Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter 27.
Title: Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter Title & No.: #27. How to break a soul.

Author: Darkling Willow

Pairing: Non.

Rating: NC - 17
Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM, Bi, B-Mod, Bond, Death, D/s, H/C, HJ, Humil, Language, M/F, M/M, Minor, N/C, OC, Oral, Preg, Rim, Spank, Violence, Voy, VS, WD, WIP.

Archive: Originals - misc. > Slash-male/male
Feedback: Yes thank you very much. An author can only improve with criticism. Please rate if you do not want to leave a review.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance of places and characters to actual persons, living or dead, and places is purely coincidental.
The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Authors Notes: For review replies, comments and thank you's go to: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/14530-polinues-marines-the-would-be-mage/

Summary: Some things can never remain the same.

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Chapter 27. How to break a soul.

Leyjen jumped out of the way, covering his head, as the water pitcher shattered on the wall behind him, and the room sang with Polinues’ screams.

“What the Hell!? What’s wrong with you?” Leyjen shouted, rising to his feet again, taken aback by the pure hatred in Polinues’ stormy grey eye. A hatred that had been growing steadily for the fortnight since Yule.
They had barely spoken for a week, and the carriage ride to the Temples had been painful to say the least.

“You lied to me!”

“What? When? Oh, you mean…”

“Yes! I mean! You lied.”

“Polinues, we talked about this the night it happened. Why are you bringing it up again?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. What he did to you…”
The boy cut himself off, his face blushing, his anger doubling.

“Well don’t think about it. It doesn’t concern you.”

Leyjen tried to approach him, but Polinues screamed at him again,
“Yes it does! You’re mine! He shouldn’t do that! You belong to me!”

Leyjen stopped, his heart jumping wildly, his anger finally rising after two weeks of this abuse.

“I do not belong to you! I am not some toy, or servant, that you can order about as you want!”

“Yes, you are! Belnsair says so! And so does Arlathi! You’re just a servant!”

“Is that how you think of me?! Am I nothing but a servant to you?! After everything that I’ve done for you, I’m still just a servant!” Leyjen’s voice rose to a trembling height, but the boy did not waver, only thrust his chin out and screamed back,

“YES! You’re a servant! You’re supposed to do what I tell you to! If I tell you to jump, you ask off what cliff!”

The slap of skin against skin rang louder than their voices, Polinues stumbled back but did not whimper, cupping his left cheek, his grey eye stone cold.
Leyjen’s palm throbbed in pain, his eyes burning with tears, his teeth tearing the left corner of his bottom lip to bleed, but he couldn’t stop the words that followed,
“I am not your servant. I obey your father, and your mother, simply because my mother told me to. I do not bow myself to you or any one of your siblings. If this is how you feel, then you can go the rest of your journey alone. I will not hold your hand any longer, Polinues Marines.”

The hatred and anger in the boy’s eye burned hotter than any fire Leyjen could ever dream of commanding, as Polinues hissed through clenched teeth,
“I hate you. You are nothing to me. Get out of my sight, servant!”

Leyjen slammed the door after him hard enough to make the heavy wood door groan, Polinues’ scream echoing down the hall after him.
Leyjen crumbled down on his bed, digging his face into the pillows and screaming as hard as he could. Loud enough that he didn’t hear the soft knock on the door.

“Leyjen? Are you alright?” A low voice asked him, a hand patting his shoulder.

Leyjen startled, looking up,
“Oh, hey, Hylmir. Yeah, I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say hi, and see if you’re alright. I heard you two fighting.”

“You did?”

“Uhm, yeah, I think the entire cloister heard you two. Want to talk about it?”

“Nah. It’s between us. It’ll work itself out before Imbolc, I’m sure.” Leyjen waved his friend to sit down, as he sat up on the bed, drying his tears on his sleeve.

They talked about nothing in particular, about they’re Yule celebrations, and Hylmir’s sister, the Hedgewitch Arlin. Lord Marines had fired her from the household just before Yule, Hylmir told him, and now she had found herself a cottage just outside of the village, Marinesse, where she now served the townspeople.

Leyjen growled and gave a savage kick under the desk, glaring across the stacks of books, the stormy grey eye on the other side staring back with no less hatred.
Leyjen saw the boy’s mouth twitch when the kick hit home on his shin, but Polinues did not waver.
Leyjen rose to his feet silently, his shins thudding with pain, gathering his things in a hurry, and stalked out of the study hall, the boy’s quiet mumblings following in his wake.

