War of the Animum: Wolf in the Fold: Ch 2
Dec. 9th, 2010 10:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Since my laptop's been returned to me with all information intact, I thought today was a good day to update. Huzzah! This chapter is NSFW with lots of sex of the slashy kind. Yum.
Title: Wolf in the Fold
Series: War of the Animum
Warnings: language, character death, slash erotica, graphic violence
Summary: Questions stack upon questions as Sleet and his barely-allied group of companions head further north, seeking out the last animus before Balaam can find them.
(Ch 1)(Ch 2)(Ch.3)
Sleet struggled to his feet, using the log behind him as a prop. The pain from his thrice-damaged wound was all but forgotten as he pushed himself upward, managing to stand on shaky limbs. The world spun dizzily for a moment, but after stopping to draw in several slow breaths, it steadied.
“Beryl,” he hissed, glaring in the other thief’s direction. “What the hell are you doing following me?”
Raven’s gaze instantly swung toward Sleet, narrowed in suspicion. “I should have known,” he said, disgust filling his tone. “It takes a thief to know a thief.”
Sleet ignored Raven, more interested in what the hell Beryl was doing than engaging in a snipe fest with the mercenary.
“I told you already,” Beryl answered, his eyes flashing as he tried to shrug out of Raven’s grip, vitriol lacing his tone. “I’m after Frost. And if there’s one certain way of finding him, it’s by tracking you.”
Eyes widening in surprise, Sleet felt himself sway. Standing hadn’t been so much of a good idea, he realized, as heat swept through him. He felt himself trembling, aching from the effort of keeping his feet.
“I already told you,” Sleet said, stubbornly trying to stay on his feet. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of Beryl. “I don’t know where Frost is or what he’s doing. You’re as much in the dark as I am.”
Beryl laughed, the action more mockery than humor. “You think I’m stupid. You talked to him, Sleet. I saw him talk to you.”
Instantly, Sleet was the attention of the others and he growled low in his throat, feeling his skull throb like mad. “And did you miss the part where he vanished and left behind a monster?”
He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing down nausea, and startled when a hand suddenly touched his arm. The pressure was gentle, strangely warm, making Sleet tingle.
“You should sit down, Sleet-san,” Tungsten urged, squeezing Sleet’s elbow and trying to guide him backward.
Raven snorted. “We all know about Frost and Sleet. That’s not news. Why do you want to find Frost?”
Beryl’s mouth instantly clamped shut, his eyes flickering briefly to Sleet before focusing on the fire.
Sleet allowed Tungsten to pull him back toward his bedroll and log. Sitting seemed like a good idea. “They’re… allies,” Sleet answered for Beryl, and thought briefly about elaborating. But to do that would reveal Frost’s identity and Sleet found himself balking at doing just that. Why? He wasn’t sure.
“If that were true, then he wouldn’t need to track you just to find Frost,” Alaris said stiffly and sighed, dragging a hand through her loose hair. “Goddess above, Sleet, you certainly know how to complicate matters.”
“Like this is my fault!” Sleet growled as he settled back against the log, panting as though he’d run a ten-hour marathon, his shoulder throbbing like mad. He lifted a hand, gently touching the wound, which felt burning hot to the touch, even through the bandaging.
That couldn’t be a good sign, could it?
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to start placing blame,” Tungsten said, his eyes darting between them. “It’s clear that Beryl-san is doing this of his own accord. A better discussion would be what to do with Beryl-san now.”
“Someday, I’m going to take Frost and wring him by his scrawny neck,” Raven muttered darkly. “How the hell does he get such loyal followers?”
Sleet, indignant, would have liked to protest, but a wave of dizziness swept over him and he choked on his retort.
Beryl, however, had no such weaknesses. “I’m not some stupid lackey,” he growled.
Unsurprisingly, the blond thief was ignored.
Alaris, glancing between the two thieves, inclined her head, visibly taking a breath as though trying to calm herself. “I doubt Beryl will stop following us just because we caught him. Yes?” The last was directed toward the thief himself, who jerked his head in a stubborn nod.
“Well, we can’t just kill him!” Tungsten exclaimed, sounding so utterly horrified that he managed to attract everyone’s attention.
“No one said that,” Alaris said, quick to soothe Tungsten’s ruffled feathers.
Sleet snorted, cutting his eyes in Raven’s direction. “Yeah, but Raven’s thinking it,” he muttered, able to guess the mercenary’s thought processes easily enough.
“We don’t need another useless thief,” Raven grumbled, seemingly unconcerned with the fact he had just proven Tungsten right.
“Even so, we’re not murderers,” Alaris retorted sharply, looking tired as she rubbed at her forehead again, brow furrowing. “It’s better that we keep an eye on him than to have him following us and making Raven jumpy.”
Sleet scowled, not liking that idea one bit. “It’s not a good idea,” he warned, but it lacked any strength as another wave of dizziness made itself known.
For a second there, his hearing and sight vanished, leaving him scrabbling in a strange, blank white until he found himself in the present again. Sleet swayed, mouth dry, body trembling and covered in a thick coating of sweat. He could feel his clothes clinging to him stickily, despite the chill of the air. It wasn’t that warm next to the fire.
Perhaps he should ask Alaris to take a look at him just in case. There was a pressure in the back of his head, a lot like when Erebus was first trying to speak to him, and it was only getting worse by the second. Not to mention Erebus hadn’t bothered to offer his opinion lately, which was a rare treat indeed.
“Yet, we don’t have many other choices,” Alaris said with a sigh, her voice sounding to Sleet as though it were coming from the end of a very long tunnel. “Let him go, Raven. I don’t think he means us harm.”
“Maybe not you,” Sleet grumbled, but he went largely ignored. It was a sad day when the only one on his side was Raven.
Raven muttered something under his breath that no one heard, and released Beryl with a small shove that pushed the thief forward several steps. Shooting a glare over his shoulder at the mercenary, Beryl gingerly rubbed his neck as though feeling for bruises.
“You should at least take his weapons,” Iblion offered from his position on the log, for the first time offering up his opinion on the matter.
“I’ve already covered that,” Raven replied boredly, tapping one of his pouches pointedly.
Sleet, for the most part, ignored them. He couldn’t even focus on Beryl anymore, for that matter, because the sense of wrongness inside of him couldn’t be ignored any longer. There was a pressure on the back of his mind, like someone had stuck their fingers in his brain and squeezed his gray matter. He gasped, and his knees wobbled beneath him at another onslaught of heat sweeping over his body. Heat so strong it felt as if he had been blasted in the face with a burst of fire.
“What… the hell?” he gasped, and dropped, sprawling undignified to the ground, his upper back hitting the log that had served as a backrest earlier. The heat washing over him seemed to pool directly in his groin, making him throb and ache, until it felt as if his entire body was throbbing to the same sensual beat.
He heard a sound, a voice in the far distance, that could have been Erebus, but Sleet couldn’t be certain. The world was fading in and out, grey and black, and one hand reached out blindly, looking for something to cling to, to ground him.
And then there was pain. Sleet knew no other way to describe it. Pain so severe it stole his breath a moment before a sharp scream stole from his lips and he thrashed violently to get away from the source of it. The pain started in his arm, blossoming out like needles heated to volcanic fire and stabbing into every nerve.
The pain was terrible, but it brought with it a sense of clarity. Sleet opened his eyes to the sight of Alaris bending over him, worry etched into her features, her fingers gripping tightly to his arm. He didn’t know why, but he was certain she was the source of his pain and Sleet lashed out again, willing to do anything if it would make the agony stop.
Agony that quickly and sharply changed to pleasure when hands landed against his shoulders – even the injured one, and pushed him to the ground. Alaris disappeared from his line of sight but that didn’t matter to Sleet. Not when the lightning fire was quickly replaced by trickles of warm pleasure, like the gentle fall of rain over his entire body. The change, from pain to pleasure, was so abrupt that it was dizzying.
