly tying them up. None of the sailors realized what was happening; dilated pupils made the eyes of all men deep and black, covered with a haze of lust.
Balduran corrected the ship's course so that the “Wandering Eye” would not be carried onto the rocks by the current; the island was within reach by boat. Here the singing of the harpies was so loud that Balduran felt it inside, in his chest, his heart began to beat in rhythm with the song. The crew members, enslaved by the sweet singing, squirmed helplessly in the ropes, but could no longer harm themselves.
Balduran quickly moved towards Ansur and pointed him to the anchor, which the two of them lowered into the water. The “Wandering Eye” swayed slowly on the waves. Ansur began to lower one of the boats into the water when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Balduran, who looked into his eyes and made it clear with gestures that he would go to the island with him.
There was no time to talk the captain out of it. Balduran managed to take daggers with him and deftly jumped into the boat. Together with the Dragonborn at the oars, they quickly approached the shore. Although Balduran did not hear the mesmerizing singing, he felt a sensation filling him inside, as if he had jumped from a great height, his insides twisting in a knot. He wanted to close his eyes and surrender to this feeling. He caught Ansur's attentive gaze, forced himself to smile with the corner of his mouth and nod, showing that everything was fine.
Having reached the shore, they pulled the boat onto the sand and looked around. Ansur closed his eyes and froze, listening. A few moments later, he quickly moved towards a ridge lying slightly to the east, Balduran followed him.
Ansur moved faster and faster, Balduran saw a blue sparkling light enveloping the Dragonborn, and in front of him, with a roar that trembled in Balduran’s chest and under his feet, a bronze dragon soared into the air. His wings obscuring the sun, in the light of which, falling from behind, the dragon's scales shone.
A crackling, powerful magical aura, the center of which was Ansur, spread along the shore and washed over Balduran. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The painful sensation of uncontrolled fall gradually subsided.
The dragon sank surprisingly softly onto the coastal pebbles in front of Balduran and turned his head towards him. Balduran looked at him blankly. A quiet rumble rose from Ansur’s chest, he bent down to the ground and lowered his neck, never taking his eye off of Balduran. Only then did Balduran understand.
He carefully approached the dragon and put his hand on the neck covered with hard, rough scales and looked Ansur in the eyes, as if asking again for permission. The dragon closed his eyes and nodded once.
Balduran pushed off the ground with his feet, pulled himself up by grabbing onto the dragon's crest, and leaped onto Ansur's back. He wrapped his thighs around the massive base of the dragon's neck and leaned forward, holding onto the crest that extended along the back of the neck with his hands.
Ansur spread his wings and rose up into the air. Under his feet, Balduran felt the dragon’s muscles moving, and felt his warmth through the thick fabric of his pants. He couldn’t help but run his hand over the scaly neck, inhaling the fresh metallic smell.
The dragon and his rider hovered over the rocks until Balduran noticed a large bonfire on one of the flat cliffs below. Around the fire, on expensive carpets scattered in colorful disorder, half-reclining and half-sitting harpies settled down. Balduran took a closer look. The bodies of the harpies were similar to those of women in their narrow, graceful waists, rounded hips and firm, bare breasts, but that was where the similarities ended. Behind the backs of the ruinous warblers, feathered wings could be seen, with a span exceeding the outstretched arms of a man. Their faces were hidden under feathered bone masks, eyes glaring fiercely from their sockets.
The harpies heard the dragon's roar and knew that their territory had been invaded. The sweet, viscous song gave way to a battle cry. In response, Ansur’s powerful roar cut through the sky, the vibration from which reverberated through Balduran’s hips, pressed against the dragon’s neck.
One of the harpies flapped its wings and rose into the air. She moved faster than a huge dragon, maneuvering, she tried to get to the dragon rider, and Balduran had already grabbed the daggers, but at the right moment Ansur swiftly stretched his neck and bit the harpy's spine.
