Brittle

[Asher]

SEARING 23, 122

It was all he could do to turn his head, facing towards the dark armor as it lingered there, much as it had throughout their time together. He'd thought to ask about it, but strayed from doing so. There was little eagerness that Kathar be curious men -- information was given to them when necessary, and rarely upon request. Given that, he tried to suppress the eerie feeling imparted onto him by the dark metal sheets, pressing his lips together and rolling his head back near the center of Talon's lap.

Asher said nothing. He could not advise Talon on that, either, because he did not know what the armor was, or what it would do to him. He did not want the other man to lose his gentle nature, or to become some thoughtless weapon for the Empire. Loyal as he was, Asher was also well aware of the corrupting influence of power. Wielding Talon as a tool of dominion would not make the Imperium any more righteous -- if anything, doing so risked a pernicious descent.

The man seemed distracted, even as Talon's face neared his. The other man's hands on his body felt nice -- very much so -- but he did not want to lose sight of his worries, dark thoughts or not. He reached up to grab and squeeze at the edge of the other man's pectoral, before anchoring himself and sliding upright, moving so that his back laid gently into the Synnekar's chest. Asher breathed out, sharply, and whispered into his ear.

"Don't wear it," he murmured, the Knight's breath rolling over his lover's skin. "I enjoy you the way you are, my companion."

He felt a sting in his chest, feedback from betraying the precepts that were subconsciously ingrained into him. He had explicitly asked for the other to go against the Imperium's preferences, its will. Looking at the darkly clad plate, though, he envisioned Talon as just another killer -- another Imperial harbinger of war and devastation, and he felt repulsed. Some of it, he acknowledged, was pride. The Kathar had always been enough, and the Imperium's influence had only grown over time, not waned. He wondered why they would seek to harness a Divine, even to change him, corrupt him.

It was all difficult to grasp, and it made him feel weary. Finally, he decided he would not linger on this subject anymore, just as Talon had advised. The Knight reached down, gripping the muscle of Talon's inner thigh within the space between his two legs, massaging the mound of rigid flesh as his eyes cast outward.

"Forgive me, Talon. My position is difficult. I can listen, but... I cannot always reply. I suspect that what they want of me -- aside from genetic matchmaking -- is that I serve as your bridge to the Imperium, a liaison to bolster your affection for our state. Given that... I cannot encourage discontent or rage towards the Imperium, I can only try to piece things together to help you understand our motivations. I hope you can understand this, companion, the position that I am in."

He turned his head, lifting a hand to smooth through Talon's locks as well, rummaging through them with enough gentle force that his head slightly rocked back and forth with each motion.

"You wanted to... lay with me, but the thought of giving up whatever children we bore from tonight rolled through, didn't it?" Asher smiled, solemnly. "I understand. We can wait another night, if you would want that. I received, a, ah... medicine, for encouraging our mutual affections, if that might help those lingering thoughts subside." The man gestured towards his pocket, a cylindrical shape evident through the fabric.

"Whenever you want to, Talon. Ponder these things if you must. I know it is something that will follow you, and I do not want you to lay with me with painful reservations."

[Talon]

Asher’s voice near his ear made the hairs upon the back of his neck stand up. He felt a shiver of a different sort run through him. He would have leaned closer were it not for the words that the man spoke. They surprised him. A knight of the Imperium was advising him to go against the will of his overlords. As soon as the words were spoken though, Talon felt uneasy. Not for himself but for the Kathar in front of him. Such words spoken from the mouth of a Kathar could be construed as treason. Fortunately, they had been whispered softly but even so, it was dangerous.

“Nothing about this is easy, Asher. I understand.” He simply nodded his head. It was a precarious game that they played.

Feeling Asher’s hand smooth through his hair, he arched a brow before squinting an eye as his hair was ruffled. He frowned in mock affront before reaching up to smooth his hair. A smile broke out across his face. Heat rose to his cheeks but he did not try to hide it. He inclined his head.

“The thought was there. It still is.” He looked to the cylinder that Asher carried. He knew exactly what it was. It had been given to him multiple times. He knew the state it would place him in, to make him more receptive to the erotic suggestions meant to entice and excite him. It had been how the Matchmaker had coerced from him every detail of what pleased him, details he sometimes had not even realized he enjoyed himself. Some of it had been embarrassing. Some of it had aroused him then and there as she had paraded both men and women in front of him, so that he might elicit both a vocal and visual response for her.

“May I see it?” He extended his hand to receive the concoction. Once given, he rolled the vial in his fingers. His expression was unreadable for a moment. Talon was not entirely certain what his thoughts on the alchemical brew were. It was never painful. It was never unpleasant. It was always offered. The fact that Asher had been given it meant that the Matchmaker clearly was not interested in waiting much longer.