He could feel the heat and weight of someone else above him, and Sleet instinctively moved toward the source of the pleasure. Wherever it was coming from, he didn’t care, because it was infinitely better than the pain. His body arched, something like a moan passing from his lips as his groin throbbed and ached, desperate for a kind touch.
Smack!
Sleet’s head rocked to the side as the sharp sting of a slap echoed through his face where someone’s open palm had struck his left cheek. The pain was startling and abrupt, for all it’s brevity, but it had the intended effect. It brought another flash of clarity to Sleet and he blinked, staring up into the face of the weight above him.
Raven. Who was laughing like the bastard he was.
Sleet cursed and struggled, wriggling to get free no matter how good it might feel to have Raven pushing him down, restraining him, knee placed just so…
The mercenary pulled back, letting go of his hold. Sleet fell back with a gasp, and curled into himself on instinct. His body was throbbing as though it were one massive arousal, and he bit back an embarrassing whimper. He couldn’t fight the heat or the want and need.
What the hell was going on?
From the corner of his eyes, Sleet caught Alaris approaching him again but Sleet jerked away, well remembering what had happened the last time. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled, and sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing down a moan.
He could feel their stares, even with his eyes closed. All of them were looking at him as though he were mad and maybe Sleet was. Because none of this made sense. Perhaps Frost had cursed him or something, Sleet couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that this wasn’t normal.
And then Raven’s laughter broke through the rising tension. Laughter full of genuine amusement that seemed to come from the gut and spill through his lips. The eyes shift from Sleet to Raven, who was currently acting more crazed than Sleet.
“What in Hades is the matter with you?” Alaris hissed, her patience long since dissolved.
Frankly, Sleet didn’t blame her. Weird shit happened around them far too much for anyone’s comfort, much less poor Alaris who had been roped into leading their merry band of doomed idiots. Sleet often wondered what deity Alaris had pissed off in a past life to have cursed her with this sort of destiny.
Raven shook his head, his single grey eye gleaming with amusement. “I didn’t really believe it until now but Sleet… he truly is gay.” This was accompanied with another guffaw, a joke that only Raven seemed to understand, though judging by the curl of Beryl’s lips, the blond knew something as well.
Alaris frowned, unamused. “I fail to see how that connects.”
Turning toward Tungsten, Raven addressed the priest. “You said Frost--”
“It wasn’t Frost,” Sleet interjected, before Raven could imply that Frost was the cause of this. That… that creature they had encountered in the alley was not Frost, only a facsimile of him. Balaam in a Frost suit, following his own vile end.
“Balaam, whatever,” Raven conceded, rolling his eye. “You said he called a chimaera, right? And that’s what attacked the little bastard?”
Tungsten nodded, confusion making him look even younger than his years. Between he and Raven, a sudden understanding seemed to dawn in Beryl’s eyes.
“You think it was female?” Beryl asked, surprising everyone with his willingness to contribute. But then again, everyone seemed to find their amusement at Sleet’s expense. He wasn’t surprised.
Raven smirked. “They are larger, more vicious, and prone to attack anything that moves or is perceived as a threat. Plus, their venom is… unique.”
Personally, Sleet didn’t care. He couldn’t concentrate. He wasn’t fading in and out of grey anymore, but it was still difficult to focus. How could he with the way heat kept flooding his body in even, wonderful ways? When his cock throbbed in his breeches, desperate for some kind of relief? When all Sleet wanted to do was climb to his feet and stumble into the privacy of the woods to ease the pressure inside of him.
“Unique how?” Alaris demanded, frustration clear in her tone. They could all do with a bit more sleep, Alaris especially.
“Sleet?” Tungsten appeared at his side, reaching out with a single hand, his face pinched with concern.
Sleet’s mouth opened to warn him, but some deeper, desperate part of him chewed and swallowed the warning. Sleet just watched as the hand came closer, settling innocently on Sleet’s uninjured shoulder in concern. Tungsten couldn’t have known just good that simple touch would feel, but he did moments later when Sleet let out a low moan, one that escaped before he could swallow or bite it back.
Raven was too smug with himself. “That’s how,” he said, and folded his arms over his chest, unbearably amused with the situation.
Bright green eyes widened as Tungsten quickly withdrew his touch, returning Sleet to his world of throbbing groins, unrelenting heat, and a building sense of pain once more. He needed relief and he needed it soon or Sleet was going to go mad.
Strangely enough, it was Beryl who actually offered an explanation. “You see, chimaeras are weird beasts. Their females are dominant and don’t like their males too much. But there’s the basic need to reproduce. So the venom encourages the males to mate with them even when the males are scared shitless.”
Ashur looked pained, and vaguely disturbed, making him seem even paler than usual. For having lived in such a large town, he was oddly cloistered about the strangest things. “They rape them?”
The thief shrugged. “Hard to call it rape when they are just animals, but yeah. Don’t worry, though, the males don’t even remember it because the females eat them afterward.”
Ashur paled even further, making him look sickly, as he stared at Beryl in horror. And well, Alaris didn’t look much better, though her face was set with a grim determination. Tungsten was on the verge of fainting and Sleet had to admit, the thought of such made him just a little queasy as well. Chimaeras were nasty beasts.
Beryl shrugged again. “They’ve got to have some nutrients for their newly fertilized eggs, don’t they?”
“That’s…” Tungsten lost his voice for a moment and he shook his head as though he needed the motion to get his composure back. “So Sleet-san…?”
Beryl grinned with a lot of teeth, vaguely resembling a laughing hyena from the plains. “Haven’t you ever heard of Incubus’ Bite?”
“How would he? Tungsten’s practically a kid,” Raven said with a grunt, refusing to elaborate for the sake of everyone else who didn’t know.
Sleet, however, did know. He hadn’t been a member of Corynth’s underworld without picking up a few things, including the latest in the drug trade. Sleet hadn’t been one for opiates and hallucinogens himself, but he knew of them. And Incubus’ Bite was one of the better known drugs, one used in whorehouses in order to keep the prostitutes compliant.
“Well, I don’t know what it is either,” Alaris said sharply, looking none too keen about the way Raven and Beryl seemed to be getting along at Sleet’s expense. “So explain.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Beryl smiled again, sweetly this time as though he were a perfect innocent. “It’s a highly potent aphrodisiac derived from the venom of a female chimaera with a few extra compounds to make things interesting. Sleet’s lucky; he got Incubus’ Bite in its purest, potent form.”
Raven chuckled, scratching at his chin. “And Sleet doesn’t like women. So don’t take it personal, Alaris. He’s just gay all the way to the core.”
With a noise of defeat, Alaris threw her hands into the air. “Of all the… only you, Sleet. I swear to Asherah. Trouble seems to have attached itself to your shoulders.”
“What? Like this is my fault?” Sleet growled, his breath coming in sharp, uneven pants. The throbbing of his groin was an unbearable pain and his fingers twitched, desperate to grasp himself. “Just leave me alone. I’ll take care of this myself.”
“Better men than you have tried,” Raven muttered with a razor-sharp grin that only highlighted his amusement. He was deriving far too much pleasure from the situation.
Ashur’s timid voice cut into Raven’s amusement. “Will it kill him?”
Beryl and Raven – a wrong alliance if Sleet ever saw one – exchanged glances before the thief shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said, and Raven nodded in agreement.
Tungsten huffed, shooting both men looks of disapproval. “You know all about the sting and chimaeras and this Incubite but you don’t know if the venom will kill him?”
“Incubus’ Bite,” Asclepius corrected and Sleet had to blink, but he couldn’t remember when she had shown up. “And it shouldn’t. At least, I don’t think it will. Hephaestion?”
