Some where in the back of his mind Nathaniel could remember a time, or perhaps a place, where the whores and prostitutes of his city were derided, hated, forced to work on the cold streets. There was nothing like that for him now. He'd entered on of the establishments of Rhimnee and in just a few short months gained a reputation such that the White
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Until he saw him.
Needing something extraordinary had brought Seregil here, on this cold evening. Now he had found it, his stomach turned, and a familiar sort of hunger, nothing to do with food, stirred restlessly within him.
He stood.
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As he walked into the room, laughing with a few of the other residents of the house, conversations slowed as men turned to look at him. A couple standing near the door called something to him, he smiled and shook his head in reply, continuing deeper into the room. A man had already caught his eye, and he was determined to have the attention returned.
Slipping off his cloak as he walked he approached the dark haired man who stood at the back of the room.
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"Seregil of Rhimnee," he announced, eyes sparkling despite the dark depths.
Waiting for a response, Seregil eyed the man, quickly taking in his features. With a slighter body than Seregil's own, Seregil vaguely wondered if the man could be Faie, but no marks showed tribe or clan, and the stranger looked a foreigner to these parts.
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When he met Seregil's eyes again, there was something there that Nathaniel recognised, the pain of friends lost and mistakes made that was at odds with his youthful appearance. Despite that, he liked what he saw; a slim built man, grey eyes that shone with knowledge and mischeif and a narrow-liped mouth turned up in a smile.
"Shall we, then?" he asked, offering his hand to Seregil.
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Drawing one hand from it's glove, Seregil offered his own, soft palm, brushing finger tips against tips, stroking his fingers along the underside of Nathaniel's palm, even as he moved away.
"Do you fancy a drink first?" Seregil asked, smoothness and charm combined, body already beginning to turn away. His mind was fogging with arousal, but surely the man could be teased a little first.
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"Why not," he replied, "What would you like?"
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"I haven't seen you here before," remarked Seregil, downing his first drink in a second. "Are you from here?"
No, but of course, if he had been Seregil would know. He smiled at Nathaniel, forcing his eyes to gaze into the other's, instead of flickering toward the stairs that led upstairs.
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Taking a sip of his drink, he watched Seregil closely, curious to see what his reaction would be.
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"Drink up," Seregil said cheerfully, eye's betraying nothing but the faintest glimpse of hunger, as he watched Nathatiels full lips touch the glass, and redden as the alcohol warmed him. They were unlike Seregil's own, a thick pout, instead of his thin line. Too open to be any good for deceiving, but enticing all the same.
"Onwards and upward," Seregil leant forwards and whispered, as soon as the other man had finished his drink.
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Seregil started beside him Can he read minds, or what? With a slight smile tugging at his lips Nathaniel stalked off through the room, Seregil following in his wake.
The room upstairs was warmer even than the crowded public rooms below. A fire burned bright below a mantel scattered the extravagant and unusual gifts of Nathaniel's other men. The huge four-poster bed dominated the room, and leaning against the bedpost Nathaniel was slowly unlacing the collar of his shirt, his surcoat already tossed to one side with his boots.
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The room was neither of Aurenfaie or Skalan design, another enigma of the mans origins. Seregil watched Nathaniel from a moment, as he stood against the bed, body and eyes beckoning as one, before crossing the room in three sides and roughly cupping the man's face in two hands.
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Biting his lip, he raised a hand briefly to Seregil's cheek, before he climbed on the bed to sprawl there like a huge tame cat.
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"I hope you don't mind a nip, here and there," whispered Seregil, grinning against Nathaniel's cheek, after offering his ear a playful bite.
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He'd been right about this one. He wasn't going to snap at nathaniel for what others saw as his weaknesses. This man was strong, and powerful, and he was more than prepared to use that strength and power.
"I..." he took a deep, shuddering breath, "I should tell you, before we go any further; I like the pain, I like your dominance."
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"I'm sorry?"
"I like this." Nathaniel punctuated his sentence with a returning nip sending Seregil's eyes rolling into his head, a harsh gasp breaking through thin lips.
Not wanting to waste any more time with niaviety, Seregil pressed his torso against Nathaniels and circled his arms around his back, nails lightly scratching his back as hands worked down, snaking over buttock and hip, working as quickly as they would do to a lock, unlacing leather breeches and pulling them off with a delightfully magical flourish.
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The sight of his own breeches tossed carelessly aside caused Nathaniel to drop his hands to Seregil's hips, pulling at the tightly knotted lacings, sliding the soft leather down to reveal smooth pale skin of Seregil's hips, and lower.
The touch of skin on skin worred Nathaniel for a moment, and he pulled back with a small sigh.
"What would you have of me, my lord?" he asked Seregil, the title falling from his lips with far more ease than the man's name would have done.
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