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Zed had been reckless. Leading the acolytes into that abandoned Noxian base had meant certain death at worst and full-blown disaster at best. But still—he’d had to know what they were planning. What disaster they intended to unleash upon his people. And now, well—
Now, he knows.
Dread settles low in his gut. The urge returns. His eyes linger on Kayn’s bared back, the faint glow of the campfire haloing his hunched-over form. Kayn’s been stealing glances at him since they escaped, doing little to disguise his concern. What a sight he must look, he thinks bitterly.
Zed forces himself to look away. They’re alone, at least. After Kayn had knocked over that barrel of fumes, Zed had shoved him out of the way and with his last clear thought, ordered him to lead the retreat.
But Kayn had come back. He’d come to him after the haze of chemicals had cleared and carried him off to some nearby cave, before covering him in furs and starting a fire like some kind of nursemaid.
Fire. Flame engulfs his flesh, enveloping him all-consuming, unrelenting heat. He knows what they were doing in that lab, knows what he’s feeling, but he refuses to accept it, even as his skin crawls with need, with yearning. It’s as if every cell in his body knows what he needs and it sings his name without a shred of shame.
“Master?” Kayn jerks around, anxious. Suddenly, he’s by Zed’s side with a bowl of soup in his corrupted hand and Zed’s cheek in his other. His fingers are cool to the touch, a welcome reprieve from the inexorable heat.
He jerks away.
He could find a whore, he thinks, but the thought repulses him, reminds him of his mother, his sister, of the acolytes he’d saved and given the will to fight. He sees their faces and knows he can’t. So an acolyte, then. Any one of them would die for him, he knows. This is not so different. But when he thinks on them, all he sees is Kayn right before him, eyes wide and scared and filled with the trust of a child. What would they think of him after? So there is no solution, not really.
His body sings with traitorous glee.
Shen, Shen, you must find Shen. Shen will take care of you. Shen will fill this void. Shen will make you whole.
He can’t do this. He can’t keep stalling, Zed knows, no matter his pride. He must find him. He’s delayed it long enough. Zed knows what they were brewing in that tyrant’s lab, feels it thrumming through his veins, clawing at him from within: raw, unadulterated desire, lethal unless satisfied.
“Master,” Kayn tries, but Zed can barely make out the words over the torrent of blood rushing through his ears. “I can help. Just—just tell me what you need.”
Kayn presses closer. Zed scrambles backwards, body dragging across the cold cave floor. Sweat drips from his brow.
“Shen—” Zed grits out. “You must find Shen.”
Kayn’s eyes harden.
“Shen,” he spits. “You don’t need Shen. I can help, Master.”
It’s humiliating, is the truth. The thought of going back to Shen, for something like—like this. But Shen is the only one he can trust, the only one he can go to. He won’t be too far. Shen would help him, Zed knows. The brute would take just one, sentimental glance at this pathetic little showing and he’d help him without a second thought. It would be so easy.
And if he didn’t, well—
Zed supposes he’d had it coming.
“Kayn,” he tries again. “You don’t understand—”
“I do,” the boy insists, stubborn as ever. “I’m not a child.”
Zed hisses in frustration. His self-control wavers, and he palms at his dick, feeling the length of it strain against his tattered trousers. Even his own touch is maddening, like a promise of relief that never quite comes.
“Go into the village,” Zed commands. “Find Shen. Someone will—” A stab of need, an ache, an emptiness down below. Arousal permeates the air. “Someone will know where he is.”
Kayn glances at the mouth of the cave, then stares back.
“But Master—” Kayn starts. His hand reaches for Zed, but before it gets close, he smacks it out of the way with a crack that echoes.
“Go!” Zed barks. It takes the last of strength to get it out, but he does. He shuts his eyes. He claws at his clothes. He needs it off, all of it, now. He needs Shen, now. Perhaps he’d been a fool. Perhaps Shen was all he’d ever needed.
Then, he feels it. Fingers, moving his wrist. A hand against his cheek.
It’s Shen, he thinks dizzily. He’s come.
