A Rune for Torin [Torin]

[Aurin]

Kilvin's Forge, Plaza of the Jeweled Arches
69th of Frost, Year 121 Steel

Timon was at the Cintamani Pavilion for his lesson in finances that would invariably involve other lessons as well, as the Avialae nobles seemed to have taken a shine to the boy. Aurin hoped he milked them for everything they were willing to give him. He didn't hate the nobility on principle or anything, but he saw no reason they couldn't spare what they had. Thankfully, Timon would be staying with them for the night, as well. They were taking him to the theater. That would give Aurin the opportunity to give Torin a magic trick that would help him with his work and with the work he did on the side for Aurin. He would let the boy help take care of his master, but he wanted the boy out from underfoot at first, at least until he knew how bad it was going to be for Torin.

The forge itself was shut down for the evening, so he proceeded into the house and just went immediately up to Torin's room, knowing he would likely catch him in his ablutions, and he did like the view of Torin's body, wet and glistening in the lamplight.

"Ahh," he exhaled appreciatively. "Now that's a sight I'll never get tired of."

He out and out leered from the doorway. In his pack, he had supper for them from a restaurant Torin liked near the Golden Peacock Theater, as well as the supplies he would need to cut a rune into him and ensure it was bandaged properly.

"No clothes for you tonight," he said, making a casual, off-hand statement that would be like a command for Torin. If Torin got cold, he would have to come closer and try to borrow Aurin's warmth. He liked that.

"I'm going to have to get a sculptor to make a statue of you like this for the garden..."

[Torin Kilvin]

Despite the portentous intentions for the evening, the young smith spent his day mostly normally. Waking to breakfast with Timon and then walking with him to his lessons with the Luekos twins. Stopping in for a few minutes he had confirmed his plans with Kala. A note would be sent when he felt well enough to have her visit, which would correspond with Timon returning to his home. They had arranged for several days of special lessons with a new tutor to occupy Timon, though Torin hadn't kept the knowledge of what would be happening to him from his apprentice.

Timon didn't seem overly worried about it, except for the slight tension between his slim shoulders as they said goodbye. Semblance was the easiest Rune to take, according to all conventional wisdom. A few days seeing unusual things were to be expected, and then he would begin to gain control over his second sight. Timon had asked if he would someday be allowed to take a Rune, which wasn't something Torin had previously considered. It would mean the apprentice would be able to help in crafting, at least some of the time, instead of being relegated to the business side of the forge work only. It was something to consider and Torin had said just that.

The smaller blond had stepped forward to hug him when he'd been taking his leave, which was new, but not unwanted. Torin held Timon tight for a moment and then stood, more pleased than embarrassed, but embarrassed still. He wondered if the pair looked like brothers when they were seen together. If people saw Torin's shoulders and not his face, they might even look like father and son. The thought struck him oddly, like a bell hit not quite right to peel as intended.

After walking back the rest of the day had just been simple blacksmith work, he wouldn't be able to tend anything in the runeforge, and leaving a metalworking project in the middle for days would bother him, so he'd done little things that he wouldn't even sell, things for the house.

He stopped early, went into the house and gave it a going over, cleaning the dishes from breakfast, sweeping the ash from both the fireplaces, generally ensuring that all was well and bright. Once this was done he went back up to his own room and stripped to nothing for a bath. His tiny invention made bathing in the Frost months a very pleasant luxury and he took advantage of it as often as he could be bothered to haul water up the stairs. Being especially clean for receiving his rune was not something required, or even suggested by anyone. Torin just felt... he felt like he was changing. As if receiving the rune was putting the final stamp on the changes that had begun when he'd left his childhood home.

So he took his time in the heated water; made it as hot as he could stand it and scrubbed his skin well. Washing his hair twice he then used a special conditioning oil he'd bought for the occasion, figuring, as much abuse as he gave his hair on a daily basis, he could at least try to make up for it.

