FIC: "Catalyst" (Part Thirty-One) (Dave Wenham, Harry Sinclair, Karl Urban, Orlando Bloom)
Title: "Catalyst" (Part Thirty-One)
Authors: Brenda (azewewish) & Jo (idiosyncratic)
Series: Claimed Universe
Notes: Click here for full disclaimers and pairings.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven | Part Twenty-Eight | Part Twenty-Nine | Part Thirty |
Sean might not have been the best swordsman ever, but he did pride himself on maintaining the skills he had. He knew if he didn't practice, he'd never hear the end of it from Harry. And, watching Harry warm up, each move as fluid and graceful as a dancer, Sean knew he'd need all of the skills he could muster.
"And you wonder why most people steer clear of you," he commented, his own warm up forgotten. Fuck, but Harry was beautiful like this, with the night air caressing his skin and the full moon the only light.
"I haven't hurt anyone that didn't deserve it in decades."
Shaking his head, Sean went back to stretching. No reason to give Harry any unnecessary advantage. "Harry," he said, bending to stretch his quads, "you are a scary fucker."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not at all. There's a lot of merit in having people fear you."
"Exactly." Harry quickly went through a few lunges and jabs before straightening. "And since most of the people I deal with need a bit of fear knocked into them, I think it's a good arrangement."
"Remind me why Karl puts up with you again?"
"I'm shocked you would ask," Harry replied as he grabbed his broadsword from the rack and turned to face Sean.
Sean snorted, trying not to laugh. He watched Harry for a moment before reaching for his sword. "It's not exactly a secret that Karl's addicted to your cock."
"There's also the fact that I'm the only person who has never kissed his ass."
"Well, there was..." Flummoxed, Sean considered Harry's words. He knew he was certainly guilty of it, at least, back in the early days when Karl had been mentoring him. "Alright, you've got me there. Even Viggo?"
"Even Viggo." Metal clanked against metal as they started to move, slow and easy, testing the other's strength. "He's done a fair amount of ass-kissing when he wanted Karl's vote on a particularly thorny resolution."
"Viggo's always been an excellent politician when he's had to be," Sean admitted, circling around Harry, every sense open for Harry's next move.
"Exactly. I've never had to go down that road with him."
"That's because you're a lousy politician." He danced back, sword up to deflect Harry's next swing. "They put you on the Council for that reason."
"And I happen to be very good at it," Harry said, voice calm and without any arrogance. Then he came in, swinging low and fast, and Sean was hard-pressed to defend himself for several minutes. It was always a surprise to him, even after all of these centuries, that someone as big as Harry could be so nimble and quick on his feet. Sean blocked each move, relying on instinct and momentum to keep him from faltering, but it was hard going.
Sweat beaded around his temples, trickled along his spine. The muscles in his arms and back ached pleasantly from the stretch of each movement. His world narrowed to this patch of earth and the sword coming at him again and again. Every maneuver was another step in a brutal dance, with Harry leading and Sean doing his best to follow and hold his own.
Sean wasn't sure when his body and instinct took over. All he knew was that he scored a few almost hits over the course of their sparring, but Harry managed to block each one at the very last second. Sean wasn't surprised. What did surprise him was that he'd kept from losing as long as he had.
Either he was getting better, or Harry was holding back.
The question was answered about thirty seconds after Sean thought it, when Harry hit him with a flurry of moves that left Sean a little dazed. Before he quite realized what was happening, Harry'd hooked his foot around Sean's ankle, dropped him to his back, and had his sword at Sean's throat.
Harry's skin was sweat-slick, glistening in the moonlight, but his breathing was even, his arm steady, as he stared down at Sean. "Do you yield?"
It was like looking up at a god. Sean held himself still, forced himself to relax. It was time, he reminded himself. He wanted this. "And if I do?" he asked, the words low, the meaning unmistakable. "What will you take as your boon?"
Harry's only outward response was a slight lift of one eyebrow. "Are you sure about this?"
Mindful of the unwavering blade that was still an inch away from his jugular, Sean nodded, the motion minute, but definite. He couldn't remember wanting anything more.
Still easily holding the sword in one hand, Harry fished in the pocket of his pants with the other, and dropped the collar on Sean's chest. "Put it on."
Careful to remain still except for his arm, Sean picked up the collar and very slowly slid it around his neck. His eyes never left Harry's. "You'll have to move the sword," he finally said, both ends of the collar caught between his fingers. "Sir."
With a smile full of dark amusement, Harry lifted the sword enough for Sean to fasten the collar. Sean let his arms fall back to his sides, making no move until Harry gave permission. He wasn't quite ready to test the boundaries tonight.
