Re: Fill; Part Two, Title: "Life"guiltyhousewifeMay 6 2011, 18:07:26 UTC
Rasoul's dedication and lavish attention paid off and the pretending took a comfortable, permanent position in Aladdin's brain. He was no longer Aladdin, proud, wiry and wily boy of the streets who would sooner die than submit, he was just him. He was just a survivor.
Rasoul extended Aladdin's duties to outside of the bedroom, and his visits to his bed became less frequent. Normalcy took a warped, perverted form, and Aladdin could almost smile again, bantering with the guards as he shined their swords and oiled their shields. He formed friendships with them out of necessity, needing something other than Rasoul's face in his new, limited world. For the guards, it was at first odd to see the streetrat there in their inner den, but a protective glower from Rasoul stayed their tongues, and Aladdin's infectious charm and wit brought them the rest of the way into friendliness.
"These swords are suspiciously sharp for someone who supposedly uses them, Bahir." He would tease and the other men would guffaw in good humor as Bahir the guard reddened. He sat on the edge of their table, in the middle, finding even a small comfort in his life's storm. And Rasoul would silently appear in the doorway, leaning on the frame, not making his presence known as he observed. Through half lidded eyes he would watch Aladdin smile, the brightness there recalling the light of his earlier days, before his enslavement.
He was still charming, still effervescent, and Rasoul would feel desire roil inside of him. Years, years of chasing Aladdin, and now, he was his.
Aladdin would look up when Rasoul would say his name, a clear, unquestionable call for his attention. He'd say, "Just a minute", or "Not now", and flippantly go back to what he was doing, his cleaning duties, his card game, whatever and Rasoul would cross the room in three strides, jerking Aladdin up by his collar.
"Now, streetrat." He would rumble possessively, bringing the nubile body close to his own.
And the change would happen in Aladdin's eyes, taking less and less time with each occurrence. From the heroic youth of yesterday, to the slave of today, an invisible curtain would fall. A shudder would accompany the change, a weakening of his knees as he would follow Rasoul into his quarters.
Rasoul extended Aladdin's duties to outside of the bedroom, and his visits to his bed became less frequent. Normalcy took a warped, perverted form, and Aladdin could almost smile again, bantering with the guards as he shined their swords and oiled their shields. He formed friendships with them out of necessity, needing something other than Rasoul's face in his new, limited world. For the guards, it was at first odd to see the streetrat there in their inner den, but a protective glower from Rasoul stayed their tongues, and Aladdin's infectious charm and wit brought them the rest of the way into friendliness.
"These swords are suspiciously sharp for someone who supposedly uses them, Bahir." He would tease and the other men would guffaw in good humor as Bahir the guard reddened. He sat on the edge of their table, in the middle, finding even a small comfort in his life's storm. And Rasoul would silently appear in the doorway, leaning on the frame, not making his presence known as he observed. Through half lidded eyes he would watch Aladdin smile, the brightness there recalling the light of his earlier days, before his enslavement.
He was still charming, still effervescent, and Rasoul would feel desire roil inside of him. Years, years of chasing Aladdin, and now, he was his.
Aladdin would look up when Rasoul would say his name, a clear, unquestionable call for his attention. He'd say, "Just a minute", or "Not now", and flippantly go back to what he was doing, his cleaning duties, his card game, whatever and Rasoul would cross the room in three strides, jerking Aladdin up by his collar.
"Now, streetrat." He would rumble possessively, bringing the nubile body close to his own.
And the change would happen in Aladdin's eyes, taking less and less time with each occurrence. From the heroic youth of yesterday, to the slave of today, an invisible curtain would fall. A shudder would accompany the change, a weakening of his knees as he would follow Rasoul into his quarters.
Because that's what he was, a slave
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