Slate

This chapter has everything! And I can't stop! I am practically spewing this filth! Nothing like the procrastination of studying for finals to really get the creative procrastination juices flowing.


There was a sand storm in the night. Ardent awoke to Siran tearing the tent down around them and enveloping him tightly in his arms, the air between them stifling but breathable.

“Just try to sleep through it, Master.” Siran whispered at him, “I'll let in fresh air when it's safe.”

Ardent craned up and kissed him, before willing himself back to sleep.

In the morning, he left the felled pile of cloth that was the tent to see a rather enraged looking Ninan neck deep in their partially disassembled jeep, Siran assisting her.

The sand had gotten in an blocked the engine somehow.

It heated up quickly and even though Ardent wanted to help them, he was forced to go sit on the far bank of the oasis where there was enough tree coverage to protect his delicate skin.

At one point, he dashed across the bank to the jeep and rummaged around for his suitcase.

“How long do you think it'll be?” He crept around to the front of the vehicle, where Ninan was still rummaging through a dissected engine. She glared at him, before huffing and returning to her work.

Siran stood from his position at the toolbox, and led Ardent away from the vehicle, “I apologize for her again, sir. She is just stressed with getting the engine cleaned out in time to make progress to the next outpost today. We can travel by night but bandits are notorious around here.” He took Ardent's briefcase from his hands and walked back towards the tree-covered bank again, “You might just get to see me in my element.” He smirked.

“Is it the element that regards the rocket launcher in the back of the jeep? Because I'm not sure I'd enjoy seeing that.” Ardent joked, sitting down on the side of the bank again. “Can you sit with me for a bit, or does Ninan need you?”

Siran cocked his head, “I can not help her much, if you would like to use me, it will not slow our progress.”

Ardent smirked, hooking an arm around Siran's neck and anchoring him down for a kiss.
Siran immediately melted from his vigilant stance. His long, strong arms wrapped around Ardent as the pale man pushed him back against one of the smooth unearthly desert trees. He allowed himself to be turned to face the tree, throwing his arms up above his head, the muscles in his back dancing under the tan flesh, making Ardent's mouth water.

Neither bothered with his shrapnel armor or leather belts and straps, the cloth around his groin could be torn to the side without bothering with any of that. “Have you lubed yourself this morning?” Ardent thought to ask, knowing that the slave made a habit of it. Siran shook his head into the tree, however.

“Forgive me, Master. I can take-”

“Don't finish that thought.” Ardent threatened, “Where's the nearest lube?”

The slave's hand flashed down to one of the discreet pouches built into the leather straps on his thighs. He unhooked the little pouch and extracted a little bottle of oil. Ardent snatched it and slathered the substance on his fingers, kicking Siran's legs apart farther before pushing two inside the slave.

Siran moaned into the tree, arching his back. The tension of the muscles, the flexing ribs, Ardent could have watched him writhe all day.

Siran began that begging thing he did. That desperate, torrid, heart-wrenching begging. The things that came out of his mouth made Ardent feel like the slave was dying and his cock was the cure, and rightfully his cock filled to painful hardness with each word. Ardent tried to tune it out, and make sure that the slave was well-prepared, but he was only a sad, small human, “Please Master, I need your cock Master! I'll do anything Master please!”

Ardent finally broke, kicking the slave's legs even wider so that their groins met at the same level, before swiftly thrusting inside the willing slave.

He stilled for a moment, deep inside Siran. As he pressed his hips firmly to the slave's buttocks, he realized that the bruises on his hips were going to flash in pain every time flesh on the bones clashed against the firm, bronze ass.

The thought made him grin.

Every movement since he woke up had given pangs that reminded him of what he had allowed his slave to do. He remembered how undone his slave had become, how fierce his grimace, his vicious eyes. Now as he flexed his buttocks and lower back to push inside his slave, he felt those pangs turn to burning.