"I'd almost forgotten how good my mark looks on you," Harry commented. He walked to the rack, taking his time, and slid both swords into their places before turning and facing Sean once more. "Kneel."
Sean allowed himself one last, deep breath, then did as ordered. The ground was hard, unyielding, dew from the grass seeping through the thin material of his pants. The breeze was just cool enough to make him shiver. He kept his head down, felt every inch of the collar around his neck. Harry's mark. Harry's.
He started shivering again, this time in anticipation.
With silent footsteps, Harry circled Sean. Then he crouched down. "It chafes, doesn't it?" Harry asked, running his fingertips along the band of supple leather circling Sean's throat.
"A little."
"Good. I want you to feel my mark on you," Harry continued, tilting Sean's chin up so they were eye to eye.
Sean swallowed hard. He couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to beg Harry to throw him to the ground and take him, own him.
Harry seemed to be satisfied with whatever it was he saw in Sean's eyes. "You like that idea, don't you." It wasn't a question.
"Please." His voice was just above a whisper, heart skipping a beat at the idea behind Harry's words.
"Begging already?"
"Asking." He was proud that his voice was steady, even if his hands, clenched into tight fists in his lap, weren't.
"Oh, I don't think you've earned the right to ask for anything, do you?"
It was a test, one Sean was determined to ace. He shook his head, careful to keep his gaze at the ground. Need coiled tight in his belly.
"Good." Harry stood, after one last shiver-inducing caress to Sean's jaw, and gestured lazily at his crotch. "But I think I will allow you to convince me you should have the privilege of asking me for a favor." His voice was a slither of heat and violence. "Don't disappoint me."
Sean's tongue darted out, slid over dry lips, and he took a deep breath. Without speaking, he crawled across the few feet separating them, knowing better than to stand and walk. Then, he reached out, focused on his task, and slowly tugged at the drawstring on Harry's pants. As the string came loose in his hand, Sean leaned in and began to press light kisses just above the waistband.
The low sound that came from Harry was the only encouragement Sean needed. The pants slid down just far enough to free Harry's already hard cock, and Sean wrapped one hand around the length. His tongue traced a path up the underside, and he parted his lips, slid them down the length until he met his fingers.
Harry's only response was to bury his hands in Sean's hair. Sean knew this was another test. He'd have to earn Harry's moans. He started to move, tongue fluttering with every movement. Harry was the absolute center of Sean's universe, and he wanted nothing more than for Harry to know it. Everything else fell away as he bobbed his head, taking Harry deeper and deeper down his throat with every thrust. He used every trick he knew and invented a few new ones. If Harry wanted to be convinced, Sean wasn't going to give him room to say he hadn't tried his hardest.
Then, finally, Harry started to move.
Strong hands tightened in Sean's hair, pulling hard enough to elicit a wince. Each slick glide of Harry's cock down Sean's throat was rough, bruising, and forceful enough to have Sean choking more than once. It was exactly what Sean wanted. His free hand slid between Harry's thighs, cupped his balls, and Sean tried even harder to show Harry how much he wanted - how much he needed - this.
The resultant, low groan was music to Sean's ears. He flushed with gratitude and pride that he'd pleased Harry enough to earn it, and eagerly swallowed when Harry came deep down his throat. He tried not to gag, not wanting to waste even a drop, continued to lap at Harry's cock long after Harry stopped moving. His entire body was humming, alight with pleasure.
"Enough." The word was softly uttered, but Sean reacted instantly, pulling back and dropping his head. His throat was bruised and sore, lips stretched and cracked, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that Harry was satisfied.
Gentle fingers sifted through his hair in an absent-minded pat. "Very nice." Sean all but glowed at the praise. "You may make your request."
"I want you to mark me tonight," he said, his voice hoarse and battered. When Harry remained silent, Sean lifted his head a little, just enough to see Harry through his lashes. The look in those amazing eyes made the hairs on the back of Sean's neck stand. "Not just the collar. I want marks I'll still feel come sunset tomorrow."
"And you feel you've earned this?"
Sean nodded, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. They'd never really set any rules to this thing beyond the few that Harry had given him in the beginning. But Harry had asked a direct question, so Sean thought he was safe.
The silence stretched between them, weighted with promise, fraying Sean's nerves. Please, he chanted to himself, please...
Finally, Harry spoke. "Go to the library. I want you naked and bent over the desk by the time I get there."
Without speaking, Sean stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. He could feel Harry's eyes on him with every step he took across the grass and towards the house. His skin continued to prickle, even after the door closed behind him, and he took a second to center himself, breathing deeply. Then he continued to the library.