It was two weeks until Beltane, only about ten days until Leyjen would go into his three day solitary meditation for the Turning of the Stage, and he had been assigned his new room on the ground floor of the Cleric’s cloister earlier that day.

He was torn between happiness and sadness with this move.
He was happy because it meant he was back on the ground floor, which was so much easier for sneaking out at night, but he was sad that now he would not be living in the same building as Polinues.
Not that it really mattered because he and Polinues had not spoken once since the night they came back to the Temples.
The only times they had spoken they had both been shouting, and neither of them had said anything nice.

Leyjen had not heard anything from Amraeen, which did not help his mood either, he was beginning to worry.
He had gone to the Vampyr’s cottage a few times, when he went hunting alone, but every time the cottage had been empty, cold and abandoned, Amraeen’s black coffin standing alone in the basement, a silent reminder of what he was missing so desperately.
Leyjen had started crying himself to sleep almost every night.
He felt abandoned, alone and friendless, Hylmir’s perfectly platonic friendship only filling a part of this hole in his soul, and Tisék’s hesitant advances only making him feel used and dirty.

Leyjen sat down heavily on a stone bench in the small garden behind the Novice’s cloister, staring across the creek at the old oak beside the old stable, staring at it like he was trying to will it into obeying him.

Nothing.

No blue ribbon fluttering in the breeze, the oak just as dark and old and forlorn as it always was, and that feeling of dread settled over Leyjen’s heart once again.

He jumped a little when someone approached and sat down on the other side of the L-shaped bench.

“Hey, Tisék.” He said in a low voice with a short, insincere smile.

The older cleric scoffed a little, answering,
“You really have no sense of propriety do you, novice Shaoir.”

Leyjen shrugged his shoulders, arching his eyebrows, a tiny sparkle entering his eyes but died just as fast,
“Maybe. I just find it pretentious to address my friends with a formal title and family name. I mean, I’ve known you since I was, what? Twelve summers? I just don’t see the point.”

“I know. It is pretentious. Leyjen, then. There. You’ve got even me breaking the rules. So, we are friends after all?”

Leyjen looked up, the glazed quality to Tisék’s eyes worrying him, but he decided not to say anything, instead he nodded his head,
“Yes. I like to call you my friend.”

They sat silent for a few mintues, Leyen’s eyes straying back to the old oak, but the blue ribbon was still not there.

Tisék cleared his throat, his voice a little hesitant when he asked,
“Is everything alright? You look sad.”

“I do? I don’t know. Home sick isn’t the right word. I’m missing something… I feel lonely. It’s strange to say it like that. I’m surrounded by people all day, at mealtimes, studying, meditating, praying, even in the showers, everywhere there is people. But when I stop to think about it, I only know a few. There’s you and Hylmir, that I call friends, and sometimes Alina, when she’s not angry at me for no reason. I feel lonely.”

“What about your little rag-tag?”

“Don’t call him that!”

“Sorry. What about Polinues? I thought he was your closest friend.”

Leyjen laughed myrthlessly, shaking his head, his eyes growing dim,
“He’s not speaking to me.”

“I’ve noticed. The entire Temple has noticed.”

Leyjen quirked an eyebrow at the cleric, and Tisék smiled,
“When you start throwing things at each other in public it’s sort of obvious you’re fighting. What happened?”

Leyjen looked away, his high cheekbones blushing slightly,
“It’s personal. I thought we had settled it, we did discuss it before we returned from our Yule holiday. He hates me right now. It’s personal.”

“Leyjen. You call me your friend, but when I offer you friendship you turn it away. If you truly consider me a friend then let me be your friend. What happened?”