“If we do not lay together tonight, will you suffer for it?” He asked earnestly. He did not know what happened to Asher outside these walls. The evidence that had been plain as day upon his skin when he entered said much and also nothing at all. While he had not been able to discern from the surface truths of Asher’s soul the full source of those bruises, he had gotten the sense that Asher had not felt he deserved them and that they were wrong. He recognized his own hesitations. He also recognized that the Inquisition and the Matchmaker would only be so patient. Asher had been sent into this chamber with a clear purpose. Anything that arose adjacent to that purpose was merely collateral to the main objective. He was not so blind to the Imperium’s machinations to not recognize that.

The knight’s presence was comforting. Talon did not want to rush into the coupling but time was not their friend in this. At least, he suspected that to be the case. Would they be satisfied with another night that yielded anything but their stated goal? Perhaps. He made a decision then.

Talon uncorked the vial and downed the contents, regardless of what Asher said. He felt its effects almost immediately, almost as though his body was primed to receive it. He had noticed that as he had drunk the countess potion, it had steadily gotten stronger. He supposed she had tweaked it to react to him more viscerally. Heat flooded through his body. It made him shiver. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, pressing his face to the firm muscles of Asher’s chest. His breathing hitched and he felt steaming hot arousal spike through his body, just as it had the many times before. Sensual heat traveled down his throat and pooled in his stomach before spreading outward and coiling into his groin. He curled his hands into fists as he felt the effects of the potion weave their way into his mind.

Everything about Asher became amplified to him. The kindness that he had shown. His chivalrous behavior. The honor that clearly shone through in his interactions thus far. The handsome planes of his face. His stunning eyes. The powerful shape of his muscular body and even his voice. His mind became fixated on those aspects of the man before him that pleased him. He was left panting. He did not move for a long stretch of silence.

“If I can do one thing for you, Asher, it will be to at least shield you from a wrath you do not deserve.” He took in a shaking breath as even the smell of the man against him elicited a physical response. “So much has been stripped from me. But you are right, I am not powerless in this.”

[Asher]

SEARING 23, 122

As Talon inquired on whether or not he could behold the vial, Asher freely offered it. It felt like a burdensome weight within his hands, like the weapon of an unjust pressure campaign, targeted against a man he felt considerable fondness for. The longer he held it, the more he felt party to that campaign, so he was glad that Talon took the weight of it upon himself.

"I do not know," he finally answered, his words held in reserve. He had guesses and assumptions, but there was no answer that was fully clear to him. His Handler beating him was unexpected, rare, even against their typical line of conduct. Everything between he and his lover diverged from the standards of Imperial norms, the etiquette they held their Knights to. He was both being treated with more patience, and also, more encouragement. "I would assume that the longer we go without copulating, the more likely it is that they might replace me with another Knight."

That was all he could manage, mostly because that was the one suspicion he viewed as a near-certainty. If he failed their estimations, they would find another. It was as simple as that.

He did not fail their estimations, though. Talon chugged down the contents of the aphrodisiac, and his demeanor immediately changed. He nearly pinned himself against the Kathar, his breath heavy and warm, his nostrils flaring as arousal brimmed from him. The Divine tried to manage the effects the poultice had on him, but they were evident despite his gentleness or his restraint. He was throbbing, writhing.

Asher reached into another pocket, this one buttoned along his white shirt. Within was a second vial, meant for himself. He needed to produce "specimen" for the Empire too, and they hardly asked him of his own proclivities. They didn't care what he wanted. Fortunately, he wanted Talon, but in case he preferred other sorts of men or the company of women, they provided Asher his own contingency. He swallowed it, and before he knew it, his arousal was pinned against Talon's through the boundaries of their attire and his body exploded with vigor and desire.

Talon smelled like warmth and need, like a body he longed to cling to, separated by nothing. He breathed out, hard.

"Talon," the Kathar whispered, his lips nearing the other man's ear. "You are the one man I will likely ever be allowed to share my affection with. If I must be victim to wrath for you, I will bear it. You are my mate."

The Knight ran his hand across the broad surface of his lover's chest, pausing as his palm pressed against the center of his muscular core.

"I've never done this before," he warned, "but I'm confident that I can please you. Let me prove it."

[Talon]

R E W A R D S

Name: Asher
XP: 10 XP, not for magic.
Requested Lore: +12 Lores

Name: Talon
XP: 10 XP, not for magic.
Requested Lore: +11 Lores

Note(s): Thank you for the thread. The emotional development between Talon and Asher is one I am looking forward to exploring.