Just as he was rinsing this out when he looked up to see the man who had come to be the center of his world leaning in his doorway. Standing slowly, water flowing off his form he spread his arms slightly, hands over, and turned under the leering gaze. The command that followed, casual and easy, caused his body to relax, tensing in some places, relaxing in others, causing him to appear even more statuesque, if also perhaps not appropriate for garden viewing. The comment caused him to flush, pink over the gold of his skin in the bright light of Illumite lamps and crackling hearth.

Several thoughts spun through his nervous mind, questions and statements and even some begging, but what finally came out was simple,

"I want to please you."

[Aurin]

"I know," he said, offhand almost in the way he knew that he was the star that Torin orbited, pulled inexorably by his gravity. It was a responsibility, but it helped him feel like he understood his own place in the world, too. He sauntered through the room like he owned the place when, in reality, he only owned the man who owned the place. It was an ownership they had mutually agreed upon, a consensual slavery. It worked.

Aurin took a towel and began to towel Torin's hair dry. The man didn't always seem to know what to do when Aurin chose to care for his property, but it seemed that when he relaxed into it, he loved it. Torin loved everything Aurin did, which was confusing but gratifying. Possessive hands urged him out of the water and he toweled the rest of his lover dry.

"Come along," he said. "I've got to put some supper in you before I mark you. I'd considered a brand since you're a smith, but I'm better with a knife anyway."

He already knew the thought of the pain excited Torin. It was another complementary sort of thing they had found: when Torin found a bit of a masochist within, it woke the sadist in Aurin. He was going to hurt him to help him see his own work on a more profound level. He was going to open his eyes and his senses to the world around him in a new way, just as he had been educating him on the way the world worked since his own life had been so sheltered.

It was a sort of culmination, an end and a beginning, and Torin would start to walk the world with him able to see it the way he saw it, or closer to that.

[Torin Kilvin]

When what pleased Aurin in that moment was to begin drying him off, Torin let himself be pleased by it too. It felt good, of course, but knowing the man he belong to wanted to be doing it, was doing just as he pleased, felt better. He was touched and dried everywhere, pressing into it a little when it wouldn't disrupt the movements.

The smith did not think of the relationship as a kind of slavery, would not have thought to use the word if he'd been asked by someone he wanted to be honest with. In his mind he had willingly submitted to a Master as he had in his youth, except now he need not fear being cast off as he grew.

Walking through the house in only his skin still felt odd, but in an almost nice way. Like the thrill of doing something wrong but knowing it wouldn't hurt anyone. With Timon at Kala's palatial home, taking Huntress along with him, and Destyn spending some time with Sivan, Torin didn't hesitate to follow his fox down the stairs and into the kitchen. The fire there was lit as well, but banked rather than roaring as that upstairs. Depending on how well he took the Rune they might spend time downstairs, talking, cooking, but if they didn't nothing would need to be done, the fire would burn itself down quietly.

He blushed at the idea of being branded, but it wasn't embarrassment for once; more a heating of him to the thought. Torin thought of himself, mostly unconsciously, as a creature of fire. Being branded felt like... He couldn't stretch quite far enough to grasp the idea, but it felt like a culmination of some kind. This gift was from Aurin though, and Aurin was a creature of sharper wiles. It would be a blade that his man used first to leave a permanent kiss on his boy's skin. Torin had known, they had spoken about it, and agreed willingly. While he did not hope for more Cardinal Runes of Power, he did hope the redhead would give him other lasting marks.

As their dinner was unpacked he went to sit on the edge of the hearth, too embarrassed to put his bare backside on a chair someone else would use. Questions were in his head, ones of the past, some his own, some Aurin's, but he set them aside. They might lead to discomfort or anxiety and it seemed a poor way to set them up for the evening. Instead, he stood as soon as Aurin had set his pack aside and was beginning to dish out their meal, moving to press himself to the redhead's back. Wrapping his arms loosely, low around slim hips he pressed his nose into the warm skin at the back of his lover's neck.

"Aurin." Was all he said for a long moment, continuing to nose and nuzzle like a small animal returning to its nest. Then, "I want to see with your eyes."