Leyjen sighed, his eyes tearing up, but the tears did not fall, his chin quivered slightly as he spoke,
“I share everthing with him. There is nothing in my life that is not his. Everything that is me, is his as well.
The place I call my home is his home. The people I call my family are his servants, the people I call my friends are the children of his servants, his nursemaids, his stable boys, his sister.
I only came here to the Temple to go to school, I was to become a notary, or a lawyer on the Lord Marines’ tenure. But then I had that stupid vision! So, I become a cleric, then he becomes a cleric and I’m told I’m to be his mentor. At fifteen! I had no choice, no one asked me, I was just told to be his mentor.
I’m still three years shy of mentorship! By the time I’m old enough, I will have been a mentor for eight years!
He knows me as intimately as I know myself, he knows every one of my quirks and habits and peeves, he knows every expression, every look, every twitch. There is nothing that I can do or say or even think that he doesn’t know about, and then…”

Leyjen stopped, gasping, a large tear falling down from his lashes, tumbling down his cheek, he drew a deep breath, then continued, his voice shaking,
“I had this one tiny little secret. This one little thing that was mine, and mine absolutely alone. Something… The one thing I did not share with anyone, not even him, it was only mine. About a year ago, Polinues found out. He realized half of it, and when he confronted me, I didn’t correct him. I told him his assumption was correct. Then this Yule, Polinues discovered the truth. And now he says I lied to him. He says he can’t trust me, ever again, because I lied to him. I’ve never lied to him in his life. I’ve never once hidden the truth from him, or tried to deceive him like so many oth… I’ve never lied to him.”

“Did you lie? Or did you just let him believe his own assumptions? Why did you try to conceal the truth from him in the first place?”

“I don’t believe I lied. It didn’t feel like lying. I just wanted… I didn’t want… He’s grown up so fast. He knows and understands so much more than any other ten summers old that I know. I just wanted him to keep his innocence a little while longer. I didn’t want him to know the truth, because I wanted to keep something to myself. This one tiny little thing that was all mine, I wanted it to remain mine, something I didn’t have to share with him. I did tell him that his assumption was correct, so perhaps I lied.”

Leyjen glanced back at the old oak, hoping that the signal from Amraeen was there, but there was nothing, only dark shadows dancing in the budding branches.
Tisék cleared his throat softly, and drew a deep breath before he spoke,
“I can’t see that you lied. You may have decieved him, but only a little. No more than a parent who tells their child a half truth instead of a whole truth.”

Tisék reached out, and ran a hand lightly across the exposed back of Leyjen’s neck, giving it a tiny squeeze.
The touch pulled on the initiation ring pierced into the nape of his neck, and Leyjen shivered with a suppressed moan, pulling away from the touch, Tisék let go instantly, apologizing with a strange gleam in his eyes,
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to do that. Like I was trying to say. There isn’t much you can do. Try talking with him. Get him to understand your side, your reasons for not telling him the whole truth. There isn’t much more I can tell you. I can’t help you more than just be your friend, and be here for you when you need someone to talk to.”

Leyjen nodded, rising to his feet, answering slowly,
“I guess you’re right. He just has to calm down and when he’s ready, he’ll come and talk to me. Then hopefully we can work this out. I just hope it’ll be sooner rather than later. He doesn’t have that many friends himself.”

Tisék stood as well, Leyjen glanced at the oak once again but whipped around when Tisék whispered,
“Your lover hasn’t returned?”

There was a strange glint in the bloodshot eyes, a glint that Leyjen did not care for, but he knew he had exposed himself with his surprise, he asked with fear,
“How do you know? What do you know?”

“You’ve been staring at that oak tree since you sat down. I’ve seen the signal, a blue ribbon, so pale it merely looks like a piece of lichen wafting in the breeze.”

Tisék stepped so close to Leyjen that his chest was touching Leyjen’s side, and his fingers dug into Leyjen’s upper arm as Tisék breathed into his ear,
“Remember, five years ago, you came to my office complaining of a headache? I gave you a bottle of ointment for the pain. I had seen you. You like to watch, don’t you? I like watching you too. You and that blue eyed Vampire of yours. I know about you, Leyjen.”

Tisék let go of his arm, and started walking away with a predatory smile on his lips.

Leyjen stood still, shaking, the urge to scream at the top of his lungs overwhelming. He stomped back to his cloister, locking himself in his room until it was dark, waiting impatiently for the midnight bell.


Leyjen took his Turning before he had a chance to speak to Polinues, and more than half of his three day meditation he spent coming up with the perfect speech to win Polinues over.
Since Leyjen had turned eighteen and did not have any family alive he was not allowed to leave the Temple on a respite after the Turning, so after the regulation two day rest, Leyjen went looking for the boy.

The speech never got out of the gate, and Leyjen needed four stitches in his head.

Polinues got two black eyes that took almost ten days to heal.
Leyjen beat himself up for over three weeks for having shoved the boy so hard that he stumbled into a wall, Polinues on the other hand showed no remorse for breaking the pitcher over Leyjen’s head.