This time, there was a surge of power and a noticeable pop as Hephaestion blinked into existence beside Alaris, looking grave and serious. “That would be a better question for Balaam. Chimaeras fall under his domain.”
“Great,” Alaris huffed and crossed her arms, tapping one foot against the ground. “It’s just an aphrodisiac. It should only make him uncomfortable until he… takes care of business.”
“Should,” Beryl agreed, but he didn’t sound certain, which didn’t exactly inspire confidence in Sleet.
“With that said,” Sleet inserted, his voice echoing with strain. “Could you leave me in peace?”
Raven sneered. “I thought you liked an audience?”
Sleet glared with as much vitriol as his body was capable of producing considering the sheer need that had taken over all his other instincts.
Thankfully, Alaris had enough sense to grab Raven’s arm and all but pull him away. “Stop taunting him, Raven. By Asherah, you two are like children.” Hephaestion blinked out of existence, taking another surge of power with him.
Ashur, luckily, seemed content to return to the fire and his log and Iblion without further comment on his part. Sleet wasn’t overly concerned with the newest addition to their group. Ashur had his own problems to deal with.
Tungsten, however, lingered, casting pitiable glances Sleet’s direction and looking like a forlorn puppy. “Sleet-san….”
Sleet could practically hear the offer in Tungsten’s tone and he shook his head sharply. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, closing his eyes as he fought the urge to shudder. Damn, even the sound of another man’s voice was making him react. “I’m not going to die.”
A hand closed about his uninjured arm, just below the elbow, and dragged him to his feet with surprising strength. Sleet’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Beryl in a drunken haze, wanting to protest, but another part of him wanting to lean into the male body that was so close to him.
Tungsten worried his lip, taking a step forward. “What are you doing?” he demanded, aghast, one hand dropping to the folds of his robe as though intent on drawing his casting rod.
Beryl rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Tungsten’s display. “He’s not going to take care of his business here, is he?” He smirked. “Though Sleet strikes me as the type to like being watched.”
Wobbly and on his feet, Sleet is beyond feeling offended. Beryl’s touch felt too damned good and if it meant he would finally be given a chance for privacy and relief, Sleet could put up with anything.
“Just go help Alaris or something, Tungsten,” Sleet said, biting back a gasp and allowing himself to grip Beryl’s arm for support, resisting the desperate urge to dive into his breeches and relieve his swollen cock. “I’ll be fine.”
Tungsten didn’t look convinced, but the pain in Sleet’s face must have been obvious. One was a lesser of two evils and finally, Tungsten nodded tightly and turned away. Someday, Sleet would have to ask Tungsten just what he’d done to deserve the mage’s loyalty. Sleet hadn’t exactly been the most polite or friendly of travel companions.
Beryl, once again displaying surprising strength, helped Sleet half-walk, half-stumble away from the campfire and towards the wood of Shadowglade. Apparently, he held no reservations about the darkened forest and Sleet didn’t particularly care at this point. He stumbled through the bushes, heading deeper and deeper until he couldn’t hear the voices of the other or see the flickering flames of the fire.
Beryl unceremoniously loosed his hold on Sleet, dropping him down to the ground and Sleet sprawled against the massive roots of some gigantic tree. He bit his lip in an effort to conceal a gasp, the bare brush of his tunic against his tight nipples making him shudder. It felt good, too good, and Sleet groaned, fingers working at the ties of his breeches furiously.
He looked up, finding that Beryl had yet to leave. Green eyes – black in the darkness of the forest – stared at him.
Sleet dredged up a glare. “Shouldn’t you be leaving?”
The other thief crouched, head cocked to the side as though curious, before he reached out, pressing a palm against Sleet’s arousal. Thoughts of either pushing Beryl away or stopping away flittered away like ash on the wind as Sleet cried out embarrassingly loud, arching toward the pleasurable touch, his hips moving of their own accord.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if Frost were here now, hmm?” Beryl asked, his voice an inviting purr in the darkness of the forest. He tilted his head to the side, drawing nearer as his fingers massaged Sleet’s rigid arousal. “You’d be a willing slave for him, wouldn’t you? Not that you weren’t already.”
Sleet swallowed thickly, one hand clenching against the thick root of the tree as his body responded to Beryl’s touch. “I’m not so far gone I’d consent to you either,” he gritted out, knowing good and well it was a utter lie. His heart was pounding faster and faster in his chest, his breathing sharper, his breeches damp where his cock was trapped.
“Who said anything about consent?” Beryl chuckled. “Sleet, you’re going to beg me for it by the time the venom’s done with you.”
He chose that moment to squeeze Sleet’s cock, making Sleet arch and pant as his entire body spasmed with pleasure. White hot fire shot through his veins as Sleet shuddered and came in his breeches. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. The pleasure wracked his entire body, but he was still hard, still hurting, even through the lingering tremors.
“Fuck,” Sleet breathed, reaching out with weak fingers, thinking to push Beryl away but only succeeding in dragging the other thief closer. “This didn’t happen,” he snarled.
Beryl smirked. “Of course it didn’t. You’re hardly my type, Sleet. And I know I’m not yours.” He cocked his head to the side, even as his fingers worked at Sleet’s breeches, pulling his rigid cock from the confines of his soaked pants. “You’d rather someone else were here. Frost, I know, but someone closer. Raven perhaps?”
Sleet sneered. “Don’t treat me like an idiot!”
“Oh? True he’s not like you and me, but he’ll tumble a man as sure as he’ll tumble a woman,” Beryl said, completely conversational, but his eyes gleamed in the darkness as his warm, smooth fingers curled around Sleet’s bare cock, still rigid and slicked with come.
“How do you know that?”
Beryl hummed, leaning in closer to Sleet, his tongue flicking out over Sleet’s cheek. “I can read people, unlike you, and I’ve been watching. I’ve learned quite a bit about Raven. He doesn’t like you, but he’s curious.” His head cocked to the side, golden curls slipping over his shoulder. “What would it be like to fuck someone could take anything he throws at them? He wonders, how much violence do you actually enjoy?”
Sleet shivered at the thought. Not so much because of the idea of Raven doing it, but the thought of it in general. Especially if Frost were behind it. His memories held enough fodder to fuel Sleet’s fantasies, to fuel the groan that spilled from his lips.
His hand snapped out, curling in Beryl’s tunic and dragging the blond closer. He didn’t like Beryl, but he was attractive enough that Sleet could stomach kissing him. Could stomach slanting his mouth over Beryl’s and swapping saliva. The blond tasted like berries and cream, his mouth slick and wet as his tongue pushed into Sleet’s mouth.
Beryl fell over him, a welcome weight, their groins coming into delicious contact. It was the first time Sleet had ever tried this with someone of similar height to him and now he could appreciate that. He shoved his hand between their bodies, grasping at Beryl’s breeches, reaching for the knots of his ties. If Sleet was forced to accept Beryl’s help, then he wasn’t going to be the only one showing his weakness here.
Sleet didn’t even care that they were on the ground, various twigs and roots digging into his back and buttocks. The need inside of him was too great, spiraling out of control and driving him higher, harder, faster. He groaned into the sloppy kiss, giving up on Beryl’s ties with his clumsy fingers and grabbing the blond’s slim hips, slamming their groins together. It felt so good and Sleet shuddered, the delicious heat coiling in his belly finally given room to grow.
Beryl’s hands were no less busy. He sucked in unsteady breaths, small burbles of laughter leaving his lips, as one hand grasped at Sleet’s hair, tugging it mercilessly. He was perched over Sleet, thighs to either side of Sleet’s hips, giving him the impression of having the upper hand. Sleet, however, couldn’t be bothered to care about dominance and submission right now. The need was burning in his blood, frying his brain, and all he wanted was release. His cock was throbbing, his heart pumping harder and harder, his moves desperate and needy.
