Ayrie/Sierre
[color=white][i]I shouldn't be here. I really really shouldn't be here...[/i]
How many times had Ayrie told himself that over the past few nights, only to find himself once again standing outside the same heavy wooden door? How many times had he crept from his own rooms late in the evening, taking nearly forgotten passageways in and out through the amidari, hiding in the shadows so that nobody would ever know that he had been there? And before that, how many nights had he spent spying on the man he now went to meet, checking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one followed him. When the door opened quietly and a tanned hand reached out to grab the front of his shirt and yank him inside, Ayrie had to stifle a gasp of surprise.
As quickly as he'd been pulled into the room the warrior found himself slammed back against the door with a tongue shoved halfway down his throat. For a moment, with incredibly strong fingers pulling his hair so hard he thought it would come out, Dayrien wondered exactly why he kept coming when summoned. For a brief second he actually had to think about why he so willingly succumbed to the demands of the enemy and offered himself night after night.
And then a deft hand was reaching inside the band of his pants and he knew exactly why Sierre only had to tilt his head at a meeting to find the dark haired warrior in his bed at night.
It was almost pathetic how badly he found himself wanting to see that subtle sign from the man who for the longest time had been a most hated enemy. Like a dog beaten into submission he cowed to Sierre's hedonistic demands, tail cautiously wagging for every look passed his way. Pathetic until he remembered that compliance meant mind-blowing sex. That giving Sierre what he wanted meant he got what he wanted in return.
It's not like he was giving in during the day, when others could see. Nor did he relent on important matters, like the safety of his people. When it came to his position as attendant to Morgane, leader of the Elite guards, and respected warrior of Routega, Dayrien backed down on nothing. It was only at night and in private that he surrendered every bit of dignity, every ounce of his physical self to the one who could so easily destroy them. This night, like those that came before would be no different; he was already opening up like a flower for his tormentor.
Some still wondered why Sierre had defected to their side inthe first place, or if he was even on their side at all. Morgane was paying him an incredibly hefty sum, but Ayrie knew on some level that if Sierre had been truly against them of his own will, not just because of Amouier's pocketbook, then no amount of coin would have swayed him. Thank goodness that loyalties such as his could be bought. Loyalties bought indeed...
That's how he'd gotten himself into this mess in the first place actually, by looking for a way to buy the man's silence on a particular matter. Somehow Sierre had found out about Morgane's problem with using magic. He'd found out that she was slowly dying from the power she held, and he'd been just about ready to go bargain with Amouier for better pay using that bit of info as leverage. Knowing he couldn't let it happen, Ayrie had quite stupidly offered to do anything he had to, short of killing someone, to keep that info safe.
That was how he found himself here the first few times. For Morgane's secret he paid his dignity, selling himself into nothing short of slavery for the month. Every degrading task he could think of, every explicit act one could pull off between to men and then some...
So why was he still there? Why was he still coming night after night?
Much as he hated to admit it to himself, somewhere along the line he'd stopped coming because he had to, and more because he wanted to. Somehow, degrading turned into enticing, and merely bending over and taking it became presenting himself and begging for it. He'd never go so far as to say his feelings towards the man had ever changed, but he could certainly look past them long enough to get his rocks off. Though he'd never turn his back on the man in a fight, he was perfectly happy to do so now, in the privacy of the candle-lit rooms which had been appointed to the tattoed enigma.
All this though, managed to pass through Dayrien's mind in the time it took Sierre to walk him backwards towards the plush couch the room sported. As he was pushed violently away to tumble back over the arm of the sofa, looking up thoroughly dishevelled, Ayrie's mind stopped trying to process anything more than the feral hunger which tilted up the corners of Sierre's mouth.
"You know, I really don't think I got enough to eat at dinner, I'm ravenous."
Merely the sound of his voice sent shivers down his spine.[/color]
(unfinished.)[/quote]