[Aurin]

"I know," he said again, and, "You will." His voice might have sounded flippant to someone else, but by now, he hoped, Torin understood that it was his confidence. Torin seemed to need his confidence, to know that his capable lover was capable of handling whatever needed to be done. Whether that was teaching Timon how to balance the books, carving magic into his soul, or holding him when the nights were dark and full of terror, Aurin could handle it for him.

He liked the touch, needy but undemanding. But eventually, he turned around, kissed his boy, and sat him back down on the hearth. He could intuit the man not wanting his bare bottom on a chair, and he smirked at the thought, but allowed it. They ate there by the fire. Torin defaulted into serving him, but tonight, he was taking care of the smith. It was something Aurin enjoyed sometimes, and Torin knew when to let go and let him.

"Stay," he said, as if Torin were the pup. He left him to relax with the heat of the hearth fire while Aurin cleaned up the remains of dinner. He returned with the things he would need to make this clean and efficient work, crouching between Torin's legs. Leaning in, he kissed him again. "It will be strange, my boy, and it could be frightening, but remember that it will be all right and I will be here with you."

When the scalpel was clean and ready, gleaming in the ruddy firelight, Aurin took Torin by the ankle, lifting his leg up and open as his knee pushed the other one aside. The burly boy looked so vulnerable that Aurin was once again struck by his beauty, by the possessiveness and protectiveness he felt. He smirked, though, when this position gave him sense memories of other intimacies. He considered fucking him first so his body and mind would be flush with pleasure before the cutting and initiation began. Of course, Torin would recognize that flare of fire in his eyes that had nothing to do with the hearth fire behind him.

"Are you ready?"

[Torin Kilvin]

The care, the actions large and small made to show it began to flow together in Torin's head until it permitted the space. They spoke quietly as they moved and ate, not to hide anything, but because, being close, they need not raise their voices. They shared touch without thought, and with little intention but closeness. All of these things served to settle the smith into a place of relaxed comfort, where no fear of the knife lived to worry him.

When Aurin bade him remain while he went again to his pack and fetched out things that would be needed it left him a moment to think. The chances of anything going wrong seemed small; Semblance was considered the easiest Rune to take, the least likely to cause harm during threshold sickness. It wasn't the application of the Rune, nor its after-effects that brought a strain of fear into Torin's heart.

Watching the redhead in the firelight, he knew that Aurin was fully capable of protecting him, of keeping him safe if he did drift away for a little while in the newness of the magic. But what if something tried to harm the man himself?

Torin was aware that his nerves were making his mind center on unlikely scenarios, yet still. There was no reason not to do all he could to protect the people he cared about.

When Aurin returned, spread him open and gazed at him with a fire in his eyes that warmed low in Torin's belly as the hearth warmed his back, he scooted a little nearer, wanting and attentive.

"I know you'll be here." Leaning in enough to kiss again, as if he needed it to punctuate his sentence, "I'm not afraid of how it might be. When you're done, but before I start to feel it, I have something I'd like to give you."

He leaned back on his hands a little, opening his stance wider, spreading his chest and showing how comfortable he was with all that was about to happen, however his man chose.

"I'm ready."

[Aurin]

Aurin smirked, though all Torin's gifts touched him. They were thoughtful, which was almost as marvelous as the gifts themselves, which were often runeforged things whose monetary value aligned with their sentimental value. Then, because he could, he carefully grazed Torin's sex with the tip of the scalpel. With a few flicks of his wrist, he could make a eunuch out of him, but of course, he enjoyed the young man's sex drive far too much for that.

"Mine," he reminded him: Torin's sex; Torin's body; Torin's self.

But then he turned all his intense focus upon the blank canvas of his inner thigh, and he began to cut a pictograph to match the one hiding under his left bicep. With Arry, he had been quick about it. With Torin, he drew it out. The blade was so sharp and his incisions so careful, that if he didn't pull aether through it, the most mark it would leave would be silvery threads upon the skin. It was delicate work, but he made it sting.

