Nathandiel had woken up without his younger lover and had felt a moment's panic before he'd seen the fresh glass of water, the dish of biscuits, and the pain killers on a folded napkin on his bedside table. He'd relaxed then, a bit embarrassed by the acid-flash of fear he'd felt. Baalthemar wasn't going anywhere. The silly thing was unwilling to accept that Nathandiel would die in the late future, he wasn't likely to be anything but extremely attached and on his way back.
He'll come back.
He laid back down, wiggling into the blankets and reaching out over the spot where Baalthemar had lain. It wasn't really warm anymore. The dogs were at the end of the bed, out cold. Baalthemar had gone some time before. That was fine though, he relished a little bit of time to himself, if only to appreciate his company when it came back.
Also to fart, burp, and scratch myself whenever such whims strike me. His nose itched, so he picked it, worming a finger up one nostril to get right to the heart of the issue. Can't do such things with company.
No, but then Baalthemar wasn't really company, not anymore. It wasn't just the young man that had become attached, Nathandiel was as well. He knew that he should have been thinking of Drinn, of Pascal especially, at least of getting home to Daniel, but he'd found some peace in Baalthemar and while he was aware that he was being selfish, he wasn't yet willing to stop being so.
Perhaps I can convince him to come home with me?
He didn't think that would work, but wasn't going to rule it out. Baalthemar would convince him to live longer and he might consent, but he'd have his own request too. "Come back with me. When it's time. Come back with me." He'd request. He wouldn't ask. He would request it. He liked Baalthemar too much to ever go home without him. He was pretty, sweet, and he felt oh so good whether he was face down or straddling for a ride.
"Lovely...." He whispered, closing his eyes again, his fingers curling into the spread where the blond boy was not. "Take you back to a real home, somewhere you can be taken care of."
Thoughts of spoiling Baalthemar with good food, nice things, pretty playmates, and fruitful engagements carried him back to sleep. It wasn't unheard of for a man like himself to keep an elf; they were fancy creatures that spoke to a man's good taste and filial status. He had no intentions of keeping Baalthemar, the boy was not a pet, but it would make a workable story for them to be together in a safer place. If they were safe, they could eat fruit in bed, make love, and drink fine wine off each other. They could wake up when they wanted to, go out when they felt like it, and live under their own mandates.
But until then, things were good just as they were and Nathandiel didn't want them to change. Not yet.
Copper Kisses
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Nathandiel
- Member
- Posts: 120
- Location: London
- Contact:
Re: Copper Kisses
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
Grobbulus: Andhar
Grobbulus: Andhar
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Baalthemar
- Lost
- Posts: 67
Re: Copper Kisses
****************** WARNING: Adult themes *********************
Baalthemar walked away from the specialty store in Silvermoon, in his hand a black paper bag, he had slung it over his shoulder as he headed out of the city. He thumbed his garrison hearthstone while he walked.
Nathandiel had put him on the back foot, by asking him to dress in a school uniform. But he couldn’t say that he didn’t like the idea, although he honestly thought it would have been harder to find a Silvermoon school uniform in his size.
Baalthemar entered the garrison to the sound of little feet frantically rushing toward him. Castor and Linna yapped their greetings, he let them come outside before he knelt down to pat them. Once the two pups had sniffed and licked at their blonde friend they ran back inside to the warmth.
Baalthemar followed them in and headed to the bedroom, he laid out the uniform on the bed.
It reflected the totalitarian nature of Silvermoon. Black pants and matching vest, a jacket with the icon of blood stitched over the left breast, a light grey shirt and a royal red tie. The shoes had already been shined to a high polish, he was thankful for that. The sales woman had given him an odd look when he asked for her to shine them, but he had given her a sly smile and she did as he asked.
He headed to the cooking area to make up a light meal for the two for when Nathandiel came home, a chicken salad and a platter of meats fruits and cheeses. Baalthemar set the table with food, he stopped to throw some cheese to the two pups.
“You two are spoilt you know that? Most wolf cubs don’t get cheese.” He said to them as they licked their chops, the cheese devoured a few seconds after it hit the floor. He headed to the bathroom to wash up before he got dressed in the uniform.
Baalthemar entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist and another resting over his shoulders, he stood and dried his hair looking at the uniform on the bed. “If any of the Grim saw me in that I would never live it down. Fel, I can almost hear Syreena laughing now.” He said shaking his head with a slight smile.
He finished drying off and started getting dressed, he had the pants on and had buttoned the shirt when he looked at himself in the mirror. “I hope you appreciate this Nathandiel.” He said as his face started to grow hot.
Baalthemar finished with the uniform, he looked over the tie and ensured that it sat correctly. He stood tall in the uniform and tested how it fell. The woman at the store had done well, it was a well fitted suit. He raised an eyebrow looking at himself, if it wasn’t a school uniform he might have worn it out.
He checked the time, Nathandiel was due home soon. Baalthemar walked to the table, taking one of the high backed wooden chairs and planted in the middle of the lounge facing the door. His normal cool and calm composure was gone, he sat waiting for his lover to come home.
Baalthemar walked away from the specialty store in Silvermoon, in his hand a black paper bag, he had slung it over his shoulder as he headed out of the city. He thumbed his garrison hearthstone while he walked.
Nathandiel had put him on the back foot, by asking him to dress in a school uniform. But he couldn’t say that he didn’t like the idea, although he honestly thought it would have been harder to find a Silvermoon school uniform in his size.
Baalthemar entered the garrison to the sound of little feet frantically rushing toward him. Castor and Linna yapped their greetings, he let them come outside before he knelt down to pat them. Once the two pups had sniffed and licked at their blonde friend they ran back inside to the warmth.
Baalthemar followed them in and headed to the bedroom, he laid out the uniform on the bed.
It reflected the totalitarian nature of Silvermoon. Black pants and matching vest, a jacket with the icon of blood stitched over the left breast, a light grey shirt and a royal red tie. The shoes had already been shined to a high polish, he was thankful for that. The sales woman had given him an odd look when he asked for her to shine them, but he had given her a sly smile and she did as he asked.
He headed to the cooking area to make up a light meal for the two for when Nathandiel came home, a chicken salad and a platter of meats fruits and cheeses. Baalthemar set the table with food, he stopped to throw some cheese to the two pups.
“You two are spoilt you know that? Most wolf cubs don’t get cheese.” He said to them as they licked their chops, the cheese devoured a few seconds after it hit the floor. He headed to the bathroom to wash up before he got dressed in the uniform.
Baalthemar entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist and another resting over his shoulders, he stood and dried his hair looking at the uniform on the bed. “If any of the Grim saw me in that I would never live it down. Fel, I can almost hear Syreena laughing now.” He said shaking his head with a slight smile.
He finished drying off and started getting dressed, he had the pants on and had buttoned the shirt when he looked at himself in the mirror. “I hope you appreciate this Nathandiel.” He said as his face started to grow hot.
Baalthemar finished with the uniform, he looked over the tie and ensured that it sat correctly. He stood tall in the uniform and tested how it fell. The woman at the store had done well, it was a well fitted suit. He raised an eyebrow looking at himself, if it wasn’t a school uniform he might have worn it out.
He checked the time, Nathandiel was due home soon. Baalthemar walked to the table, taking one of the high backed wooden chairs and planted in the middle of the lounge facing the door. His normal cool and calm composure was gone, he sat waiting for his lover to come home.
-
Nathandiel
- Member
- Posts: 120
- Location: London
- Contact:
Re: Copper Kisses
“You're the first to worry about what I like.”
Baalthemar's words continued to loop in Nathandiel's mind throughout the evening as he worked. Baalthemar had come with a snack and a request to submit for the check-up that Nathandiel had suggested he have. Baalthemar was an orphan and no one had cared for him correctly, no had seen to his health and ensured he'd seen a paediatrician and eaten his vitamin chewies growing up. He'd confessed to Nathandiel that he'd never seen a doctor for routine check-up and hadn't understood why someone would go to the doctor if they weren't ill. Nathandiel endeavoured to change that—as such a check up was in order. He was healthy by all observations, though they would have to wait until the lab work returned to be sure.
And during his check up he saw me with my glasses. And Nathandiel had seen how Baalthemar looked at him in them. He liked them. So Nathandiel had offered to wear them later to accompany the bout of spankings he wished to administer to Baalthemar. Baalthemar had never gone to a proper school so they would play a little game to fit with the spankings--Nathandiel had always maintained that setting the scene was essential for role-play. Baalthemar wasn't in trouble, Nathandiel simply desired to paddle the boy's pretty pink bum until it was red as a rose and just as tender as the petals of such. He wanted to beat it, tickle it, press his mouth to that bum and pet the more tender under-parts. He wanted to feel Baalthemar grow against his lap, face down and helpless with his rump exposed.
“What else do you like? Besides me in my spectacles?” He'd asked.
“…I don't really know. Perhaps we can find out together?”
Indeed they could. Baalthemar might not like spankings, but they'd find out. Often sweet ones thought that they wouldn't like spankings, and then they got spankings from the right person and found them to be delectable treats of affection. Such sweet things then became eager to have their undergarments peeled back and their bums exposed, the invisible hairs standing up when the air kissed their flesh and then the warm caress of a palm as the flesh was readied for a righteous smacking. The sweetest ones loved it, Nathandiel knew.
Nathandiel's knee had mostly healed. It was still sore, but he expected that it was sturdy enough to allow him to put it to Baalthemar properly. As accommodating as Baalthemar had been in bed since Nathandiel had been hurt, Nathandiel was a domineering lover and part of him had been impossible to satisfy when Baalthemar did all the work. He wanted to hold Baalthemar down while he mounted him, bite the back of his neck while he took him, cover his mouth with his hand when Baalthemar screamed, and lock Baalthemar's hips in place whenever the poor boy was compelled to try and scuttle away from a penetrative assault.
He smiled at all these things and stole a grope to his groin, his testicles suddenly feeling heavy with anticipation. He intended to be rough with Baalthemar after he'd spanked and tortured him, after he gave him a real lesson.
But then I'll be nice, so he knows that I want niceness for him and that I'm not really mad.
Baslthemar had been used by many men in the past, and while Nathandiel was quite sure that his younger treat enjoyed being planted face-down, he also knew how deeply Baalthemar blushed when Nathandiel was soft with him, when he held him close and cradled him so he could kiss him while they made it. Tenderness was reassuring, and after the assault that Nathandiel had planned he would finish off the young man with sweetness to smooth over his soreness. He'd show him that no matter how much he used him for his own delight, Nathandiel cherished Baalthemar's submission.
When he arrived home he was greeted by the pups, a well built fire, and one pretty blond elf in a boy's uniform looking as nervous as a lad that really had been sent up to the headmasters office to pay for an infraction. This made Nathandiel grin.
He approached Baalthemar, gesturing with one hand for the pups to go away. He was silent as he circled the seated young man, hands crossed behind his back and his steps deliberate, peering over the rims of his spectacles. They were going to play, and Nathandiel had no problem slipping into a role. The longer Nathandiel said nothing, the further Baalthemar’s ears drooped.
He feels it, he feels like he’s really in trouble.
Perfect. The punishment would be all the sweeter.
He stopped behind Baalthemar and put his hands on the young man’s shoulders. He’d picked a good uniform. “Dawnsorrow.” He purred, lowering to speak into one of those drooping ears as it snapped to attention. “As I understand it you’ve been a bad, bad, young lad.” He spoke the last against Baalthemar's warm, soft cheek. He could feel Baalthemar quivering under his touch, but as he peeked over Baalthemar’s shoulder he could also see the excited state in his lap.
Excellent…
Nathandiel beat him, made him sing, had him until he cried, and then he loved him, really loved him, and by the time they were done and the uniform was gone and the two men were a tangled knot of warmth and intimacy, Nathandiel loved Baalthemar just a little bit more for each smack he'd taken, and for each thrust he'd submitted to.
"My very, very good boy." he whispered, combing his fingers through Baalthemar's hair and planting a soft kiss on his warm forehead. "My boy....Mine."
Baalthemar's words continued to loop in Nathandiel's mind throughout the evening as he worked. Baalthemar had come with a snack and a request to submit for the check-up that Nathandiel had suggested he have. Baalthemar was an orphan and no one had cared for him correctly, no had seen to his health and ensured he'd seen a paediatrician and eaten his vitamin chewies growing up. He'd confessed to Nathandiel that he'd never seen a doctor for routine check-up and hadn't understood why someone would go to the doctor if they weren't ill. Nathandiel endeavoured to change that—as such a check up was in order. He was healthy by all observations, though they would have to wait until the lab work returned to be sure.
And during his check up he saw me with my glasses. And Nathandiel had seen how Baalthemar looked at him in them. He liked them. So Nathandiel had offered to wear them later to accompany the bout of spankings he wished to administer to Baalthemar. Baalthemar had never gone to a proper school so they would play a little game to fit with the spankings--Nathandiel had always maintained that setting the scene was essential for role-play. Baalthemar wasn't in trouble, Nathandiel simply desired to paddle the boy's pretty pink bum until it was red as a rose and just as tender as the petals of such. He wanted to beat it, tickle it, press his mouth to that bum and pet the more tender under-parts. He wanted to feel Baalthemar grow against his lap, face down and helpless with his rump exposed.
“What else do you like? Besides me in my spectacles?” He'd asked.
“…I don't really know. Perhaps we can find out together?”
Indeed they could. Baalthemar might not like spankings, but they'd find out. Often sweet ones thought that they wouldn't like spankings, and then they got spankings from the right person and found them to be delectable treats of affection. Such sweet things then became eager to have their undergarments peeled back and their bums exposed, the invisible hairs standing up when the air kissed their flesh and then the warm caress of a palm as the flesh was readied for a righteous smacking. The sweetest ones loved it, Nathandiel knew.
Nathandiel's knee had mostly healed. It was still sore, but he expected that it was sturdy enough to allow him to put it to Baalthemar properly. As accommodating as Baalthemar had been in bed since Nathandiel had been hurt, Nathandiel was a domineering lover and part of him had been impossible to satisfy when Baalthemar did all the work. He wanted to hold Baalthemar down while he mounted him, bite the back of his neck while he took him, cover his mouth with his hand when Baalthemar screamed, and lock Baalthemar's hips in place whenever the poor boy was compelled to try and scuttle away from a penetrative assault.
He smiled at all these things and stole a grope to his groin, his testicles suddenly feeling heavy with anticipation. He intended to be rough with Baalthemar after he'd spanked and tortured him, after he gave him a real lesson.
But then I'll be nice, so he knows that I want niceness for him and that I'm not really mad.
Baslthemar had been used by many men in the past, and while Nathandiel was quite sure that his younger treat enjoyed being planted face-down, he also knew how deeply Baalthemar blushed when Nathandiel was soft with him, when he held him close and cradled him so he could kiss him while they made it. Tenderness was reassuring, and after the assault that Nathandiel had planned he would finish off the young man with sweetness to smooth over his soreness. He'd show him that no matter how much he used him for his own delight, Nathandiel cherished Baalthemar's submission.
When he arrived home he was greeted by the pups, a well built fire, and one pretty blond elf in a boy's uniform looking as nervous as a lad that really had been sent up to the headmasters office to pay for an infraction. This made Nathandiel grin.
