Legend of Ransera

There had been ample time in summer to visit, but he had told himself he wasn't going to Silfanore while Sivan and his prick neighbor were showing Torin and Destyn around. He could have been in and out of Silfanore—and Castor's bed—without any of them knowing, but Aurin was quietly neurotic and whatever; he was here now.

The elves were fucking controlling, so he had to got to a border, cross the wards, deal with customs, and only then vault himself to Silfanore proper and, because he was a tricksy bastard, into Castor's bedroom. The half-elf wasn't there, but he could sense him. Of course, Castor could sense him too, suddenly in his home, in his room, in his space. Aurin did like to keep him on his toes—and several other positions, of course—and he was finally ready to initiate his little protégé in Traversion, so it seemed appropriate to enter into the scene with it.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called, tromping through the apartment like he owned it, homing in on Castor's location easily. He left his rucksack in Castor's room, carrying only a box of his favorite confections from Kalzasi.

"There you are."

He poked his head into the room, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face, and then the rest of his body followed. He mock-frowned.

"What the fuck? No food on the table? No naked Castor? Am I not wanted? Should I go?" He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm going to go."

It was a stupid game, Aurin walking back toward Castor's room, but he was often stupid around Castor, who seemed to always be amused and played with him in kind. He wasn't starving and while he would have been down to get down immediately, he knew Castor would be excited for the magic.

So, of course, he would have to draw it out and tease him. Everything could be foreplay if one did it correctly.

Aurin caught Castor, then let him slither around him, kissing and holding from behind and the like. Castor was excellent at love-bombing; he had learned from Aurin, after all. For his part, the ginger just preened under it as if it were his due.

"Impresario," he corrected with a mocking sneer. He didn't know the word in Mythrasi, but it sounded fancy enough in Common. "And entrepreneur, I suppose. Knower-of-things, deflowerer-of-virgins. All of the above." He caught Castor for the briefest of intense embraces, then let those clever fingers entwine with his and pull him to his bower. Of course, the flash of honest care wasn't commented upon. It was easier to play the game and pretend like there was nothing real echoing in their laughter and their moans.

"Oh, poor Castor, my prince of the alienage!" he declaimed like one of the actors back at the Golden Peacock. "I could've helped, but then they would have beheaded my human self and then where would you be? Alone in this daybed." He tumbled beside Castor, kicking off his boots and rather expertly removing some outer layers of his clothes so he could relax and Castor could slip those clever fingers under his clothes. Slut skills.

"Do I wear the red hair better than the Dream King?" He paused. "Don't answer that. How could a mere human be as beautiful as an elf? After all, you are so godsdamned beautiful, aren't you?" He caressed Castor's cheek, still as fair as the day they had met. He grinned up at the half-elven scamp straddling him. If he found it arousing, well, Castor would soon know.

He tucked his hands behind his head, smirking up at his sometimes lover, hips making little motions underneath him.

"Karnor is recovering from the Eclipse, slowly but surely. In Solunarium, they ignored it thanks to some timely help from their twin godlings. I went there for a wedding, but didn't manage to bang the holy twins, alas." Somehow, he got the feeling they would want to do things to him that would drive him literally mad, and not in a fun way. "Bored nobles in the Gelerian Imperium are fomenting a little rebellion, but mostly just evading taxes and laundering money. The Avialae continue to be huge and fling themselves at whatever creeps out of the Warrens. Ah..."

He trailed off. If Castor had specific questions, he could give specific answers, but as he was already asking after gifts, Aurin gave a bit harder of a rock and roll of his hips.

"I brought your favorite foreign import: my fucking cock. If you take good care of it, I think I have time to give you the gift of travel, make sure it doesn't break your brain, and teach you enough so you don't accidentally slam yourself into a brick wall or yank your cock off while masturbating. What do you say?"