Throwing the limply hanging body into the water, the dragon sharply sank right in the center of the harpies nest, lined with carpets stolen from crashed merchant ships. Balduran deftly jumped off the dragon's back and prepared for battle.
Wanting to subjugate the man who flew on the dragon to their will and force him to attack his powerful ally, the harpies tried to get close to Balduran. One of them slipped under Ansur's paw and appeared right in front of Balduran. She spread her arms and her wings, and he saw her lips moving in the mouth slot on the mask in an attempt to subjugate him to her damned song.
He grinned. Balduran did not hear the harpy singing, he only felt how the sweet knot somewhere in the abdomen tightened again, but this did not stop him from lunging forward with lightning speed and plunging the dagger under the harpy’s sternum. She opened her eyes in surprise, looked down at the metal sticking out of her and sank to the ground.
Suddenly Balduran doubled over, barely managing to suppress the urge to vomit. There was no longer a sweet sensation of flight in his stomach and chest; now bile and acid were seething there. He turned around and squinted at his enemy. A harpy was closing in on him, larger and older than the rest. Balduran saw a few tears fall from under the edges of the mask onto her bare chest. The harpy's eyes glowed with rage and pain, her long sharp nails more resembling claws, menacingly directed towards him. Balduran tightened his grip on his daggers.
The harpy attacked him without stopping her threatening song, which made his insides turn out. If Balduran's ears weren't plugged with wax, he wouldn't even be able to stand on his feet. The harpy's claws turned out to be a dangerous weapon; they cut through the air very close to Balduran, preventing him from making a direct attack.
Then he used an old trick. Approaching the harpy, he exposed himself to the swing of her clawed hand, and a sharp flash of pain pierced him. Gritting his teeth, not paying attention to the blood seeping through his torn shirt, Balduran drove one of the daggers into the harpy's unprotected side. She arched her back, her mouth twisted into a grimace of pain and hatred.
Balduran pulled out a dagger, and the half-woman half-bird fell on her side, not taking her glassy gaze off of him. The feeling of bile burning through his insides gradually disappeared. Balduran turned his gaze to Ansur.
There were several torn bodies lying around the dragon. Ansur pressed the last of the desperately resisting harpies to the ground with his paw until it stopped beating convulsively. The scattered expensive carpets were now covered with blood stains and huge white feathers. Balduran looked around and sheathed the daggers. With careful movements, he took the wax out of his ears. Balduran heard only the sound of the sea splashing against the base of the rocks.
The setting sun was already touching the horizon when he and Ansur returned to the shore to the boat left there. They burned the bodies of the harpies and waited until only smoldering coals remained from the flames of the bonfire. Balduran took off his shirt, tore it into shreds and tied them around his chest.
The sparkly cloud of blue light once again wrapped the bronze dragon and Ansur took the form of the Dragonborn. Having tied up the belt of his pants that had been left on the shore, he silently pushed the boat into the water. Balduran sat on the oars, looking at the muscular, scaly back.
“You let me fly with you,” Balduran said, breaking the silence.
Ansur turned his head in his direction, without ceasing to row his oars.
“Yes.” he answered dryly. And, after a pause, he added, “Because I trust you.”
For a dragon to allow a human to be near its weak spot — its neck — was a sign of trust, not to mention permission to ride. Balduran smiled to himself at this answer. However, something in the Dragonborn's voice made him ask, “Then why are you angry?”
There was a pause; the oars in Ansur’s hands, which had hit the water rhythmically before, froze on the surface. The Dragonborn turned to Balduran and looked at his bandaged, bleeding chest.“How could you expose yourself to her attack?”
Balduran froze in surprise and also raised his oars. A sly smile crept into the corners of his lips. “That’s how it was intended. After all, I killed her.”
“What if she killed you? How would I explain to your crew that I let their captain die?”
“Come on,” Balduran smiled sadly. “It will take at least one more trip to Yal-Tengri to kill me.”
A shadow run across his face at the memory of that expedition and the losses suffered by the “Wandering Eye”. Ansur, who was watching him over his shoulder, didn't miss it.