He approached Baalthemar, gesturing with one hand for the pups to go away. He was silent as he circled the seated young man, hands crossed behind his back and his steps deliberate, peering over the rims of his spectacles. They were going to play, and Nathandiel had no problem slipping into a role. The longer Nathandiel said nothing, the further Baalthemar’s ears drooped.
He feels it, he feels like he’s really in trouble.
Perfect. The punishment would be all the sweeter.
He stopped behind Baalthemar and put his hands on the young man’s shoulders. He’d picked a good uniform. “Dawnsorrow.” He purred, lowering to speak into one of those drooping ears as it snapped to attention. “As I understand it you’ve been a bad, bad, young lad.” He spoke the last against Baalthemar's warm, soft cheek. He could feel Baalthemar quivering under his touch, but as he peeked over Baalthemar’s shoulder he could also see the excited state in his lap.
Excellent…
Nathandiel beat him, made him sing, had him until he cried, and then he loved him, really loved him, and by the time they were done and the uniform was gone and the two men were a tangled knot of warmth and intimacy, Nathandiel loved Baalthemar just a little bit more for each smack he'd taken, and for each thrust he'd submitted to.
"My very, very good boy." he whispered, combing his fingers through Baalthemar's hair and planting a soft kiss on his warm forehead. "My boy....Mine."
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
Grobbulus: Andhar
Grobbulus: Andhar
-
Baalthemar
- Lost
- Posts: 67
Re: Copper Kisses
Baalthemar’s body stung, he could feel every movement that Nathandiel made. The man had coiled himself around Baalthemar, he glowed while he slept. His arms and legs tangled around him in a tender hug, and his sweat covered head rested against Baalthemar’s arm.
Baalthemar looked at him and thought about the nights events. Pain. The same abuse I felt so long ago, but different… there was a warmth behind it. Not the cold malice or selfish anger like the others. He looked at Nathandiel as a slow drip of drool slipped from his lip onto Baalthemar’s arm. He couldn’t help but smile. You care so much… it’s overwhelming. I’m lost in the woods here Nathandiel. You have me all fogged up, I don’t know where to turn or what to do. He thought as he gently put his forehead against Nathandiel’s.
Baalthemar started to softly hum a tune and whispered “Angel white. Sweet love of mine. like the morning mist you surround me, with a cool touch you caress me.” As if on que, Nathandiel joined in with a soft snore. Baalthemar laughed to himself and slowly started to roll over, he needed some rest.
As he moved, Nathandiel let out a low growl, and a sleepy. “Stay, Mine.” Baalthemar looked at his lover and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, I just need to roll onto my back.” He rolled and Nathandiel came with him, he cuddled into Baalthemar’s chest and found a new spot to drool on. “You make a good pillow.” He mumbled before letting out another soft snore.
Baalthemar smiled. “And you make a good blanket.” He kissed Nathandiel on the head and relaxed in the warmth of his body heat. We should go hunting soon, I want to see you tracking prey with me… if you look as good as you do with glasses on, we will have another long night. He thought as a slow grin crept over his face. “A long night indeed.” He whispered before he allowed himself to fall asleep.
Baalthemar looked at him and thought about the nights events. Pain. The same abuse I felt so long ago, but different… there was a warmth behind it. Not the cold malice or selfish anger like the others. He looked at Nathandiel as a slow drip of drool slipped from his lip onto Baalthemar’s arm. He couldn’t help but smile. You care so much… it’s overwhelming. I’m lost in the woods here Nathandiel. You have me all fogged up, I don’t know where to turn or what to do. He thought as he gently put his forehead against Nathandiel’s.
Baalthemar started to softly hum a tune and whispered “Angel white. Sweet love of mine. like the morning mist you surround me, with a cool touch you caress me.” As if on que, Nathandiel joined in with a soft snore. Baalthemar laughed to himself and slowly started to roll over, he needed some rest.
As he moved, Nathandiel let out a low growl, and a sleepy. “Stay, Mine.” Baalthemar looked at his lover and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, I just need to roll onto my back.” He rolled and Nathandiel came with him, he cuddled into Baalthemar’s chest and found a new spot to drool on. “You make a good pillow.” He mumbled before letting out another soft snore.
Baalthemar smiled. “And you make a good blanket.” He kissed Nathandiel on the head and relaxed in the warmth of his body heat. We should go hunting soon, I want to see you tracking prey with me… if you look as good as you do with glasses on, we will have another long night. He thought as a slow grin crept over his face. “A long night indeed.” He whispered before he allowed himself to fall asleep.
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Baalthemar
- Lost
- Posts: 67
Re: Copper Kisses
********************Warning: Adult themes********************
Baalthemar stumbled into Nathandiel’s garrison, he hopped on one foot as he removed his boot, a mountain of clothes in his arms. He dropped it onto the floor, and headed toward the bedroom.
Nathandiel was tucked into his side of the bed, he had stayed up and read some notes or medical books. Baalthemar didn’t try to work it out, he was just glad to be home again. He peeled off the last of his clothes and slipped in next to Nathandiel’s warm body, Baalthemar pressed up against him.
Nathandiel let out a low growl, and mumbled “You’re freezing.” Baalthemar started to roll away not wanting to disturb the sleeping man any more than he already had. “I didn’t say you could leave.” Nathandiel said as he pulled Baalthemar back toward him and wiggled his rump back into Baalthemar.
“I sent you a letter, you didn’t need to wait up for me” Baalthemar said as he hugged Nathandiel close. Nathandiel gently kissed his arm “Did you keep the girl safe?”
Baalthemar grunted and nestled his face into Nathandiel’s neck breathing in the smell of his skin before finally he answered. “Yeah the distressed damsel is home safe, she didn’t find her friend though.” Nathandiel sighed softly and pushed his hips into Baalthemar’s lap. “My BIG hero” he added with a slight grin.
Baalthemar groaned and bit Nathandiel’s neck as he felt himself swell against Nathandiel’s warm flesh. “You are dangerously adDICtive” He said as he pushed himself against Nathandiel.
Baalthemar opened his eye with a sudden realization. “You’re not wearing any sleep wear…” Baalthemar said almost stunned. Nathandiel laughed and said “It took you long enough.” Baalthemar sighed and blushed. How did I miss such an obvious invitation? “I’m tired, forgive me…” Baalthemar said as he gently held Nathandiel’s waist.
Nathandiel reached up behind him and grabbed a fist full of Baalthemar’s blonde hair. “I have waited long enough for you to come home, get the oil… I have an itch I need you to scratch.” He said with a tug on Baalthemar’s hair, before he pointed to a bottle of oil that sat next to their bed. Baalthemar smiled, before he rolled over to grab it Nathandiel pulled him close. “I love you, silly boy.” he said as he planted a rough kiss on Baalthemar’s lips.
Baalthemar’s heart skipped a beat, a wide smile washed over his face. “I love you too, Angel white.” with a speed granted by youth and skilled reflexes Baalthemar rolled away and snatched the bottle of oil from the side table and returned to his lover to set about their joining.
Baalthemar stumbled into Nathandiel’s garrison, he hopped on one foot as he removed his boot, a mountain of clothes in his arms. He dropped it onto the floor, and headed toward the bedroom.
Nathandiel was tucked into his side of the bed, he had stayed up and read some notes or medical books. Baalthemar didn’t try to work it out, he was just glad to be home again. He peeled off the last of his clothes and slipped in next to Nathandiel’s warm body, Baalthemar pressed up against him.
Nathandiel let out a low growl, and mumbled “You’re freezing.” Baalthemar started to roll away not wanting to disturb the sleeping man any more than he already had. “I didn’t say you could leave.” Nathandiel said as he pulled Baalthemar back toward him and wiggled his rump back into Baalthemar.
“I sent you a letter, you didn’t need to wait up for me” Baalthemar said as he hugged Nathandiel close. Nathandiel gently kissed his arm “Did you keep the girl safe?”
Baalthemar grunted and nestled his face into Nathandiel’s neck breathing in the smell of his skin before finally he answered. “Yeah the distressed damsel is home safe, she didn’t find her friend though.” Nathandiel sighed softly and pushed his hips into Baalthemar’s lap. “My BIG hero” he added with a slight grin.
Baalthemar groaned and bit Nathandiel’s neck as he felt himself swell against Nathandiel’s warm flesh. “You are dangerously adDICtive” He said as he pushed himself against Nathandiel.
Baalthemar opened his eye with a sudden realization. “You’re not wearing any sleep wear…” Baalthemar said almost stunned. Nathandiel laughed and said “It took you long enough.” Baalthemar sighed and blushed. How did I miss such an obvious invitation? “I’m tired, forgive me…” Baalthemar said as he gently held Nathandiel’s waist.
Nathandiel reached up behind him and grabbed a fist full of Baalthemar’s blonde hair. “I have waited long enough for you to come home, get the oil… I have an itch I need you to scratch.” He said with a tug on Baalthemar’s hair, before he pointed to a bottle of oil that sat next to their bed. Baalthemar smiled, before he rolled over to grab it Nathandiel pulled him close. “I love you, silly boy.” he said as he planted a rough kiss on Baalthemar’s lips.
Baalthemar’s heart skipped a beat, a wide smile washed over his face. “I love you too, Angel white.” with a speed granted by youth and skilled reflexes Baalthemar rolled away and snatched the bottle of oil from the side table and returned to his lover to set about their joining.
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Baalthemar
- Lost
- Posts: 67
Re: Copper Kisses
********************* Warning: Adult content! *******************************
********** Reader discretion advised this post contains: Explicit sexual content *********
Baalthemar had cooked up a meal for the three of them, but only Nathandiel and Baalthemar sat at the table.
"To think, a few weeks ago this all started with a little black business card." Baalthemar said with a grin.
Nathandiel rolled his eyes, "You know she was lying, I never worked... for her." Nathandiel replied with a slight shake in his voice. Baalthemar watched him and smiled. "Perhaps. But it did bring us our newest plaything, and I can tell you enjoy him."
Nathandiel gripped the table and glared at Baalthemar. Oh you act smug now, wait until he gets to you. he thought with a sly grin. "Yes... he... has quite the talent…" his speech and train of thought broken.
.
.
A few weeks ago.
Nathandiel watched the two men, Baalthemar had taken control and ordered him to watch and not cross over his peak. A cruel game but one that he let Baalthemar play with him, knowing that the payoff would be worth it.
So he sat in his reading chair with his wine, drinking and watching Baalthemar play with their new bed mate. Nathandiel watched the guest push himself to take what Baalthemar fed him, while also threatening with his hands to take over from beneath. He was enthusiastic and from the look on Baalthemar’s face, was doing a good job.
Nathandiel shifted in his chair, he was pressing hard against the fabric of his pants. Cruel boy. You delight in teasing me like this. He thought to himself as Baalthemar looked over at him and smiled. He sipped his wine and slid his hand into his pants.
Baalthemar watched Nathandiel, as their guest worked. He fought to keep his knees straight. His breathing was heavy as he spoke to Nathandiel. “Remember. You’re not allowed to finish until we let you.” Nathandiel rolled his eyes and pulled his hand out of his pants again. Taking a long drink of wine. Baalthemar groaned and held onto his guests balding head as he reached his peak.
Their guest willing though he was, fought to get air. In his haste Baalthemar had pushed down hard and held him. He tapped at Baalthemar’s legs to get his attention, slowly at first then a rapid slapping urging the young elf to release him. There was an audible pop as he pulled away from Baalthemar.
Panting Baalthemar looked down at him. “I’m sorry, I… uh I got lost a little there.” The man couldn’t help but smile up at him, what with the stupid look on the young elf's face. “Tha's fine, mean ya enjoyed it much as me,” he said with a wink of his green eyes.
Baalthemar led tonight's playmate to Nathandiel’s bed. “You’ll enjoy this too.” He said with a grin. That comment was met with a tenor chuckle and the challenge of a quirked eyebrow as his guest crawled onto the bed and got himself settled in an inviting position. Baalthemar walked over to Nathandiel and kissed him. “I want you on the bed for this.”
Nathandiel tilted his head, “What why? I have a good view from here.” Baalthemar smiled at him. “Because I can’t keep my eye on you if you’re all the way over here.” Nathandiel sighed as Baalthemar pulled him to the bed. “You know you are rather cruel Baal.” He said with a slight grin on his face.
Baalthemar stopped and turned to him. “Cruel in a good way though, I promise.” He reassured Nathandiel with another tender kiss. “Now in the middle there, I want our guest here to help tease you.” Baalthemar grinned.
He watched the two elves join him in the bed and smirked, he knew just what to do. His years of experience could be used to keep Nathandiel on the edge of rapture until dawn. The man smiled warmly at Nathandiel, looking forward to a trio, “Dun’ worry handsome, ya’ll be in very good hands tanight.” Nathandiel climbed into the center of the bed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He said with a slight laugh.
Nathandiel groaned as he was kept on the brink for hours as the two tormented him, each kiss or tender touch from their guest send electric shocks running down his spine, but everything he did would only bring him to the edge. He ached from the torment, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself. It felt very good.
The guest enjoyed drawing out loving Nathandiel, he was so responsive to his skilled hands and mouth. Baalthemar worked behind him, as his body started to shake again. For the third time tonight the elf boy had brought him over the edge. His eyes rolled back into his head and he held on as it over took him again.
Nathandiel panted and looked down at the two, he dropped his head back onto the pillows. “This is torture, just so you know.” Baalthemar smiled at Nathandiel, their older guest slowly taking his time to recover.
Baalthemar shined with sweat, and his breath was labored. “I’ll let you finish, soon…” he said as he gently stepped away from his guest to enjoy some wine and to cool down. Nathandiel looked at Baalthemar’s naked body, and his mind filled with lewd thoughts.
The man had still had enough energy turn over on his side, he watched the elves and thought to himself. These younguns... well, THAT youngun had way too much energy for this to be a regular thing. But it'd been a while since he last had a chance for a good threesome with just men. Usually it was women, and there were some exciting things you could only do with men... When he'd first met Baalthemar he'd had a good feeling despite being warned about the Grim. It'd taken some time to flirt this one into interest and he'd come with another man as a bonus! He was glad he had followed through.
The guest crawled up and laid next to Nathandiel, “Ey der, handsome.” He leaned toward Nathandiel to give him a gentle kiss, his head cleared and he started to feel as if they'd begun to form a bond that helped anchor him to this present. “Told ya, I be takin care of ya.” Nathandiel grinned and kissed him back. “You teased me. I still have needs to take care of.” His eyes darted down to his lap, where he still ached.
Baalthemar returned with two glasses of wine, handing one to each of them. “I will take care of you Nath, finish your drinks and I’ll show you what I have planned.” Baalthemar shot a playful grin at Nathandiel that told him what whatever the young man had planned, his night was going to be very satisfying indeed.
The three relaxed and drank the wine slowly as Nathandiel tested his knee, it didn’t hurt as much and he could feel some movement returning. Perhaps he would avoid needing that cane after all. The thought was pleasing and he smiled to himself as he finished his wine and handed Baalthemar the empty glass.
Their guest smiled as he watched Nathandiel play with his knee, knowing that he could help him in this way made him very glad that he had come tonight. Love and healing, two things he could offer in great abundance. It always made his heart swell with warmth when folk could share mutual joy, mending of the body and spirit in this manner; and this night was filling his heart to overflowing. So much better than the pain more commonly dealt out. He finished the wine with Nathandiel and handed his glass to Baalthemar after him, brushing fingers with the randy young elf with a grin. The man was ready for another round now.