(To Be Continued)
Authors: Brenda (azewewish) & Jo (idiosyncratic)
Series: Claimed Universe
Notes: Click here for full disclaimers and pairings.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven | Part Twenty-Eight | Part Twenty-Nine | Part Thirty |
Sean might not have been the best swordsman ever, but he did pride himself on maintaining the skills he had. He knew if he didn't practice, he'd never hear the end of it from Harry. And, watching Harry warm up, each move as fluid and graceful as a dancer, Sean knew he'd need all of the skills he could muster.
"And you wonder why most people steer clear of you," he commented, his own warm up forgotten. Fuck, but Harry was beautiful like this, with the night air caressing his skin and the full moon the only light.
"I haven't hurt anyone that didn't deserve it in decades."
Shaking his head, Sean went back to stretching. No reason to give Harry any unnecessary advantage. "Harry," he said, bending to stretch his quads, "you are a scary fucker."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not at all. There's a lot of merit in having people fear you."
"Exactly." Harry quickly went through a few lunges and jabs before straightening. "And since most of the people I deal with need a bit of fear knocked into them, I think it's a good arrangement."
"Remind me why Karl puts up with you again?"
"I'm shocked you would ask," Harry replied as he grabbed his broadsword from the rack and turned to face Sean.
Sean snorted, trying not to laugh. He watched Harry for a moment before reaching for his sword. "It's not exactly a secret that Karl's addicted to your cock."
"There's also the fact that I'm the only person who has never kissed his ass."
"Well, there was..." Flummoxed, Sean considered Harry's words. He knew he was certainly guilty of it, at least, back in the early days when Karl had been mentoring him. "Alright, you've got me there. Even Viggo?"
"Even Viggo." Metal clanked against metal as they started to move, slow and easy, testing the other's strength. "He's done a fair amount of ass-kissing when he wanted Karl's vote on a particularly thorny resolution."
"Viggo's always been an excellent politician when he's had to be," Sean admitted, circling around Harry, every sense open for Harry's next move.
"Exactly. I've never had to go down that road with him."
"That's because you're a lousy politician." He danced back, sword up to deflect Harry's next swing. "They put you on the Council for that reason."
"And I happen to be very good at it," Harry said, voice calm and without any arrogance. Then he came in, swinging low and fast, and Sean was hard-pressed to defend himself for several minutes. It was always a surprise to him, even after all of these centuries, that someone as big as Harry could be so nimble and quick on his feet. Sean blocked each move, relying on instinct and momentum to keep him from faltering, but it was hard going.
Sweat beaded around his temples, trickled along his spine. The muscles in his arms and back ached pleasantly from the stretch of each movement. His world narrowed to this patch of earth and the sword coming at him again and again. Every maneuver was another step in a brutal dance, with Harry leading and Sean doing his best to follow and hold his own.
Sean wasn't sure when his body and instinct took over. All he knew was that he scored a few almost hits over the course of their sparring, but Harry managed to block each one at the very last second. Sean wasn't surprised. What did surprise him was that he'd kept from losing as long as he had.
Either he was getting better, or Harry was holding back.
The question was answered about thirty seconds after Sean thought it, when Harry hit him with a flurry of moves that left Sean a little dazed. Before he quite realized what was happening, Harry'd hooked his foot around Sean's ankle, dropped him to his back, and had his sword at Sean's throat.
Harry's skin was sweat-slick, glistening in the moonlight, but his breathing was even, his arm steady, as he stared down at Sean. "Do you yield?"
It was like looking up at a god. Sean held himself still, forced himself to relax. It was time, he reminded himself. He wanted this. "And if I do?" he asked, the words low, the meaning unmistakable. "What will you take as your boon?"
Harry's only outward response was a slight lift of one eyebrow. "Are you sure about this?"
Mindful of the unwavering blade that was still an inch away from his jugular, Sean nodded, the motion minute, but definite. He couldn't remember wanting anything more.
Still easily holding the sword in one hand, Harry fished in the pocket of his pants with the other, and dropped the collar on Sean's chest. "Put it on."
Careful to remain still except for his arm, Sean picked up the collar and very slowly slid it around his neck. His eyes never left Harry's. "You'll have to move the sword," he finally said, both ends of the collar caught between his fingers. "Sir."
With a smile full of dark amusement, Harry lifted the sword enough for Sean to fasten the collar. Sean let his arms fall back to his sides, making no move until Harry gave permission. He wasn't quite ready to test the boundaries tonight.