"You're not immortal, Balduran," sighed Ansur. "Why don't you value your life more?”
Balduran jerked his head up, his pitch-black eyes glinted menacingly in response to these words. “I value it more than most,” he replied firmly, not breaking eye contact with Ansur. “Not everyone in life gets to see harpies up close, let alone battle them. I have fought them, and I have heard their song, felt their magic. Just as I feel yours,” Balduran smiled. “I value my life because it’s full of such stories.”
Ansur shook his head. “You fought well,” he said over his shoulder and continued rowing.
On the “Wandering Eye” Balduran and Ansur found the sailors freed from the bonds that held them. Ansur, who was personally tightening the knots, looked at them in surprise, and Balduran, leaning towards him, whispered, “They wouldn’t be on my crew if they couldn’t free themselves from such captivity.”
Seeing the captain, the sailors surrounded him and Ansur with joyful exclamations. Someone asked, “What happened here?” Someone explained, “We decided to wait for you one night and then set off to search the islands.” Someone shouted: “The captain is injured!”
Balduran told the crew what had happened and later, when all the sailors came to their senses, he gave the order to return to Gray Harbor. The “Wandering Eye” was moored, and the crew, with the permission of their captain, went ashore to spend the night in one of the local taverns.
The captain remained on the ship. He was leaning with his forearms on the side of the ship, and with his head thrown back, he was looking at the harbor lights through half-closed eyelids. The fresh night wind ruffled the loose white shirt, and when it clung to the body, the outlines of bandages covering the chest were visible under it. The scratches from the harpy's claws were not as deep as he had expected — it would take at most a couple of days for them to heal.
Ansur watched him from afar with his piercing blue eyes, and Balduran could feel his gaze upon himself. He tilted his head to the side, and in the moonlight, his tanned neck appeared velvety.
“You didn’t go with the others,” he said to Ansur without turning around.
The Dragonborn approached him, holding a dark glass bottle in his hands. “They’re not used to the Dragonborns here yet,” Ansur answered, shrugging his shoulders, “why make a fuss.”
Balduran snorted. “They’re used to Elves and Dwarves.”
“Elves and Dwarves are more like... you,” Ansur remarked reasonably.
Balduran turned his back to the sea, leaning his lower back against the side of the ship. His black eyes sparkled. “Soon a member of any race of Faerûn will be able to find a place in Gray Harbor.”
Ansur raised the bottle in approval of these words and took a sip. He held out the bottle to Balduran, who accepted it, sliding his fingers along the back of Ansur’s palm. Balduran took a sip, and the tangy, sweet alcohol burned his throat and sank into his stomach filling it with warmth. The same viscous, filling sensation, that he felt under influence of harpies, started slowly blooming inside. “Port wine?” He asked.
Ansur took the bottle and also took a sip of it. “It’s all I could find in your secret wine collection.”
Balduran laughed. “Kept it for a special occasion. I guess today is special enough.” Balduran took another sip, and the sweet knot inside tightened a little more. “It’s not every day that you get to feel the song of the harpies and fly on dragon’s wings.”
“How did you feel the song of the harpies?” Ansur asked, putting the bottle on the deck.
Balduran thought for a moment, trying to find words. “At first it was like a fever. And then… the sensation of falling. When everything turns upside down inside, and you are pulled down and down, and you cannot resist.”
“How do you feel my magic?” Ansur tilted his head to the side, carefully waiting for an answer.
“Your magic is like air before a thunderstorm,” Balduran answered. “Thick, heavy, powerful. It smells like rain and metal. I felt it inside me, here and here,” he placed his palm on his stomach, then on his chest. “It crackled right beneath my skin.”
“And you liked it?” Ansur asked while taking a few steps towards Balduran and putting palms on the board on either side of him.
Balduran raised his black, unblinking eyes to him. “Yes,” he answered, holding Ansur’s gaze.