Beltane came and passed, Leyjen spending the evening in Hylmir's room playing cards with Hylmir, warming himself on a bottle of Tisék’s plum brandy.

Polinues had pointedly ignored him the whole day, but when Leyjen stumbled back to his own room well after midnight he found a small, polished stone engraved with an old elvish protection spell, in Polinues’ flowing elven script.

Leyjen put it on his nightstand and cried until he could barely breathe, and then passed out, to wake up in a puddle of his own vomit.

When the new moon of the Strong Sun moon rose in the sky, Leyjen decided it was time to go looking for Amraeen.


Leyjen slipped through the doors of the cottage, the kitchen dark, the hearth quiet, but there was a feeling about the place that told him it was no longer empty, as it had been two moons earlier, when he had last checked.
His heart jumped at the notion and he hurried around the kitchen, heading for the basement door at the back.
As he entered the dark corridor that ran down the back of the cottage Leyjen stopped dead.

There was another scent in the house.

Amraeen’s scent was there, powerful and full, but underneath there was another scent, a milder scent.
Like freshly tilled earth and mountains.
Leyjen’s heart hammered with tension, his feet pulling him towards the door to the bedroom, the gentle light of an oil lamp shining around the door.
Opening the door to the bedroom Leyjen froze in his steps, his eyes trailing over the prone body under the covers.

The man wasn’t much older than Leyjen, soft strawberry blonde waves flowing over the white pillow, pale lips pouting in a square face, skin suntanned and used to the outdoors. One calloused hand lay on his muscled chest, the other bent above his head, the white linens rumpled, covering the man from his narrow hips, one scarred knee peeking from under the covers, a purple, round bitemark marring his neck.

Leyjen entered the room, amber eyes flaming with anger, the man in the bed stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He jerked awake when he noticed Leyjen, pulling the sheets over his naked chest, rising up to his elbows.
Leyjen could smell the fear on his skin, mingled with the man’s unique scent, and the semen that had been spilled in the bed the night before.

“Who are you!” Leyjen demanded, advancing towards the bed, his posture threatening, but the young man measured Leyjen from head to toe with steady eyes, his muscles tensed, ready to react in an instant.

His eyes were dark brown, large and attentive, his voice low and collected.

“I am Erlhaim.” He answered.

“What are you doing here?! Where is Amraeen!”

“Asleep still, since he hasn’t woken me up. Who are you?”

“I am Leyjen. His lover.” Leyjen’s voice shook with fury, his hands gripping the footboard of the bed until his knuckles went white.

The young man chuckled softly, sitting up fully, and running a hand through his hair, shook his head,
“I’m sorry. I am his lover. He has not mentioned you to me before.”

“What?! Since when? How long have you been his lov…” Leyjen choked on the word, unable to finish the thought, Erlhaim’s face sombre as he answered,

“We met on Imbolc. He found me then.”

“Found you? What do you mean by that?”

Erlhaim looked away for a moment, discomfort evident in his posture,
“We met on Imbolc. He brought me here. What is it that you want? Are you his pet as well?”

Leyjen gasped, his rage breaking out of him, elongating his canines, the amber of his irises flooding the eyes, and his skin becoming luminescent in the dim room.
Erlhaim climbed up on the bed, bracing his back against the headboard, ready to meet the attack, his eyes alert but still showing no fear.

“I am not a pet! I am his lover, his soulmate!” Leyjen nearly screamed, jumping up on the bed and wrapping long fingers around the strong neck.

Erlhaim grabbed Leyjen’s wrists, struggling to get a hold of his thumbs, pushing towards the attacking man to gain leverage, and avoid being slammed against the wall behind him.
Leyjen was startled by the strength in the long, lean man, his eyes never wavering, his face determined to not give in.
They struggled for leverage for a few mintues, neither one of them hearing Amraeen entering the room. With a roar he pulled Leyjen off Erlhaim, hauling him to the middle of the floor and tossing him towards the door.

“Get off him, Leyjen! Get out of my house!” Amraeen screamed, planting himself between Leyjen and the gasping man in the bed.

Leyjen struggled to breathe, staring up at the Vampyr.

Amraeen had changed in the five moons since they had last met. There was an emptiness in the Vampyr’s eyes and a coldness to his face that frightened Leyjen.
Amraeen stared down at him, emotionless on the brink of hostility.