Baalthemar placed the glasses next to the bottle and turned on his heel to face the bed. “Nathandiel I want you to get up and allow me to take your place.” Nathandiel tilted his head slightly but moved to allow Baalthemar to lay down on his back. “Now come here” Baalthemar pulled Nathandiel on top of him and as the two faced each other the idea became clear.
Baalthemar slapped Nathandiel on the rump and held him for their guest. “Come and get him.” He provoked the new bed mate. “Wait what?” Nathandiel asked as he looked back. Baalthemar reached low and gave Nathandiel a gentle squeeze. “You really think I would let you suffer this long and not take care of you?” Baalthemar asked Nathandiel as he guided their paring.
Their guest smiled, he watched the tender scene and waited until the two were joined before making his own paring. All that tormenting earlier made it easy for them to fit together and move as one.
Nathandiel held onto Baalthemar’s chest, his mind was overwhelmed. Hours of torment had come to an end. Each little movement anyone made was exquisite, he held onto Baalthemar taking in the smell of his skin, and the sound of his heart beat. It centered him, helped him focus on what was about to happen.
Baalthemar looked at Nathandiel and smiled. “How do you like being the meat in the manwich?” Nathandiel rolled his eyes and laughed. “You…” he shook his head almost at a loss for words. “Just… shut the fuck up.” He grinned at the smart mouthed young man, before he moved to kiss him.
Their three separate rhythms came to synchronize together, moving as one and giving voice to a chorus of throaty moans. Waves of pleasure washed over them like the ocean over the shore. Their guest had a view of the entire scene, with each movement of his hips he could tease out a moan or gasp as his actions cascaded to the other men. Baalthemar held tight to Nathandiel, he clawed at his back as their guest worked.
Nathandiel was pinned between the two, he could feel Baalthemar rake his back with his long finger nails. The slight sting sent a fresh jolt down his spine and he peaked with his lover. Their new bed partner felt the two shudder under him, and he smiled.
Their bed partner let Nathandiel roll to one side, shaking and still sensitive the two elves still held each other. Slowly he slid between them and shared in the warmth. Baalthemar rested his head against his shoulder with his arm over their guests’ chest, his hand holding Nathaniel’s, their fingers interlocked. Nathandiel cuddled into the warmth of their guest’s side.
Their new bed partner watched as both men slipped into sleep, he gently ran his fingers through Baalthemar’s long blond hair, He curled it and let it fall between his fingers. While on the other side he slowly rubbed Nathandiel’s neck and watched as his entire body relaxes under his touch. The two elves fell asleep quickly while their guest enjoyed the feeling of their bodies against his, he smiled to himself as he too slowly fell asleep.
.
.
Back at the dinner table.
Nathandiel closed his eyes and held onto the table edge as he struggled to force himself to maintain proper table manners.
Baalthemar watched him with a twisted pride, "I enjoy this game." he declared. "You always work so hard to win, but you end up looking so wonderfully cute when you peak." Nathandiel gave up and groaned. "Oh shut the fuck up." he gasped at Baalthemar, as he let his head fall back toward the ceiling.
Baalthemar laughed as Nathandiel slowly recovered and returned to normal, "There he is, nice to-" He was cut off as their dinner guest stated his work on Baalthemar.
Nathandiel grinned and watched Baalthemar try to collect himself. "So... you were saying something about the cabin." he asked as the young elf returned to his dinner.
Baalthemar coughed and continued his conversation with Nathandiel about the cabin he was working on, the game started for him this time, and he was determined to win. "Yes. The foundations are coming along nicely, once the stone and copper arrives the basement will be built in short order." he replied with a cool and smooth voice.
Nathandiel grinned. We will see how long you can keep this up my sweet boy. he thought as they talked.
********** Reader discretion advised this post contains: Explicit sexual content *********
Baalthemar had cooked up a meal for the three of them, but only Nathandiel and Baalthemar sat at the table.
"To think, a few weeks ago this all started with a little black business card." Baalthemar said with a grin.
Nathandiel rolled his eyes, "You know she was lying, I never worked... for her." Nathandiel replied with a slight shake in his voice. Baalthemar watched him and smiled. "Perhaps. But it did bring us our newest plaything, and I can tell you enjoy him."
Nathandiel gripped the table and glared at Baalthemar. Oh you act smug now, wait until he gets to you. he thought with a sly grin. "Yes... he... has quite the talent…" his speech and train of thought broken.
.
.
A few weeks ago.
Nathandiel watched the two men, Baalthemar had taken control and ordered him to watch and not cross over his peak. A cruel game but one that he let Baalthemar play with him, knowing that the payoff would be worth it.
So he sat in his reading chair with his wine, drinking and watching Baalthemar play with their new bed mate. Nathandiel watched the guest push himself to take what Baalthemar fed him, while also threatening with his hands to take over from beneath. He was enthusiastic and from the look on Baalthemar’s face, was doing a good job.
Nathandiel shifted in his chair, he was pressing hard against the fabric of his pants. Cruel boy. You delight in teasing me like this. He thought to himself as Baalthemar looked over at him and smiled. He sipped his wine and slid his hand into his pants.
Baalthemar watched Nathandiel, as their guest worked. He fought to keep his knees straight. His breathing was heavy as he spoke to Nathandiel. “Remember. You’re not allowed to finish until we let you.” Nathandiel rolled his eyes and pulled his hand out of his pants again. Taking a long drink of wine. Baalthemar groaned and held onto his guests balding head as he reached his peak.
Their guest willing though he was, fought to get air. In his haste Baalthemar had pushed down hard and held him. He tapped at Baalthemar’s legs to get his attention, slowly at first then a rapid slapping urging the young elf to release him. There was an audible pop as he pulled away from Baalthemar.
Panting Baalthemar looked down at him. “I’m sorry, I… uh I got lost a little there.” The man couldn’t help but smile up at him, what with the stupid look on the young elf's face. “Tha's fine, mean ya enjoyed it much as me,” he said with a wink of his green eyes.
Baalthemar led tonight's playmate to Nathandiel’s bed. “You’ll enjoy this too.” He said with a grin. That comment was met with a tenor chuckle and the challenge of a quirked eyebrow as his guest crawled onto the bed and got himself settled in an inviting position. Baalthemar walked over to Nathandiel and kissed him. “I want you on the bed for this.”
Nathandiel tilted his head, “What why? I have a good view from here.” Baalthemar smiled at him. “Because I can’t keep my eye on you if you’re all the way over here.” Nathandiel sighed as Baalthemar pulled him to the bed. “You know you are rather cruel Baal.” He said with a slight grin on his face.
Baalthemar stopped and turned to him. “Cruel in a good way though, I promise.” He reassured Nathandiel with another tender kiss. “Now in the middle there, I want our guest here to help tease you.” Baalthemar grinned.
He watched the two elves join him in the bed and smirked, he knew just what to do. His years of experience could be used to keep Nathandiel on the edge of rapture until dawn. The man smiled warmly at Nathandiel, looking forward to a trio, “Dun’ worry handsome, ya’ll be in very good hands tanight.” Nathandiel climbed into the center of the bed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He said with a slight laugh.
Nathandiel groaned as he was kept on the brink for hours as the two tormented him, each kiss or tender touch from their guest send electric shocks running down his spine, but everything he did would only bring him to the edge. He ached from the torment, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself. It felt very good.
The guest enjoyed drawing out loving Nathandiel, he was so responsive to his skilled hands and mouth. Baalthemar worked behind him, as his body started to shake again. For the third time tonight the elf boy had brought him over the edge. His eyes rolled back into his head and he held on as it over took him again.
Nathandiel panted and looked down at the two, he dropped his head back onto the pillows. “This is torture, just so you know.” Baalthemar smiled at Nathandiel, their older guest slowly taking his time to recover.
Baalthemar shined with sweat, and his breath was labored. “I’ll let you finish, soon…” he said as he gently stepped away from his guest to enjoy some wine and to cool down. Nathandiel looked at Baalthemar’s naked body, and his mind filled with lewd thoughts.
The man had still had enough energy turn over on his side, he watched the elves and thought to himself. These younguns... well, THAT youngun had way too much energy for this to be a regular thing. But it'd been a while since he last had a chance for a good threesome with just men. Usually it was women, and there were some exciting things you could only do with men... When he'd first met Baalthemar he'd had a good feeling despite being warned about the Grim. It'd taken some time to flirt this one into interest and he'd come with another man as a bonus! He was glad he had followed through.
The guest crawled up and laid next to Nathandiel, “Ey der, handsome.” He leaned toward Nathandiel to give him a gentle kiss, his head cleared and he started to feel as if they'd begun to form a bond that helped anchor him to this present. “Told ya, I be takin care of ya.” Nathandiel grinned and kissed him back. “You teased me. I still have needs to take care of.” His eyes darted down to his lap, where he still ached.
Baalthemar returned with two glasses of wine, handing one to each of them. “I will take care of you Nath, finish your drinks and I’ll show you what I have planned.” Baalthemar shot a playful grin at Nathandiel that told him what whatever the young man had planned, his night was going to be very satisfying indeed.
The three relaxed and drank the wine slowly as Nathandiel tested his knee, it didn’t hurt as much and he could feel some movement returning. Perhaps he would avoid needing that cane after all. The thought was pleasing and he smiled to himself as he finished his wine and handed Baalthemar the empty glass.
Their guest smiled as he watched Nathandiel play with his knee, knowing that he could help him in this way made him very glad that he had come tonight. Love and healing, two things he could offer in great abundance. It always made his heart swell with warmth when folk could share mutual joy, mending of the body and spirit in this manner; and this night was filling his heart to overflowing. So much better than the pain more commonly dealt out. He finished the wine with Nathandiel and handed his glass to Baalthemar after him, brushing fingers with the randy young elf with a grin. The man was ready for another round now.
Baalthemar placed the glasses next to the bottle and turned on his heel to face the bed. “Nathandiel I want you to get up and allow me to take your place.” Nathandiel tilted his head slightly but moved to allow Baalthemar to lay down on his back. “Now come here” Baalthemar pulled Nathandiel on top of him and as the two faced each other the idea became clear.
Baalthemar slapped Nathandiel on the rump and held him for their guest. “Come and get him.” He provoked the new bed mate. “Wait what?” Nathandiel asked as he looked back. Baalthemar reached low and gave Nathandiel a gentle squeeze. “You really think I would let you suffer this long and not take care of you?” Baalthemar asked Nathandiel as he guided their paring.
Their guest smiled, he watched the tender scene and waited until the two were joined before making his own paring. All that tormenting earlier made it easy for them to fit together and move as one.
Nathandiel held onto Baalthemar’s chest, his mind was overwhelmed. Hours of torment had come to an end. Each little movement anyone made was exquisite, he held onto Baalthemar taking in the smell of his skin, and the sound of his heart beat. It centered him, helped him focus on what was about to happen.
Baalthemar looked at Nathandiel and smiled. “How do you like being the meat in the manwich?” Nathandiel rolled his eyes and laughed. “You…” he shook his head almost at a loss for words. “Just… shut the fuck up.” He grinned at the smart mouthed young man, before he moved to kiss him.
Their three separate rhythms came to synchronize together, moving as one and giving voice to a chorus of throaty moans. Waves of pleasure washed over them like the ocean over the shore. Their guest had a view of the entire scene, with each movement of his hips he could tease out a moan or gasp as his actions cascaded to the other men. Baalthemar held tight to Nathandiel, he clawed at his back as their guest worked.
Nathandiel was pinned between the two, he could feel Baalthemar rake his back with his long finger nails. The slight sting sent a fresh jolt down his spine and he peaked with his lover. Their new bed partner felt the two shudder under him, and he smiled.
Their bed partner let Nathandiel roll to one side, shaking and still sensitive the two elves still held each other. Slowly he slid between them and shared in the warmth. Baalthemar rested his head against his shoulder with his arm over their guests’ chest, his hand holding Nathaniel’s, their fingers interlocked. Nathandiel cuddled into the warmth of their guest’s side.
Their new bed partner watched as both men slipped into sleep, he gently ran his fingers through Baalthemar’s long blond hair, He curled it and let it fall between his fingers. While on the other side he slowly rubbed Nathandiel’s neck and watched as his entire body relaxes under his touch. The two elves fell asleep quickly while their guest enjoyed the feeling of their bodies against his, he smiled to himself as he too slowly fell asleep.
.
.
Back at the dinner table.
Nathandiel closed his eyes and held onto the table edge as he struggled to force himself to maintain proper table manners.
Baalthemar watched him with a twisted pride, "I enjoy this game." he declared. "You always work so hard to win, but you end up looking so wonderfully cute when you peak." Nathandiel gave up and groaned. "Oh shut the fuck up." he gasped at Baalthemar, as he let his head fall back toward the ceiling.
Baalthemar laughed as Nathandiel slowly recovered and returned to normal, "There he is, nice to-" He was cut off as their dinner guest stated his work on Baalthemar.
Nathandiel grinned and watched Baalthemar try to collect himself. "So... you were saying something about the cabin." he asked as the young elf returned to his dinner.
Baalthemar coughed and continued his conversation with Nathandiel about the cabin he was working on, the game started for him this time, and he was determined to win. "Yes. The foundations are coming along nicely, once the stone and copper arrives the basement will be built in short order." he replied with a cool and smooth voice.
Nathandiel grinned. We will see how long you can keep this up my sweet boy. he thought as they talked.
-
Baalthemar
- Lost
- Posts: 67
Re: Copper Kisses
****************** Warning adult themes ********************
Baalthemar stumbled out of the Wyverns Tail bar, his head full of firewater and lust. He swayed at the top of the steps leading into the bar, he had to focus to get down them. Each step was a small victory against gravity, when his feet hit dirt he grinned and reached for his hearthstone.
I’m coming home Nathandiel. I’m coming home, and you’re going to get it. He grinned at the thought as the soft light spiraled around him and in an instant he was out of the dry heat of Orgrimmar and in the cold bite of Frostfire.
Baalthemar walked toward the garrison, stumbling up the path toward his lover’s home. He swung open the door and was greeted by the warm air within. Castor and Linna looked up from their spot on Nathandiels bed, where he slept after a long day of work.
Baalthemar crept up toward the bedroom, he removed his equipment and placed it in his footlocker. He grinned as an idea slithered its way into his mind.
He crawled onto bed, his movements woke Nathandiel from his sleep. “What are you doing?” he asked as he looked down at a very drunk Baalthemar. He had caught him as he tried to crawl under the blankets. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Baalthemar replied as he swayed slightly.
The blonde elf had positioned himself over Nathandiel’s lap and tugged at his sleep wear. “It looks like you woke me up in a drunken attempt to get at my manhood.” Nathandiel said with a slight grin. “It’s a good thing you’re cute when you’re drunk Baal, or I might have to kick you out of my bed for waking me up.” Baalthemar gave Nathandiel a big grin. “Yeah, I’m cute. You love it.” he replied as he pulled Nathandiel free of his clothes.
Baalthemar’s hair fell over his face as he worked, Nathandiel just relaxed and let him work. “Long day I take it?” he asked his blonde lover. “Mhmm” Baalthemar replied. “And you missed me… eh?” Nathandiel asked as he brushed Baalthemar’s hair off his face to get a better look at him.”Mhmm” Baalthemar said again looking up at him. “I’m glad you’re home too.” Nathandiel said as he let his head fall back onto his pillow.
