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Laszlo watched Cassiel as he left back for town, noting his friend’s stiff and uncomfortable pace. He knew it would be a risk to admit to Cass that he was still afraid of him, but after their argument and their group’s recent fight with a lich, where Cassiel was put under and forced to attack Laszlo with a big spell, everything was just awkward. He knew he hurt his feelings, but his stupid fear of magic was taking over again, and the boy was at a loss on how to feel. Maybe this was better, in the end. To keep him at a distance until their group’s spell was broken, and they could all finally go their separate ways.
The younger man sighed, giving his friend a few more minutes to get back to the village on his own without him trailing awkwardly after him. He didn’t think to make sure they were fully alone, however, and didn’t hear the clinking of armor that approached from behind, too lost in his thoughts. A sharp prick on his back finally got the half-elf’s attention and he startled, but was stopped by a huge hand over his mouth.
“You really should have looked around before you left yourself alone. I taught you better,” A deep voice with a familiar, thick accent muttered above Laszlo’s head. He was suddenly lifted and couldn’t even cry out as the ominous figure started moving away, deeper into the woods. Laszlo tried to fight him off, his anger seeping through him as he went into a rage, and he punted his head back to hopefully give whoever-the-fuck a broken nose; but his head hit a solid plated chest instead and he groaned at the sharp pain.
“Always went in for the easy hits, it’s nice to see you haven’t changed a bit these last few years,” the opposing figure chuckled. Wait, I know that voice. Laszlo turned his head to look up and froze at who was holding him: it was Caedmon, a bounty hunter who tried multiple times to capture Laszlo, to deliver him back to Vicovia for the bounty on his head. He was an imposing black minotaur with a thick white blaze, yellow eyes piercing as he glared down at the smaller man in his grasp. Laszlo went into a full-body struggle, looking for any means of escape, and tried to bite at the hand over his mouth. Caedmon slammed the younger man into a nearby tree and kept him hanging by his forearm under his chin, effectively choking the half-elf. Laszlo scratched and clawed as best he could, but even in his rage he couldn’t get out of the hold, his breath coming in harsh pants.
He struggled until his face turned red from lack of oxygen, and he finally gave out as his rage ended, leaving the boy to dangle limply above the forest floor. His vision was becoming fuzzy, and he cursed as he blacked out.
--
The first thing Laszlo felt was a sharp tug in his gut as he woke. He knew it was the magical pull of his group’s cursed amulet and realized he must have been moving too far away from the others. He was tightly bound in thick ropes with his arms behind his back, laying on his side in what looked to be a heavily-covered cart. He quickly noticed the golden eyes watching him, Caedmon silently sitting on the opposite side of the cart.
“I can’t be moved farther,” Laszlo ground out, “I’ll--fucking goddamn --you won’t get your stupid reward money if I disappear, stop the cart.” He knew he sounded fucking ridiculous, but the pull in his gut was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and he hissed in pain.
“Why are you glowing orange?” Caedmon gruffly asked, not understanding the glow emanating from the half-elf. The magical pull became too much and Laszlo cried out in pain, huddling closer to alleviate the strain of the amulet’s power. Caedmon ordered the cart to stop after seeing the half-elf almost look like he was misting away at the edges. Stopping the cart wasn’t enough, and he quickly told the drivers to go back to where they were. Laszlo panted where he lay, the pain still there but gradually, it grew smaller and smaller. Caedmon watched as the captive stopped glowing after the cart moved back further, and he lifted a big hand to stop the cart.
“You gonna tell me what that was?” Caedmon growled, reaching to grasp the boy by the rope around his neck to lift him to his face. Laszlo, still overcoming the pain in his stomach, groaned at the rough treatment.
“Take these ropes off and you’ll find out,” he said, letting out a tired chuckle when the minotaur’s eyes widened in anger.
“Is it a tracking spell? You got your little purple friend from before watching us or something?” He growled, backhanding him harshly. It took him a full year to finally track down the little bastard, after hunting him for two years; he wasn’t going to risk the little shit worming himself out of this one. Before Laszlo could respond, Caedmon threw him back onto the floor and kicked him in the stomach, delivering another kick when he cried out.
“What are you fucking plotting, you stupid whore,” he snarled out, openly beating the half-elf into silence, his short temper getting the better of him. Laszlo’s breath was wheezed and shaky, blood trickling over his bruised form from the minotaur’s hoofed hands. Caedmon stood, catching his breath. Laszlo’s clothes were ripped where his hooves touched, his shirt almost in shreds; his lower half was partially exposed, the boy’s kilt had a huge tear up to the belt on the left thigh. Caedmon let out a frustrated snort.