"I'd almost forgotten how good my mark looks on you," Harry commented. He walked to the rack, taking his time, and slid both swords into their places before turning and facing Sean once more. "Kneel."
Sean allowed himself one last, deep breath, then did as ordered. The ground was hard, unyielding, dew from the grass seeping through the thin material of his pants. The breeze was just cool enough to make him shiver. He kept his head down, felt every inch of the collar around his neck. Harry's mark. Harry's.
He started shivering again, this time in anticipation.
With silent footsteps, Harry circled Sean. Then he crouched down. "It chafes, doesn't it?" Harry asked, running his fingertips along the band of supple leather circling Sean's throat.
"A little."
"Good. I want you to feel my mark on you," Harry continued, tilting Sean's chin up so they were eye to eye.
Sean swallowed hard. He couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to beg Harry to throw him to the ground and take him, own him.
Harry seemed to be satisfied with whatever it was he saw in Sean's eyes. "You like that idea, don't you." It wasn't a question.
"Please." His voice was just above a whisper, heart skipping a beat at the idea behind Harry's words.
"Begging already?"
"Asking." He was proud that his voice was steady, even if his hands, clenched into tight fists in his lap, weren't.
"Oh, I don't think you've earned the right to ask for anything, do you?"
It was a test, one Sean was determined to ace. He shook his head, careful to keep his gaze at the ground. Need coiled tight in his belly.
"Good." Harry stood, after one last shiver-inducing caress to Sean's jaw, and gestured lazily at his crotch. "But I think I will allow you to convince me you should have the privilege of asking me for a favor." His voice was a slither of heat and violence. "Don't disappoint me."
Sean's tongue darted out, slid over dry lips, and he took a deep breath. Without speaking, he crawled across the few feet separating them, knowing better than to stand and walk. Then, he reached out, focused on his task, and slowly tugged at the drawstring on Harry's pants. As the string came loose in his hand, Sean leaned in and began to press light kisses just above the waistband.
The low sound that came from Harry was the only encouragement Sean needed. The pants slid down just far enough to free Harry's already hard cock, and Sean wrapped one hand around the length. His tongue traced a path up the underside, and he parted his lips, slid them down the length until he met his fingers.
Harry's only response was to bury his hands in Sean's hair. Sean knew this was another test. He'd have to earn Harry's moans. He started to move, tongue fluttering with every movement. Harry was the absolute center of Sean's universe, and he wanted nothing more than for Harry to know it. Everything else fell away as he bobbed his head, taking Harry deeper and deeper down his throat with every thrust. He used every trick he knew and invented a few new ones. If Harry wanted to be convinced, Sean wasn't going to give him room to say he hadn't tried his hardest.
Then, finally, Harry started to move.
Strong hands tightened in Sean's hair, pulling hard enough to elicit a wince. Each slick glide of Harry's cock down Sean's throat was rough, bruising, and forceful enough to have Sean choking more than once. It was exactly what Sean wanted. His free hand slid between Harry's thighs, cupped his balls, and Sean tried even harder to show Harry how much he wanted - how much he needed - this.
The resultant, low groan was music to Sean's ears. He flushed with gratitude and pride that he'd pleased Harry enough to earn it, and eagerly swallowed when Harry came deep down his throat. He tried not to gag, not wanting to waste even a drop, continued to lap at Harry's cock long after Harry stopped moving. His entire body was humming, alight with pleasure.
"Enough." The word was softly uttered, but Sean reacted instantly, pulling back and dropping his head. His throat was bruised and sore, lips stretched and cracked, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that Harry was satisfied.
Gentle fingers sifted through his hair in an absent-minded pat. "Very nice." Sean all but glowed at the praise. "You may make your request."
"I want you to mark me tonight," he said, his voice hoarse and battered. When Harry remained silent, Sean lifted his head a little, just enough to see Harry through his lashes. The look in those amazing eyes made the hairs on the back of Sean's neck stand. "Not just the collar. I want marks I'll still feel come sunset tomorrow."
"And you feel you've earned this?"
Sean nodded, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. They'd never really set any rules to this thing beyond the few that Harry had given him in the beginning. But Harry had asked a direct question, so Sean thought he was safe.
The silence stretched between them, weighted with promise, fraying Sean's nerves. Please, he chanted to himself, please...
Finally, Harry spoke. "Go to the library. I want you naked and bent over the desk by the time I get there."
Without speaking, Sean stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. He could feel Harry's eyes on him with every step he took across the grass and towards the house. His skin continued to prickle, even after the door closed behind him, and he took a second to center himself, breathing deeply. Then he continued to the library.
(To Be Continued)