Leyjen stepped forward, hands reaching out for his lover, but Amraeen fell back from the touch.

“Get out of my house, Master Shaoir.” Amraeen said, turning his eyes to the floor, his tone bleeding, ripping out Leyjen’s heart.

“Master Shaoir? What is this, Amraeen? Who is he?”

“He is my lover.”

“Your lover? Don’t… Don’t do this… I am your lover, Amraeen. I am your soulmate, like you are mine. What’s happened to you?”

Leyjen’s eyes were drowning in tears, the irises receded to their human form, his face contorted with pain.

Amraeen’s left eye twitched a tiny bit, but his face remained emotionless as he hissed, his voice dripping contempt,
“I never loved you. We are not soulmates. You were naïve to believe that.”

Leyjen stared at Amraeen, unable to answer, his chest constricting painfully.
With a roar Leyjen attacked Amraeen, shoving the Vampyr hard, screaming,
“I am not naïve! What is wrong with you? I love you, and you loved me before you left!”

Amraeen grabbed Leyjen’s wrists in a vice grip and pushed him back, out into the corridor, Leyjen struggling to gain the upper hand.

“Get out! Leave and don’t ever return! I don’t want to see you here again!” Amraeen hissed, throwing Leyjen against the wall opposite the bedroom door.

Leyjen would not let go of Amraeen’s shirt, shouting through pouring tears,
“No! NO! I won’t leave you, I want answers! I demand answers!”

“I don’t have anything to say to you! Leave!”

Amraeen pushed Leyjen ahead of himself towards the kitchen, and the front door, Leyjen fighting him every inch of the way.
Leyjen cried out in pain as Amraeen pushed him hard, and he stumbled backwards into the kitchen table.

He crumbled to his knees, his hand shot out, grabbing Amraeen’s wrist, as he cried out,
“Please? Tell me why you’re doing this! Why would you say you love me, then throw me away like this. You said I am your soulmate!”

The Vampyr stood over him, stiff and unmoving, his azure eyes glazed with pain, and for a moment Leyjen glimpsed his old love through the mask.
But it only lasted a moment.

Amraeen’s face contorted with disgust as he pulled Leyjen back to his feet by the front of his robes, and growled,
“I never loved you. You are not my soulmate. You are nothing to me. You are nothing but a bad imitation of your father! A substitute! The second best!”

Leyjen choked, his body shaking and unwilling to fight any longer.
Amraeen pushed him to the door, and Leyjen stumbled out into the old road infront of the cottage.

Amraeen stood like some demonic warden in the door way, and said quietly, a faint shiver in his tone,
“Leave. Don’t ever come back.”

Leyjen turned around and started running, crawling up the hill opposite the cottage on all fours, and running through the forest.
He did not stop when he fell over, scraping his hands and face on the rough ground, only stumbled onwards until he collided with the wall of the Temple compound.


Leyjen collapsed to his knees inside the old barn, screaming so loud his own ears rang painfully.
He was unable to control his tears, his voice broke over wordless howls of pain, his heart thundering in his chest, about to break.
Leyjen tore open the front of his robes, and yanking the silver chain off his neck, breaking it, he threw the Blood crystal into the empty darkness of the barn, screaming after it.

He could not understand this, Amraeen’s words made no sense to him, and the image of the young man in their bed was burned into his mind so deep he was certain it would drive him insane.
He beat his fists into the ground, feeling the skin split on some debris, his sobs ripping at his airway, there was a metallic taste in his mouth, and he could barely see, his eyes so swollen from the tears.

Soft footsteps across the floor startled him, but he did not look up, only shook with sobs, his body trembling violently when Tisék knelt down beside him, running a hand over his shoulders, and whispering,
“There, there. Hush. It’s alright. I’m here. Cry as much as you need to.”

Leyjen resisted for a few painful breaths, but then gave into the gentle hands, allowed himself to sink against the strong chest, to be embraced by the tender arms, and cried raggedly.


Tisék had waited for about three hours, his bedroom window overlooked the creek and the old barn, and he had sat there for three hours in the dark, watching, waiting for Leyjen to return. And yet, he had nearly missed him.
He had looked away for only a moment, and just barely caught a glimpse of a white shadow disappearing into the old barn.