He’d known he would. He leans into it. They never could escape each other. He’d known it, felt it in his bones. Only—
When he opens his eyes, it’s not Shen staring back at him, it’s—
“Kayn,” he says, breathless. He blinks, hoping it’s a dream, but it’s not, it’s Kayn, it’s Kayn sliding into his lap, Kayn squeezing his thighs around his hips, Kayn squirming and grinding on his crotch like he was made for it. His hips thrust up of their own accord. “I thought I…” He can barely remember the words. “I thought I told you to go.”
Kayn’s fingers find Zed’s. He laces them together, bony hips jerking awkwardly back and forth. It feels like heaven. The world spins.
“Let me, Master,” Kayn murmurs, quiet. His touch only inflames him further. Zed blinks.
Panic filters in through the haze. Zed jerks upwards, throwing Kayn off and to the side. He can feel his dick bobbing against the fabric, expectant.
“Get out, Kayn,” Zed demands, even as his body sings for his touch. Guilt rises in his throat, intermingling with growing anger. “It’s not—” He inhales, labored. “Not right. You need to go. Now.”
Kayn’s features twist in open defiance. A flash of outrage flares in his chest, because how dare he?
“No,” he insists. “I won’t leave you.”
Absently, Zed’s fingers dip beneath his waistband to wrap around his cock, engulfing it in delicious heat. He’s hard, painfully so, and he needs—needs something .
Someone.
His head pounds. Maybe—
Zed’s eyes find Kayn’s.
Maybe anyone will do.
“Fuck,” Zed moans, tugging at his dick. Why won’t he listen? Stupid, stupid fucking kid. “I’m not—not fucking around, Kayn. Leave. ”
He watches Kayn’s throat bob as he swallows, zeroes in on the motion with frightening intensity.
Then, he speaks, slow and measured: “No.”
Zed moves at a speed he didn’t think possible in this state. Suddenly, he’s on his feet, deft fingers wrapped tight around the slender length of his student’s throat as he presses him against the wall. Blood pulses against his eardrums; his breaths fill the air between them. Shadow dissipates on the ground where he’d been lying not moments ago. All that remains is fury.
“No?” Zed echoes, callously cruel. His gaze bores down upon Kayn’s twin black eyes— wrong, so wrong— and tightens his grip. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, this boy, but Zed will show him. Zed will show him and maybe—maybe he will flee.
He expects Kayn to fight back—to scream, to struggle, to squirm , but all he does is moan. The sound shoots straight to his dick.
He’s pretty, Zed thinks absently. His student. His pretty little student, with his pretty, dark hair and pretty, pouting lips and pretty, girlish lashes. Kayn’s eyes water. He must be suffocating by now. Zed’s eyes flit to where his hand dwarfs Kayn’s throat. He’s so… small. When his gaze trails further down, all he sees is the dark spot on his pants. Zed wants to defile him.
“You want to help?” Zed spits. “So be it.”
He lets go. Kayn drops to his knees, clutching his throat as he gasps for breath, but his gaze never leaves Zed’s. The crackle of excitement thrums beneath his skin.
Finally, his flesh snarls. He hasn’t had a good fuck in ages and through the haze of his lust-addled mind, he can’t seem to remember why.
“Open,” he demands, when Kayn has finally caught his breath. And Kayn, his precious, perfect, obedient Kayn opens so prettily for him. Zed’s lips twitch. He slides his fingers past Kayn’s lips, pads pressing violently down on the flat of his tongue, and relishes in the sweet suction of his mouth, the way his tongue curls dutifully along his digits, the way he coats them in slick without ever being asked.
“Pretty,” Zed murmurs absently, fingers reaching down the free his straining cock from the confines of his trousers. It hits his navel with a smack. Kayn’s eyes follow the motion, enrapt. Zed laughs, low and dangerous. He drags his fingers out with a pop, smearing saliva across his pale features in mock reverence. “Is this what you wanted, boy?”
Kayn’s eyes widen. Zed doesn’t wait for a response. He doesn’t need one; the low groan that reverberates around his dick is all the confirmation he needs before he slides deeper and deeper in, waves of pleasure, of relief, washing over him like the tides.
Kayn’s mouth is small, just like the rest of him, all silk and softness. He opens so easily for him, takes him so well, like he was made for it, made for him, like the spirits brought him all the way across the sea just for Zed.
