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“Do you have a deathwish?” Harkan growls as he crowds Gortash against his throne. His memories before the tadpole are hazy, but he feels that the new Archduke didn’t take risks like this before. He’s been reckless these past weeks. Ever since Harkan agreed to an alliance Gortash has been pushing at potential allies and enemies alike. His latest act has been borderline insulting an envoy from Menzobarranzan,
“I’ve no idea what you mean,” Gortash replies defiantly. The smirk tugging at his mouth betrays him; he knows exactly what the tiefling means. A growl rumbles from Harkan, and his hand shoots out, fisting the hair at the nape of the man’s neck. He watches as pupils dilate, making dark eyes darker. He crowds closer, part of him purring as Gortash shudders,
“You’ve been reckless recently. I’ve no idea what’s causing it but you’re costing yourself potential allies,” the smirk remains firm on Gortash’s face,
“You, my dear assassin, are likely the only ally I currently need. What need have I of the drow forces when you, yourself, are the perfect killer?” the urges within Harkan purr in satisfaction at the compliment. In contrast to the happy feeling, he bares his teeth. It irks him that this man he has little memory of knows just the right things to say to him. His growl is louder now, and yet he has no desire to truly harm the man. Had any other spoken to him this way they would be dead on the floor,
“Don’t try to flatter me, politician,” he spits the last word like an insult,
“From what I have heard on the streets, and what little memory of before that remains, this is unlike you. What happened to that Gortash? The one who could broker a deal as easy as breathing?” the human laughs,
“Nothing has happened dear Harkan, I have always been this,” his expression twists bitterly,
“Though it seems you do not remember. We tempered one another, worked out our more... negative traits in order to present something more put together to the masses,” Harkan’s tail twitches behind him. Experimentally, acting on instinct more than thought, he presses his free hand to the front of the other’s throat. He doesn’t squeeze, merely rests his hand there. Gortash’s eyelids flutter in pleasure all the same,
“What were we before? I feel protective of you. I feel near feral when any look at you with even a hint of malice. We were far more than merely allies,” Gortash takes a moment to respond. His eyes are half lidded, he’s relaxed into the tiefling’s grip. Harkan comes to the realisation before the man even speaks,
“Do I truly need to spell it out for you?” He does not but the tiefling wants to hear him say it. Desires are stirring within him, the desire to tame the man held in his grip. He is the man’s attack dog, that much has been clear to him since their reunion weeks before, but this is something else. In this he knows he is the one in charge, no matter how hard won the control may be. Gortash presses into the hold Harkan has on his neck,
“We were lovers, you and I,” his eyes go a little distant, his jaw clenches,
“You vanished without a word. Slipped from our bed in the night and never returned,” the words our bed spark a memory in Harkan’s ruined mind,
“Your bed,” he murmurs,
“It was too soft, I could never sleep unless I wore myself out on your body first,” Gortash’s eyes soften. For the first time since this started the man reaches out and grabs the other. The claws of his gauntlets prick at Harkan’s skin through fabric,
“Yes, I was often worn out before you were,” a purr rumbles in the tiefling’s throat at barely there memories flitting across his mind,
“Hm, I seem to recall that you’re a brat,” his tail twitches,
“Is that what this has been? You’ve been acting up to get my attention? Throwing allies away because you need to get fucked properly?” he leans in closer. Gortash’s eyes flicker to his lips then back to his eyes,
“I don’t think you deserve it. Not after all you’ve done lately,” disappointment twists on the other man’s face for a moment before his usual smug look returns,
“I have patriars throwing themselves at me every day you know? I also have a pile of marriage proposals sitting on my desk. If I wanted to get fucked I could have near anyone in Baldur’s Gate,” Harkan bares his teeth. Possessiveness rears its ugly head within him,
“You’re mine Enver,” his voice is a snarl, his fingers tighten around the Archduke’s vulnerable throat. Gortash’s eyes slide closed at the sensation. It makes a part of Harkan, the darker part, want to make the man pay for his trust. He almost wants to keep squeezing, to choke the life from him like he has done to hundreds of others. The desire is fleeting, however, and his mind goes to far more traditionally pleasurable matters,
“Your room, where is it?” Gortash opens his eyes once more and raises an eyebrow,
“If you wish for me to lead you there then you have to let go of me,” the tiefling snarls in displeasure, but relinquishes his hold. Standing, Gortash straightens his clothes some. Harkan notes with some satisfaction that he has to adjust himself to make his hard cock less visible through his trousers. He cares not if any can see his arousal, he’ll simply make a note of their faces and slaughter them later. Right now all he cares for is reminding the man before him who he belongs to.