He had run into three sentries by the mill bridge, they had been on their way to investigate the howling screams that were echoing through the night.
Tisék told them that it was only Leyjen, and that Leyjen had been suffering from depression in the previous few moons.
The sentries accepted the lie, and agreed to let Tisék go alone to talk to the afflicted cleric, but only on the condition that Tisék shut the young man up.
The howls were so loud that the sentries were afraid they might wake the rest of the clerics up.

Tisék had felt his heart ache when he saw Leyjen.

His skin was pale white, his eyes abnormally large, his hair dark and matte, his eyes sunken into red and raw skin, snot and spit running down his chin, his fists were bloodied, and there were bleeding scratchmarks on his chest.
Tisék approached him slowly, lighting gentle hands on the shaking shoulders as he knelt down beside the cleric, and tugging softly he invited Leyjen into his embrace.
Leyjen resisted for a moment, but then sank against Tisék’s chest with renewed sobs.


“He threw me away.” Leyjen moaned, his tears slowly drying up, his voice in tatters.

“Who?”

“My lover… He’s back… he’s got another… He threw me away.”

“Hush. It’s alright. I’m sorry. You’ll be alright.”

“He said I was nothing to him… just a substitute… the second best. Like I didn’t matter!”

Tisék whispered pointless comforts into Leyjen’s hair, stroking his head and back gently, allowing the younger man to cry it out.

After almost two hours, Leyjen lay shivering in Tisék’s arms, his cheeks and eyes red and swollen, his voice utterly spent, his muscles cramping with fatigue.
Tisék brushed his hand over Leyjen’s head, down to his jaw and lifted Leyjen’s face, pressing his lips against Leyjen’s softly.

Leyjen pulled away after a breath, startled, asking,
“What are you doing?”

Tisék stopped him, smothering the question with another kiss, and whispered into Leyjen’s mouth,
“Hush. Let me make it better. Let me fix you.”

Tisék’s kiss grew more demanding, Leyjen started to resist but Tisék wouldn’t let go.
Leyjen gasped to catch his breath, and Tisék’s tongue slipped between his lips.
Leyjen tried to pull away, and Tisék fell forwards, over Leyjen, gaining the upper hand.
Tisék moaned, and Leyjen responded, quite accidentally.

Leyjen tasted stale plum brandy on Tisék’s mouth, there was a desperate emptiness in his eyes, and his hands were warm.
Tisék pressed his thumbs against the steel rings in Leyjen’s chest, making the younger man buck hard, gripping Tisék’s sides, deepening the kiss, a hunger awakening in him, some wild emotion that he didn’t know how to sate.


Leyjen gave in.


He tore apart the laces of Tisék’s robes, moaning into his mouth, as he found chilled skin underneath the cotton, the rings in Tisék’s areolae, the tight curls on the older man’s chest.
Tisék bucked his hips into Leyjen’s groin, pressing his erection against Leyjen’s half hard cock, as he pulled the cream coloured robes open, Leyjen moaned loudly as Tisék wrapped his lips around one dark nipple, fingernails raking down Leyjen’s sides.
Leyjen pushed the older cleric off as he sat up and pulled the robe off, his lips and tongue finding Tisék’s chest and the steel rings.
Tisék pulled free the laces of his linen trousers, before he pushed Leyjen down again, and started unlacing Leyjen’s trousers, mouthing at the pale flesh, Leyjen writhing on the dirty floor.

Tisék wrapped his lips around Leyjen’s half erect cock, and sucked him in to the roots, Leyjen digging his fingers into the floor of the old barn, groaning as the rest of his blood rushed south.
Tisék moaned loudly as he slid his tongue up the underside of the throbbing cock, relishing the taste and the heady scent between the white thighs, he had never smelled such a delicious scent between a man’s thighs before, but he liked it immensely.
He sucked the head hard, flicking his tongue into the slit, taking Leyjen in as deep as he could, scraping his teeth over the silky skin, Leyjen lifted his legs as Tisék ghosted his fingers down the insides of his thighs, up to his ass and pressed a finger against Leyjen’s opening.


Tisék’s movements faltered as his fingers slipped between Leyjen’s round cheeks, and slid over his wet entrance, his glands preparing him to be entered.
Tisék pressed a little harder against the round muscle, Leyjen twitching and moaning, and Tisék’s finger slipped in to the first knuckle without much resistance.