He threads his fingers through Kayn’s hair, gentle, so painstakingly gentle, until he hears it: a whimper, a wordless, pitiful plea that sends blood rushing below. Zed grips his hair, pistoning in and out of that tight, wet heat with brutal, almost animal urgency, luxuriating in the way his sweet boy’s throat spasms around the head.
He forces himself deeper and deeper still, until tears begin to bead at Kayn’s eyes and hands bat helplessly at his thighs, and even then, he grants Kayn no reprieve. He forces his head to the base, drowning him in the scent of him.
Kayn looks so perfect like this, Zed thinks, lips wrapped prettily around his cock as tears spill down his cheeks. He should’ve done this sooner. He’d had this boy for years and never once thought of taking him. He’d offered, too, in no words at all. The whore was practically begging for it, coming to his quarters half-dressed with his pretty wide eyes and whorish wet lips.
Zed could’ve had this every evening, could’ve had him warming it at every meal, gagging on it every night, taking it whenever he demanded. The thought only fuels the fire beneath his flesh, pushing him closer and closer until he feels it coming, that tightness, that peak, and this time, he forces himself to the base, pinning Kayn’s head against the cavern wall as he comes.
He gazes at the ceiling, sweet release soothing that unbearable heat. It’s over, he thinks. It should be over.
He pulls back, but the heat is still there, he’s still hard, he’s still so unbearably hard. Zed stares down at the boy below him. Kayn is on the ground, his hair is a mess. Tears stream down his cheeks, dark lashes cast demurely to the ground. Zed watches, entranced, as saliva spills from his cherry red lips, dripping down his chin and onto his flushed, bared chest. Kayn looks— wrecked.
Zed did that. He fucking—he—
Kayn’s crying now, all silent tears and choked back sobs. He looks so broken. It shouldn’t thrill him, but it does.
His dick twitches.
“Look at me,” Zed orders. Kayn stills. Slowly, he lifts his chin. He expects fear or loathing or regret, but in his eyes, there is only blind, naive trust. Satisfaction courses through his veins.
Obedient, he thinks, thoughts clouded by lust. He’d do anything for me.
“On your stomach,” he says, jerking his head to the furs. His voice is cold. Even. He punctuates it with a kick.
Kayn swallows. His limbs tremble as he crawls toward the covers and flattens his chest against the ground. Even now, he’s eager, head curled to watch Zed remove the rest of his clothes, eyes tracing the winding of shadow engraved upon his skin. Zed laughs.
He kneels behind his student, yanking the soiled fabric down his thighs to examine his prize. He’s smooth down here, as he is everywhere else, skin like polished porcelain, cool to the touch. His battle-calloused hands roam the expanse of his behind, exploring his thighs, his waist, his back. From here, he can see the beginnings of the Noxian corruption, see where it meets pale, unblemished skin. His mouth waters. Need consumes him.
“Spread,” he grunts, and Kayn obeys. His arms tremble, but he reaches backwards, lithe fingers digging into wiry muscle as he prostrates himself before his master. Zed’s lips quirk. With one hand, he presses down on Kayn’s back, watching the ease of his surrender with dark satisfaction; with his other, he grips his cock, still covered in cum and spit, and lines it up against his boy’s puckered hole.
“Master Zed,” the boy whimpers, keening as the head breaches his tightening hole. A break in the haze. For a moment, Zed pauses.
He looks terrified like this.
It’s Kayn, he remembers vaguely. Kayn, his student, his prodigy, his—
His weapon.
Kayn sobs. He’s soft, Zed realizes. His flaccid cock hangs limply between his thighs, past spent.
Blood surges to his cock. Kayn clenches around him, gripping the head, practically sucking him inside. He groans, low and throaty.
It’s Kayn, it’s Kayn, don’t you remember?
But he had offered. He had offered and Zed had only accepted what was given.
He snaps forward, all at once, and Kayn groans, low and guttural and tinged with stifled pain. It echoes through the cave and Zed wants to capture the sound, to burn it into his memory, the helpless, desperation of his perfect boy.