It’s a short walk to the human’s room. Harkan is glued to his side the whole time, a hand fisted in the back of his jacket. He scans the room once they enter. It’s not the room he would expect from an Archduke. Gortash’s bed is small and shoved against one wall. He chooses not to comment, but makes a note of it for later. Right now he’s occupied with the man next to him,
“Strip,” he orders, voice stern. He slips into this role easily. It feels right, to order the man like this, with no room for any sort of discussion. Gortash doesn’t move. Instead he scoffs,
“You’ve been gone for months. This is the first time you will touch me like this that you can remember, and all you can say is ‘strip’? Come, offer a little more creativity, I thought you were a bard?” Harkan growls and crowds the man back against the door,
“Yes, was a bard. Now, either you strip or I rip your clothes from you. It’s your choice. I do hope you have a good tailor,” a shudder runs through Gortash at the threat. For a moment it seems as though Harkan will have to make good on his threat. That is until, with slightly trembling fingers, the man starts to remove his clothes. He isn’t neat about it, simply drops his clothes as he removes them with no regard as to where they land, but it stokes the tiefling’s desire all the same.
He tracks his eyes over the skin that has been bared to him. He has a clear strength lying below his skin, a marker of his youth if Harkan were to guess, though he may have known once. He’s soft around the middle, a less active politician’s lifestyle making him round out. It makes his mouth go dry. He wants to squeeze the man’s hips just to feel his fingers press into the softness there. A satisfied purr rumbles from him when he notes scars over the man’s hipbones. He knows without checking that they are from his teeth. He looks over all the places where silvery marks break through dark body hair. Some are not from him, they’re older. His urges demand that he remove the maker of them from the world.
Gortash shifts, becoming impatient under Harkan’s hungry gaze,
“Patience, let me look,” the tiefling mutters distractedly. He runs his hands over the man’s skin, enjoying the tickle of hair against his palms. His exploration is unexpectedly gentle, despite his previous manner. Memories flicker at the edges of his mind, both of similar explorations and of far rougher touches. One such memory has him finally looking down further, he groans at the sight. Silver glistens at the head of the other’s cock, a piercing. He runs a thumb over it on impulse, and Gortash’s hips stutter into his hand, a hiss of pleasure escaping between the man’s teeth,
“You always did like it,” he speaks, voice strained. Harkan hums in agreement,
“I still do, it suits you. The silver makes me think of a blade against your skin,” a moan leaves Gortash at the words. Harkan touches the piercing once more, moving it slightly to get more of a reaction, then slides his hand down between Gortash’s legs. At the same time he dips his head to capture the Archduke’s lips with his own. He moans into the tiefling’s mouth as strong fingers squeeze his balls just to the edge of pain before releasing. Questing fingers slip behind them and stop short at what is found. The base of a plug is nestled there. Harkan breaks the kiss and looks at Gortash in disbelief,
“How often have you been wearing this?” he asks, pressing against the skin-warmed metal. Gortash’s hands, gauntlets still adorning them, squeeze Harkan’s shoulders,
“A-ah. Ever since you returned. You didn’t recognise me, I needed something with you so close and yet so far from me,” the tiefling growls and grips the base of the plug, pulling it out slightly then pressing it back in,
“Such a slut,” his voice is low, a feral and hungry edge to it. Gortash decides to push at the other’s buttons,
“Yes, I was rather close to becoming a patron of the Sharess’ Caress. They have a room you know, one where the identity of all who enter is concealed, I considered going there and allowing any man fuck me as they pleased,” possessiveness rears its ugly head in Harkan. The growl drawn from him is vicious, it makes the human shiver, but he’s not done. He wants to make the other lose control, needs him to put him in his place,
“I hoped that if I did they would leave marks that you’d see. Bruises that weren’t made by your hands,” Harkan’s control snaps. He lifts Gortash easily and presses him face down into his mattress. One strong hand holds him down by the back of his neck,
“You’re mine Enver Gortash,” he snarls into the man’s ear,
“Any who touch you apart from me will meet a slow and painful death do you understand?” Gortash’s eyelids droop a little, and he shivers in pleasure,