Siran flexed his hips back on Ardent's cock, not allowing a slow pace to set itself, fucking himself harshly between his Master's hips and the smooth, hard tree.

Ardent hissed as he met each of the slave's backwards thrusts, the burning in his stretched and sore ass mixed with the raw pain on his purpled hips twisted in his gut with the simple blissful feeling of the slave's scorching passage clenching around his impossibly hard cock.

He wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

They frantically clashed together for only a matter of minutes before Ardent felt his breath catch, and all too soon his world went bright then black, all the pain in his body was forgotten for a blissful moment as he gushed cum inside the willing slave before him. Siran continued in small, rolling thrusts, milking Ardent's cock of every last drop.

“Oh... Shit that was... Fast.” Ardent chuckled, roughly grabbing Siran's shoulder and twisting him around so his back met the increasingly useful tree. Ardent's eyes flicked down to Siran's limp cock with an utter lack of surprise, “Get hard.” he said sharply.

This time, the slave's breath shuddered as his cock quickly expanded. As the organ stiffened, precum gushed from the tip, and it stood as an angry flushed red.

So there was a difference between an aroused cock and simply an extracted one. Ardent felt like he could study the differences for days. Hopefully Siran didn't mind a little bit of teeth, as Ardent didn't trust his mouth to open wide enough to accommodate the organ and his own lips. He was just trying to figure the logistics of where his tongue would go.

He dropped to his knees in front of Siran, dragging the slim, sharp hips down to the level of his face. The legs bent and spread, wide and strong. If it was any one else Ardent would have feared that their legs would fatigue, he placed one of his hands on the thigh muscle, and wasn't shocked to feel the muscle was hard as steel and entirely unwavering.

Gingerly, he grasped the cock in front of him, testing its movement. The fact that there was a cartilaginous bone in there meant that it could actually break. And that would be a horrible, inexcusable sin. He tested it with his hands, half with scientific interest, half with sheer marveling appreciation. He glared up at the slave, “Two choices, Siran. You can come down my throat, or on my face. I don't get off my knees until one of those things happens.”

Satisfied that he wasn't going to injure the organ, Ardent opened wide and engulfed the head of the throbbing red staff.

He felt every muscle in Siran's body buckle, and it was a good feeling. Long, large fingers clasped around his temples and twisted in his hair.

Ardent bobbed his head back and fourth, taking more and more of the cock down his throat, wishing he could have ingested some sort of muscle relaxant beforehand. This was a cock that you attempted to go down on after at least a few drinks.

But the hands twisted in his hair weren't letting him go easy, and he felt his throat stretch as more and more of the giant cock was forced into his face.

He tried to set a rhythm, but the thrusts were coming too fast for him to swallow between or on every penetration deep into not just his mouth, or throat, but esophagus. He straightened his jaw in line with his neck, so that the throbbing staff didn't stab him harshly in the base of his skull before curving down his throat.

Panicking slightly, he focused just on breathing as his face was harshly fucked. When the cock forced down his throat, the choking reflex couldn't carry itself out for the sheer size of the organ violating too deep and the strength of the arms forcing it inside, but it did impede Ardent's ability to breathe. He couldn't tell if it was the choking reflex or she sheer size of the thick flesh being forced what felt like half way to his gut before being ripped out again.

He was in a state of official panic.

His body started to heave on each thrust, as a reflex slightly stronger than the choking one attempted to take over, but the hands in his hair didn't relent, even when he dug into the iron strong thighs with his fingernails and used all the strength left in his rubbery arms to push away.

He might as well have been trying to tip a brick wall.

Ardent's panicked eyes rolled in his skull to try to make eye contact with Siran, but just the flash of visibility he got dashed the hopes he had of conveying his panic through his eyes. The slave was gazing down at him with fierce, intensely blown pupils, so black and enveloping Ardent felt as if the gaze he met was the reason for the darkness building at the edges of his vision.

