Dragon Age II, Part 1: Closed for Prompts, Open for Fills
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Danarius watched his new purchase stalk restlessly around his empty chambers, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Ah, the slaver hadn't lied. The boy had been informed some time ago that his master would be there, soon. A good body slave knew all the ways to prepare himself, and the boy was stubbornly doing none of it. Instead, he walked in continuous circles, a caged animal. Danarius watched him move. Like the slaver had said, there was real muscle hiding beneath the young man's skin, real substance there that would blossom into strength, endurance, and power in a few years' time. But he would always be lithe and graceful in that wonderful way that only elves could be. Even the strongest elves never became bears.
They became wolves.
"Do be careful, master," his young apprentice said, gazing into the scrying orb beside him. "He looks quite feral, doesn't he? It would be so very embarrassing if a slave were to hurt you."
Danarius extinguished the orb with a thought. "I'm not concerned, Hadriana," he said absently. "Run along, now, that's enough for today." He'd waited quite long enough, giving the boy time, seeing what he would do. He didn't think he could wait any longer.
The walk between his workshop and his bedroom had never seemed so long. In what seemed like far too much time, he was opening the door to his chambers. He stepped inside, watching with amusement as the boy immediately ceased his pacing and straightened. It only took a moment of pointed eye contact before the boy dropped his gaze to his feet, bowing his head in subserviance. "Master," the boy said, with only the barest tinge of disrespect fringing the edges of his surprisingly deep baritone.
Danarius closed the door, latching the lock firmly. He had to physically stop himself from licking his lips as he moved into the room. "Were you not informed of my intentions, slave?" he asked mildly.
One single skipped beat. "I was, master."
"And yet, you stand, in my foyer, fully clothed. I smell no perfumes nor oils, and it seems you've been pacing rather than engaging in any unique physical preparations. I would like an explanation."
Several beats. Danarius raised a single eyebrow in a question that the slave wouldn't see with his head lowered. Finally: "I took the liberty of presuming that my lord's perference did not involve pampering, master," the boy said. "After all, it was you who said, at the market, that you had a taste for spirit."
Oh! So rich, too rich. Danarius chuckled, unable to help himself. "And I see that I've gotten my purse's worth, with you!" he exclaimed. "You presumed, indeed. Ah, now, what am I going to do with you?"
The boy straightened again slightly, though he still didn't have the audacity to meet his master's eyes. "I have been taught that a good slave shows iniative and attempts to anticipate his master's needs," he said very stiffly. Danarius almost let out a delighted laugh. Hurt, was he? It had to be feigned. Didn't it? "I have endeavoured to do just that. Would you prefer otherwise, master?"
"I'd prefer you disrobed." Danarius made it a command.
The sudden shift in tone was enough to throw the lad off his feet. Quickly, he looked up, surprised, and his eyes were wide and guileless in that moment. Danarius shivered with pleasure, even as the lad's guard slammed back up and the look vanished. They regarded one another for a moment, and then the boy nodded just once. "As you wish, master." His eyes slid away, and, stiffly, he began removing his clothing.
Some magisters would have been offended by the mechanical way the young elf went about stripping, with no coyness or finesse about it. But there was an art to the wounded animal look, the bruised pride of this young man with the inexplicable arrogance. He was unwilling. He thought himself better than this. He silently hated his master. And yet he obeyed with no arguments and only the barest hesitance, and he continued to obey with stiff muscles and the occassional flash of defiant green eyes, until he stood there, fully nude, slender and lithe and beautiful.
Fully submissive slaves were so boring.
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The prideful set of the slave's shoulders wilted over time as he stood there, until that deep, melodious voice ground out a question that was just not quite a challenge: "Do you have any further orders, master?"
"Were they men, or women?" Danarius asked idly, finally moving from his position. He began to walk a wide circle around the boy.
"I ask that you clarify the question, master."
"Your previous owners, who you serviced and pleasured. What were they: men, or women?"
The question seemed to be a blow of sorts. The boy flinched and avoided Danarius's eyes. "I am trained to please both men, and women, master." A beat passed in which they were both aware that the question had not been answered. The slave broke first. "I have been the property of five different masters since I came of age. Two were women and three were men."