“Prove it,” he taunts, unable to resist poking the tiger-like tiefling further. He’s rewarded with the sharp sting of Harkan’s tail cracking against his inner thigh. He gasps in shock more than pain at first. The sting of it registers a few moments later, and he moans low in his throat. The hand not pinning him to the bed dips between his legs once more, sharp claws running with slight threat over sensitive skin,
“I may not be the exact same as I was before, Enver, but that’s still a very dangerous thing to say to me,” the tiefling’s voice is laced with threat. Gortash feels no fear from the words, he knows that even now the other won’t hurt him in any long-lasting way, instead they make him shiver in anticipation,
“I’m rather counting on it, my dear assassin,” even now he can’t resist being difficult. Harkan wraps his tail around one of Gortash’s ankles and finally begins to shrug off his own clothing. It doesn’t take long before he’s as bare as the other man. His cock hangs hard and heavy, precum glistening at the tip. It’s ridged and there are some soft spines lining the underside. The knot at its base is already a little swollen, showing that Harkan is just as aroused as Gortash.
He drapes himself over the Archduke’s back, sliding his cock between the other’s thighs. The ridges on his cock grind against Gortash’s, causing the other to moan and shake against him,
“You’re going to behave or this-” he grinds his hips a little, dragging ridges over Gortash’s cock in a sensuous slide,
“Will end here. I’ll cum over your back and leave you to deal with your own arousal alone,”
“Such a tease,” Enver huffs,
“I wouldn’t have to tease if you’d just behave,” Harkan growls into his ear. He slides a hand around Gortash’s hip, claws pricking a little at the delicate skin there. He releases his hold on the back of the man’s neck, trusting Gortash to remain where he put him, and starts to tease at the base of the plug. He pulls it out halfway, stretching Gortash around its widest point,
“Hells, you’re going to be wide open for me, aren’t you?” Harkan’s voice is more of a growl than anything else. Gortash buries his face in the sheets, trying to muffle the undignified whines that are escaping him. In response the tiefling’s hand, the one previously holding his hip, shoots out and fists in his hair. He yanks the Archduke’s head up,
“I’ll hear you, tyrant. You’re not hiding anything from me,” he finally tugs the plug free from Enver’s hole, dropping it to the side carelessly. The archduke isn’t left empty for long, Harkan presses two fingers inside. He can’t help but choke out a groan on feeling how relaxed the archduke is. He presses in a third finger easily, leaning back to watch them disappear inside. Gortash has brought his hands forward to support the deep arch Harkan is forcing him into. His voice carries throughout the room as the tiefling finds the right area within him to elicit the greatest amount of pleasure. Harkan works the man over with a practised ease that he can’t remember but his body does,
“Look at you,” he presses with his fingers, drawing an almost pained shout from Gortash,
“You’re so eager for me. Is this what you’ve wanted these past weeks? To be held down and fucked like a whore?” still-gauntleted fingers scrabble at the sheets, tearing them as the Archduke tries to hold on against the pleasurable onslaught. He’s so close, almost at the brink of an orgasm just from the dextrous press on Harkan’s fingers. Sensing this, the tiefling pulls away, relishing in the disappointed sound Enver makes,
“Not yet, I’ll make you beg for it by the end of this Enver,” he releases the human’s hair, allowing the man to drop his head to hang between his arms,
“Oil?” Harkan asks. Gortash has to take a few steadying breaths before he can gain enough sense to reply,
“In the nightstand,” his normally smooth voice is rough. He’s shuddering a little, frustrated by his denied orgasm. The tiefling moves quickly, grabbing the oil from where he was told, and flipping Gortash to lie on his back,
“I want to see your face as you cum around my knot,” he slicks his cock quickly then replaces the stopper in the bottle, tossing it aside carelessly. Lining himself up he pauses for a moment, checking that the human is okay for him to continue,
“Please,” Gortash near begs. His legs are spread wide to accommodate Harkan’s muscular bulk, and his cock is dripping precum onto his stomach. The tiefling presses the head of his cock against the other’s hole teasingly for a few moments before pressing in with one strong thrust. He doesn’t allow Enver to grow used to the sensation, simply setting a hard and fast pace immediately.