By the time Nathandiel had finished he had worked up a slight sweat, and his breathing was labored. Baalthemar crawled up to his chest and curled into him. “I’m tired now, will you make me pancakes tomorrow?” Baalthemar asked with a slight slur to his words.
Nathandiel smiled and sighed. “I’ll make us pancakes if you’re not too hungover, otherwise you’ll get coffee and fruit.” Baalthemar pouted. “You’re mean.” Nathandiel looked down at his drunk lover. “Hey, I didn’t come in stinking of whiskey and demanding sex.” Baalthemar grinned and gently bit at Nathandiel’s ribs.
Nathandiel yelped. “Go to sleep you drunken mess.” He said as he swatted Baalthemar softly on the nose. “I’ll make you your damn pancakes.” He gave in. Baalthemar hugged Nathandiel and grinned at his victory. “Good.” Baalthemar fell asleep on Nathandiel’s chest.
Baalthemar stumbled out of the Wyverns Tail bar, his head full of firewater and lust. He swayed at the top of the steps leading into the bar, he had to focus to get down them. Each step was a small victory against gravity, when his feet hit dirt he grinned and reached for his hearthstone.
I’m coming home Nathandiel. I’m coming home, and you’re going to get it. He grinned at the thought as the soft light spiraled around him and in an instant he was out of the dry heat of Orgrimmar and in the cold bite of Frostfire.
Baalthemar walked toward the garrison, stumbling up the path toward his lover’s home. He swung open the door and was greeted by the warm air within. Castor and Linna looked up from their spot on Nathandiels bed, where he slept after a long day of work.
Baalthemar crept up toward the bedroom, he removed his equipment and placed it in his footlocker. He grinned as an idea slithered its way into his mind.
He crawled onto bed, his movements woke Nathandiel from his sleep. “What are you doing?” he asked as he looked down at a very drunk Baalthemar. He had caught him as he tried to crawl under the blankets. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Baalthemar replied as he swayed slightly.
The blonde elf had positioned himself over Nathandiel’s lap and tugged at his sleep wear. “It looks like you woke me up in a drunken attempt to get at my manhood.” Nathandiel said with a slight grin. “It’s a good thing you’re cute when you’re drunk Baal, or I might have to kick you out of my bed for waking me up.” Baalthemar gave Nathandiel a big grin. “Yeah, I’m cute. You love it.” he replied as he pulled Nathandiel free of his clothes.
Baalthemar’s hair fell over his face as he worked, Nathandiel just relaxed and let him work. “Long day I take it?” he asked his blonde lover. “Mhmm” Baalthemar replied. “And you missed me… eh?” Nathandiel asked as he brushed Baalthemar’s hair off his face to get a better look at him.”Mhmm” Baalthemar said again looking up at him. “I’m glad you’re home too.” Nathandiel said as he let his head fall back onto his pillow.
By the time Nathandiel had finished he had worked up a slight sweat, and his breathing was labored. Baalthemar crawled up to his chest and curled into him. “I’m tired now, will you make me pancakes tomorrow?” Baalthemar asked with a slight slur to his words.
Nathandiel smiled and sighed. “I’ll make us pancakes if you’re not too hungover, otherwise you’ll get coffee and fruit.” Baalthemar pouted. “You’re mean.” Nathandiel looked down at his drunk lover. “Hey, I didn’t come in stinking of whiskey and demanding sex.” Baalthemar grinned and gently bit at Nathandiel’s ribs.
Nathandiel yelped. “Go to sleep you drunken mess.” He said as he swatted Baalthemar softly on the nose. “I’ll make you your damn pancakes.” He gave in. Baalthemar hugged Nathandiel and grinned at his victory. “Good.” Baalthemar fell asleep on Nathandiel’s chest.
-
Baalthemar
- Lost
- Posts: 67
Re: Copper Kisses
****************** Warning adult themes ********************
He was glad that the two had chosen barbecue for dinner, something he could cook without much thought. Because thanks to these two most of my blood is no longer in my head, it has been diverted to somewhere else. He thought as he ached against his pants.
Araku and Nathandiel had teased him on the boat, Nathandiel worst of the two. He had removed Baalthemar’s gloves and sucked on his fingers the act itself not extremely sexual, the memories and thoughts that it ignited within Baalthemar’s mind did all the work for Nathandiel and when Araku added his own little bites and kisses to an already weakened Baalthemar there was little he could do but try not to moan too loud.
“Evil…” Baalthemar said with a slight grin on his face. He made Talbuk kebabs with baked salted potatoes. Simple food that he could throw onto the fire and ignore until it was ready. His tormentors drank whiskey in the lounge, enjoying some light chatter, Baalthemar could hear Nathandiel and Araku laugh at one of the many stories Nathandiel had about medical school.
Baalthemar sighed his mind wouldn’t let him calm down, his head was full of lewd images and visions of how he was going to get his revenge on the two. Nathandiel on his knees as tears ran down his face, He could feel him fighting for air and he looked up with his beautiful blue eyes. And on the floor, Araku folded over, spent and used after he had vented his frustration against Araku’s rump. He grinned at the thought, but he wouldn’t hurt them like that.
He finished cutting all the meat and vegetables for the skewers, and started to thread the food onto the metal spike when Nathandiel came into the kitchen to join him. “Are you almost done in here? We miss you out in the lounge” Nathandiel said as he slid up against Baalthemar’s back, his hands groped below Baalthemar’s belt.
Baalthemar groaned. “You know… I’m holding long thin metal rods here, I could slid them into some other meat if you are committed to driving me wild.” He said with a playful grin. Nathandiel gave him a gentle squeeze. “You don’t scare me Baal, I know you enjoy this game.” Nathandiel said as he kissed Baalthemar on the neck and ran his hand up under his shirt. Baalthemar sighed. “You… are cruel, you better take care of me after dinner.” Nathandiel continued to tease him as Baalthemar tried to work.
“I will always take care of you… my sunshine.” Nathandiel said softly into his ear, Baalthemar blushed and finished up with the kebabs. “Don’t take too long.” Nathandiel said and he patted Baalthemar on the rump and headed back into the lounge.
Baalthemar returned to the lounge with a large plate of food for them all to eat, in time to see Araku headed toward the door. “You’re leaving?” he asked as placed the food down on a table. “Ya, der be sometin I be needin ta do.” He said with a worried look in his eye. “Baal is not going, he is staying here with me, Rutilus Luna can have him another night.” Nathandiel added with a stern voice. Araku nodded and hurried off into the snow without another word.
Baalthemar shrugged. “If it was demons he would have stayed here. It’s probably something with Naring or Ranadarus.” He looked down at the huge plate of food. “I guess you’ll have to eat all this food with just me.” His mind raced to make a meat pun, he open his mouth to make a joke and Nathandiel put a kebab in his open mouth. “Eat what I put in your mouth” He said with a grin, Baalthemar raised his eyebrow. I love this man. He thought as he ate the kebab.
The two talked and ate their hearty meal with a glass or two of wine, by the end of the meal Nathandiel has curled up next to Baalthemar and had rested his head against his chest. “Thank you for feeding me, Baal.” He said as he slid his hand under Baalthemar’s shirt. “Time for me to take care of you…”
Baalthemar sighed. Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night. He thought as he gently put his hand on Nathandiel’s head and helped him work.
He was glad that the two had chosen barbecue for dinner, something he could cook without much thought. Because thanks to these two most of my blood is no longer in my head, it has been diverted to somewhere else. He thought as he ached against his pants.
Araku and Nathandiel had teased him on the boat, Nathandiel worst of the two. He had removed Baalthemar’s gloves and sucked on his fingers the act itself not extremely sexual, the memories and thoughts that it ignited within Baalthemar’s mind did all the work for Nathandiel and when Araku added his own little bites and kisses to an already weakened Baalthemar there was little he could do but try not to moan too loud.
“Evil…” Baalthemar said with a slight grin on his face. He made Talbuk kebabs with baked salted potatoes. Simple food that he could throw onto the fire and ignore until it was ready. His tormentors drank whiskey in the lounge, enjoying some light chatter, Baalthemar could hear Nathandiel and Araku laugh at one of the many stories Nathandiel had about medical school.
Baalthemar sighed his mind wouldn’t let him calm down, his head was full of lewd images and visions of how he was going to get his revenge on the two. Nathandiel on his knees as tears ran down his face, He could feel him fighting for air and he looked up with his beautiful blue eyes. And on the floor, Araku folded over, spent and used after he had vented his frustration against Araku’s rump. He grinned at the thought, but he wouldn’t hurt them like that.
He finished cutting all the meat and vegetables for the skewers, and started to thread the food onto the metal spike when Nathandiel came into the kitchen to join him. “Are you almost done in here? We miss you out in the lounge” Nathandiel said as he slid up against Baalthemar’s back, his hands groped below Baalthemar’s belt.
Baalthemar groaned. “You know… I’m holding long thin metal rods here, I could slid them into some other meat if you are committed to driving me wild.” He said with a playful grin. Nathandiel gave him a gentle squeeze. “You don’t scare me Baal, I know you enjoy this game.” Nathandiel said as he kissed Baalthemar on the neck and ran his hand up under his shirt. Baalthemar sighed. “You… are cruel, you better take care of me after dinner.” Nathandiel continued to tease him as Baalthemar tried to work.
“I will always take care of you… my sunshine.” Nathandiel said softly into his ear, Baalthemar blushed and finished up with the kebabs. “Don’t take too long.” Nathandiel said and he patted Baalthemar on the rump and headed back into the lounge.
Baalthemar returned to the lounge with a large plate of food for them all to eat, in time to see Araku headed toward the door. “You’re leaving?” he asked as placed the food down on a table. “Ya, der be sometin I be needin ta do.” He said with a worried look in his eye. “Baal is not going, he is staying here with me, Rutilus Luna can have him another night.” Nathandiel added with a stern voice. Araku nodded and hurried off into the snow without another word.
Baalthemar shrugged. “If it was demons he would have stayed here. It’s probably something with Naring or Ranadarus.” He looked down at the huge plate of food. “I guess you’ll have to eat all this food with just me.” His mind raced to make a meat pun, he open his mouth to make a joke and Nathandiel put a kebab in his open mouth. “Eat what I put in your mouth” He said with a grin, Baalthemar raised his eyebrow. I love this man. He thought as he ate the kebab.
The two talked and ate their hearty meal with a glass or two of wine, by the end of the meal Nathandiel has curled up next to Baalthemar and had rested his head against his chest. “Thank you for feeding me, Baal.” He said as he slid his hand under Baalthemar’s shirt. “Time for me to take care of you…”
Baalthemar sighed. Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night. He thought as he gently put his hand on Nathandiel’s head and helped him work.
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Baalthemar
- Lost
- Posts: 67
Re: Copper Kisses
********************* Warning: Adult themes! ****************************
Baalthemar’s head still spun, he was unsure if it was the punch that Khorvis had given him or the shock of Shaeile’s truth. He and Aderlee sat at the feast table and talked, his troll friend had bought him some cider to enjoy while he waited for the room stop turning.
The Grim supplicant Kiannas had joined them as they talked about the events of the night, while Baalthemar blew out the blood and snot from his nose onto the floor, his entire face ached as he did so. He drank more cider and tried to follow along with the conversation.
Nathandiel walked over to the table the three of them sat at, Baalthemar turned to him and smiled with a bloody grin and bloodied nose. “Hey, remind me to duck next time.” he joked as Nathandiel looked at his face in shock. “Who did this to you” Nathandiel asked as he moved to clean his lover up.
“Khorvis, but its fine.” Baalthemar said with a smile, Nathandiel frowned and stated to help Baalthemar. “Your nose is broken.” He said. “Nar its fine, Aderlee has me covered.” Baalthemar replied. Nathandiel frowned and pushed on Baalthemar’s nose, the force pushed it back into place. Baalthemar groaned and winced at the pain. “Ugh, Alright I guess it was broken.” Nathandiel placed torn up strips of napkin up the wounded elf’s nose, Baalthemar sat and let Nathandiel fuss over him while the other two talked.
Kiannas was the first to leave, the mandate demanded him elsewhere. Aderlee soon followed suit, he bid the two farewell and reminded Baalthemar of his next lesson before he used his hearthstone to exit the tavern.
Baalthemar pulled the tissue from his nose and rested his forehead against Nathandiel. “I missed you.” he said with a heavy voice. “I missed you too, that’s why I came to find you.” Nathandiel said as he played with Baalthemar’s hair. The two sat there for a time before Nathandiel smiled at him and said “I have a gift for you.”
Baalthemar watched Nathandiel pull something from his pack. A slender gold chain with a delicate pendent of a bird trapped within a sun. “Nathandiel, This is jewelry… you’re giving me jewelry?” Baalthemar said almost stunned. “Here, let me put it on you. My free flying freedom bird, heart of my sun.” Nathandiel said as he moved Baalthemar’s hair out of the way “There. What do you think?"
Baalthemar trembled slightly “I uh, It’s wonderful.” His mind raced. Jewelry… a real gift, not a blade or a meal or something that I can use… but a symbol. Jewelry, like other lovers give each other. His mind started to spin again. “You… I… “He stumbled over his words. “You want to go home? Like right now.”
Baalthemar stood up and grabbed Nathandiel’s hand “Don’t you need to see Aderlee?” Nathandiel asked as he was dragged out of his seat. “Not right now I don’t, we are going home.” Baal said with conviction.
Baalthemar pulled Nathandiel into the garrison, Nathandiel barely had time to close the door before his blonde haired lover was on him. He stripped Nathandiel with little effort. The two made it to their bedroom without a word their embrace had left little room for anything that couldn’t be said with a kiss.
Baalthemar threw Nathandiel onto the bed and crawled on top of him his blonde hair and new necklace falling down toward Nathandiel. “This means a lot to me Nath.” Baalthemar said as he looked him in the eyes. Nathandiel smiled and wiggled his hips down to get into a better position. “If I had known that a necklace would turn you on so much, I would have given you one when we first met.” He said with a grin.
Baalthemar reached back and guided their joining. “That’s…” he sighed as he lowered himself onto Nathandiel. “I mean this. You and me, I’ve never had anything like it and I don’t want to lose It.” he leaned over and kissed Nathandiel before he could say anything.
Dawn broke after a night of tender love-making, Nathandiel looked over at his lover. Baalthemar’s blonde hair was a mess, sprawled over his pillow and face, but rested against his chest was the delicate pendent. “You won’t lose anything, you are mine as much as I am yours.” Nathandiel whispered as he brushed away some hair from Baalthemar’s face.
Baalthemar awoke to Nathandiel as he walked into the bedroom. Baalthemar looked him over, he had dressed in his black sleep wear. “Always so dapper, my beloved angel white.” He said as he ran his hand through his hair. Nathandiel stood with two plates of golden pancakes. “Thought we could have breakfast in bed.” He said with a smile. Baalthemar sat up and looked at him, Nathandiel had promised to make him every type of pancake when Baalthemar had admitted that he had never had them before.
He grinned and moved the blankets to and furs to allow Nathandiel to sit next to him. “I’ll hold those while you sit next to me.” Baalthemar said with a wide and warm smile. Nathandiel handed him the warm plates and crawled into bed next to him then gave him a quick kiss before the two enjoyed their breakfast. Baalthemar looked down at his meal and smiled. “You spoil me. If I didn’t know better I might think you were trying to make a civilized man out of me.” He said as he pulled strips off his pancakes and popped them into his mouth.