"Hurt for me," he commanded, though he held Torin still, knee still braced against knee, hand a shackle around the ankle. He carefully set the scalpel aside, looked over his work, and then drew his fingertip across the beading blood, making eye contact with Torin as he touched it to his tongue, and then let his lips close over it. He hummed appreciation for the coppery taste of his lover's vitae. Then, he began to draw aether through the shape wrought in blood and injury until he felt Torin's own aether catch and cling to the form he had provided. When he relaxed his own aether, Torin's continued to knit to the Rune of Semblance. His trick was transferred. It was similar to how things had played out with Arry's, but different. He supposed that made sense.

Not releasing his grip on Torin, instead, he observed him, naked, spread open, bleeding for him, feeling pain and perhaps feeling the magic altering his soul's perceptions.

"It is done," he said. "Now, what did you want to give me? Or should I patch you up first?"

[Torin Kilvin]

All thoughts of every kind fled the young smith as the man who held him thrall threatened him in a way so intimate that for a time he couldn't breathe. Complex wants and needs rushed into him as pure emotion and it was all he could do to remain perfectly still when the cold steel brushed teasingly over his vulnerable flesh.

Unable to nod or speak he simply watched, eyes huge at first and then flickering, a small sound escaping that could have been acceptance or confirmation, or only an animal need to respond. All the deep, perfect things the claiming combined with the danger did to Torin kept him from even feeling the bite of the exceptionally sharp blade for long moments. When he did feel it his eyes opened wider and his breath drew in sharp and tight, but he remained as still as he had started. A soft panting began and his eyes squeezed shut as his body began to protest in a way he was not used to.

Being hit, falling, any sort of impact, sharp or dull, even having his bones broken, were pains Torin knew, had experienced and understood how to process. The penetrative, slicing feeling of the scalpal was almost entirely new. It felt...

He tried to think, tried to get himself to rationalize through the experience. His mind was telling him he was losing parts of himself, that he was being cut away, trying to raise panic through him. Taking control of his breathing he made the panting stop, slow, draw in deeply and release the same way. The cuts were shallow, they would not harm him, they were a gift.

Not sure if watching would make it better or worse he looked at Aurin instead, concentrated on the nearness of him, his scent and warmth. It helped, some of the tension left his muscles and relaxing caused the pain to lessen some as well. Observing his lover so close proved that he had enough blood and lack of shock to remain physically aroused, which did a lot to calm him.

The words that purred out of Aurin at just that moment did even more, putting the situation in a context that Torin had longed for most of his life. A little whine escaped him, and he throbbed visibly, want swooping in to dull the fear to almost nothing.

When the tool was set aside he looked down immediately, observing how little blood there was. He couldn't quite see the whole shape it had been so delicately done, but what he could see was pretty. Aurin was marking him pretty. Pink spread over his cheeks and he wanted to press closer, kept from it by the pressure against his knee and ankle. The touch sliding over the wound brought the whimper back and he couldn't help but reach out a hand to touch.

Their eyes met and held, as Torin's went wide and then dilated. He could feel his man's aether. It was almost like the times he almost felt it moving when he worked over the runeforge, the times he had reached out and felt the hum of power. The feeling nudged and pulled until... until Torin answered it. Gasping he looked down at the Rune and then back up at Aurin. The slow withdrawal of the redhead's aether made him want to cling, hold on to it, keep it with him, but when it was gone, he could still feel the Rune, humming with his own magic.

"Uhm..." He said faintly, his eyes showing that his mind was elsewhere before he could pull himself back. "I. Aurin."

Swallowing he struggled but made himself remember that his gift was important.

"I left them in the forge. You'd see them otherwise." It made sense in his head, Aurin would see any magical signature with his own Rune of Semblance but there was so much aether tangling up in the runeforge it was unlikely he would understand the meaning of any single thing unless he knew to concentrate on them. Trying to stand he realized he was still held and said,

"May I get them? Then you can... clean me?" The opening wasn't bleeding badly enough to need bandaging to keep it from leaking over the kitchen, and he wasn't sure he wanted it covered.