Gortash’s hands fly up to grab at the tiefling’s shoulders. The claws of his gauntlets cut into Harkan’s skin shallowly, drawing blood. The sensation makes his hips stutter for a moment, his eyes squeezing shut so he can regain a little composure. The metal digs in harder. In retaliation Harkan leans in and sinks his teeth into the Archduke’s shoulder, drawing blood in return. The taste of blood in his mouth spurs him on.
The keep drawing blood from each other. Enver is opening countless scratches on Harkan’s back, marking the tiefling as he is marked in return. The crimson of the small rivulets of blood stand out against his blue skin. Being mindful of his horns he dips his head further, seeking to mark up Gortash’s chest where all the patriars will see. The Archduke doesn’t stop him as he sucks bruises and leaves searing bites on his skin, merely shakes and moans under the attentions. It’s going to look like Enver has been mauled by some animal by the time Harkan is done. In a way he has, the feral way the tiefling is taking him is certainly more beast than man,
“Mine,” Harkan snarls against his skin. His teeth and lips are stained with blood, and his eyes are wild. Gortash doesn’t contest the claim this time, his head has finally reached that fuzzy blissed-out state that only Harkan can give him.
The tiefling tucks his face into Enver’s neck, breathing in his scent and kissing there with a surprising tenderness. His thrusts have slowed to a sensual glide, no longer frantic with the need to claim. Harkan shifts, freeing a little space so he can slip a hand down to tease at the head of Gortash’s cock. He moans against the man’s neck as he feels how slick he is with pre-cum. He swipes his thumb over Enver’s piercing, drawing an uncharacteristically high-pitched whine from the man. Those gauntlets bite at Harkan’s skin once more as the Archduke desperately clings to him,
“I’m close,” he manages to gasp. It draws a purr from the tiefling, and Harkan redoubles his efforts,
“Cum for me, my tyrant,” the possessive edge to Harkan’s voice has Gortash tumbling over the brink. Hot spend coats the tiefling’s hand and both their stomachs. Harkan doesn’t slow, chasing his own orgasm. It makes Enver whine with overstimulation, the pleasure he felt morphing into something almost painful. It takes a few more stuttered thrusts before Harkan’s knot locks inside. They moan in unison, Harkan at the satisfaction of finally knotting, and Gortash at the extra stretch,
“Mine,” Harkan repeats once more, softer this time. He shifts them both easily, rolling so Gortash can rest on his chest whilst they wait out the tiefling’s knot. Harkan hisses a little through his teeth as the scratches on his back make contact with the sheets, but settles down quickly. He’s wraps his tail around one of Gortash’s ankles and his arms are wrapped around the Archduke possessively,
“I’m keeping you,” Harkan says quietly,
“You can’t get rid of me now, tyrant,” Gortash huffs a quiet laugh, a puff of breath that makes the tiefling shiver a little as it makes contact with his heated skin,
“I’m rather certain I got stuck with you the very first time we met, my dear assassin,” Harkan hums tiredly,
“You’ll have to tell me of our first meeting sometime,” he trails his fingers up Gortash’s spine lazily. It’s an uncharacteristically gentle action that makes the human shudder. He says nothing to Harkan in return, his breaths evening out as he begins to doze off. The tiefling huffs a quiet laugh and settles down as well, knowing that they’re both in for a rude awakening in about 20 minutes when his knot goes down. He’ll have to bother Enver about the details of their first meeting another time.