Ansur raised his hand and put it on Balduran’s chest, where under his shirt and bandages wounds from the claws of the harpies were healing. Ansur leaned to him, slowly closing the distance between their faces, and whispered in his ear, “Do you want to feel it again?”
The Dragonborn felt the human heart beat a little faster under his hand. Balduran swallowed. “Yes,” he answered.
Agreement. Invitation. Sparks ran along Ansur's palm, at first barely flickering, then stronger and stronger until the palm glowed. The smell of metal and rain enveloped Balduran, and a tingling warmth spread over his skin from his chest down to his stomach and along his arms. He threw his head back and closed his eyes.
Ansur put his left hand on the base of Balduran's throat, under his palm he felt the pulse beating beneath the thin skin in the hollow between the collarbones. He ran his hand up Balduran’s neck, gently grabbed his jaw and turned his head to the side. Leaning down, Ansur slowly ran his lips over the velvety skin, leaving a light kiss on the cheekbone.
Balduran pulled him by the neck and stopped, feeling the hot breath of the dragon on his lips. He placed his other hand on Ansur's back. Balduran leaned forward and kissed Ansur, feeling the slight taste of alcohol on his tongue. As they kissed, Balduran's finger slid along the contour of the Dragonborn's spine, barely touching. Having reached the lower back, Balduran pressed lightly with his palm, pulling Ansur towards him.
Ansur's hands slid from his chest and neck to Balduran's waist. He rested his knee on the side of the ship between Balduran's legs, and a quiet sigh escaped Balduran’s lips when he felt a strong thigh pressed against his groin. Ansur caught this moment and deepened the kiss.
Sparks continued to scatter throughout Balduran's body, igniting somewhere beneath the skin. He felt Ansur put his hands under his shirt, caressed his stomach, lighting the fire inside, making his way to Balduran’s bandaged chest.
He wanted more. Balduran broke the kiss, freed his hands and began to unlace the belt on Ansur's pants. Realizing what Balduran was doing, Ansur pressed him with his entire body against the board, placing his hands on Balduran’s hips.
“Not here,” Ansur said, his hot breath gently touching Baludran’s ear.
In one swift movement Ansur picked Balduran up by the hips, forcing man to hold on to his shoulders, lifted and carried him towards the captain's cabin. The room was small, there was a single bed against the wall, next to which stood a small work desk with locked drawers and a wooden chair.
Ansur carefully lowered Balduran to the floor. He slipped his hands under the loose shirt, pulling it off Balduran’s toned muscular body and threw it on the floor. Balduran's chest was covered with bandages. Ansur hooked the bandage with his finger and pulled it sharply. Losing tension, the bandage came untied and fell to the floor at their feet.
“What are you...” Balduran didn’t have time to finish the question, Ansur pulled him by the waist, leaned his head and touched the wounds with his lips.
“I want to taste you. I want to feel your blood on my tongue,” Ansur whispered, running his split tongue along the marks of the harpies’ claws on Balduran’s skin. “I’ll make them heal faster, but first...”
When the cool dragon tongue touched the fresh wounds, Balduran sharply sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. He felt the seething, sparkling magic concentrating in his chest. Ansur's tongue slid across the deepest red mark covered by the crust of dried blood and picked crust off, Balduran's fingers grabbed tightly into the Dragonborn's shoulders.
Ansur slid his tongue deeper and further into the wound, Balduran felt a drop of fresh blood run down his chest and onto his stomach, leaving behind a thin red line. He wanted Ansur to stop this. He wanted Ansur to get inside of him even deeper.
“Your heart...” said Ansur, never stopping to touch the wounds with his lips, licking droplets of protruding blood, “it is so close. I feel how furiously it beats in your chest, right under my lips.”
He looked up and, holding Balduran’s gaze, once again run his tongue on the wounds. Balduran felt a slight burning sensation and realized that fresh blood had stopped oozing from them.
With his hand on the back of Balduran's neck Ansur pulled him in a kiss. He lightly touched Balduran's lips with his own, letting Balduran feel a salty metallic taste.
