The elf reached for his cock. It was silky smooth and rigged underneath with blood engorged veins and glands. He closed his fist around it and tugged it firmly.
“Fine.” Ba’ith let his ignored hand drop to his side. His expression was dark and unreadable.
“You had something rather urgent to discuss…I seem to remember…” Arsha rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and avoided looking at the assassin. He could feel his cheeks beginning to flame hotly as blood rushed to them.
Way to go Arsha, you’ve reduced him to one word answers. Little wonder you’ve never had a fuck. Arsha dropped his hand helplessly to his side. Like the troubled elves who sought him out, his brow furrowed and his jaw worked but no words would come. He just didn’t seem to be able to speak past the lump in his throat.
“You look like you could use a drink.” Ba’ith’s lips curled in a small smile. He cupped Arsha’s elbow in the warm palm of his hand and guided him into the dim smoky depths past the doorway.
“Funny, isn’t it? Only moments ago this threshold was like some holy relic and we would have sold our souls to reach it first. Now it’s just a doorway.” Arsha risked a furtive glance at the assassin.
Ba’ith snorted. “Wait here.”
He walked over to a long low couch covered in gaudy, vibrant purple velvet and gilt with gold leaf which held pride of place against the indigo wall near a roaring hearth. It was the kind that had only one backrest, designed to be reclined and snoozed upon, rather than sat on. To reach it, the assassin had to force his way through the sheer magenta ‘privacy’ curtains. “Doesn’t look like these curtains would hide much.”
“Perhaps they aren’t meant to.” Arsha smiled, relieved for the small talk. “This is the decadent capital of the known world.”
Ba’ith hauled the heavy piece of furniture before the fire and then he sprawled over it, his broad back leaned against the head board, one thick but well shaped leg stretched along the length of the seat. The other was bent, his foot rested on the floor and rolled so that his knee swayed alluringly from side to side.
Arsha couldn’t help notice the massive bulge under the assassin’s low-riding leather pants and he looked away quickly, scanning the area for another seat.
“Here.” Ba’ith patted his thighs, indicating for Arsha to sit between his splayed legs.
“Uh…I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Arsha furrowed his brow and looked down at his fingers which were twisting uncomfortably. From the corner of his eyes he saw Ba’ith sit up and swing his leg from the couch until both his feet were planted on the floor.
“Sit.” Ba’ith rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands hang loosely between them.
“My thanks.” Arsha sat down and glued his eyes on the roaring fire in front of them.
A petite elf with big red hair slinked over until she could stand before them with the trade mark bored air that defined the females of her race. “What can I get you?”
“Rum. Two.” Ba’ith looked her up and down absently.
“Oh. I don’t drink hard liquor.” Arsha looked apologetically between the two. “I’ll have milk.”
“Make the healer’s rum a double.” Ba’ith raised a challenging eyebrow at Arsha but he didn’t respond. He was too confused and floundering to bother rising to meet it.
The woman snorted, a faintly amused smile curled her lips. “Hookah?”
“Yep.” Ba’ith flopped impatiently onto his side against the velvet backrest of the couch.
“One hose or two?” The woman shifted her weight onto her other leg and gave a bored sigh.
“I don’t smoke either.” Arsha blushed.
“One.” Ba’ith focused his heavy gaze on Arsha and watched, fascinated as his color darken even more.
Without a word the woman slinked away. Even though she had acted bored the service she offered was fast and within moments she returned with their drinks and the hookah. She carried them on a small three legged table that in another life would have passed for a footstool. “Double is on the left.”
“My thanks.” Arsha leaned forward and took the drink on the right.
Ba’ith reached over smoothly for the glass Arsha had chosen. “She said left.”
“I know. Look, I don’t drink. One shot will be bad enough.” Arsha gripped his rum tightly with both hands. He half expected that the competitive assassin would insist but he didn’t. He just reached for the other glass and shifted until he could lean squarely against the back rest. He pulled one leg onto the seat between them and tucked his booted foot beneath his other knee.
Arsha sipped the liquor and winced. “Whoa! That’s rough. So uh, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Ba’ith took a deep draught from his own glass and settled his heavy, disconcerting gaze on Arsha. He didn’t respond for a few long uncomfortable moments and it took a conscious effort for the healer not to shift nervously under the weight of his stare. “Would you hate me if I told you I didn’t have anything I wanted to discuss and just used it as an excuse to approach you?”
Arsha blinked and took a quick swig of his drink. The liquor burned its way down his throat and made him cough.
“Uh.” He rubbed his eye. “Well, no, I wouldn’t hate you. But I would ask why?”
Ba’ith’s brows furrowed as he took a long leisurely suck on the mouth piece of the ‘hookah’. His cheeks hollowed slightly and when he pulled his mouth off the end of the long flexible hose, he threw Arsha a sultry look through the sweet smelling blue-grey smoke that floated from his mouth and nostrils. He offered the mouth piece to the priest.