Nathandiel looked over to him and watched him eat for a moment. “I don’t think I could ever do that, not with all the brushed hair and baths in the world.” He smiled and cut into his own pancakes with a knife and fork. Baalthemar licked the honey off his finders as Nathandiel finished up with his plate. Baalthemar watched him, waited until he was finished. “Thank you for breakfast, I’ll run us a bath and show you how grateful I am.” Baalthemar leaned over and kissed Nathandiel before he headed to the bathroom, still naked form the night before.
Nathandiel watched the blonde man walk across the cold floor to the bathroom, his firm buttocks bounced slightly with each step. “Grab the brushes, I want to do your hair too!” he yelled at Baalthemar as he entered the bathroom. Before he put the plates away and joined him in the warm bathroom.
Baalthemar’s head still spun, he was unsure if it was the punch that Khorvis had given him or the shock of Shaeile’s truth. He and Aderlee sat at the feast table and talked, his troll friend had bought him some cider to enjoy while he waited for the room stop turning.
The Grim supplicant Kiannas had joined them as they talked about the events of the night, while Baalthemar blew out the blood and snot from his nose onto the floor, his entire face ached as he did so. He drank more cider and tried to follow along with the conversation.
Nathandiel walked over to the table the three of them sat at, Baalthemar turned to him and smiled with a bloody grin and bloodied nose. “Hey, remind me to duck next time.” he joked as Nathandiel looked at his face in shock. “Who did this to you” Nathandiel asked as he moved to clean his lover up.
“Khorvis, but its fine.” Baalthemar said with a smile, Nathandiel frowned and stated to help Baalthemar. “Your nose is broken.” He said. “Nar its fine, Aderlee has me covered.” Baalthemar replied. Nathandiel frowned and pushed on Baalthemar’s nose, the force pushed it back into place. Baalthemar groaned and winced at the pain. “Ugh, Alright I guess it was broken.” Nathandiel placed torn up strips of napkin up the wounded elf’s nose, Baalthemar sat and let Nathandiel fuss over him while the other two talked.
Kiannas was the first to leave, the mandate demanded him elsewhere. Aderlee soon followed suit, he bid the two farewell and reminded Baalthemar of his next lesson before he used his hearthstone to exit the tavern.
Baalthemar pulled the tissue from his nose and rested his forehead against Nathandiel. “I missed you.” he said with a heavy voice. “I missed you too, that’s why I came to find you.” Nathandiel said as he played with Baalthemar’s hair. The two sat there for a time before Nathandiel smiled at him and said “I have a gift for you.”
Baalthemar watched Nathandiel pull something from his pack. A slender gold chain with a delicate pendent of a bird trapped within a sun. “Nathandiel, This is jewelry… you’re giving me jewelry?” Baalthemar said almost stunned. “Here, let me put it on you. My free flying freedom bird, heart of my sun.” Nathandiel said as he moved Baalthemar’s hair out of the way “There. What do you think?"
Baalthemar trembled slightly “I uh, It’s wonderful.” His mind raced. Jewelry… a real gift, not a blade or a meal or something that I can use… but a symbol. Jewelry, like other lovers give each other. His mind started to spin again. “You… I… “He stumbled over his words. “You want to go home? Like right now.”
Baalthemar stood up and grabbed Nathandiel’s hand “Don’t you need to see Aderlee?” Nathandiel asked as he was dragged out of his seat. “Not right now I don’t, we are going home.” Baal said with conviction.
Baalthemar pulled Nathandiel into the garrison, Nathandiel barely had time to close the door before his blonde haired lover was on him. He stripped Nathandiel with little effort. The two made it to their bedroom without a word their embrace had left little room for anything that couldn’t be said with a kiss.
Baalthemar threw Nathandiel onto the bed and crawled on top of him his blonde hair and new necklace falling down toward Nathandiel. “This means a lot to me Nath.” Baalthemar said as he looked him in the eyes. Nathandiel smiled and wiggled his hips down to get into a better position. “If I had known that a necklace would turn you on so much, I would have given you one when we first met.” He said with a grin.
Baalthemar reached back and guided their joining. “That’s…” he sighed as he lowered himself onto Nathandiel. “I mean this. You and me, I’ve never had anything like it and I don’t want to lose It.” he leaned over and kissed Nathandiel before he could say anything.
Dawn broke after a night of tender love-making, Nathandiel looked over at his lover. Baalthemar’s blonde hair was a mess, sprawled over his pillow and face, but rested against his chest was the delicate pendent. “You won’t lose anything, you are mine as much as I am yours.” Nathandiel whispered as he brushed away some hair from Baalthemar’s face.
Baalthemar awoke to Nathandiel as he walked into the bedroom. Baalthemar looked him over, he had dressed in his black sleep wear. “Always so dapper, my beloved angel white.” He said as he ran his hand through his hair. Nathandiel stood with two plates of golden pancakes. “Thought we could have breakfast in bed.” He said with a smile. Baalthemar sat up and looked at him, Nathandiel had promised to make him every type of pancake when Baalthemar had admitted that he had never had them before.
He grinned and moved the blankets to and furs to allow Nathandiel to sit next to him. “I’ll hold those while you sit next to me.” Baalthemar said with a wide and warm smile. Nathandiel handed him the warm plates and crawled into bed next to him then gave him a quick kiss before the two enjoyed their breakfast. Baalthemar looked down at his meal and smiled. “You spoil me. If I didn’t know better I might think you were trying to make a civilized man out of me.” He said as he pulled strips off his pancakes and popped them into his mouth.
Nathandiel looked over to him and watched him eat for a moment. “I don’t think I could ever do that, not with all the brushed hair and baths in the world.” He smiled and cut into his own pancakes with a knife and fork. Baalthemar licked the honey off his finders as Nathandiel finished up with his plate. Baalthemar watched him, waited until he was finished. “Thank you for breakfast, I’ll run us a bath and show you how grateful I am.” Baalthemar leaned over and kissed Nathandiel before he headed to the bathroom, still naked form the night before.
Nathandiel watched the blonde man walk across the cold floor to the bathroom, his firm buttocks bounced slightly with each step. “Grab the brushes, I want to do your hair too!” he yelled at Baalthemar as he entered the bathroom. Before he put the plates away and joined him in the warm bathroom.
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Nathandiel
- Member
- Posts: 120
- Location: London
- Contact:
Re: Copper Kisses
Magical thinking: that was what doctors like Nathandiel called it when a patient was convinced that doing something--or, conversely not doing something--would lead to an outcome that, when looked at objectively, could not have been the result of the action or inaction. It was a staple of pathological thought patterns and mainstay amongst patients who suffered from compulsive and anxious behaviour.
And yet here I am....He thought, as he arranged the tablets on the metal tray, positioning each just so, ensuring that the cut-lines were coordinated uniformly across the buffet. If I do these drugs, I will never see Drinn again, The magical moron in his own anxious brain asserted. He turned his attention to the little bit of white powder he'd tapped out of a one-dram vial. He and Drinn had done powders together, sometimes they did them off of eachother. Though skinny like a stick, she'd had a bubble of an ass that had been an amazing surface to insuflate illicit substances off of. He missed her ass. If I do these drugs and feel good I'll never see her again. I feel like this without her and I'll never feel her in any way ever again.
--and that exactly why you need to do them. Enough of this silliness! Magical thinking will bring about nothing except neuroticism and anxiety. Do the drugs!
He tilted his head as he looked down at the smorgasbord he'd procured from the chemist's shelves. He chewed at one ragged thumbnail as he looked down at the items, worrying the nail the way he might have a pencil during his university entrance exams. What to do, what to do? Which bubble do I shade in?There was nothing left to arrange, no more symmetry in the presentation to achieve. No more excuses.
Are you gonna do this or what?
What if he didn't? Wasn't it better to play it safe? Step over every crack just in case it would break mama's back? Say his prayers at night and make sure to thank God for all the little shit he took forgranted so that it wasn't taken away? Not jerk off while his patient was hanging by a thread on the off chance that selfish pleasure could make them crash? Suffer so that he wouldn't suffer more? Wasn't that just playing it safe and being smart?
It's being insane.
His upper lip twitched into a sneer and he swiped up the first of the pills, pressed it past his resistant lips and took it down into his loading bay with a toss of water--
--then the next, harder to get down, tears threatening, the other followed as his eyessight blurred in the wake of unshed tears.
Moron! Now you've done it! She's fucked for sure!
He emptied the jug of water, washing the bland-coloured babies in his belly with the medium that would carry their contents to his cells quickly, then he plugged one nostril, stuffed the rolled bank note into the other and made the lines of powder gone. He slammed both hands on the table top as he came up, inhaling deeply and sucking back the snot that had instantly flooded his sinuses in protest against the powder that burned the membranes. He let out a guttural, animalistic growl that, in itself, was somehow satisfying.
Then he sat.
He waited.
He bounced one foot up and and down on the floor absently, making his whole leg jitter and shake.
Then it started to work.
His eyes watered and the back of his throat screamed. It only took a few minutes for the first soldiers in his chemical onslaught to attack. A pleasant warmth crept up his spine and bled down into his bowels, tickling the vagus nerve along his colon in the same pleasant way that a remarkable bowel movement did. Satisfaction at the animal level; food, sex and fighting could do it. A good shit or a full stomach could do it. So could drugs. He closed his eyes, his tongue between his lips and tasting the air the way he sometimes did when he could pee, as further forces broke passed the domestic gates and laid their charges. The magical consequences were gone, now just ludicrous products of the mammalian brain when it confused anxiety for instinct, obliterated by the abandon that only true recklessness at the cellular-level could provide.
He stood slowly, feeling his sinew move over his bones, eyes closed, the technicolour plates of his own anatomy moving on the backs of his eyelids. Beautiful. Disgusting. A marvel of machinery that was anything but magical. He wanted to feel that magic machinery with his fingers, feel the bursa that held the fibres of his muscles together slide under his fingertips and the bits of fat under the skin slid sloppily away, but when he touched himself there was just the fabric of his theatre whites and his warm, bare skin.
Theatre whites. Go to work. Touch the magic machinery.
He didn't open his eyes as he slid away from the table, moving to the music that washed over him from the turn table the way the water had the pills in his belly. Notes capsizing on his auditory nerves and stroking the coat of cilia in his cochleas like a good rub-down. He sang along as he donned his gloves and secured his mask behind his ears, humming along or contributing his own verses when he didn't know the words, gyrating with he music. The string in his spine was glowing and there was nothing magical about that unnatural feeling. Everything was explainable, everything was at the mercy of natural law.
He conducted the music with his glvoes hands as he two-stepped into the operating theatre. The shaman on his table attributed his magic to his ancestors and the gods--magical thinking from a weak mind lacking education, that was all that shit was. The only things that his ancestors had given him were the fibrous muscles under his skin, the smattering of moles on his back, his failing vision, the hard skeleton upon which the rest of his meat was stacked. Meat was what came together to make more meat, meat that would eat the other meat to keep it's own meat going. Marvellous meat stacks, that's what people were; maarvellous meat stacked on magnificent bones. As Nathandiel separated the meat from the shaman's bones, his fingers sliding into the warmth as a different warmth washed through him, he thought about how magical the body was and how magical the creator of all that meat must have been.
Music...bones...bones and music...and magic...magic meat and bones...Drinn come home and touch these bones with me...touch these bones and feel this meat. It's marvellous....
And yet here I am....He thought, as he arranged the tablets on the metal tray, positioning each just so, ensuring that the cut-lines were coordinated uniformly across the buffet. If I do these drugs, I will never see Drinn again, The magical moron in his own anxious brain asserted. He turned his attention to the little bit of white powder he'd tapped out of a one-dram vial. He and Drinn had done powders together, sometimes they did them off of eachother. Though skinny like a stick, she'd had a bubble of an ass that had been an amazing surface to insuflate illicit substances off of. He missed her ass. If I do these drugs and feel good I'll never see her again. I feel like this without her and I'll never feel her in any way ever again.
--and that exactly why you need to do them. Enough of this silliness! Magical thinking will bring about nothing except neuroticism and anxiety. Do the drugs!
He tilted his head as he looked down at the smorgasbord he'd procured from the chemist's shelves. He chewed at one ragged thumbnail as he looked down at the items, worrying the nail the way he might have a pencil during his university entrance exams. What to do, what to do? Which bubble do I shade in?There was nothing left to arrange, no more symmetry in the presentation to achieve. No more excuses.
Are you gonna do this or what?
What if he didn't? Wasn't it better to play it safe? Step over every crack just in case it would break mama's back? Say his prayers at night and make sure to thank God for all the little shit he took forgranted so that it wasn't taken away? Not jerk off while his patient was hanging by a thread on the off chance that selfish pleasure could make them crash? Suffer so that he wouldn't suffer more? Wasn't that just playing it safe and being smart?
It's being insane.
His upper lip twitched into a sneer and he swiped up the first of the pills, pressed it past his resistant lips and took it down into his loading bay with a toss of water--
--then the next, harder to get down, tears threatening, the other followed as his eyessight blurred in the wake of unshed tears.
Moron! Now you've done it! She's fucked for sure!
He emptied the jug of water, washing the bland-coloured babies in his belly with the medium that would carry their contents to his cells quickly, then he plugged one nostril, stuffed the rolled bank note into the other and made the lines of powder gone. He slammed both hands on the table top as he came up, inhaling deeply and sucking back the snot that had instantly flooded his sinuses in protest against the powder that burned the membranes. He let out a guttural, animalistic growl that, in itself, was somehow satisfying.
Then he sat.
He waited.
He bounced one foot up and and down on the floor absently, making his whole leg jitter and shake.
Then it started to work.
His eyes watered and the back of his throat screamed. It only took a few minutes for the first soldiers in his chemical onslaught to attack. A pleasant warmth crept up his spine and bled down into his bowels, tickling the vagus nerve along his colon in the same pleasant way that a remarkable bowel movement did. Satisfaction at the animal level; food, sex and fighting could do it. A good shit or a full stomach could do it. So could drugs. He closed his eyes, his tongue between his lips and tasting the air the way he sometimes did when he could pee, as further forces broke passed the domestic gates and laid their charges. The magical consequences were gone, now just ludicrous products of the mammalian brain when it confused anxiety for instinct, obliterated by the abandon that only true recklessness at the cellular-level could provide.
He stood slowly, feeling his sinew move over his bones, eyes closed, the technicolour plates of his own anatomy moving on the backs of his eyelids. Beautiful. Disgusting. A marvel of machinery that was anything but magical. He wanted to feel that magic machinery with his fingers, feel the bursa that held the fibres of his muscles together slide under his fingertips and the bits of fat under the skin slid sloppily away, but when he touched himself there was just the fabric of his theatre whites and his warm, bare skin.
Theatre whites. Go to work. Touch the magic machinery.
He didn't open his eyes as he slid away from the table, moving to the music that washed over him from the turn table the way the water had the pills in his belly. Notes capsizing on his auditory nerves and stroking the coat of cilia in his cochleas like a good rub-down. He sang along as he donned his gloves and secured his mask behind his ears, humming along or contributing his own verses when he didn't know the words, gyrating with he music. The string in his spine was glowing and there was nothing magical about that unnatural feeling. Everything was explainable, everything was at the mercy of natural law.