He fucks into him, hard and fast, losing himself in the warm, velvety heat of him. He’s so tight, so hot, like fire given flesh. Kayn sobs with every thrust, but it only spurs Zed further. Kayn was made for this, Zed swears, made to be here—splayed out across the floor like a common whore and speared upon his cock for all eternity.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, boy?” he grits out. His fingers find Kayn’s braid, wrapping the length of it around his palm. “To help?”
He yanks Kayn’s braid, pulling it backwards until Kayn gasps in pain.
“Yes,” Kayn sputters, obedient even in this. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He screws his eyes shut, enveloping himself in pure sensation as he hammers inside and out. The spit has dried up by now, Zed is certain, but he continues all the same, riding the high and memorizing the feel of Kayn’s walls clinging desperately to him with every withdrawal.
He’s so good, so tight. He smells like iron, like blood, the perfect weapon, the perfect tool. He can feel his balls slapping against Kayn’s flaccid length with every thrust. The sonorous clap of flesh on flesh reverberates through the air, mingling with tremorous, fearful sobs in one grand, treacherous, delicious cacophony.
Nothing seems to match the euphoria that follows as he comes, peaking at the height of pleasure. His hands find Kayn’s waist, holding him in place as he spends deep in his channel, filling him with his seed.
Kayn’s arms drop the floor. His head thuds against the ground. But all Zed can think about is the relief release provided.
The heat drains from his skin, the cold of the night slipping beneath the surface. In an instant, all his anger and lust and need dissipates like steam, replaced with an overwhelming weariness that seeps into his bones and anchors his limbs to the ground.
He collapses forward onto a mass of heat. It’s wet. Humid. He rolls over, bathing in the coolness of stone. Firelight dances upon the jagged stone above. His eyelids droop. Darkness takes him.
At last, relief comes.
-
“Master Zed?” he hears distantly.
Zed groans. His head pulses; his throat is dry. He needs water. Desperately.
His eyes blink open. Kayn is off by the mouth of the cave, arms wrapped around himself. He doesn’t look at him. A bowl of water sits at Zed’s side.
“How are you—feeling?” Kayn asks. His words are stilted. Anxious. Zed grips his head.
“Like shit,” Zed groans. “What happened?”
Kayn tugs his cloak further around himself. His hair is damp, Zed notices. He must have bathed in the cold.
“What do you remember?” Kayn asks. His voice is unusually quiet.
“I remember the base,” Zed says. “Is this for me?”
He gestures toward the bowl. Kayn turns, gaze flitting from the bowl to Zed before he jerks away, like he’s been burned.
“Yes. You should—you should drink.”
He gulps it down in a blink.
“I remember the lab and the gas and then—well, nothing. What was it? Did we figure it out?”
He stares at Kayn’s back, rough fabric pulled taut over his skin. He looks so small from here. He wants to reach out and touch. To comfort. But Zed’s never been good at that. He’s not a… a father.
Kayn curls in on himself. Whatever it was, it must have been bad.
Zed rises. It takes all the power he has left, but he does, hobbling over to Kayn’s side. The boy flinches, but he doesn’t move away. Zed tries not to take offense. His hand hovers awkwardly over Kayn’s back.
“Everything okay?” he asks. They’re alone here. No acolytes in sight.
Kayn stares stubbornly at the floor.
“You were— hurt,” Kayn says, stiff. “I thought it would kill you.”
He mislikes this. Kayn is usually so outspoken, so defiant, but this Kayn is like a shell, a hollow version of his usual self.
Zed swallows his discomfort. His hand grasps Kayn’s shoulder. The boy shivers. His hair is wet. It pools on the floor like spilled ink.
Kayn tilts his head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wide. Fearful. Terrified that he would lose him. It’s like a stab to the gut.
“Kayn—” he starts, but he’s interrupted by a hand gripping his collar.
“But I’m here, Master,” he says. “For you. Always.”
He looks so boyish now. So innocent. It must have been bad, whatever it was. Guilt rises in his throat. He needs to be more careful. He is not alone anymore. Now he has a—a child to care for. To raise. He can’t do that to him. Can’t orphan him again.
It would be cruel.
“Always,” Zed echoes.
He sighs.