“Oh no, my thanks. Don’t smoke, remember?” Arsha held up a hand briefly and gave a small shake of his head which was beginning to spin a little from the alcohol.
Ba’ith leaned forward and held the hose toward him again. “It will settle your nerves. I think we could both do with a little social lubricant.”
Arsha’s eyes shot to meet the assassin’s. “You are nervous?”
“Not really nervous. I just don’t usually have to work this hard to win someone over.” Ba’ith’s eyes slid hungrily over the blushing healer from his head to his toes.
Arsha blinked in surprise. “Uh, I think I will have a puff on that thing, after all.” He snatched the hose greedily from Ba’ith’s hand and sucked on it. He could taste Ba’ith on the mouthpiece.
Ba’ith smiled and lifted his leg smoothly. He bent it so that he could rest his foot on the couch just behind Arsha’s arse and then he leaned forward until he could curl his elbow around his knee.
He was so close that Arsha could feel the heat that the assassin radiated. It warmed his chilled, wet body and his senses were flooded with the smell of soap and man. He took another frantic puff on the hookah and then his brow furrowed with disappointment to see that his glass was empty.
“About before… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I can get a little competitive.” Ba’ith reached out and traced his finger along the fine line on Arsha’s throat where he had scratched him with his dagger, just enough for the slowing poison to enter his blood stream.
A little? That’s the understatement of the millennia! “What? Oh, the poison? Don’t worry about it. It was only a nick. It’s all fun and games.” Arsha smiled brightly and waved a hand dismissively.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you either. I’m uh…” Ba’ith cleared his throat softly.
Arsha looked at the assassin. He was clearly uncomfortable at the thought of saying ‘sorry’ so the kind healer cut him off with a light shrug. “You didn’t frighten me. I’m a veteran. I deal with you shady assassin bastards all the time on the field.” Arsha looked down and saw that he held a full glass again. “How did that get there? Last I looked it was empty.”
“Good service.” Ba’ith winked and gave a lazy, relieved smile that the uncomfortable moment had passed. He waited until Arsha looked away and then he nodded over his shoulder again to the barmaid. “What would you say if I told you I have been watching you all week?”
Arsha’s chin jerked back slightly and his eyes flared. “Uh…” He swallowed the contents of his glass in one huge gulp and reached for the hookah again. The blue-grey smoke wafted from his mouth and rose like a transparent curtain in between them. Arsha half giggled, half chuckled. “I’d say that it’s perfectly understandable.”
“You would?” Ba’ith raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, I would. After all, you are only human! BAHA!” Arsha burst out laughing at the guilty expression on the assassin’s face and then he took pity on him again. “Only joking!” He turned to look over his shoulder and scanned the room. “Barmaid! My glass is empty!”
“You probably shouldn’t have another one Arsha.” Ba’ith chuckled and curled his fist loosely in front of his lips, watching him.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I should have another one.” The words died slowly on Arsha’s lips when Ba’ith reached out a hand and cupped the side of his neck. He swallowed hard. “It’s…about time…I let my hair down…”
The assassin didn’t answer. Indeed it looked as though he hadn’t heard him. He was too busy watching his thumb slide gently over Arsha’s delicate jaw. “Your skin is so smooth.”
Arsha melted into the warm calloused palm. He closed his eyes and his head began to spin ruthlessly. He flicked his eyes open again to see if that would stop it but it didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse because his vision was blurred and he didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything. “I uh, think I need some fresh air rather urgently.” His stomach was churning and he felt as though he was going to heave.
Ba’ith sat up immediately and hauled Arsha to his feet. “Ah yeah. You’re looking a little green there, soldier.”
Arsha stumbled against the assassin’s broad chest. Standing so quickly had made him dizzier and suddenly he felt himself hoisted into the air. He managed to focus and saw that Ba’ith held him perched in his arms.
“Gods I’m gonna puke…” He gave a wet hiccup that was a warning of things to come.
Ba’ith laughed. “Hold on until we get outside and then you can let it rip, baby.”
Arsha was mortified and he guessed he was drunk. “You are such a bad influence on me.”
The assassin just broadened his smile and when the cold night air hit them as he was carried over the threshold, Arsha felt his head clear a little. “Put me down. I can walk.”
“Shhh.” Ba’ith continued to carry him and Arsha saw that they were heading toward the pass that would take them to city’s roughest quarter.
“Take me home. I’m of no use to man or beast like this.” Arsha draped his arms over Ba’ith’s broad shoulders and let his head fall against his thick neck.
“I don’t know where you live.” Ba’ith smiled predatorily.
Arsha lifted his head and glared suspiciously at him. “You said you have been watching me all week.”