Laszlo didn’t fucking think this through. Hell, it would have been better for the amulet to just suck him away from this mess, but for some dumbass reason he decided to speak up about it. He didn’t want Caedmon finding his friends, didn’t want him telling him anything they didn’t need to know.
“It isn’t a tracking spell, no one knows I’m out here,” he finally coughed out, glancing up at the tall minotaur above him. He stayed curled on his side, his face flushed at seeing his clothes so torn up.
“How did you finally find me? Didn’t realize you were that desperate for money, hah,” he let out a choked laugh, spitting out blood. “Queen Kane ain’t payin’ y’all no more since the war broke out or--,” Caedmon let out a deep growl, cutting off Laszlo’s smack talk. Laszlo wouldn’t be able to last if he got another beating.
“I’ve been watching you for a few months,” Caedmon admitted, crouching to get a better look at the boy’s bare, tattooed thigh. Laszlo curled in on himself closer, flinching when Caedmon placed his cloven hand on his belt and thigh. “You kept disappearing every now and then, lost your scent for a while, but picked it back up in Kovos about a month ago.
“Are these everywhere?” He asked offhandedly, gripping Laszlo’s belt and dragging him closer to his crouched stance, thumbing across an intricate tattooed flower on the upper thigh. “They’re a bit too pretty for you; whores don’t get flowers.”
Laszlo cringed at the feeling of the sharp cloven thumb trailing across his quad. “Now, tell me, what was that glowing spell? I’m not about to test to see if what you said before would actually happen, so start talking.”
“I--it’s not, it won’t do anything, I can’t be too far away or--,” Laszlo stumbled with his words.
“Too far away from what, so it was something that the pretty one did?”
“No, he didn’t--he has nothing to do with this--,”
“You’re hiding something and you need to tell me now or,” Caedmon let out a sharp whistle, alerting the drivers of the cart. “We’ll have to see if you remember everything we taught you.” Laszlo’s breath hitched at the threat, seeing two others poke their heads in from the back of the covered cart, his gut dropping at seeing the similar faces of two other bounty hunters.
“You startin’ without us, big guy?” One of them said, jumping into the cart, already unbuckling his belt as he moved closer. Laszlo tried to scooch back, but the hand on his belt gripped tighter, refusing to budge. He was surrounded.
“Aw he cut his long hair, what the hell is this short shit?” The other said, gripping Laszlo’s head and tugging harshly.
“He’s gotten bigger, look how filled out his tits are, wow,” the first man ripped the buttons off Laszlo’s shirt, revealing his pecs, chilled from the evening air. The man lewdly gripped them as if they were breasts, cupping and squishing them together.
“What’s this thing, a skirt? You playing dress-up or something?” The second bastard lifted Laszlo’s kilt, groping his way upwards.
“Let go of me you fucking--!” Laszlo yelled, horrified, trying to twist his body away from the touches, but the grip in his hair tightened, pulling his head to the side as his tits continued to get played with. Caedmon crouched silently, letting his cohorts have their way, thoroughly enjoying seeing the boy lose his composure.
“Actually, scratch that. You can tell us after we’re done with you,” he said, huffing in amusement at Laszlo’s widening stare. “Hold him down.” Caedmon commanded, raising Laszlo’s skirt and wringing a thick finger into his blue underwear, pulling it to the side.
—
Laszlo considered crying out for help, considered calling to his friends in the magical sending-bracelet they all had, considered trying to fight them off, to gain some of his dignity back, but these men...they knew him. They did this before, and after everything that had happened to Laszlo with his friends, his partner, and recently falling out with Cassiel...it felt at home, to be in a situation like this. He deserved this, after all the bullshit he put his friends through, for them having to deal with his problems, his anti-magic idiocy. He didn’t want Erran to see him like this. Maybe it was fitting, to go back and play the runaway whore. It’s what he was trained to do, all along.
He whimpered at feeling the cold air on his limp cock, shuddering at the minotaur’s breath huffing, smelling him. The other two men kept him down, one by his hair, the other placing his hands on his pecs and pressing down. Caedmon pressed his muzzle into Laszlo’s groin, inhaling his scent deeply. His nose nudged the boy’s balls, and Laszlo let out an uncomfortable groan at the ghost-touch.
“S’been too long, I missed your taste,” Caedmon mumbled, going for another deep sniff, letting his long, thick tongue roll out to lick that soft cockhead. Laszlo startled at the slimy feeling, but stayed as still as he could. From what he remembered, Caedmon was ruthless if things didn’t go his way; best bet was to be as quiet and obedient as he could.