Beryl was chuckling, his second hand diving up under Sleet’s tunic, sliding up Sleet’s smooth abdomen before finding a peaked nipple beneath the coarse fabric. He mercilessly pinched and twisted, making Sleet cry out as his body arched, feeling as though there was a direct line from Sleet’s nipples to his groin.
“Maybe this is why,” Beryl huffed, grip on Sleet’s hair tight as he pulled Sleet’s head back to focus on him. “Is it the aphrodisiac or are you always this responsive?”
Any glare Sleet might have managed would have been pointless. He felt drenched in lust and he knew his eyes weren’t capable of directing vitriol so much as they were demanding more. He was so close already, dancing on the edge, teetering toward his release.
“What does it matter to you?” Sleet demanded, slamming their hips together again, rolling his body in perfect cadence with Beryl’s.
“Can’t a guy be curious?” Beryl said flippantly and twisted Sleet’s nipple again, his hold on Sleet’s hair dragging him closer to seal their lips together.
Sleet gasped into the kiss, his body jerking as another orgasm ripped through him, coating his fingers and splattering Beryl’s breeches in semen. He groaned, deep in his throat, as Beryl’s tongue teased at his, dragging out the sensation. The surge of desperation ebbed, but Sleet was still hungry, still hot and bothered.
He groaned again, this time out of irritation. He wondered how much longer the damned aphrodisiac would last, if it was determined to wring him dry. If maybe Frost had thought it some cruel irony to kill Sleet with sex.
“This is going to kill me,” he breathed, and cried out when Beryl tugged on his hair again, a feeling more pleasure than pain. His entire body felt sensitized, skin responding to the slightest touch.
“Hardly,” Beryl snorted, and grinned, his teeth unnaturally bright in the dim light of the moon and stars gleaming through the trees. “But you’ve gotten off twice and I’m not doing this for free.”
“Why are you here?” Sleet demanded, dragging his tongue over his lips as he wriggled his hands between their bodies, trying to free Beryl’s cock from the confines of his leggings.
Beryl chuckled and abruptly drew back to his knees, surprising Sleet with the motion. His hands dropped to his own breeches, where he made short work of the knots and freed his rigid length to the cool night air. It should have felt cold to Sleet, considering how far north they were and the snow that threatened, but Sleet’s body was burning up from the inside. Snow was little more than a warm rain to him at this point.
“Does it matter?” Beryl asked, fingers of one hand curling around his cock, smearing fluid from the tip across the thick length. “You’re getting what you want and I have my own reasons.”
“And you know what it is I want?”
Beryl smirked. “Right now, I do,” he said, his free hand slipping out and curling fingers around Sleet’s chin, pulling him forward pointedly. “I think I deserve compensation, don’t you? And Frost always did say you were a good cock-sucker.”
At any other time, such a comment would have provoked a furious reaction in Sleet. Instead, he followed the blond’s subtle direction, part of him twisting in excitement over it. Beryl couldn’t hold a candle to Frost’s growled demands and wicked ideas, but it was enough. Just this once, Sleet would take it, but come morning – and freedom from the chimaera’s venom – Sleet would have his revenge, one way or another.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sleet growled, pulling himself forward until he knelt on the ground, lowering his lips to Beryl’s rigid cock.
For all his posturing, Beryl was more than aroused, fluid beading at the tip and the musky smell of his arousal thick in the air. And if there was one thing that the annoying bastard had going for him, it was that he was the perfect size for oral sex.
Sleet stuck out his tongue, briefly tasting the bitterness of Beryl’s precome, before wrapping his lips around the rounded head. Beryl stifled a sound of pleasure, his eyes oddly bright in the darkness, as Sleet took him deeper, tongue stroking the rigid length. He could tell from the way Beryl pulsed on his tongue that the blond wouldn’t last long.
Beryl’s hips twitched as he pushed into Sleet’s mouth, his fingers still wrapped around his cock so that with every flex of his hips forward, they would brush Sleet’s lips. His second hand once again found residence in Sleet’s hair, tangling the brown strands in need of a hair cut.
“I ought to fuck you,” Beryl groaned. “Just to see what Frost thought was so damn good.” Jealousy all but leaked out of the blond’s voice.
Sleet didn’t respond, instead concentrating on making Beryl come. It was odd, he thought, that this was the first time he’d been with someone other than Frost in two years time. He never realized, never stopped to sit and ponder on that little detail. That Frost had been his only fuck buddy, lover, whatever over the length of two years.
Above him, Beryl gasped and groaned, setting his own rhythm. Sleet relaxed his jaw, working Beryl with lips and tongue alone, using all the tricks he knew. That Beryl was attractive in his own rights made this easier. Sleet didn’t have to like the bastard to find him appealing to his eyes. Besides, there was something about the way Beryl sucked in air through his teeth, about the languid motion to his body, that was very attractive.
The heat inside Sleet never ceased, stirring hotter and hotter the more Beryl tugged on his hair and thrust into his mouth. One of Sleet’s hands remained balanced on the ground, fingers digging into loose soil and leaf cover, while the other reached downward, coiling fingers around his own rigid cock, preparing to bring himself off for the third time that night.
“Guess… Frost was right… ngh,” Beryl grunted, shoving himself into Sleet’s mouth, forcing himself deeper with his grip on brown hair.
Sleet breathed through his nose, rolling his eyes to glare up at the blond, but Beryl wasn’t even paying attention. His eyes were closed, his teeth clamped on his lower lip, face painted in pleasure, a look that was appealing even on an annoying man like him. More precome slithered bitterly across Sleet’s tongue and down his throat. He swallowed, tongue working itself over Beryl’s cock.
He throbbed in his own grip, fingers sliding easily, slicked by remnants of his own earlier releases. His breeches were shot, in desperate need of scrubbing, but thoughts such as those were far from Sleet’s mind. If he closed his eyes, applied a little imagination, he could almost believe he were somewhere else at the moment, with someone else.
And if it were Frost’s face, Frost’s smirk, Frost’s dark gaze that Sleet called to mind, well, that was his business and no one else’s.
He groaned, the sound echoing in his mouth and vibrating along Beryl’s cock. The musky scent of sex seemed to surround Sleet, driving his arousal higher, and he stroked himself quicker, the wet sounds of his movement a perfect accompaniment to Beryl’s panting.
“I’m close,” Beryl warned, a courtesy Sleet wouldn’t have expected. Though he could tell, from the copious amounts of precome sliding down his throat.
Tightening his lips around Beryl’s cock, Sleet swirled his tongue around the head and sucked Beryl as far as he could take, swallowing around the rigid length. He felt Beryl stiffen, heard his sharp intake of breath, and then Beryl’s fingers clasped Sleet’s head tightly. He came, spilling his load down Sleet’s throat, leaving Sleet little option to swallow.
Sleet swallowed all that Beryl had to offer and then pulled back, licking his lips as Beryl’s fingers loosened their hold on Sleet’s hair. As Beryl basked in the lingering tremors of pleasure, Sleet concentrated on his own, jerking himself off quickly and efficiently, cock almost overly sensitized by the proximity of his other orgasms. It wasn’t long before he came, a pathetic few spurts dribbling over his fingers.
Collapsing backward against the ground, Sleet panted, exhausted. His body was still throbbing, but it was of a sort he was sure he could handle. The urgency had faded, leaving only a distant growl of hunger behind. He knew, without looking, that Beryl was smirking, convinced he’d beaten Sleet somehow, as though they were in some game that Sleet didn’t know about.
“Surely you’re not tired already,” Beryl said.
Sleet, without looking, lifted his hand in a derogatory gesture that had become universal country-wide.
Beryl simply laughed as though Sleet were the funniest thing in the whole forest.