He conducted the music with his glvoes hands as he two-stepped into the operating theatre. The shaman on his table attributed his magic to his ancestors and the gods--magical thinking from a weak mind lacking education, that was all that shit was. The only things that his ancestors had given him were the fibrous muscles under his skin, the smattering of moles on his back, his failing vision, the hard skeleton upon which the rest of his meat was stacked. Meat was what came together to make more meat, meat that would eat the other meat to keep it's own meat going. Marvellous meat stacks, that's what people were; maarvellous meat stacked on magnificent bones. As Nathandiel separated the meat from the shaman's bones, his fingers sliding into the warmth as a different warmth washed through him, he thought about how magical the body was and how magical the creator of all that meat must have been.
Music...bones...bones and music...and magic...magic meat and bones...Drinn come home and touch these bones with me...touch these bones and feel this meat. It's marvellous....
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
Grobbulus: Andhar
Grobbulus: Andhar
-
Nathandiel
- Member
- Posts: 120
- Location: London
- Contact:
Re: Copper Kisses
When Nathandiel had been at boarding school, it had been common for the boys to get up to business with each other--in light of there being no girls around to get up to business with. From what he knew, most of his school chums had ceased to bed their friends when they went on to University and were put to school with their feminine counterparts. Nathandiel had taken up with girls then too, but he'd never lost the desire for his own sex. As much as some in his life had blamed his taste for men on the circumstances of his education, he felt confident he would have liked other boys anyway.
And I really like this boy.
He removed himself from Baalthemar's mouth and laid the other man down, even as excited as he was he took his time baring Baalthemar and making him naked. He favoured him with kisses, stopping some times, shirt half-off or pants half-down, just to hold Baalthemar's cheeks and kiss him.
Baalthemar reminded Nathandiel of Pascal and the knowledge that somewhere in that city Pascal was living his life and doing so not so far away anymore made Nathandiel kinder in how he handled Baalthemar. Baalthemar looked nothing like Pascal, but his kindness and conscientious thoughtfulness was similar.
Baalthemar had planned a special date night or them, a treat that Nathandiel wouldn't have received from anyone else. While he couldn't go quite home, he could visit the city where home was. Once there in a safe place he could love on the young man he'd taken up with, surrounded by the sounds of the city, the smell of the harbour, and the familiar feeling of the cities linens and cultural decor. He could be himself there, even if just for a little bit; and that was one of the sweetest gifts anyone had ever given him.
Baalthemar hadn't agreed to his request--he hadn't said no, but he hadn't said yes either; so it was possible that right then might have been the only time he could have Baalthemar near to his home. He took his time, prolonging the act. He endeavoured to caress every inch of Baalthemar and discover where each freckle laid, where each muscle's delicate prominence made his flesh slope, and where each scar had faded in attempt to hide amongst the rest of that lovely flesh. He blessed each find with a butterfly kiss.
When he had Baalthemar he had him without urgency, torturing the younger man by denying him their mutual climaxes. He wanted to make Baalthemar moan, warble, and maybe even a cry a little bit because of the sweetness that he whispered to him. He wanted the tenderness to be excruciating.
I like this boy. I like him a lot.
He didn't have to hold Baalthemar down as he allowed himself to let go of the slow control--Baalthemar clung to him. When they went, their chests were pressed so closely together that Nathandiel couldn't tell his own thumping heart from Baalthemar's.
A night at home. A night of rest.
And I really like this boy.
He removed himself from Baalthemar's mouth and laid the other man down, even as excited as he was he took his time baring Baalthemar and making him naked. He favoured him with kisses, stopping some times, shirt half-off or pants half-down, just to hold Baalthemar's cheeks and kiss him.
Baalthemar reminded Nathandiel of Pascal and the knowledge that somewhere in that city Pascal was living his life and doing so not so far away anymore made Nathandiel kinder in how he handled Baalthemar. Baalthemar looked nothing like Pascal, but his kindness and conscientious thoughtfulness was similar.
Baalthemar had planned a special date night or them, a treat that Nathandiel wouldn't have received from anyone else. While he couldn't go quite home, he could visit the city where home was. Once there in a safe place he could love on the young man he'd taken up with, surrounded by the sounds of the city, the smell of the harbour, and the familiar feeling of the cities linens and cultural decor. He could be himself there, even if just for a little bit; and that was one of the sweetest gifts anyone had ever given him.
Baalthemar hadn't agreed to his request--he hadn't said no, but he hadn't said yes either; so it was possible that right then might have been the only time he could have Baalthemar near to his home. He took his time, prolonging the act. He endeavoured to caress every inch of Baalthemar and discover where each freckle laid, where each muscle's delicate prominence made his flesh slope, and where each scar had faded in attempt to hide amongst the rest of that lovely flesh. He blessed each find with a butterfly kiss.
When he had Baalthemar he had him without urgency, torturing the younger man by denying him their mutual climaxes. He wanted to make Baalthemar moan, warble, and maybe even a cry a little bit because of the sweetness that he whispered to him. He wanted the tenderness to be excruciating.
I like this boy. I like him a lot.
He didn't have to hold Baalthemar down as he allowed himself to let go of the slow control--Baalthemar clung to him. When they went, their chests were pressed so closely together that Nathandiel couldn't tell his own thumping heart from Baalthemar's.
A night at home. A night of rest.
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
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Nathandiel
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Re: Copper Kisses
It should have been harder to get that good a view of the playground. Even without the false pretense, a strange man with a turned-up collar lurking at trees only yards from where young boys played should not have been so simple to do.
Sixty grand a year and it was this simple?
He was off on his estimation of playtime by a half of an hour--either that or the mid-afternoon schedule had changed. He lurked where the school's wood met the polished grounds. He'd passed a troupe of older boys on a nature walk with their schoolteacher, carrying notebooks and spyglasses. They had pointed small fingers at the trees, discussing bird-songs and arguing over feather colours. Boys, out on a bird-watching trip, each dressed in their athletic uniforms baring the colours of their school. He hadn't spotted the boy he was looking for amongst them. He'd been gone long enough though that the boy could have been--children grew like weeds.
When he had spotted Daniel his heart had quickened and he'd felt actual pain in his chest. Daniel hadn't grown, not much anyway, and that was what had given him away, even more than his black hair and his mannerisms so like Nathandiel's own--he hadn't changed from the version of Daniel that Nathandiel had held in his memory. Daniel had only just recently weathered his seventh birthday, and yet he was still small for his age. Nathandiel could see though that the boys didn't tease him for being small, no, not with the way the little black-haired boy commanded them at their game of jacks.
Quick. Such a fast hand. Ann, do you see how fast he is?
His nephew was small, fast, and if the laughs of the boys around him were genuine, he was also funny. Nathandiel was so pleased as he watched them play that he didn't realize he was crying until the salty tears met his mouth, his lips parted in a grin--a proud grin. He missed Daniel, he missed him so very badly. He wanted to go to him, pick him up and hold him as closely to his breast as he had when they'd last seen eachother, closer even.
Ann was dead, Daniel's father had also died. Before he'd left, Daniel had been causing his grandparents--his own Aunt and Uncle--a great deal of trouble. Daniel could be a volatile child, prone to foot-stomping, hair-pulling, furniture-kicking tantrums. Nathandiel could calm him, and he'd spent a great deal of time with the child, filling in as a father first when Richard had died, then again when Ann had followed.
I was his father before that.
True. When Ann had failed to kindle Richard had gotten on with other women. He'd planned to annul the marriage, and Ann, terrified, had gone crying to her mother and to Clara. The women had not believed the fault to be Ann's, for she had, unbeknownst to her husband, once been with child, albeit one that had been lost very early, so early they hadn't been sure that it had not just been a big, fat, unusually dark clot that she'd passed on her moon. "So she can conceive. It's him that can't." Clara had said on that night when Nathandiel had found himself beset upon by all three women.
Their plan had been simple; to keep Richard from leaving, Ann needed to conceive. If Richard's seed was useless regardless of the soil it was planted it then they needed another tree from which to produce the new fruit. "...you gave me a son." Clara had said, one side of her slim mouth turned up in a coy smile that had been grossly inappropriate to him. That had been the smile she favoured him with when she enticed him, when she brought up her skirts and parted her thighs so he could bow before her. It had been the look of a woman working her God-given enchantments, but it had not been her thighs that she wanted him to venture between. His wife had wanted him to to bed his own cousin.
And they had talked him into it. Ann's desperation, her begging, her tears, had been too much for him to deny her. So he'd had her. It had taken only eight attempts over the course of a three month period for a moon to pass without blood. It had been Richard's fault, and the women of his house had gotten what they'd wanted--an heir to the Herrington fortune that was of their own blood; The line hadn't needed to be muddied. They had successfully kept their problems in the family.
Richard was so happy. He was such a good father. Richard? Do you see how fast he is?
He didn't often dare address the ghost of the man he'd fooled, but Richard had loved Daniel and loved him as a father should have. He'd loved Ann too, and loved her properly once he'd learned that she was to bring forth a child for him. He'd made mistakes, but Richard had been a good soul and Nathandiel did not think that in death, with all the truth it brought a soul, that Richard Herrington did not still love his son. Nathandiel had made Daniel, but he was not his father.
He watched his nephew until the boys were called back into the school. He lingered until sun-down, eyes on the window of the classroom he thought the product of his sin sat in, waiting and being anything but bored. He was rewarded for his wait by having gained a glimpse of Daniel as he and a gaggle of boys that he seemed friendly with made their way from the school proper, up the hill, and into the dormitory. In that glimpse he'd seen Daniel smiling, and that was the image he took with him as he stole away into the city and out towards the borders he needed to cross again.
Sixty grand a year and it was this simple?
He was off on his estimation of playtime by a half of an hour--either that or the mid-afternoon schedule had changed. He lurked where the school's wood met the polished grounds. He'd passed a troupe of older boys on a nature walk with their schoolteacher, carrying notebooks and spyglasses. They had pointed small fingers at the trees, discussing bird-songs and arguing over feather colours. Boys, out on a bird-watching trip, each dressed in their athletic uniforms baring the colours of their school. He hadn't spotted the boy he was looking for amongst them. He'd been gone long enough though that the boy could have been--children grew like weeds.
When he had spotted Daniel his heart had quickened and he'd felt actual pain in his chest. Daniel hadn't grown, not much anyway, and that was what had given him away, even more than his black hair and his mannerisms so like Nathandiel's own--he hadn't changed from the version of Daniel that Nathandiel had held in his memory. Daniel had only just recently weathered his seventh birthday, and yet he was still small for his age. Nathandiel could see though that the boys didn't tease him for being small, no, not with the way the little black-haired boy commanded them at their game of jacks.
Quick. Such a fast hand. Ann, do you see how fast he is?
His nephew was small, fast, and if the laughs of the boys around him were genuine, he was also funny. Nathandiel was so pleased as he watched them play that he didn't realize he was crying until the salty tears met his mouth, his lips parted in a grin--a proud grin. He missed Daniel, he missed him so very badly. He wanted to go to him, pick him up and hold him as closely to his breast as he had when they'd last seen eachother, closer even.
Ann was dead, Daniel's father had also died. Before he'd left, Daniel had been causing his grandparents--his own Aunt and Uncle--a great deal of trouble. Daniel could be a volatile child, prone to foot-stomping, hair-pulling, furniture-kicking tantrums. Nathandiel could calm him, and he'd spent a great deal of time with the child, filling in as a father first when Richard had died, then again when Ann had followed.
I was his father before that.
True. When Ann had failed to kindle Richard had gotten on with other women. He'd planned to annul the marriage, and Ann, terrified, had gone crying to her mother and to Clara. The women had not believed the fault to be Ann's, for she had, unbeknownst to her husband, once been with child, albeit one that had been lost very early, so early they hadn't been sure that it had not just been a big, fat, unusually dark clot that she'd passed on her moon. "So she can conceive. It's him that can't." Clara had said on that night when Nathandiel had found himself beset upon by all three women.
Their plan had been simple; to keep Richard from leaving, Ann needed to conceive. If Richard's seed was useless regardless of the soil it was planted it then they needed another tree from which to produce the new fruit. "...you gave me a son." Clara had said, one side of her slim mouth turned up in a coy smile that had been grossly inappropriate to him. That had been the smile she favoured him with when she enticed him, when she brought up her skirts and parted her thighs so he could bow before her. It had been the look of a woman working her God-given enchantments, but it had not been her thighs that she wanted him to venture between. His wife had wanted him to to bed his own cousin.
And they had talked him into it. Ann's desperation, her begging, her tears, had been too much for him to deny her. So he'd had her. It had taken only eight attempts over the course of a three month period for a moon to pass without blood. It had been Richard's fault, and the women of his house had gotten what they'd wanted--an heir to the Herrington fortune that was of their own blood; The line hadn't needed to be muddied. They had successfully kept their problems in the family.
Richard was so happy. He was such a good father. Richard? Do you see how fast he is?
He didn't often dare address the ghost of the man he'd fooled, but Richard had loved Daniel and loved him as a father should have. He'd loved Ann too, and loved her properly once he'd learned that she was to bring forth a child for him. He'd made mistakes, but Richard had been a good soul and Nathandiel did not think that in death, with all the truth it brought a soul, that Richard Herrington did not still love his son. Nathandiel had made Daniel, but he was not his father.
He watched his nephew until the boys were called back into the school. He lingered until sun-down, eyes on the window of the classroom he thought the product of his sin sat in, waiting and being anything but bored. He was rewarded for his wait by having gained a glimpse of Daniel as he and a gaggle of boys that he seemed friendly with made their way from the school proper, up the hill, and into the dormitory. In that glimpse he'd seen Daniel smiling, and that was the image he took with him as he stole away into the city and out towards the borders he needed to cross again.
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
Grobbulus: Andhar
Grobbulus: Andhar
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Nathandiel
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Re: Copper Kisses
“Repulsive, halfling child.” The nurse snarled. “It’s ears are stubby and it’s eyes are blue!”
Nathandiel held the swaddled child, tucking the discoloured, over-washed blanket under the infant’s chin. They didn’t attend to children in the Undercity and so the new baby had no blue blanket to betray his gender, no little hat to keep his head warm, or teeny, tiny socks knit by retired mothers to keep his footsies toasty against the cold.
Only angel’s hair upon your head.
He lowered his nose to the wailing infant and inhaled the new, signature smell of a new child. It was a heady aroma that could not be duplicated anywhere else in nature, an aroma Nathandiel had been given the privlidge to experience only a few times before. The little boy’s dark wisps of hair were so soft against his nose that he almost didn’t feel them. He brushed his lips against the child's soft, breakable skull and kissed just barely. He smiled and curled one finger over the boy’s fat little cheek, stroking away just a little bit of after-birth that he’d missed when he’d cleaned the baby up.
“There, there. . . .” he purred, ignoring the nurses who stared after him. They’d grown quiet at the bedside of the dead woman, watching him instead of attending to her as he wandered away from her open legs, the gore that was spattered on her thighs and down to the floor ignored, her lifeless body limp and cooling now that it had done it's last deed.
“Such a pair of lungs on you!” He exclaimed to the tiny boy, unable to help but grin. “Such screams. You will be a mighty warrior indeed, just like your mother.”
The paladin woman had hidden not only her illicit rendezvous with a human male, but also her pregnancy. The efforts she’d taken to avoid gaining noticeable weight and the stresses she’d suffered keeping her secret had cost her in the end—she hadn’t been robust enough to survive the birth, not when the hidden baby had come early and feet-first. He hadn't met her before, even right then when he held her son he still didn't know he name, but she'd come to him on duty for records and the baby had started to come. As well-built as she had been, and as hard as he and his nurses had tried to help her, she hadn't been strong enough for the ordeal.