Siran snarled, a terrifyingly fierce noise, and Ardent felt only excruciating pain as the thick organ down his tortured throat pumped even larger and exploded down straight to his belly.

The hands in his hair loosened only for a second, but it was enough for Ardent to tear himself away, twisting from Siran to wretch into a bush beside him, raw deep coughs wracking his whole frame.

It was no less than ten minutes before his body stopped it's violent rejection of what had just happened between them.

He groaned in pain as he finally stopped gagging. It was that feeling you got when you swallowed entirely too large of a gulp of liquid, and it burned all the way down to your belly even though it was just liquid and that SHOULDN'T happen... Except ten times worse and he felt the whole line of his throat burn down.

Probably about fourteen inches. If he had to put a number on it.

He looked over to the tree. Siran was simply standing there, staring into the water, still leaning back against the tree, hands locked backwards behind the trunk in a double-jointed fashion that didn't look comfortable.

Ardent let a few more choking coughs leave him, before drawing a shaky breath. He wanted to be away from his own vomit. “Siran. Help me up.” his voice was a raspy hiss.
Siran just shook his head.

Ardent's eyebrows went up into his hair, and he stood shakily to his feet. He wanted to say something, but it would hurt too much. He grabbed one of Siran's hands from behind the tree, and attempted to pull him away from it.

Siran wouldn't budge, only shaking his head.

Ardent tried to make a frustrated noise, and only managed a squeak before throwing his hands up and stomping away.

He went to the Jeep, where Ninan was quickly and deftly reassembling the engine, looking pleased with herself. “Ninan.” He meant to say. It came out as a raw rattle. And hurt.

She glanced up at the noise, not seeing him at first but returning her gaze, “We should be underway within the hour.”

Ardent swallowed, wincing, before making an attempt, “You need to get Siran off of that tree.” He said, barely managing to project above the sound of her clunking around in the engine.

“What?” She asked, popping her head up again. Ardent huffed and just pointed to the opposite bank, where Siran still stood, staring. “What is he...” Her eyes went wide. She wasn't looking at Siran, but past him, to the hills in the background.

Ardent followed her gaze.

There were small clouds of dust rising on the horizon.

Not a storm, so other travelers.

“Va'Shedeth!” Ninan screamed, loud enough to make Ardent's ears crackle. Across the bank, Siran jumped, climbing the tree he had his back to with an adrenaline induced speed. He looked to the horizon for a still, slow second, before jumping out of the tree and sprinting in the direction of the jeep.

He wrenched the tent from it's spokes, blankets and all on his way in a fluid motion, barely changing his charging gate in the motion. He barked something at Ninan and she began to rebuild the engine with a frantic speed.

Not to be stopped, he hooked an arm around Ardent as he got to the Jeep, throwing him into the back with bone-crushing force, using the momentum to rip the giant rocket launcher over his shoulder.

He kicked the remnants of the tent and blankets over Ardent as he hoisted himself back out of the jeep. Ardent scrambled out of the blankets to watch. The launcher was ridiculous, more of a cannon than anything else, and it was amazing the ease with which Siran moved with it.

There were practically violent noises coming from under the hood as Ninan repaired it. Siran had made it to the opposite bank once more, and scaled the tree one-armed as he held the heavy launcher, extending from the canopy so quickly one would think he had jumped there from the ground.

The convoy was close enough now that Ardent could see that there were at least five vehicles, not as clean and cut as their jeep but bedraggled and pieced together, helter skelter figures lumbering towards their outpost.

Siran took aim, and fired. The explosion that erupted out of the back of the launcher to propel the missile couldn't have been safe for Siran to be near, and when the smoke cleared the slave had already loaded another into what must have been a scorching hot chamber. After the second shot, the slave dropped the weapon and jumped from the tree.

Ardent's ankles twinged in sympathy.