* * *
Title: Wolf in the Fold
Series: War of the Animum
Warnings: language, character death, slash erotica, graphic violence
Summary: Questions stack upon questions as Sleet and his barely-allied group of companions head further north, seeking out the last animus before Balaam can find them.
(Ch 1)(Ch 2)(Ch.3)
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Chapter Two
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Chapter Two
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Sleet struggled to his feet, using the log behind him as a prop. The pain from his thrice-damaged wound was all but forgotten as he pushed himself upward, managing to stand on shaky limbs. The world spun dizzily for a moment, but after stopping to draw in several slow breaths, it steadied.
“Beryl,” he hissed, glaring in the other thief’s direction. “What the hell are you doing following me?”
Raven’s gaze instantly swung toward Sleet, narrowed in suspicion. “I should have known,” he said, disgust filling his tone. “It takes a thief to know a thief.”
Sleet ignored Raven, more interested in what the hell Beryl was doing than engaging in a snipe fest with the mercenary.
“I told you already,” Beryl answered, his eyes flashing as he tried to shrug out of Raven’s grip, vitriol lacing his tone. “I’m after Frost. And if there’s one certain way of finding him, it’s by tracking you.”
Eyes widening in surprise, Sleet felt himself sway. Standing hadn’t been so much of a good idea, he realized, as heat swept through him. He felt himself trembling, aching from the effort of keeping his feet.
“I already told you,” Sleet said, stubbornly trying to stay on his feet. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of Beryl. “I don’t know where Frost is or what he’s doing. You’re as much in the dark as I am.”
Beryl laughed, the action more mockery than humor. “You think I’m stupid. You talked to him, Sleet. I saw him talk to you.”
Instantly, Sleet was the attention of the others and he growled low in his throat, feeling his skull throb like mad. “And did you miss the part where he vanished and left behind a monster?”
He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing down nausea, and startled when a hand suddenly touched his arm. The pressure was gentle, strangely warm, making Sleet tingle.
“You should sit down, Sleet-san,” Tungsten urged, squeezing Sleet’s elbow and trying to guide him backward.
Raven snorted. “We all know about Frost and Sleet. That’s not news. Why do you want to find Frost?”
Beryl’s mouth instantly clamped shut, his eyes flickering briefly to Sleet before focusing on the fire.
Sleet allowed Tungsten to pull him back toward his bedroll and log. Sitting seemed like a good idea. “They’re… allies,” Sleet answered for Beryl, and thought briefly about elaborating. But to do that would reveal Frost’s identity and Sleet found himself balking at doing just that. Why? He wasn’t sure.
“If that were true, then he wouldn’t need to track you just to find Frost,” Alaris said stiffly and sighed, dragging a hand through her loose hair. “Goddess above, Sleet, you certainly know how to complicate matters.”
“Like this is my fault!” Sleet growled as he settled back against the log, panting as though he’d run a ten-hour marathon, his shoulder throbbing like mad. He lifted a hand, gently touching the wound, which felt burning hot to the touch, even through the bandaging.
That couldn’t be a good sign, could it?
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to start placing blame,” Tungsten said, his eyes darting between them. “It’s clear that Beryl-san is doing this of his own accord. A better discussion would be what to do with Beryl-san now.”
“Someday, I’m going to take Frost and wring him by his scrawny neck,” Raven muttered darkly. “How the hell does he get such loyal followers?”
Sleet, indignant, would have liked to protest, but a wave of dizziness swept over him and he choked on his retort.
Beryl, however, had no such weaknesses. “I’m not some stupid lackey,” he growled.
Unsurprisingly, the blond thief was ignored.
Alaris, glancing between the two thieves, inclined her head, visibly taking a breath as though trying to calm herself. “I doubt Beryl will stop following us just because we caught him. Yes?” The last was directed toward the thief himself, who jerked his head in a stubborn nod.
“Well, we can’t just kill him!” Tungsten exclaimed, sounding so utterly horrified that he managed to attract everyone’s attention.
“No one said that,” Alaris said, quick to soothe Tungsten’s ruffled feathers.
Sleet snorted, cutting his eyes in Raven’s direction. “Yeah, but Raven’s thinking it,” he muttered, able to guess the mercenary’s thought processes easily enough.
“We don’t need another useless thief,” Raven grumbled, seemingly unconcerned with the fact he had just proven Tungsten right.
“Even so, we’re not murderers,” Alaris retorted sharply, looking tired as she rubbed at her forehead again, brow furrowing. “It’s better that we keep an eye on him than to have him following us and making Raven jumpy.”
Sleet scowled, not liking that idea one bit. “It’s not a good idea,” he warned, but it lacked any strength as another wave of dizziness made itself known.
For a second there, his hearing and sight vanished, leaving him scrabbling in a strange, blank white until he found himself in the present again. Sleet swayed, mouth dry, body trembling and covered in a thick coating of sweat. He could feel his clothes clinging to him stickily, despite the chill of the air. It wasn’t that warm next to the fire.
Perhaps he should ask Alaris to take a look at him just in case. There was a pressure in the back of his head, a lot like when Erebus was first trying to speak to him, and it was only getting worse by the second. Not to mention Erebus hadn’t bothered to offer his opinion lately, which was a rare treat indeed.
“Yet, we don’t have many other choices,” Alaris said with a sigh, her voice sounding to Sleet as though it were coming from the end of a very long tunnel. “Let him go, Raven. I don’t think he means us harm.”
“Maybe not you,” Sleet grumbled, but he went largely ignored. It was a sad day when the only one on his side was Raven.
Raven muttered something under his breath that no one heard, and released Beryl with a small shove that pushed the thief forward several steps. Shooting a glare over his shoulder at the mercenary, Beryl gingerly rubbed his neck as though feeling for bruises.
“You should at least take his weapons,” Iblion offered from his position on the log, for the first time offering up his opinion on the matter.
“I’ve already covered that,” Raven replied boredly, tapping one of his pouches pointedly.
Sleet, for the most part, ignored them. He couldn’t even focus on Beryl anymore, for that matter, because the sense of wrongness inside of him couldn’t be ignored any longer. There was a pressure on the back of his mind, like someone had stuck their fingers in his brain and squeezed his gray matter. He gasped, and his knees wobbled beneath him at another onslaught of heat sweeping over his body. Heat so strong it felt as if he had been blasted in the face with a burst of fire.
“What… the hell?” he gasped, and dropped, sprawling undignified to the ground, his upper back hitting the log that had served as a backrest earlier. The heat washing over him seemed to pool directly in his groin, making him throb and ache, until it felt as if his entire body was throbbing to the same sensual beat.
He heard a sound, a voice in the far distance, that could have been Erebus, but Sleet couldn’t be certain. The world was fading in and out, grey and black, and one hand reached out blindly, looking for something to cling to, to ground him.
And then there was pain. Sleet knew no other way to describe it. Pain so severe it stole his breath a moment before a sharp scream stole from his lips and he thrashed violently to get away from the source of it. The pain started in his arm, blossoming out like needles heated to volcanic fire and stabbing into every nerve.
The pain was terrible, but it brought with it a sense of clarity. Sleet opened his eyes to the sight of Alaris bending over him, worry etched into her features, her fingers gripping tightly to his arm. He didn’t know why, but he was certain she was the source of his pain and Sleet lashed out again, willing to do anything if it would make the agony stop.
Agony that quickly and sharply changed to pleasure when hands landed against his shoulders – even the injured one, and pushed him to the ground. Alaris disappeared from his line of sight but that didn’t matter to Sleet. Not when the lightning fire was quickly replaced by trickles of warm pleasure, like the gentle fall of rain over his entire body. The change, from pain to pleasure, was so abrupt that it was dizzying.