Caedmon enveloped Laszlo’s entire cock into his mouth, playing with the underside with his tongue. His horns brushed against the boy’s chest and Laszlo startled, causing the minotaur to glare down at him. He sucked the cock harshly, and Laszlo let out a wince at the tightening pain-pleasure; his dick finally began to fill out, and became heavy on the bull’s tongue. With a lewd pop, Caedmon removed himself and directed his attention to the two men.
“Turn him around.”
--
“Are ye sure Laszlo just went for a walk?” Erran asked impatiently, watching Cassiel’s uncomfortable stance. The tiefling grunted, obviously annoyed with the nonstop pestering coming from the big firbolg since he returned.
“He went that way if you’re so fucking concerned, leave me alone already,” Cassiel said, waving a hand in the direction he came from about an hour ago. He was also mildly concerned the little shithead hadn’t returned yet, but he wasn’t about to go look for him after the awkward talk they had. Erran huffed at the tiefling’s nonchalant behavior, immediately turning towards where Cassiel pointed.
“I’ll be back,” he announced to the group. The others nodded, Grudaan asking if he wanted a tag-a-long, but Erran shook his head. Something was twisting his gut up, and he had a bad feeling after seeing Cassiel return alone. Going back to his wandering roots, Erran began tracking his little boyfriend, scenting the air, looking for shoe prints. It was early evening, and light was leaving quickly, so he urgently scoured the forest. He came across what looked like his partner’s foot prints, but his stomach dropped at seeing them disappear. He saw what looked like cloven hoof prints instead, and they didn’t look like a normal bovine’s prints; they were bigger, and didn’t have a set of four...
Erran bolted in the direction the prints were, unhooking his crossbow. In the distance, hidden away in thick foliage, he saw a cart, the horses attached to it lazily eating grass. Erran squinted as he listened intently; he saw the cart was moving slightly, not leaving, just moving weird. His gut dropped at seeing the cloven hoof prints going directly towards the cart. He snuck up, holding his anxiety in as long as he could, and heard sounds that would haunt him for the rest of his years: hearing his partner struggle, wet slapping noises, a rough groan. Erran silently unhooked the cart’s horses, snuck around to the side, and planned to kill the first person he saw, but he suddenly felt a thick rope grow tight around his neck. One sharp tug and he was choking on the ground, clutching at his neck.
“Lookie what we got here, boss! Shit, he’s a big one,” Erran didn’t realize how many people there were, thought it was only one or two. Fuck , he thought, frustrated to no end. The cart stopped creaking, and the owner of the cloven hoof prints clambered out, wiping his lower region with a loose towel as he glared at the giant firbolg, tying his pants back together. Erran caught a glimpse of Laszlo, and he openly struggled as he saw the blood and bruises, the lack of clothes--
“Let him go,” Erran growled out, and was able to yank the rope out of the offender’s hands as he rose. Before the offender could move, Erran had his hands on his head and he twisted as hard as he could, hearing the man’s bones crack as his neck was broken. He dumped the body and went right for the minotaur, but Caedmon was quicker as he headbutted Erran, goring him slightly with his horns. Erran grunted in pain and was slammed into the side of the cart, clutching his stomach. The wounds didn’t seem deep, but blood spread quickly over his shirt.
“Did we take your little whore? Sorry,” Caedmon grunted out, grabbing hold of Erran’s shirt and hoisting him up; he pressed the big firbolg into the cart, snarling in his face. He was impressed to see a firbolg so tall; he came up almost to eye-level. “We’ll pay you back for the use, promise.”
Erran snarled right back at the minotaur, grabbing his shortsword and swiping a cut in the bull’s side; if he hadn’t had padded armor on, it would have been a nasty cut.
“Want to watch?” Caedmon laughed and directed his lackey to tie the firbolg up; he walked back to the cart. Erran struggled in the bindings he was placed in; these weren’t normal ropes, and they dug harshly in his skin and fur. A cry was heard and Erran’s ears twitched as he saw the minotaur pulling Laszlo out by his hair and dumping him onto the floor at his feet. He looked rough, his bare skin battered. Erran’s heart clenched in sorrow at seeing his partner’s face so fearful; the pair locked eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Laszlo asked in horror, lifting himself to rest on his knees. Caedmon kneeled behind Laszlo; Erran heard the minotaur’s belt buckle clink and he lost his shit, wrenching himself in any way to get out of his hold. Laszlo felt Caedmon’s hand press him harshly into the ground, another on his hip to keep his lower half up. Erran saw Laszlo stiffen, saw the minotaur bully his way into spreading his man’s legs--
“Don’t you touch him!” Erran yelled, jolting as he met the minotaur’s cruel gaze; the bull was holding his cock towards Laszlo’s ass, and made sure to keep eye contact with the firbolg as he entered the half-elf once more. Laszlo let out a strained grunt, refusing to meet his boyfriend’s gaze.