The answer legitimately surprised him. Five masters in so little time? Truly, his peers had no taste. All of them with their fragile blossoms and compliant confectionaries. Well, their loss was his gain, he decided, taking appreciative note of the boy's round backside. "And which did you prefer?"
"I found that I had no preference, master."
Danarius finally stopped, standing before the slave again, far closer than before. He reached out and took the boy's chin, forcing his face up in an echo of the gesture they'd shared earlier that day. He smiled at the sight of the boy's eyes and mouth, the barely contained sneer and the seething anger clearly displayed there. "And did you suck your former masters' cocks?"
He felt the lad grind his jaw. "I ..." A momentary break in eye contact. "I ... am trained to perform that service, master."
He moved closer to the boy. The heat in his loins was nearly unbearable, now, and it only flared hotter when he bent to press a kiss against the boy's unwilling mouth and saw him flinch just enough to notice. "Are you any good at it?" he breathed. He could have laughed aloud as he saw his slave struggle with an answer. "Oh, now, don't be modest, child. Everything conspires to tell me that's one quality you don't possess."
Anger snapped in the boy's eyes, and he spat like a challenge: "I suck cock very, very well, master."
"Much more like it," Danarius kissed the boy again, enjoying the much younger man's soft lips and how he returned the kisses only grudgingly. On a whim, he wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close, kissed him deeply, just to see the response he'd get. Just willing enough, just pliant enough, and Danarius didn't have to look to see that the boy refused to close his eyes. He chuckled delightedly as he pulled away. "Go and wait in my bed," he ordered, carressing his slave's smooth jaw. "Don't worry. I'll be in before long."
*
Danarius came to the bed to find his new purchase settled into the furs, still naked, prideful enough not to cover himself, glaring up at him with an expression far more arousing than anything come-hither ever could be. It was a particular skill of this boy's, looking both frightened and challenging at the same time. Again, Danarius was reminded of a wild animal. A wolf cub.
He set the bottle of oil he carried onto the bedside table, and then, with no further ado, took his hard cock in hand and presented it to the boy.
They locked eyes. The slave set his jaw. For an amusing moment, Danarius thought the boy was going to force him to give a verbal command. But all he required was the suggestive quirk of one dark eyebrow, and then those fierce eyes lowered and the boy moved across the bed, towards his master, with head bowed and posture demure but for the set of his slender shoulders.
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Danarius's eyes closed instantly. His breath shuddered and his knees almost gave out. He seized one of the boy's shoulders to steady himself. Ah, but the boy wasn't being overconfident in his assessment of his own skills, not at all. His lips and tongue worked with the skill of a master, his mouth creating suction and his tongue massaging Danarius's cock wetly and slowly, turning lazy circles even while his head bobbed up and down far too quickly to be possible. Danarius forced his eyes open, swallowing a rough-edged moan, taking in the sight of the lad taking his entire large cock down his throat over and over again.
He was so very glad that he did. The look the lad gave him was more precious and even more arousing than the expert attentions of his young mouth. There was such pride and even smugness in the boy's face. You didn't believe me, he seemed to be saying, smirking without the use of his mouth, all while he struggled not to gag on his master's massive human cock. You wanted an answer so badly, well, here you are. I am the best damn cocksucker you've ever seen.
As if, somehow, this proved something.
Danarius tangled the fingers of one hand into the boy's dark hair, watching the glorious sight and savouring that wonderful look in his large eyes. "You're perfect," he said eventually, through ragged breaths. "Ah, my little wolf, you're absolutely perfect." He met the boy's face with his hips, listening to the musical, lovely sound of his laboured breathing around all that meat. "For you, this is a victory. In my bed, prostrate before me, with my cock down your throat." He fisted his other hand into the boy's hair, pulling his face into his crotch, and switched their roles, so that the boy's head was still and he was thrusting into him. And, wonderfully, his slave adapted instantly, opening his throat, sheathing his teeth with his lips, and changing the use of his tongue to suit their reversed roles.