Balduran pulled away sharply. Ansur slowly raised his hand, wiped away traces of blood from Balduran’s parted lips with his thumb and raised it to his mouth. Balduran's pupils dilated at the scene. He silently pushed Ansur towards the bed, and Dragonborn obediently sat down. Balduran knelt between his legs.
With quick movements Balduran completely unlaced the belt on Ansur's pants and pulled them down over his shins, throwing them to the same place where his shirt was lying.
Released from his pants, Ansur's half-hard cock was as impressive in size as the rest of its owner. Balduran took it in his hand, and Ansur leaned back on his hands. The shaft turned out to be covered with scales, but they were not hard and rough, but thin and smooth, like fish scales.
Balduran stroked the head with his thumb and felt the cock harden under his touch. He saw that Ansur was watching him from under his half-closed eyelids. Smirking, he licked his lips and tilted his head, teasing the head of Ansur's cock with warm breath.
With his charisma, appearance and extraordinary mind, Balduran easily won the hearts and bodies of both men and women. He was an experienced and skilled lover, he liked to give pleasure to his partners, playing their bodies like musical instruments. He also liked it when pleasure was given to him. He relaxed, but never lost control; the last and winning move in any game always remained his.
With Ansur everything was different. All thoughts were swept away by a wave of desire. The desire to surrender to the power of the Dragonborn, to merge with him, to ride him again. Let Ansur fill you, feel his magic inside. The smell of a thunderstorm with rain and metal fogged Balduran’s mind.
Balduran touched Dragonborn’s cock with his lips and ran his tongue over it. Ansur's thighs tensed under his hands. Balduran felt the sliding of delicate scales on his tongue. The blood rushed to his own groin, with Balduran’s every movement his own cock rubbed against his pants, bringing pain and pleasure at the same time.
Lost to the feelings, Ansur put his hand on the back of Balduran’s head, burying his fingers in Balduran’s hair. Balduran relaxed his jaw and allowed Ansur to push deeper.
“Baldur...” name slipped from Ansur’s lips as his hard cock slid across the soft palate and into Balduran’s throat. Balduran choked, but did not let it out of his mouth. The taste of pre-cum on Ansur’s cock mixing with his own saliva on his tongue drove Balduran mad.
He removed one hand from Ansur's hip and reached for the waistband of his pants. Balduran barely managed to untie it when he felt Ansur lightly tug on his hair. Ansur’s cock slipped out of his mouth with a slurpy sound and pressed against Ansur’s muscular stomach.
Balduran looked up at the Dragonborn. Ansur lifted Balduran's head by the chin with the hand that had previously been lying on the back of his head, and, leaning down to his face, said, “I will give you what you want, Baldur.” He kissed Balduran on the parted wet lips. “I will fill you with my magic. You will feel it inside.”
Balduran closed his eyes. In response to these words, goosebumps ran down his spine, and the pressure in his groin intensified. He liked the way Ansur pronounced his name. Ansur rose from the bed and helped Balduran get up from his knees. He himself began to slowly unlace the belt of Balduran's pants, kissing his neck and whispering in his ear about magic, blood and desire.
Having rid Balduran of his pants, Ansur ran his hands over Balduran’s forearms and shoulders, down his chest to his stomach, without touching his painfully hard cock. Balduran's skin burned under Ansur's touch. Ansur gently pushed him towards the bed. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Balduran lay down on the rumpled white sheets.
Ansur knelt between his legs putting his hands on Balduran's hips. Then he grabbed them under the knees and pressed them to Balduran's stomach, almost folding him in half.
“Hold them,” he said to Balduran, who obediently grabbed his thighs.
Ansur rubbed Baldur’s buttocks, squeezing the resilient flesh, leaned down and ran his tongue along the gap between them. He felt Balduran tense beneath him.
“Try to relax,” Ansur whispered.