“Now, now, you’ll get your turn, old man. I know all about you and this little welp,” Caedmon rumbled out, his eyes glancing down to watch his dick become enveloped in Laszlo’s warmth entirely; he let out a pleased little noise. “I saw you cheering him on with such a gleam in your eyes as he competed in the Kovos tournament. You couldn’t take your perverted eyes off of him, could you? Oh, don’t worry, he isn’t hurting too much. He already came once.” Erran flushed in anger, feeling tears bead in his eyes. Why isn’t Laszlo fighting? Erran turned his head away at the display, the filthy words clouding his head, but a thick sword was at his throat, a hand in his hair turning him back.
“Oh no you don’t, old man, you’re watching this,” the lackey muttered in his ear. Erran stubbornly flattened his ears, shutting his eyes. It felt like he was about to throw up, he was so frustrated at himself. A choking sound startled him, and his eyes flew open to see the minotaur towering over Laszlo, spreading his thick legs wider to grab the back of Laszlo’s neck and choke him from behind.
“Turn away again and I’ll kill the little bastard myself; his head’s still worth a pretty penny even if he’s dead, makes no difference to me.” Erran couldn’t stop his tears if he wanted to; he watched in horror at the bull taking his partner, at Laszlo being pressed into the dirt and fucked cruelly, yet doing nothing to help himself. Caedmon didn’t last long, and Laszlo’s lower half was lifted as the bull slammed himself in one last time, cumming deeply into his captive. His cloven hands had blood trailing down as he clenched at Laszlo’s hips, leaving deep cuts. Caedmon kept his eyes locked on the firbolg’s, smiling like a mad man as he pulled out. Laszlo made a scared noise as Caedmon pulled out too quickly, and the bull made sure to pull out a bit slower, smacking Laszlo’s ass and shoving a thick cloven finger into him, wiggling the digit until Laszlo let out another winced sob. He stood at his full height, walking over to Erran’s weeping form. The firbolg was too focused on Laszlo’s shaking, at the cum and blood seeping from his lower region.
“Your turn, old man,” Caedmon said, eyeing the firbolg’s thick lips, but as he stepped forward, an arrow went into his neck. He roared, twisting to see who struck, but felt his vision fading as he was promptly knocked out. Laszlo scooched away, quickly avoiding the massive bull crashing to the ground, unconscious. The bull’s lackey panicked and went to run, but Erran turned his head and watched the lackey’s head get cleaved off. Integrity. She was with Erran’s crew. The tall, mauve-colored tiefling paladin stood behind the lackey, her face horror-struck at the situation. She silently undid Erran’s ropes with a clean cut, her pink sclera focused on Laszlo’s form.
“We came as soon as we heard,” a voice was heard in the distance; Erran saw Cal, their group’s ranger, running up, already shedding his black cloak to cover Laszlo, bow behind his back. Erran saw the human place a hand on his boy’s shoulder, and he went blind; before he knew it, he had Cal on his back, his thick hand at the man’s scruffy throat, snarling like a mad animal.
“Erran, wait!” Integrity yelled, grabbing at the man from behind to tug him away. Erran couldn’t stop himself, he snarled closer to Cal’s face, felt the tiefling behind him begging for him to stop--
“Erran,” a scratchy voice made the giant pause.“I’m okay, I’m here.” Erran’s grip faltered at hearing that small voice, and he broke down, tears dripping onto Cal’s face. Cal squirmed out of Erran’s hold, patting the big man’s shoulders as he walked towards Laszlo, grief stricken at seeing his best friend in such a state. Laszlo struggled to stand, but with the help of Integrity unbinding him, he was on his feet.
“We can’t stay here, we need to get out of here before Caedmon’s other lackeys show up,” Laszlo said, spitting a wad of blood onto Caedmon’s form. Erran flinched as he felt a hand on his shoulder, finally focusing on Laszlo right next to him. He broke, silently wrapping his arms around him, pressing his head into Laszlo’s middle. Laszlo was slack at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, listening to the older man sob, the cries emanating through the forest.