But even as his body reacted on instinct to better please his master, the meaning of the last words sunk in, and the boy's eyes went dark with hate as he stared up as his master. Danarius laughed aloud, a wild and delighted laugh. "You should see yourself," he crowed happily, breathless. Maker, the boy's mouth was wonderful. How perfect would his ass be? "Your eyes despise me and all the while, your little mouth ever so greedily begs for more of me." He punctuated this with a thrust hard enough that the boy did gag, training or no. "Ah, my little wolf, where have you been these years?"
His voice was barely audible even to himself for how out of breath he was, and he was having a hard time seeing anything for the fever that had fallen over his thoughts. The thought of coming now was heady, but he'd long been a slow recovery, and he wanted to try his slave's ass on this first go at him. Regretfully, he pulled out from the lad's throat. A long, thick line of spit trailed from the tip of his cock back into the caverns of the boy's mouth, and he enjoyed the sounds of his slave gasping and gulping at air as he slowly moved back from the edge.
The boy had collapsed back into the furs, and Danarius didn't intend to give him time to regroup. With a trembling hand, he took the bottle of oil in hand and passed it to the boy before sitting, and then laying, back on his bed.
The young man looked down at the bottle in his hands, the shame and anger in his face giving way to curiousity. He looked over at Danarius, who enjoyed the clear confusion there. He didn't want to ask. Whether in a form of defiance, or whether he felt he was a bad slave if he couldn't anticipate. Perhaps a mix of both. Danarius did so hope it was a mix of both. "... do you wish for me to spread it on you, master?" the boy eventually asked.
"No," Danarius answered, smirking.
They stared at one another, the boy growing visibly more frustrated as he ran through the possibilities. Oh, how he seethed just barely beneath the surface, and his anger was barely hidden when he finally lost patience and asked: "Then what do you wish me to do, master?"
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It was wonderful, really, the startlement, and then the quick look down at the bottle, and then wide eyes moving to Danarius, who merely met his eyes with an encouraging and mocking smile.
The little wolf realized what he was being asked to do, and Danarius could have crowed his pleasure when blood flooded his new purchase's face. He'd never been asked to do anything of the sort, before, then. Not surprising. Danarius's peers were so very elementary. The lad's previous owners had likely never experimented with how humiliating it could be for a slave to enjoy what he did, and what was done to him. Their pleasures were so simple, and their methods reflected that.
Danarius liked to think of himself as an artist.
Haltingly, the boy opened the bottle and poured oil into his hands. Slowly, with his gaze steadfastly avoiding Danarius's, and his lips set in a thin line, and his shoulders back with a sort of forced pride, the boy slid one wet hand between his legs and, as Danarius watched with parted lips and pulsing cock, slid one of his oil-slicked fingers into his own opening. A small rush of air came out from between the boy's lips and his body shuddered. Danarius smiled languidly.
He watched, licking his lips unconciously, as the boy slid the finger in and out of his own little hole, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. In time, a second finger joined the first. In all that time, the boy refused to look at his master, refused to meet his eyes.
That wouldn't do.
"Look at me," Danarius commanded. The boy flinched, and for a moment, flagrantly disobeyed, shoulders hunched, head down, fingers pumping in his own hole. But he knew what every slave had been taught from birth: never, ever force your master to make the same request twice, and so he forced himself to look at Danarius and hold his gaze.
There was a heavy flush over the boy's face, now, and his eyes were part uncertainty, part hatred, and part ... something else, something that was reflected in the way the boy's cock was no longer quite soft. It was wonderfully clear how difficult it was for the boy to continue meeting his master's eyes, but despite how clearly he wanted to, he didn't look away.
"You'll need more than that up there, boy," Danarius said amiably, and was rewarded with a flash of outrage in those moss-green eyes. He laughed. He meant it to be cheerful, but it was wild in his own ears. Ah, he wanted to fuck him so hard, so badly. Patience was becoming very difficult. "I only say it to help you, fenris. Those slender little elven fingers aren't much in the face of what you'll be feeling there soon."
"I follow your commands, master," the lad spat, and added another finger, which caused his breath to hitch.