Leyjen cried out, tears welling up in his eyes, and with an infuriated growl he sat up and shoved Tisék off violently.

“No one touches me like that!” he shouted, slapping Tisék hard across the face.

The older cleric fell back, unable to contain the moan that escaped him when Leyjen’s hand sang over his cheek.

Leyjen notice the sound, and with an animalistic growl he jumped on Tisék, twisting him down and shoving two fingers into his mouth,
“Suck! Wet them! Unless you want this to hurt!”

Tisék’s eyes lit up, his lips wrapping around the thin fingers, and he slathered them in saliva, a soft sound of disappointment escaping him when Leyjen pulled them free, which changed into a wanton cry when the fingers pressed against Tisék’s entrance.
Leyjen pressed both fingers into the round muscle, sinking in slowly, first knuckle, second knuckle, and Tisék cried out, pain overcoming the pleasure.

Leyjen pulled out, then thrust back in with an angry shout, Tisék flailing through his robes, finding what he was looking for with a painful cry.
“Please! It’s oil, lubricate better, it hurts too much. Please?” he begged, handing the small vial to Leyjen.

For a moment Leyjen thought about refusing, thought seriously about fucking the older cleric as painfully as he could, but the desperate plea in Tisék’s eyes made him reconsider, and he grabbed the vial of oil, letting a few drops fall on his thrusting fingers.

Leyjen pressed his hand down on Tisék’s sternum, holding the older cleric down as he pushed in and out of the tight entrance, adding a third finger after only a few minutes, Tisék growling and mewling, thrusting his hips erratically.
Leyjen coated his cock with the fragrant oil, and digging his fingers into Tisék’s thighs he flipped the older cleric over onto his stomach, pulled him to his knees, and thrust in, brutally hard.

Tisék threw his head back, crying out with pleasure, making Leyjen realize that the the older man got off on the pain.

Leyjen opened up his bleeding heart, let his mind go blank, allowing the shattering memories drown in the flood, and with low growls and grunts he slammed into Tisék so hard that their skin turned red where they slapped against each other.
Tisék leaned forwards on his elbows, arching his back, and cried out with pleasure, pushing back against the brutal thrusts.
Leyjen allowed himself to sink into the angry pleasure of ravishing the older cleric, and his heart felt a little less broken.

He could feel Tisék fisting his own erection, the muscles around him clenching hard as Tisék came with a shuddering cry.
Leyjen thrust harder, deeper and after a few more mintues he spilled himself into the tight warmth of Tisék’s ass, falling over the older cleric with a raw sigh.

They lay still for a few mintues, Leyjen breathing in the scent of ripe figs and honey, slightly spoiled by the stale smell of plum brandy.
Tisék wriggled slightly under Leyjen, and the younger man rose to his feet hurriedly, pulling on his trousers and robes, not bothering to lace them up properly.

Tisék sat up, wincing as his abused ass touched the floor, then crying out as Leyjen’s fist cracked against his cheekbone, followed closely by Leyjen’s foot crasing into his ribs, and a hand in his hair, Leyjen’s voice was close to demonic as he hissed,
“You disgust me!”

Tisék gapsed with pain, rubbing his aching ribs, as he watched Leyjen rush out of the barn, slamming the door behind him. Tisék smiled slightly, his movements slow and calculated to accommodate the pain in his backside, as he dressed, frowning at the dirt on his snow white robes.

Two sentries stopped him in the square outside the Cleric’s clositer, demanding answers, and questioning the dirty robes.
Tisék smiled, running a fingertip over his lower lip as he winked at the older sentry, and told them Leyjen had been suffering a hysterical fit, that he had been forced to physically restrain Leyjen to prevent him from hurting himself.

The younger sentry, hardly out of his training yet, wanted to persue the matter further, but the older sentry stopped him, his dark eyes fluttering with discomfort.
The older sentry pulled his partner onwards, ordering him to shut his mouth, and Tisék bidding them good night, commenting the older sentry on how pretty his tunic looked. The comment earned him a terrified glare, and Tisék licked his lips seductively just to drive his point home. He knew the older sentry would make sure his younger partner did not talk.

Tisék slid under the cool covers of his bed, replaying the scene in the barn in his head, fisting his cock slowly, moaning Leyjen’s name into the darkness.

He had waited more than five years for this, and it was far better than anything he had dreamed of.

Finally he had Leyjen where he wanted him, the rest would be easy.