He lowered his head again and ran his tongue from the anus to the base of the cock, sliding along the ball sack. Hearing the obscene curse that escaped Balduran’s lips with exhale, Ansur continued with satisfaction. Ansur traced the outline of the pink ring of muscle with his tongue before gently pushing into it. He could already imagine how it would slowly give in and fit perfectly around him, when he will push inside.
Ansur caressed Balduran from the inside with his tongue. He casually stroked Balduran’s dick with one of his hands, squeezing it at the base when he felt a wave of trembling tension running through Balduran's body.
When the tension in the muscle under his tongue eased a little and it was sufficiently moistened with his saliva, Ansur pulled back and slowly inserted a finger inside.
“Ansur... I need... you...” Balduran tried to say.
“I know, Baldur. But you’re not ready yet,” Ansur answered and he inserted a second finger and crossed them inside.
Balduran clenched the sheets into fists and thrust his hips, pushing himself deeper onto Ansur's fingers. This time Ansur cursed quietly. He took out his fingers, threw Balduran’s legs over his shoulders and positioned himself against the warmed up hole.
Hovering over Balduran, balancing on one arm, Ansur quickly said, “Tell me to stop if I hurt you.” With these words, he pushed into Balduran and froze for a moment, giving Balduran time to get used to the feeling. Ansur felt circular muscle accepting him, felt the tight warmth of Balduran’s body. He pushed again, slightly deeper this time, and Balduran exhaled sharply. His dark eyes appeared completely black due to dilated pupils.
Balduran pulled Ansur by the neck, slid his lips over his ear and whispered one word: “More.”
Ansur closed his eyes and in one swift movement pushed into Balduran to the full extent of his length. Balduran threw his head back and screamed. Without stopping anymore to let Balduran get used to the feeling of being streched, Ansur started thrusting, catching the groans slipping from Balduran’s lips with his mouth. With his hand Ansur firmly grasped Balduran's cock, squeezed between their bodies, and began to stroke it in rhythm with his thrusts, teasing the slit on the head with his thumb.
Ansur felt the moment when Balduran’s body tensed, clenching his cock even tighter, Balduran arched his back and came on his stomach and chest. Ansur caressed him while Balduran, oblivious, pushed into his hand for a few more moments.
Looking at the relaxed body of Balduran stretched out beneath him, drops of semen glistening on his chest and stomach, Ansur knew that he would not need much time.
“Clench up for me again,” he said to Balduran, catching his gaze clouded with pleasure.
He continued to push into the soft, pliable body until the muscle around his cock squeezed tightly. Ansur sped up, thrusted a few more times and came inside Balduran. He slid out of Balduran's body and gently lowered his legs to the bed.
Balduran felt fulfilled and satisfied. His thighs became sticky with sweat. He felt Ansur's seed leaking from his stretched hole, mixing with his sweat. Balduran watched as Ansur, fascinated by the sight, ran his finger along the inner surface of his thigh, catching a whitish drop on his finger, and inserted it back. Balduran instinctively tensed.
Ansur slowly pulled out his finger and lay down on the bed next to Balduran, placing his hand on Balduran's thigh.
“Next time I want you to ride me,” Ansur said, turning his head towards him. “This morning you... showed yourself to be a good dragon rider.”
Balduran propped himself up on his elbow and looked at the Dragonborn. “Next time?” He repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Tell me you didn’t like it,” Ansur replied, looking distinctly at Balduran's flushed chest and stomach.
“I won’t,” Balduran replied with a grin, leaning back on the sheets damp with sweat.
Falling asleep next to Ansur, Balduran remembered how the moon light pouring through the dull window of the cabin glittered on the dragon’s scales.
_________
The Emperor looked at the night sky, merging on the horizon with the dark surface of the sea. The light of the moon traced a silvery path on the water. The mind, let off the leash, wandered for too long in memories of the past, the Emperor shook off his numbness.
Baldur's Gate had long since disappeared from view, the world lay at the Emperor's feet, ready to obey his will.