"Do you?" Danarius sat up slightly on a whim. This hadn't been in the original plan, not yet, but the sight before him was too amazing, and the colour high in the boy's cheeks too tantalizing. He needed more. "Then stroke yourself with your other hand."
The boy froze and Danarius chuckled gleefully. His cock was somewhere halfway between soft and erect, and just that much was probably the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him. Being asked to do more, to acknowledge that, despite himself, his body reacted positively to stimulus he hated ... "I am ..." his voice dripped with breathless shame. "I am ... not trained to ..."
"You are trained, fenris, to give pleasure ... and to follow commands. This applies to both of those things, does it not?"
"I ..."
"I gave you a command, slave. Obey your master."
And he did.
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"I think that's good enough," he said, voice hoarse. "Turn over."
As in all things, the boy obeyed.
Danarius only took two seconds to open the bottle and spread oil on his own cock before positioning it at the boy's gaping asshole and then sliding it home. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. Nothing was as tight as a young elf. Even prepared as it was, the hole felt slightly too small for him, and it was a wonderful struggle to move in and out. The friction was amazing after the long minutes of nothing. He pressed at hand between the boy's shoulderblades, forcing his upper body down against the bed, and he fucked him as hard as he could.
That wasn't all he did. While he was too wrapped in his own pleasure to bother making that satisfying for the boy, he did take the time to reach under the boy's body, grab his smaller cock, and begin stroking it with a grip tighter and more insistant than that which the boy had used on himself. The lad moaned roughly into the bed, half pleasure and half protest. "You've never had it like this, have you, fenris?" Danarius asked. "How does it feel to know that a man with the power to buy you at market, who has the power to tell you to do anything, also controls your pleasure?"
"Stop," the boy commanded. Commanded. Danarius laughed, quickening the pace of both his hips and his hand. The boy's ass gripped his cock tightly. Maker, he was amazing. "Stop," the boy repeated moments later, but this time, it was a plea.
Danarius groaned, feeling pressure building in his loins. The boy made a sound that was half plea and half insult, half sob and half growl, and then he swore loudly. "Watch that filthy mouth, fenris," Danarius accused him mildly. As mildly as he could, considering the desperate pleasure and need for release that was building in him.
"Master, please, no," the little wolf cried, and then his cock exploded wetly into Danarius's hand, not a moment too soon, for his master could wait no longer. He let himself go, spilling squirt after squirt of hot seed deep into his slave's body, claiming him forever. His vision erupted into colours, and then he fell into the bed, taking only a moment to disentangle himself from the boy before letting himself fall into an exhausted afterglow.
A bit later, when his afterglow faded, he looked over at the little wolf, whose head was turned roughly to one side, every muscle showing tension and determination. Danarius chuckled, reaching out a hand to run it down the flat planes of his slave's wiry chest. "You are everything I have ever wanted, my Fenris," he said contentedly. "And I have claimed you as no other master ever has."
The boy said nothing, but the increase in tension in his shoulders was everything Danarius needed to see.
"You're well trained, but that isn't what makes you so ... perfect," he mused aloud. "It's how you want so badly to fight that training. It shows in everything you do."
He pressed his lips against the boy's shoulder. The boy continued to hold his silence.
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Something snapped. The lad whirled in bed to face his master, eyes flashing, jaw set. "My name," he barked, "is Le --"
Danarius silenced him with a kiss.
The lad fought him, fought him with fists and teeth, for exactly one second. And then the training settled in, and he realized how pointless it was, and he kissed Danarius back. He was a slave, after all, and he did what a slave was supposed to do: what his master wanted.
Danarius smiled when he pulled away. "Your name is whatever I tell you it is," he said, and was pleased to see in the boy's eyes, not defeat, but momentary and reluctant surrender. The fight wouldn't be chased out of this one. Not easily. Not ever.
Perfect.
"Ah, Fenris," he said happily. "Something tells me you're going to be at my side for many, many years."
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This is now canon in my mind.
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Well done, autheranon. It was kinda... horrifyingly wonderful, if you know what I mean?
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Loved this, by the way, OP. Looooove ♥
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Thank you A!A :-)
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