He could feel the heat and weight of someone else above him, and Sleet instinctively moved toward the source of the pleasure. Wherever it was coming from, he didn’t care, because it was infinitely better than the pain. His body arched, something like a moan passing from his lips as his groin throbbed and ached, desperate for a kind touch.
Smack!
Sleet’s head rocked to the side as the sharp sting of a slap echoed through his face where someone’s open palm had struck his left cheek. The pain was startling and abrupt, for all it’s brevity, but it had the intended effect. It brought another flash of clarity to Sleet and he blinked, staring up into the face of the weight above him.
Raven. Who was laughing like the bastard he was.
Sleet cursed and struggled, wriggling to get free no matter how good it might feel to have Raven pushing him down, restraining him, knee placed just so…
The mercenary pulled back, letting go of his hold. Sleet fell back with a gasp, and curled into himself on instinct. His body was throbbing as though it were one massive arousal, and he bit back an embarrassing whimper. He couldn’t fight the heat or the want and need.
What the hell was going on?
From the corner of his eyes, Sleet caught Alaris approaching him again but Sleet jerked away, well remembering what had happened the last time. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled, and sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing down a moan.
He could feel their stares, even with his eyes closed. All of them were looking at him as though he were mad and maybe Sleet was. Because none of this made sense. Perhaps Frost had cursed him or something, Sleet couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that this wasn’t normal.
And then Raven’s laughter broke through the rising tension. Laughter full of genuine amusement that seemed to come from the gut and spill through his lips. The eyes shift from Sleet to Raven, who was currently acting more crazed than Sleet.
“What in Hades is the matter with you?” Alaris hissed, her patience long since dissolved.
Frankly, Sleet didn’t blame her. Weird shit happened around them far too much for anyone’s comfort, much less poor Alaris who had been roped into leading their merry band of doomed idiots. Sleet often wondered what deity Alaris had pissed off in a past life to have cursed her with this sort of destiny.
Raven shook his head, his single grey eye gleaming with amusement. “I didn’t really believe it until now but Sleet… he truly is gay.” This was accompanied with another guffaw, a joke that only Raven seemed to understand, though judging by the curl of Beryl’s lips, the blond knew something as well.
Alaris frowned, unamused. “I fail to see how that connects.”
Turning toward Tungsten, Raven addressed the priest. “You said Frost--”
“It wasn’t Frost,” Sleet interjected, before Raven could imply that Frost was the cause of this. That… that creature they had encountered in the alley was not Frost, only a facsimile of him. Balaam in a Frost suit, following his own vile end.
“Balaam, whatever,” Raven conceded, rolling his eye. “You said he called a chimaera, right? And that’s what attacked the little bastard?”
Tungsten nodded, confusion making him look even younger than his years. Between he and Raven, a sudden understanding seemed to dawn in Beryl’s eyes.
“You think it was female?” Beryl asked, surprising everyone with his willingness to contribute. But then again, everyone seemed to find their amusement at Sleet’s expense. He wasn’t surprised.
Raven smirked. “They are larger, more vicious, and prone to attack anything that moves or is perceived as a threat. Plus, their venom is… unique.”
Personally, Sleet didn’t care. He couldn’t concentrate. He wasn’t fading in and out of grey anymore, but it was still difficult to focus. How could he with the way heat kept flooding his body in even, wonderful ways? When his cock throbbed in his breeches, desperate for some kind of relief? When all Sleet wanted to do was climb to his feet and stumble into the privacy of the woods to ease the pressure inside of him.
“Unique how?” Alaris demanded, frustration clear in her tone. They could all do with a bit more sleep, Alaris especially.
“Sleet?” Tungsten appeared at his side, reaching out with a single hand, his face pinched with concern.
Sleet’s mouth opened to warn him, but some deeper, desperate part of him chewed and swallowed the warning. Sleet just watched as the hand came closer, settling innocently on Sleet’s uninjured shoulder in concern. Tungsten couldn’t have known just good that simple touch would feel, but he did moments later when Sleet let out a low moan, one that escaped before he could swallow or bite it back.
Raven was too smug with himself. “That’s how,” he said, and folded his arms over his chest, unbearably amused with the situation.
Bright green eyes widened as Tungsten quickly withdrew his touch, returning Sleet to his world of throbbing groins, unrelenting heat, and a building sense of pain once more. He needed relief and he needed it soon or Sleet was going to go mad.
Strangely enough, it was Beryl who actually offered an explanation. “You see, chimaeras are weird beasts. Their females are dominant and don’t like their males too much. But there’s the basic need to reproduce. So the venom encourages the males to mate with them even when the males are scared shitless.”
Ashur looked pained, and vaguely disturbed, making him seem even paler than usual. For having lived in such a large town, he was oddly cloistered about the strangest things. “They rape them?”
The thief shrugged. “Hard to call it rape when they are just animals, but yeah. Don’t worry, though, the males don’t even remember it because the females eat them afterward.”
Ashur paled even further, making him look sickly, as he stared at Beryl in horror. And well, Alaris didn’t look much better, though her face was set with a grim determination. Tungsten was on the verge of fainting and Sleet had to admit, the thought of such made him just a little queasy as well. Chimaeras were nasty beasts.
Beryl shrugged again. “They’ve got to have some nutrients for their newly fertilized eggs, don’t they?”
“That’s…” Tungsten lost his voice for a moment and he shook his head as though he needed the motion to get his composure back. “So Sleet-san…?”
Beryl grinned with a lot of teeth, vaguely resembling a laughing hyena from the plains. “Haven’t you ever heard of Incubus’ Bite?”
“How would he? Tungsten’s practically a kid,” Raven said with a grunt, refusing to elaborate for the sake of everyone else who didn’t know.
Sleet, however, did know. He hadn’t been a member of Corynth’s underworld without picking up a few things, including the latest in the drug trade. Sleet hadn’t been one for opiates and hallucinogens himself, but he knew of them. And Incubus’ Bite was one of the better known drugs, one used in whorehouses in order to keep the prostitutes compliant.
“Well, I don’t know what it is either,” Alaris said sharply, looking none too keen about the way Raven and Beryl seemed to be getting along at Sleet’s expense. “So explain.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Beryl smiled again, sweetly this time as though he were a perfect innocent. “It’s a highly potent aphrodisiac derived from the venom of a female chimaera with a few extra compounds to make things interesting. Sleet’s lucky; he got Incubus’ Bite in its purest, potent form.”
Raven chuckled, scratching at his chin. “And Sleet doesn’t like women. So don’t take it personal, Alaris. He’s just gay all the way to the core.”
With a noise of defeat, Alaris threw her hands into the air. “Of all the… only you, Sleet. I swear to Asherah. Trouble seems to have attached itself to your shoulders.”
“What? Like this is my fault?” Sleet growled, his breath coming in sharp, uneven pants. The throbbing of his groin was an unbearable pain and his fingers twitched, desperate to grasp himself. “Just leave me alone. I’ll take care of this myself.”
“Better men than you have tried,” Raven muttered with a razor-sharp grin that only highlighted his amusement. He was deriving far too much pleasure from the situation.
Ashur’s timid voice cut into Raven’s amusement. “Will it kill him?”
Beryl and Raven – a wrong alliance if Sleet ever saw one – exchanged glances before the thief shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said, and Raven nodded in agreement.
Tungsten huffed, shooting both men looks of disapproval. “You know all about the sting and chimaeras and this Incubite but you don’t know if the venom will kill him?”
“Incubus’ Bite,” Asclepius corrected and Sleet had to blink, but he couldn’t remember when she had shown up. “And it shouldn’t. At least, I don’t think it will. Hephaestion?”
This time, there was a surge of power and a noticeable pop as Hephaestion blinked into existence beside Alaris, looking grave and serious. “That would be a better question for Balaam. Chimaeras fall under his domain.”