“But you were.” He whispered to the child, running his finger tips over the boy's tiny brow as it screamed itself purple, oxygen flooding it’s lungs for the first time. “You are very strong, yes, a sturdy little man with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes.” He was oblivious to the women behind him as he beheld the little, unexpected creature. How long had it been since he’d held an infant? How long since he’d brought life into the world instead of seen it to the exit?
“Doctor Dah’Lorei. . . .” he didn’t hear the nurse at first, the little boy’s wailing mouth had found the tip of Nathandiel’s finger, closed around it, and began to suckle. “Doctor—"
He looked up at the women, angry at them for interrupting the moment of entry that all children were deserving of, for speaking at all once the child had silenced itself. He glared at them through narrowed eyes, his sweaty fringe over his brow, and his lips pinch with disdain--and they shrunk back visibly. Well, two of them did, the other did not.
". . . do you . . . want us to deal with it?” The younger, elven one--the defiant one who'd spoken poorly of the new child--asked and he saw that she held a pillow. Involuntarily he turned away from her to shield the suckling infant from her, his eyes on the young woman and then on the pillow she meant to smother the little baby with.
". . . he is at least half one of your own, one of our own!” he admonished her. “He’s healthy, pink, and whole and you want to ‘deal’ with him!?” He was angry with her and she coloured, dropping the pillow and putting her hands behind her back and lowering her gaze. How dare she offer to deal with anything. Nathandiel looked at each of the women in turn, daring them to suggest such measures again.
As the baby suckled at his finger tip, latching forcefully, Nathnadiel's rage withered and his attention returned to the unnamed boy. Where his face had been a mask of anger it became one of rapturous joy. The child sucked harder, and Nathandiel could see it's brow wrinkle. It would become frustrated soon when it's stomach received no milk; Nathandiel needed to feed it.
“. . . No. No I don’t wish you to deal with him," he spoke to the nurses as if he had not been angry with them just a moment before. "Deal with her instead. Clean her up and prepare her for disposal. I will deal with the child.” They moved to touch the dead woman and he clicked his tongue against his teeth twice, getting their attention. "And do right by her . . . I'll do poorly by all of you."
As he left the room with the little bundle the women did not follow or call out after him. They didn't question him when he signed the death certificate for both the woman and he child. After they had taken the body away and he'd signed the certificates, he went to his office and plucked the small boy from his make-shift bassinet. He held him and offered the bottle, the boy took the artificial nipple eagerly and began to feast while Nathandiel rocked him slowly from side-to-side, the action as soothing to him as it was for the feeding infant.
"Not too fast...you'll be colicky," He murmured. "What will I do with you small boy? I'll confess to you that I don't yet know, but I assure you, tiny prince, that I won't let them near you." The child only gobbled, oblivious to the death of it's mother and oblivious to the fact that it's faith was very much in the hands of a stranger.
Nathandiel held the swaddled child, tucking the discoloured, over-washed blanket under the infant’s chin. They didn’t attend to children in the Undercity and so the new baby had no blue blanket to betray his gender, no little hat to keep his head warm, or teeny, tiny socks knit by retired mothers to keep his footsies toasty against the cold.
Only angel’s hair upon your head.
He lowered his nose to the wailing infant and inhaled the new, signature smell of a new child. It was a heady aroma that could not be duplicated anywhere else in nature, an aroma Nathandiel had been given the privlidge to experience only a few times before. The little boy’s dark wisps of hair were so soft against his nose that he almost didn’t feel them. He brushed his lips against the child's soft, breakable skull and kissed just barely. He smiled and curled one finger over the boy’s fat little cheek, stroking away just a little bit of after-birth that he’d missed when he’d cleaned the baby up.
“There, there. . . .” he purred, ignoring the nurses who stared after him. They’d grown quiet at the bedside of the dead woman, watching him instead of attending to her as he wandered away from her open legs, the gore that was spattered on her thighs and down to the floor ignored, her lifeless body limp and cooling now that it had done it's last deed.
“Such a pair of lungs on you!” He exclaimed to the tiny boy, unable to help but grin. “Such screams. You will be a mighty warrior indeed, just like your mother.”
The paladin woman had hidden not only her illicit rendezvous with a human male, but also her pregnancy. The efforts she’d taken to avoid gaining noticeable weight and the stresses she’d suffered keeping her secret had cost her in the end—she hadn’t been robust enough to survive the birth, not when the hidden baby had come early and feet-first. He hadn't met her before, even right then when he held her son he still didn't know he name, but she'd come to him on duty for records and the baby had started to come. As well-built as she had been, and as hard as he and his nurses had tried to help her, she hadn't been strong enough for the ordeal.
“But you were.” He whispered to the child, running his finger tips over the boy's tiny brow as it screamed itself purple, oxygen flooding it’s lungs for the first time. “You are very strong, yes, a sturdy little man with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes.” He was oblivious to the women behind him as he beheld the little, unexpected creature. How long had it been since he’d held an infant? How long since he’d brought life into the world instead of seen it to the exit?
“Doctor Dah’Lorei. . . .” he didn’t hear the nurse at first, the little boy’s wailing mouth had found the tip of Nathandiel’s finger, closed around it, and began to suckle. “Doctor—"
He looked up at the women, angry at them for interrupting the moment of entry that all children were deserving of, for speaking at all once the child had silenced itself. He glared at them through narrowed eyes, his sweaty fringe over his brow, and his lips pinch with disdain--and they shrunk back visibly. Well, two of them did, the other did not.
". . . do you . . . want us to deal with it?” The younger, elven one--the defiant one who'd spoken poorly of the new child--asked and he saw that she held a pillow. Involuntarily he turned away from her to shield the suckling infant from her, his eyes on the young woman and then on the pillow she meant to smother the little baby with.
". . . he is at least half one of your own, one of our own!” he admonished her. “He’s healthy, pink, and whole and you want to ‘deal’ with him!?” He was angry with her and she coloured, dropping the pillow and putting her hands behind her back and lowering her gaze. How dare she offer to deal with anything. Nathandiel looked at each of the women in turn, daring them to suggest such measures again.
As the baby suckled at his finger tip, latching forcefully, Nathnadiel's rage withered and his attention returned to the unnamed boy. Where his face had been a mask of anger it became one of rapturous joy. The child sucked harder, and Nathandiel could see it's brow wrinkle. It would become frustrated soon when it's stomach received no milk; Nathandiel needed to feed it.
“. . . No. No I don’t wish you to deal with him," he spoke to the nurses as if he had not been angry with them just a moment before. "Deal with her instead. Clean her up and prepare her for disposal. I will deal with the child.” They moved to touch the dead woman and he clicked his tongue against his teeth twice, getting their attention. "And do right by her . . . I'll do poorly by all of you."
As he left the room with the little bundle the women did not follow or call out after him. They didn't question him when he signed the death certificate for both the woman and he child. After they had taken the body away and he'd signed the certificates, he went to his office and plucked the small boy from his make-shift bassinet. He held him and offered the bottle, the boy took the artificial nipple eagerly and began to feast while Nathandiel rocked him slowly from side-to-side, the action as soothing to him as it was for the feeding infant.
"Not too fast...you'll be colicky," He murmured. "What will I do with you small boy? I'll confess to you that I don't yet know, but I assure you, tiny prince, that I won't let them near you." The child only gobbled, oblivious to the death of it's mother and oblivious to the fact that it's faith was very much in the hands of a stranger.
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
Grobbulus: Andhar
Grobbulus: Andhar
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Nathandiel
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- Location: London
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Re: Copper Kisses
"So small . . . you look like a little doll." He whispered as he laid with the infant on his chest, rubbing it's back with delicate fingers that seemed so large next to such a tiny thing. He occasionally lifted his head to take a deep hit of his wonderful, new smell. Even with the tangy breeze from the ocean gusting through the windows of the room in Ratchet, it wasn't enough to crowd out the perfect smell of a new baby.
The sun was setting on the coast and bringing the end of the tiny boy's birthday to a close. "Little one," he whispered and the tiny boy curled a little more into the slight smattering of hair on Nathandiel's chest. "Born in the bowels of the Undercity, pulled from the womb of a dead mother, a child without kin . . ." He traced the edges of one of the infant's small, pointed ears; perfectly crafted and yet deformed for adhering to neither a human nor an elven aesthetic--it was somewhere in the middle. The child had lost it's mother, it's whole family really, and yet it did have kin, on both side of that ocean. His people were both the elves of the north and the humans of the west, but it was Nathandiel's fear that neither would have him that made him unwilling to reveal the child to either.
"The Grim will kill him on site," Baalthemar had said after he'd gotten a good look at the little boy and seen both what he was and what he was not. They'd met in the Undercity and Baalthemar had been surprised by the little child. "That's a baby, why do you have a baby?" He asked. Nathandiel hadn't thought much about what he'd done, only that he'd done it and that the child needed feeding and attending to. For once in his life he was moving purely on impulse instead of planning; it hadn't occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to take the baby to the Grim.
So they'd gone to Kalimdor, to the ocean town where goblins were far less interested in a man's business than they were in his pocket money. They'd taken a room, and the reality of the situation had started to sink in: there was a child with no name, no parents, and whom Nathandiel was completely unwilling to surrender to an orphanage. Beyond these things his worries had been only to obtain supplies, a place to keep the child, and ultimately . . . to bestow upon the child a fitting name.
"Kieran. . . . ," He whispered, curling a palm around the baby's little skull; it was small, still slightly mishapen from the birth, and very crushable. "Kieran 'Aqarib Almayit." He frowned to himself. "The dark one with dead kin." His frown deepened. "Dear God's above child, we failed you there." He chuckled lightly and the baby--Kieran--squirmed and let out a small squeak as he yawned. They really hadn't been sure what to name the boy.
Baalthemar had named himself once he'd been old enough to do so and the 'name' he'd been known by prior to that had been flattering or meaningful enough to place upon the orphan's head. Nathandiel did not want to give the child a name from his own people, but he'd put forth 'Kieran' as an option, a wise woman from the haunted south of his home who had spoken a different dialect had called him 'dark one' once by calling him Kieran. Baalthemar had offered the rest of the name, his experience with different cultures and tribal dialects having given him the tongue to craft one. It was a fitting name, but also a bit frightening.
'Kieran' would do for the little boy, if only because he had such dark hair. "I might still call you 'Little Prince'," he confessed to the boy. "So small and so sweet, born so bloody in such a great city." To this the child only passed wind. "Good man." Nathandiel praised him. It didn't smell yet, a baby's innards were not yet infested with the bacteria needed to make their wind unpleasent, at least until they'd had at least one real, productive movement.
Soon though. Soon you'll be having blow-outs and painting your nurse in poo.
This made him smile, but the smile turned cold. A nurse. Kieran would need a nurse, preferrably a nurse that was nursing. Did he know of a pregnant women that far along that he could . . . could get? Had anyone had a baby recently? His eyes flitted side-to-side, unseeing, as he thought it out. He'd sent Baalthemar to get supplies for the child before he went to the cabin to finish it with haste--they had a wee one now that needed a safe place to be small, and weak, and soft; all the things that had made poor Baalthemar so frightened when he'd held the child.
But suppliers need someone to adminsiter them. He needs a breast, a soft and pillow breast to latch onto. He needs a woman's songs and woman's delicate fingers to clean his bum. He needs a nurse.
So Nathandiel needed a woman, one that either wouldn't be missed, or that could be cajoled into cooperating long enough to care for Kieran in his most vulnerable time.
A fingernail found its way between his teeth, with the infant in his care he didn't dare smoke, but Lord how he wanted to, how he wanted that smoke to fuel his thinking. He'd gotten into something difficult, something with consequences, something that complicated everything from how he would spend his time to when, and if, he could go home. It wasn't too late to back out, to take Kieran to the orphanage and deposit him with a matron who would do her best but ultimately fail to give him all that he needed. It wouldn't be his fault, he hadn't made the child, he'd always done right by his own children so why should he care for a mutt, half-breed whose mother had possessed the poor judgement to create him in the first place and then the audacity to die on his table? It wasn't his problem. It wasn't Baalthemar's problem. He coudln't ask Baalthemar to deal with a baby, they were two men and Baalthemar was young and--
--Kieran passed gas again, so violently and so loudly that it sounded like an old musket going back-firing. The baby was instantly in tears, instantly screaming at the complete unrighteousness of a world where his slumber had been interrupted by something as foreign as digestion.
Nathandiel stopped chewing his fingernail and laughed, making the bare infant on his chest quake as it screamed. He sat up and cradled it, letting Kieran cry as he stood and rocked the boy, suppressing his involuntarily laughter as he started to sing to the boy, to sing it songs that he sung to his own son, songs no child in an orphanage got to hear.
He didn't know what he was going to do yet, but he wasn't going to take Kieran to the orphanage; Kieran 'Aqarib Almayit; the dark one with dead kin, had bigger, more important problems--like the rude interrupting of farts on such pleasant evening. Those were problems Nathandiel could help him with.
The sun was setting on the coast and bringing the end of the tiny boy's birthday to a close. "Little one," he whispered and the tiny boy curled a little more into the slight smattering of hair on Nathandiel's chest. "Born in the bowels of the Undercity, pulled from the womb of a dead mother, a child without kin . . ." He traced the edges of one of the infant's small, pointed ears; perfectly crafted and yet deformed for adhering to neither a human nor an elven aesthetic--it was somewhere in the middle. The child had lost it's mother, it's whole family really, and yet it did have kin, on both side of that ocean. His people were both the elves of the north and the humans of the west, but it was Nathandiel's fear that neither would have him that made him unwilling to reveal the child to either.
"The Grim will kill him on site," Baalthemar had said after he'd gotten a good look at the little boy and seen both what he was and what he was not. They'd met in the Undercity and Baalthemar had been surprised by the little child. "That's a baby, why do you have a baby?" He asked. Nathandiel hadn't thought much about what he'd done, only that he'd done it and that the child needed feeding and attending to. For once in his life he was moving purely on impulse instead of planning; it hadn't occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to take the baby to the Grim.
So they'd gone to Kalimdor, to the ocean town where goblins were far less interested in a man's business than they were in his pocket money. They'd taken a room, and the reality of the situation had started to sink in: there was a child with no name, no parents, and whom Nathandiel was completely unwilling to surrender to an orphanage. Beyond these things his worries had been only to obtain supplies, a place to keep the child, and ultimately . . . to bestow upon the child a fitting name.
"Kieran. . . . ," He whispered, curling a palm around the baby's little skull; it was small, still slightly mishapen from the birth, and very crushable. "Kieran 'Aqarib Almayit." He frowned to himself. "The dark one with dead kin." His frown deepened. "Dear God's above child, we failed you there." He chuckled lightly and the baby--Kieran--squirmed and let out a small squeak as he yawned. They really hadn't been sure what to name the boy.
Baalthemar had named himself once he'd been old enough to do so and the 'name' he'd been known by prior to that had been flattering or meaningful enough to place upon the orphan's head. Nathandiel did not want to give the child a name from his own people, but he'd put forth 'Kieran' as an option, a wise woman from the haunted south of his home who had spoken a different dialect had called him 'dark one' once by calling him Kieran. Baalthemar had offered the rest of the name, his experience with different cultures and tribal dialects having given him the tongue to craft one. It was a fitting name, but also a bit frightening.