In a flash he was back at the jeep, and Ardent didn't dare say a word. His pupils were blown wide again, his breath was coming hot and heavy. He had burns on his hands and back, and the ear that was over his right shoulder was bleeding. Even Ardent's ears were ringing from the explosion of the launcher.

He climbed into the back of the jeep, taking a large rifle out of the black bag next to Ardent and setting it up on the frame.

The slave stilled only for a moment, taking aim at the lead car.

Ardent had the good sense to cover his ears as the shot was taken, protecting his already ringing drums.

More shots were taken in quick succession.

Ardent finally felt brave enough to pop up again. There were two cars still steering towards them. One looked to have a machine gun loaded on the top. They were too close.

Out of the black bag came a sheathed machete and large caliber hand-gun. Ardent grabbed his wrist, “They have a machine gun!”

Siran ripped his hand free, lunging out of the back of the jeep. Ardent began to disentangle himself from the tent that Siran had effectively trapped him in.

He rummaged in the black bag, finding a hand gun that he thought he could actually fire without enough backlash to crush his own nose.

Arden had never been small. He stood in adulthood at sit foot four. And he was muscular. He was tired of playing the damsel.

He jumped out of the Jeep and ran after Siran.

“Idiot!” He heard Ninan yelling after him.

Siran ran to the jeep with the machine gun, which was miraculously not firing. The Jeep was coming at him full speed and when nearly at collision he jumped, sinewy body flying and twisting as he grabbed the neck of the Sol behind the wheel. In a flash the machete swung heavily to decapitate the passenger as he fired an excessive caliber of bullet straight into the skull of the driver.

One skull bounced out of the vehicle, and the other exploded.

Siran was sprinting out of the vehicle towards the next, but it had gained distance towards Ardent, the two Sol inside knowing that getting away from Siran was key to survival.

Ardent lifted the weapon, knowing he only had so many shots.

He aimed, prayed, and fired two shots. One shattered the windshield and the second went into the shoulder of the driver.

The jeep swerved, and Siran intercepted it.

A strong arm slammed the heavy gun into the skull of the passenger, and he rounded on the driver before stopping.

Both sets of swirling black eyes met, and the two men hissed as the Jeep slammed to a stop.

There was a heated argument. At one point Siran grabbed the other Sol's injured shoulder and squeezed, making him hiss and claw.

The argument became more and more heated, Siran was violently gesturing towards the horizon, and Ardent couldn't tell if sweat or tears were rolling down his cheeks.

He felt a gentle hand at his shoulder, it was Ninan, “Come, Master. This is not for you to see.”

“What is going on?” Ardent asked in a raspy, barely audible hiss. Ninan only pulled at him, “Goddamn it I'm your fucking master tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Ninan chewed a lip, his hoarse shout hadn't attracted the attention of the men barking at each other in Native Sol in the Jeep, “I... I can't hear well. I don't exactly know. But look at them!”

Ardent squinted at the men in the Jeep. After looking away, if he hadn't known Siran was in the passenger seat, he wouldn't have been able to tell them apart.

Finally, the injured Sol lunged towards the gun in Siran's hand, but the slave was far too quick, and planted a bullet straight into the bandit's temple.

The sound of gunfire melted with awkward grace into the sound of Siran snarling.

Siran buried his head in his hands, becoming suddenly small in the seat next to the Sol with half a face.

The snarling started to sound like sobs.

Ninan pulled at Ardent, this time insistently, “You're burning. Let's go.”

Ardent turned reluctantly. But he did want to get away from the noises coming from the Sol.

Siran returned to camp about an hour later. Ninan had just finished putting the engine back together. She muttered something to him in Sol tongue.

“We are ordered to speak English on this mission.” He muttered back to her. Getting in to the drivers seat.

Ardent was behind him. He traced the burns on his shoulders with his eyes, trying to distinguish between Siran's blood and that of his opponents.

She quietly sat in the passenger seat. Siran started the engine and gave it a few experimental revs. Satisfied, they took off.