“Great,” Alaris huffed and crossed her arms, tapping one foot against the ground. “It’s just an aphrodisiac. It should only make him uncomfortable until he… takes care of business.”
“Should,” Beryl agreed, but he didn’t sound certain, which didn’t exactly inspire confidence in Sleet.
“With that said,” Sleet inserted, his voice echoing with strain. “Could you leave me in peace?”
Raven sneered. “I thought you liked an audience?”
Sleet glared with as much vitriol as his body was capable of producing considering the sheer need that had taken over all his other instincts.
Thankfully, Alaris had enough sense to grab Raven’s arm and all but pull him away. “Stop taunting him, Raven. By Asherah, you two are like children.” Hephaestion blinked out of existence, taking another surge of power with him.
Ashur, luckily, seemed content to return to the fire and his log and Iblion without further comment on his part. Sleet wasn’t overly concerned with the newest addition to their group. Ashur had his own problems to deal with.
Tungsten, however, lingered, casting pitiable glances Sleet’s direction and looking like a forlorn puppy. “Sleet-san….”
Sleet could practically hear the offer in Tungsten’s tone and he shook his head sharply. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, closing his eyes as he fought the urge to shudder. Damn, even the sound of another man’s voice was making him react. “I’m not going to die.”
A hand closed about his uninjured arm, just below the elbow, and dragged him to his feet with surprising strength. Sleet’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Beryl in a drunken haze, wanting to protest, but another part of him wanting to lean into the male body that was so close to him.
Tungsten worried his lip, taking a step forward. “What are you doing?” he demanded, aghast, one hand dropping to the folds of his robe as though intent on drawing his casting rod.
Beryl rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Tungsten’s display. “He’s not going to take care of his business here, is he?” He smirked. “Though Sleet strikes me as the type to like being watched.”
Wobbly and on his feet, Sleet is beyond feeling offended. Beryl’s touch felt too damned good and if it meant he would finally be given a chance for privacy and relief, Sleet could put up with anything.
“Just go help Alaris or something, Tungsten,” Sleet said, biting back a gasp and allowing himself to grip Beryl’s arm for support, resisting the desperate urge to dive into his breeches and relieve his swollen cock. “I’ll be fine.”
Tungsten didn’t look convinced, but the pain in Sleet’s face must have been obvious. One was a lesser of two evils and finally, Tungsten nodded tightly and turned away. Someday, Sleet would have to ask Tungsten just what he’d done to deserve the mage’s loyalty. Sleet hadn’t exactly been the most polite or friendly of travel companions.
Beryl, once again displaying surprising strength, helped Sleet half-walk, half-stumble away from the campfire and towards the wood of Shadowglade. Apparently, he held no reservations about the darkened forest and Sleet didn’t particularly care at this point. He stumbled through the bushes, heading deeper and deeper until he couldn’t hear the voices of the other or see the flickering flames of the fire.
Beryl unceremoniously loosed his hold on Sleet, dropping him down to the ground and Sleet sprawled against the massive roots of some gigantic tree. He bit his lip in an effort to conceal a gasp, the bare brush of his tunic against his tight nipples making him shudder. It felt good, too good, and Sleet groaned, fingers working at the ties of his breeches furiously.
He looked up, finding that Beryl had yet to leave. Green eyes – black in the darkness of the forest – stared at him.
Sleet dredged up a glare. “Shouldn’t you be leaving?”
The other thief crouched, head cocked to the side as though curious, before he reached out, pressing a palm against Sleet’s arousal. Thoughts of either pushing Beryl away or stopping away flittered away like ash on the wind as Sleet cried out embarrassingly loud, arching toward the pleasurable touch, his hips moving of their own accord.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if Frost were here now, hmm?” Beryl asked, his voice an inviting purr in the darkness of the forest. He tilted his head to the side, drawing nearer as his fingers massaged Sleet’s rigid arousal. “You’d be a willing slave for him, wouldn’t you? Not that you weren’t already.”
Sleet swallowed thickly, one hand clenching against the thick root of the tree as his body responded to Beryl’s touch. “I’m not so far gone I’d consent to you either,” he gritted out, knowing good and well it was a utter lie. His heart was pounding faster and faster in his chest, his breathing sharper, his breeches damp where his cock was trapped.
“Who said anything about consent?” Beryl chuckled. “Sleet, you’re going to beg me for it by the time the venom’s done with you.”
He chose that moment to squeeze Sleet’s cock, making Sleet arch and pant as his entire body spasmed with pleasure. White hot fire shot through his veins as Sleet shuddered and came in his breeches. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. The pleasure wracked his entire body, but he was still hard, still hurting, even through the lingering tremors.
“Fuck,” Sleet breathed, reaching out with weak fingers, thinking to push Beryl away but only succeeding in dragging the other thief closer. “This didn’t happen,” he snarled.
Beryl smirked. “Of course it didn’t. You’re hardly my type, Sleet. And I know I’m not yours.” He cocked his head to the side, even as his fingers worked at Sleet’s breeches, pulling his rigid cock from the confines of his soaked pants. “You’d rather someone else were here. Frost, I know, but someone closer. Raven perhaps?”
Sleet sneered. “Don’t treat me like an idiot!”
“Oh? True he’s not like you and me, but he’ll tumble a man as sure as he’ll tumble a woman,” Beryl said, completely conversational, but his eyes gleamed in the darkness as his warm, smooth fingers curled around Sleet’s bare cock, still rigid and slicked with come.
“How do you know that?”
Beryl hummed, leaning in closer to Sleet, his tongue flicking out over Sleet’s cheek. “I can read people, unlike you, and I’ve been watching. I’ve learned quite a bit about Raven. He doesn’t like you, but he’s curious.” His head cocked to the side, golden curls slipping over his shoulder. “What would it be like to fuck someone could take anything he throws at them? He wonders, how much violence do you actually enjoy?”
Sleet shivered at the thought. Not so much because of the idea of Raven doing it, but the thought of it in general. Especially if Frost were behind it. His memories held enough fodder to fuel Sleet’s fantasies, to fuel the groan that spilled from his lips.
His hand snapped out, curling in Beryl’s tunic and dragging the blond closer. He didn’t like Beryl, but he was attractive enough that Sleet could stomach kissing him. Could stomach slanting his mouth over Beryl’s and swapping saliva. The blond tasted like berries and cream, his mouth slick and wet as his tongue pushed into Sleet’s mouth.
Beryl fell over him, a welcome weight, their groins coming into delicious contact. It was the first time Sleet had ever tried this with someone of similar height to him and now he could appreciate that. He shoved his hand between their bodies, grasping at Beryl’s breeches, reaching for the knots of his ties. If Sleet was forced to accept Beryl’s help, then he wasn’t going to be the only one showing his weakness here.
Sleet didn’t even care that they were on the ground, various twigs and roots digging into his back and buttocks. The need inside of him was too great, spiraling out of control and driving him higher, harder, faster. He groaned into the sloppy kiss, giving up on Beryl’s ties with his clumsy fingers and grabbing the blond’s slim hips, slamming their groins together. It felt so good and Sleet shuddered, the delicious heat coiling in his belly finally given room to grow.
Beryl’s hands were no less busy. He sucked in unsteady breaths, small burbles of laughter leaving his lips, as one hand grasped at Sleet’s hair, tugging it mercilessly. He was perched over Sleet, thighs to either side of Sleet’s hips, giving him the impression of having the upper hand. Sleet, however, couldn’t be bothered to care about dominance and submission right now. The need was burning in his blood, frying his brain, and all he wanted was release. His cock was throbbing, his heart pumping harder and harder, his moves desperate and needy.
Beryl was chuckling, his second hand diving up under Sleet’s tunic, sliding up Sleet’s smooth abdomen before finding a peaked nipple beneath the coarse fabric. He mercilessly pinched and twisted, making Sleet cry out as his body arched, feeling as though there was a direct line from Sleet’s nipples to his groin.