[Aurin]

He supposed some of Torin's reactions were maladaptive; at least, they would be if Aurin didn't value his safety. Whether it was healthy or not, he enjoyed that almost everything did aroused the younger man in some way. Torin always saw him, what he said, and what he did in the best of lights, and it made him feel like the things he grasped after might actually be good. That perfect trust made him feel perfect in some way he couldn't quite articulate.

His smirk sharpened at Torin's fumbling responses, and at the question, he considered. Instead of answering, though, he dropped a hand down to Torin's knee and spread him wider as if he were going to take him right then and there, but all he did was lean down and run his tongue slowly lover the delicate wounds he had infused with magic.

"All clean," he husked, eyes lambent with desire. It was an inconvenient time; he could already sense the Rune working its way into Torin's patterns; he could see it in his eyes that his senses were expanding. He kissed Torin's ankle and then eased his leg down, allowing his boy to relax. "Go fetch them. Be quick. I don't want you unsupervised for long."

That said, he stood, towering over the smith for the moment, and stepped out of his way. His senses could reach as far as the forge, though. He would still be keeping tabs on Torin, and if the man didn't return promptly, he would simply follow him out. Arry had survived his initiation, which made him more confident in Torin's. His boy was strong; he would survive and then he would thrive all the more for his gift.

[Torin Kilvin]

The desire pouring off Aurin like heat from a forge was not missed by the blond watching him as though worshiping a tiny god. Under other circumstance, he would have done all he could think of to fan the need growing between them but if there was one thing that could tamp down his ever-present lust for the redhead, it was ensuring the man's safety.

Still, the press of warm tongue to his cooled skin, to the ultra-sensitivity of the fresh wound was almost enough to make him forget all else and beg for culmination. Knowing that his time was limited by both magic and libido he stood suddenly; barely managing not to knock Aurin over or fall back onto his own backside immediately.

Heading to the door he glanced at his thick Forst cloak and then back at his man for confirmation that he was allowed to cover himself to the extent of protection from the cold before throwing it around his bare shoulders and heading quickly out into the evening. The grass was frozen and he covered it in as few steps as his long legs allowed, pleased for the relative warmth of the stone floor of the forge. Going to one knee he took the bracers he'd poured his fearful concern into for months. They weren't wrapped or anything like festive as he had imagined they would be when he gave them away, but there was no time for that now.

Returning to the house he looked up at the full moon, realizing in a slow way that the edges of his vision were beginning to shimmer he made all possible haste. Doffing the cloak onto its peg, Torin went back to sitting on the hearth.

"I had meant them as a New Year's gift. But..." He gathered his thoughts as the fire warmed him. Holding the gift, one piece in each hand, he looked up at his Master he went on,

"I know the idea of me protecting you is still silly," Biting his lip in guilt over the truth of this he swallowed before finishing, "The thought of you trying to protect me while I'm helpless from the Rune and being attacked by... anything. I couldn't stand that."

Handing the brown and green leather pieces over he described their function rather than continuing to stumble over his feelings,

"They are Bracers of Shielding, when you activate them they'll project a shield of kinetic force around your body. It will remain until you dispel it or a force great enough to drain the magic comes in contact with it. Nothing solid will pass through the shield, and it's quite strong. It will even protect you from a hard fall if you remember to activate it before you hit the ground."

Here he stopped to explain the activation word, which only Aurin would know, rendering the shield unusable by anyone but he or Torin.

"That is what any Bracers of Shielding will do. I also enchanted the leather itself." Running a finger over the soft, pliable surface of one of the pair, tracing one of the swirls that surrounded the fox stamped into it, he realized the piece was starting to glow in his vision.

"It will retain its shape and bendability, but it will deflect as well as the best armor grade steel." He had tested it with the blades he worked for House Leukos, and knew its strength. "So, even if the shield fails or you don't activate it, you can block blades with your forearms without fear."