'Kieran' would do for the little boy, if only because he had such dark hair. "I might still call you 'Little Prince'," he confessed to the boy. "So small and so sweet, born so bloody in such a great city." To this the child only passed wind. "Good man." Nathandiel praised him. It didn't smell yet, a baby's innards were not yet infested with the bacteria needed to make their wind unpleasent, at least until they'd had at least one real, productive movement.
Soon though. Soon you'll be having blow-outs and painting your nurse in poo.
This made him smile, but the smile turned cold. A nurse. Kieran would need a nurse, preferrably a nurse that was nursing. Did he know of a pregnant women that far along that he could . . . could get? Had anyone had a baby recently? His eyes flitted side-to-side, unseeing, as he thought it out. He'd sent Baalthemar to get supplies for the child before he went to the cabin to finish it with haste--they had a wee one now that needed a safe place to be small, and weak, and soft; all the things that had made poor Baalthemar so frightened when he'd held the child.
But suppliers need someone to adminsiter them. He needs a breast, a soft and pillow breast to latch onto. He needs a woman's songs and woman's delicate fingers to clean his bum. He needs a nurse.
So Nathandiel needed a woman, one that either wouldn't be missed, or that could be cajoled into cooperating long enough to care for Kieran in his most vulnerable time.
A fingernail found its way between his teeth, with the infant in his care he didn't dare smoke, but Lord how he wanted to, how he wanted that smoke to fuel his thinking. He'd gotten into something difficult, something with consequences, something that complicated everything from how he would spend his time to when, and if, he could go home. It wasn't too late to back out, to take Kieran to the orphanage and deposit him with a matron who would do her best but ultimately fail to give him all that he needed. It wouldn't be his fault, he hadn't made the child, he'd always done right by his own children so why should he care for a mutt, half-breed whose mother had possessed the poor judgement to create him in the first place and then the audacity to die on his table? It wasn't his problem. It wasn't Baalthemar's problem. He coudln't ask Baalthemar to deal with a baby, they were two men and Baalthemar was young and--
--Kieran passed gas again, so violently and so loudly that it sounded like an old musket going back-firing. The baby was instantly in tears, instantly screaming at the complete unrighteousness of a world where his slumber had been interrupted by something as foreign as digestion.
Nathandiel stopped chewing his fingernail and laughed, making the bare infant on his chest quake as it screamed. He sat up and cradled it, letting Kieran cry as he stood and rocked the boy, suppressing his involuntarily laughter as he started to sing to the boy, to sing it songs that he sung to his own son, songs no child in an orphanage got to hear.
He didn't know what he was going to do yet, but he wasn't going to take Kieran to the orphanage; Kieran 'Aqarib Almayit; the dark one with dead kin, had bigger, more important problems--like the rude interrupting of farts on such pleasant evening. Those were problems Nathandiel could help him with.
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
Grobbulus: Andhar
Grobbulus: Andhar
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Nathandiel
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Re: Copper Kisses
The farm was in worse shape than Nathandiel had expected, but still better than he had feared. Drinn wasn't there, not that he had really believed that she would be, but he had hoped.
That maybe, just maybe, you were just hiding out for a while and you were okay and you had a really good reason for disappearing and leaving me. Just maybe.
Kieran made a fussy noise in his basket--a re-purposed dresser drawer from a dresser that hadn't had all of it's drawers anyway. Apparently neither Drinn nor Atticus had possessed particularly extensive wardrobes.
They didn't leave much behind either.
He put a hand in the drawer and stroked the little baby's cheek until he calmed, he wasn't quite awake yet and having his cheeks pet seemed to be something that little Kieran liked. Nathandiel had padded the drawer with the blankets he'd brought from the Undercity and one of his spare shirts. It hadn't turned out be a half-bad bassinette for the baby. He wondered momentarily what Drinn would have thought to have seen him with a baby.
...its looking more and more like I'll never know.
Fuck her. Fuck all that. He pushed the thoughts of her aside. She had been a good lay, she had been good company when he'd been so very alone, and she had proven to him that he could love another woman after he'd thought he never would--for those things he would be eternally grateful, but she had not been loyal and he had mattered far less to her than she had to him.
That's okay. That's how the world works.
Kieran farted and Nathandiel chuckled, the rude little noise pulling him from his Drinn-related melancholy by the gassy little boy. It had gotten easier and easier to not only not think about Drinn, but to stop thinking about her whenever he did. He supposed that was how grief and loss worked, eventually they just worked out.
"I think she'd have liked you though," he said to Kieran. "Farty little piggy." He'd checked the baby out when he'd had privacy and done his best to make sure it was healthy. Infants had not been is specialty, but he'd been put through the paediatric bullshit in school alongside every other cunty doctor that had picked a childhood-related specialty. Kieran was a healthy baby boy at six-pounds-eight-ounces, not bad for a little elf.
He almost dozed as he waited, sitting on the bed where Drinn and Atticus had slept, a hand on the infant whose mother had died, and a fire working its way into a righteous roar in the abandoned fireplace. He couldn't take Kieran back to the garrison, not with someone like Syreena around. Baalthemar was working overtime to finish the most important parts of the cabin, parts that now included a nursery and place to keep the nursery's nurse.
Nathandiel had sent a request for records to the home medical office in search of women who'd recently delivered, were about to deliver, or who should have delivered. He was mostly hoping for the latter, someone that hadn't had their child at a registered facility with a registered physician, someone who had already fallen through the cracks, someone no one would notice was gone. At least no one that mattered. He'd found a way to send a similar request back home. Ideally, he was in the market for home-grown cattle to look after Kieran.
Home-grown tits for this boy, please. A man needed to start off life with a good boob in his mouth, how else would he know which ones to go after when he was grown?
Speaking of boobs and the lack of any good ones, Baalthemar was positively afraid of Kieran. He'd looked like an old family dog, sat upon by a kindle of kittens that it was just not allowed to snap at--and didn't, because it loved its master. Baalthemar loved Nathandiel, so he'd held the baby. Nathandiel had hoped that teaching him to burp the baby would soften him up, but he'd just looked terrified. Nathandiel had been disappointed at first, mad even, but then he'd really thought about it. Baalthemar hadn't had a childhood of his own, he hadn't had parents, and he hadn't ever had a safe place to learn about being responsible for anyone but himself, especially something so small and helpless, so destined to die without help.
Baalthemar hadn't questioned what Nathandiel had done, he hadn't hesitated to step up and make plans to help. That had been heavy shit, even more than Baalthemar's insistence to "save" Nathandiel. He was willing to helping with a baby. Had that meant that they were officially partners? Had that meant--
--He looked up quickly, eyes narrowing as a knock came to the old door. He'd lost track of time, the sun already down. "Doctor Dah'orei?" What a stupid fucking name. He rolled off of the bed and got to his feet, straightening his clothes and brushing aside his cloak as he went to the door and unlatched it. He was momentarily pleased that Atticuss had built a good door because the latch was shit.
"...Hi?" Slenn looked up at him, a slip of a woman if ever there was one, but she was a good nurse and cared more about patients than she did about duty. If her breasts had been more bountiful, and corpulent with milk, he'd have picked her to be Kieran's nurse. His eyes fell to her slight chest. Good thing he'd brought bottles of formula.
She'll do for tonight though.
He met her eyes again and favoured her with a dazzling smile. Even at sundown he could see her blush. He was getting older but he could still make girls turn that flattering shade of pink that they all could. "Please..." he stepped aside and held out an arm, his well-bred manners taking over.
He made sure she was settled with Kieran--a "patient" she was so delighted to have for the night she said she might not give him back--and left her with money, food, a weapon and an exit plan, should anytihng happen while he was gone. He promised to be back as soon as he could, that he thought he'd be back before morning. She had nodded absently at all that he'd said, too focused on the little boy and giving him his first bottle of the evening. "This is important." He said. Kieran had stolen his thunder, the little boy's rolls too cute for Nathandiel's charm to hold the lady's attention.
"I know..." She looked up at him finally and beamed again, "Nothing could be more important than your child." She looked back down at Kieran who gobbled greedily. "I'll take care of him." She promised.
Your child. She'd assumed it was his. Maybe just another man who'd knocked up another woman who had dumped the fruits of their mutual fuckery at his door step. It happened sometimes.
"Oh yes. Oh yes, you. Daddy is being such a worry wort." Slenn spoke with that singular baby language that most adults were prone to falling into when addressing the very small. "Daddy can go do his business. Kieran and Slenn will have a perfect evening full of bottles and sing-songs and fresh, dry, diapers...." She gave Nathandiel a sly smile. "Daddy can go...," She added, not being subtle about her hint.
He hesitated, but only for a moment. His gut told him Slenn was good and that the house was good. The baby was safe and he could go and meet Baalthemar and attend to the bloody business of adults.
"Ok..." he turned to the door, stopped, and went back to the woman and child. He bent over and smoothed the baby's fine hair back before kissing the top of his head. Slenn melted visibly.
"I'm not his father..." He confessed in a whisper, though he wasn't sure why. "He's not mine."
"....He is now," Slenn said, and when he looked into her face she didn't seem so slight anymore. Nor were her words. He left quickly.
That maybe, just maybe, you were just hiding out for a while and you were okay and you had a really good reason for disappearing and leaving me. Just maybe.
Kieran made a fussy noise in his basket--a re-purposed dresser drawer from a dresser that hadn't had all of it's drawers anyway. Apparently neither Drinn nor Atticus had possessed particularly extensive wardrobes.
They didn't leave much behind either.
He put a hand in the drawer and stroked the little baby's cheek until he calmed, he wasn't quite awake yet and having his cheeks pet seemed to be something that little Kieran liked. Nathandiel had padded the drawer with the blankets he'd brought from the Undercity and one of his spare shirts. It hadn't turned out be a half-bad bassinette for the baby. He wondered momentarily what Drinn would have thought to have seen him with a baby.
...its looking more and more like I'll never know.
Fuck her. Fuck all that. He pushed the thoughts of her aside. She had been a good lay, she had been good company when he'd been so very alone, and she had proven to him that he could love another woman after he'd thought he never would--for those things he would be eternally grateful, but she had not been loyal and he had mattered far less to her than she had to him.
That's okay. That's how the world works.
Kieran farted and Nathandiel chuckled, the rude little noise pulling him from his Drinn-related melancholy by the gassy little boy. It had gotten easier and easier to not only not think about Drinn, but to stop thinking about her whenever he did. He supposed that was how grief and loss worked, eventually they just worked out.
"I think she'd have liked you though," he said to Kieran. "Farty little piggy." He'd checked the baby out when he'd had privacy and done his best to make sure it was healthy. Infants had not been is specialty, but he'd been put through the paediatric bullshit in school alongside every other cunty doctor that had picked a childhood-related specialty. Kieran was a healthy baby boy at six-pounds-eight-ounces, not bad for a little elf.
He almost dozed as he waited, sitting on the bed where Drinn and Atticus had slept, a hand on the infant whose mother had died, and a fire working its way into a righteous roar in the abandoned fireplace. He couldn't take Kieran back to the garrison, not with someone like Syreena around. Baalthemar was working overtime to finish the most important parts of the cabin, parts that now included a nursery and place to keep the nursery's nurse.
Nathandiel had sent a request for records to the home medical office in search of women who'd recently delivered, were about to deliver, or who should have delivered. He was mostly hoping for the latter, someone that hadn't had their child at a registered facility with a registered physician, someone who had already fallen through the cracks, someone no one would notice was gone. At least no one that mattered. He'd found a way to send a similar request back home. Ideally, he was in the market for home-grown cattle to look after Kieran.
Home-grown tits for this boy, please. A man needed to start off life with a good boob in his mouth, how else would he know which ones to go after when he was grown?
Speaking of boobs and the lack of any good ones, Baalthemar was positively afraid of Kieran. He'd looked like an old family dog, sat upon by a kindle of kittens that it was just not allowed to snap at--and didn't, because it loved its master. Baalthemar loved Nathandiel, so he'd held the baby. Nathandiel had hoped that teaching him to burp the baby would soften him up, but he'd just looked terrified. Nathandiel had been disappointed at first, mad even, but then he'd really thought about it. Baalthemar hadn't had a childhood of his own, he hadn't had parents, and he hadn't ever had a safe place to learn about being responsible for anyone but himself, especially something so small and helpless, so destined to die without help.
Baalthemar hadn't questioned what Nathandiel had done, he hadn't hesitated to step up and make plans to help. That had been heavy shit, even more than Baalthemar's insistence to "save" Nathandiel. He was willing to helping with a baby. Had that meant that they were officially partners? Had that meant--
--He looked up quickly, eyes narrowing as a knock came to the old door. He'd lost track of time, the sun already down. "Doctor Dah'orei?" What a stupid fucking name. He rolled off of the bed and got to his feet, straightening his clothes and brushing aside his cloak as he went to the door and unlatched it. He was momentarily pleased that Atticuss had built a good door because the latch was shit.
"...Hi?" Slenn looked up at him, a slip of a woman if ever there was one, but she was a good nurse and cared more about patients than she did about duty. If her breasts had been more bountiful, and corpulent with milk, he'd have picked her to be Kieran's nurse. His eyes fell to her slight chest. Good thing he'd brought bottles of formula.
She'll do for tonight though.
He met her eyes again and favoured her with a dazzling smile. Even at sundown he could see her blush. He was getting older but he could still make girls turn that flattering shade of pink that they all could. "Please..." he stepped aside and held out an arm, his well-bred manners taking over.
He made sure she was settled with Kieran--a "patient" she was so delighted to have for the night she said she might not give him back--and left her with money, food, a weapon and an exit plan, should anytihng happen while he was gone. He promised to be back as soon as he could, that he thought he'd be back before morning. She had nodded absently at all that he'd said, too focused on the little boy and giving him his first bottle of the evening. "This is important." He said. Kieran had stolen his thunder, the little boy's rolls too cute for Nathandiel's charm to hold the lady's attention.
"I know..." She looked up at him finally and beamed again, "Nothing could be more important than your child." She looked back down at Kieran who gobbled greedily. "I'll take care of him." She promised.
Your child. She'd assumed it was his. Maybe just another man who'd knocked up another woman who had dumped the fruits of their mutual fuckery at his door step. It happened sometimes.
"Oh yes. Oh yes, you. Daddy is being such a worry wort." Slenn spoke with that singular baby language that most adults were prone to falling into when addressing the very small. "Daddy can go do his business. Kieran and Slenn will have a perfect evening full of bottles and sing-songs and fresh, dry, diapers...." She gave Nathandiel a sly smile. "Daddy can go...," She added, not being subtle about her hint.
He hesitated, but only for a moment. His gut told him Slenn was good and that the house was good. The baby was safe and he could go and meet Baalthemar and attend to the bloody business of adults.
"Ok..." he turned to the door, stopped, and went back to the woman and child. He bent over and smoothed the baby's fine hair back before kissing the top of his head. Slenn melted visibly.
"I'm not his father..." He confessed in a whisper, though he wasn't sure why. "He's not mine."
"....He is now," Slenn said, and when he looked into her face she didn't seem so slight anymore. Nor were her words. He left quickly.
WrA: Nathandiel, Mharren
Grobbulus: Andhar
Grobbulus: Andhar