“Maybe this is why,” Beryl huffed, grip on Sleet’s hair tight as he pulled Sleet’s head back to focus on him. “Is it the aphrodisiac or are you always this responsive?”
Any glare Sleet might have managed would have been pointless. He felt drenched in lust and he knew his eyes weren’t capable of directing vitriol so much as they were demanding more. He was so close already, dancing on the edge, teetering toward his release.
“What does it matter to you?” Sleet demanded, slamming their hips together again, rolling his body in perfect cadence with Beryl’s.
“Can’t a guy be curious?” Beryl said flippantly and twisted Sleet’s nipple again, his hold on Sleet’s hair dragging him closer to seal their lips together.
Sleet gasped into the kiss, his body jerking as another orgasm ripped through him, coating his fingers and splattering Beryl’s breeches in semen. He groaned, deep in his throat, as Beryl’s tongue teased at his, dragging out the sensation. The surge of desperation ebbed, but Sleet was still hungry, still hot and bothered.
He groaned again, this time out of irritation. He wondered how much longer the damned aphrodisiac would last, if it was determined to wring him dry. If maybe Frost had thought it some cruel irony to kill Sleet with sex.
“This is going to kill me,” he breathed, and cried out when Beryl tugged on his hair again, a feeling more pleasure than pain. His entire body felt sensitized, skin responding to the slightest touch.
“Hardly,” Beryl snorted, and grinned, his teeth unnaturally bright in the dim light of the moon and stars gleaming through the trees. “But you’ve gotten off twice and I’m not doing this for free.”
“Why are you here?” Sleet demanded, dragging his tongue over his lips as he wriggled his hands between their bodies, trying to free Beryl’s cock from the confines of his leggings.
Beryl chuckled and abruptly drew back to his knees, surprising Sleet with the motion. His hands dropped to his own breeches, where he made short work of the knots and freed his rigid length to the cool night air. It should have felt cold to Sleet, considering how far north they were and the snow that threatened, but Sleet’s body was burning up from the inside. Snow was little more than a warm rain to him at this point.
“Does it matter?” Beryl asked, fingers of one hand curling around his cock, smearing fluid from the tip across the thick length. “You’re getting what you want and I have my own reasons.”
“And you know what it is I want?”
Beryl smirked. “Right now, I do,” he said, his free hand slipping out and curling fingers around Sleet’s chin, pulling him forward pointedly. “I think I deserve compensation, don’t you? And Frost always did say you were a good cock-sucker.”
At any other time, such a comment would have provoked a furious reaction in Sleet. Instead, he followed the blond’s subtle direction, part of him twisting in excitement over it. Beryl couldn’t hold a candle to Frost’s growled demands and wicked ideas, but it was enough. Just this once, Sleet would take it, but come morning – and freedom from the chimaera’s venom – Sleet would have his revenge, one way or another.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sleet growled, pulling himself forward until he knelt on the ground, lowering his lips to Beryl’s rigid cock.
For all his posturing, Beryl was more than aroused, fluid beading at the tip and the musky smell of his arousal thick in the air. And if there was one thing that the annoying bastard had going for him, it was that he was the perfect size for oral sex.
Sleet stuck out his tongue, briefly tasting the bitterness of Beryl’s precome, before wrapping his lips around the rounded head. Beryl stifled a sound of pleasure, his eyes oddly bright in the darkness, as Sleet took him deeper, tongue stroking the rigid length. He could tell from the way Beryl pulsed on his tongue that the blond wouldn’t last long.
Beryl’s hips twitched as he pushed into Sleet’s mouth, his fingers still wrapped around his cock so that with every flex of his hips forward, they would brush Sleet’s lips. His second hand once again found residence in Sleet’s hair, tangling the brown strands in need of a hair cut.
“I ought to fuck you,” Beryl groaned. “Just to see what Frost thought was so damn good.” Jealousy all but leaked out of the blond’s voice.
Sleet didn’t respond, instead concentrating on making Beryl come. It was odd, he thought, that this was the first time he’d been with someone other than Frost in two years time. He never realized, never stopped to sit and ponder on that little detail. That Frost had been his only fuck buddy, lover, whatever over the length of two years.
Above him, Beryl gasped and groaned, setting his own rhythm. Sleet relaxed his jaw, working Beryl with lips and tongue alone, using all the tricks he knew. That Beryl was attractive in his own rights made this easier. Sleet didn’t have to like the bastard to find him appealing to his eyes. Besides, there was something about the way Beryl sucked in air through his teeth, about the languid motion to his body, that was very attractive.
The heat inside Sleet never ceased, stirring hotter and hotter the more Beryl tugged on his hair and thrust into his mouth. One of Sleet’s hands remained balanced on the ground, fingers digging into loose soil and leaf cover, while the other reached downward, coiling fingers around his own rigid cock, preparing to bring himself off for the third time that night.
“Guess… Frost was right… ngh,” Beryl grunted, shoving himself into Sleet’s mouth, forcing himself deeper with his grip on brown hair.
Sleet breathed through his nose, rolling his eyes to glare up at the blond, but Beryl wasn’t even paying attention. His eyes were closed, his teeth clamped on his lower lip, face painted in pleasure, a look that was appealing even on an annoying man like him. More precome slithered bitterly across Sleet’s tongue and down his throat. He swallowed, tongue working itself over Beryl’s cock.
He throbbed in his own grip, fingers sliding easily, slicked by remnants of his own earlier releases. His breeches were shot, in desperate need of scrubbing, but thoughts such as those were far from Sleet’s mind. If he closed his eyes, applied a little imagination, he could almost believe he were somewhere else at the moment, with someone else.
And if it were Frost’s face, Frost’s smirk, Frost’s dark gaze that Sleet called to mind, well, that was his business and no one else’s.
He groaned, the sound echoing in his mouth and vibrating along Beryl’s cock. The musky scent of sex seemed to surround Sleet, driving his arousal higher, and he stroked himself quicker, the wet sounds of his movement a perfect accompaniment to Beryl’s panting.
“I’m close,” Beryl warned, a courtesy Sleet wouldn’t have expected. Though he could tell, from the copious amounts of precome sliding down his throat.
Tightening his lips around Beryl’s cock, Sleet swirled his tongue around the head and sucked Beryl as far as he could take, swallowing around the rigid length. He felt Beryl stiffen, heard his sharp intake of breath, and then Beryl’s fingers clasped Sleet’s head tightly. He came, spilling his load down Sleet’s throat, leaving Sleet little option to swallow.
Sleet swallowed all that Beryl had to offer and then pulled back, licking his lips as Beryl’s fingers loosened their hold on Sleet’s hair. As Beryl basked in the lingering tremors of pleasure, Sleet concentrated on his own, jerking himself off quickly and efficiently, cock almost overly sensitized by the proximity of his other orgasms. It wasn’t long before he came, a pathetic few spurts dribbling over his fingers.
Collapsing backward against the ground, Sleet panted, exhausted. His body was still throbbing, but it was of a sort he was sure he could handle. The urgency had faded, leaving only a distant growl of hunger behind. He knew, without looking, that Beryl was smirking, convinced he’d beaten Sleet somehow, as though they were in some game that Sleet didn’t know about.
“Surely you’re not tired already,” Beryl said.
Sleet, without looking, lifted his hand in a derogatory gesture that had become universal country-wide.
Beryl simply laughed as though Sleet were the funniest thing in the whole forest.
a/n: So here I am, biting my nails over what you might think of this chapter which delves, admittedly, into some cliche territory. But rest assured, this was no cheap way to get Beryl and Sleet together. I don't want to explain too much and ruin the plot of the future, so I'll just hope you enjoyed and look forward to your comments. *grins*
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