Ba’ith looked at him sharply. “I have but I not creepy enough to watch you through your windows… what do you think I am?”
“You don’t have to look through my windows to see where I live. Put me down. I’m fine now. Walking will probably do me good.” Arsha tried to shrug himself out of Ba’ith’s hold but the assassin didn’t put him down.
Ba’ith entered a seedy inn and raced Arsha effortlessly up a tall flight of stairs at the back of the room, two steps at a time. It was as though he wasn’t even carrying a full grown elf. He set Arsha on his feet at the top but kept a steadying arm around his waist while he picked the lock of a door with his thief’s tool.
“Where are we?” Arsha glanced around trying to get his bearings. “What are we doing here? This isn’t where I live.”
“We are at my rooms.”
“Ohhhh that’s right! You are a dastardly rogue and all that. No need for keys when you can break in, eh?” Arsha chuckled and then he raised a wary eyebrow. “Why are we here?”
“Because I don’t know where you live.” Ba’ith smiled. “And you are delightfully drunk. I doubt you will be able to find your way home.”
“I hope you don’t think you can take advantage of me. I happen to be able to fight like a thrashing machine and I will smite your arse with holy fire!” Arsha raised his eyebrows and smiled brightly as though he had just told a child that he was going to buy him an ice-cream.
Their clothes weren’t dripping anymore but they were still wet and soggy. His bright smile faded slowly and his eyes seemed to zero in on Ba’ith’s slightly parted lips. All of a sudden, the row of straight white teeth behind them became mind bogglingly fascinating. Arsha felt as though he was in a trance.
Ba’ith hauled him tighter against his chest and slipped his hands into the elf’s shimmering mass of gold locks.
Arsha could feel the assassin shuddering against him. “You’re cold. Let’s get you out of these clothes.” He growled and fisted the open ‘v’ of Ba’ith’s shirt roughly tearing the black silk apart until he could pull it back over the assassin’s shoulders in one strong, feral movement until all that shivering muscle, thick neck and twitching flesh was revealed. Unable to resist, Arsha stood on the tips of his toes and sucked on one of the prominent corded ridges.
Ba’ith groaned a heavy exhalation of breath and slid his hands down over Arsha’s slender back until he could cup the round cheeks of his arse in his massive hands. They fitted perfectly and he squeezed them gently. He nuzzled the elf’s cheek until he turned his face.
Blindly, each sought out the other’s soft lips and Arsha curled his arms around the thick neck he had just been having so much fun with. Ba’ith curled his strong hands around the back of the elf’s athletic thighs, lifted him and pulled his legs apart, encouraging him to wrap them around his thick waist. Then he carried him into the dark rooms and kicked the door closed behind them.
Arsha tried to pull himself higher onto the assassin’s chest so that he could ravage his delicious mouth more deeply but a small voice in his head told him to slow down.
Arsha told it to piss off and come back when it was sober.
Had Arsha had the presence of mind to look at anything other than the bulging expanse of Ba’ith’s smooth, rippling torso – that is when his eyes weren’t closed altogether – he would have seen that the room was lit with a muted lighting that emanated from the small magically charged crystals that the elves used to power their city. He would have seen that there was a large bed that dominated the room. Nothing spectacular, just the generic kind of bed found in establishments all over the city, round, covered with purple and indigo velvet throws and draped with sheer magenta privacy curtains that really, kept nothing secret and weren’t designed to. The floor was crimson and the accessories gilt. It was the same colour scheme that dominated everything in the elf city.
Also, he would have seen a door that let to another room as well and a balcony that looked over the sinister streets below, upon which was a couple of wrought iron, gilded chairs. But Arsha wasn’t looking. He was finding his way by feel. His head was light and there was no evidence of the sensible, reserved person he had previously always been. He felt as though he had been kept in a dark, cold dungeon for his entire life and the door had finally opened to reveal the sky for the first time. And Ba’ith was the center of this new universe.
Unlike some celestial body distanced by light years though, the assassin was hot flesh and blood and Arsha could not get enough. He wanted to crawl inside him. He wanted to suck his neck so hard that he pulled a chunk from it. He wanted to bite him and dig his fingers into the soft, firm resistance of his muscles and crush him against his face so that he could grind against him like a dog with a rag.
The assassin’s lips left a trail of shivers everywhere they roamed, over Arsha’s neck, his lips, and his eyes. In truth, he didn’t manage to touch the healer very much, or kiss him. The elf was in a feeding frenzy and did not want to stay still long enough for a lingering, breathy kiss. There was simply too much sensory input and he wanted to absorb it all.
Ba’ith chuckled and cupped Arsha’s busy head in his massive hands. “Let me kiss you.” He sucked the tip of the elf’s pointed ear into his warm mouth and ran his tongue along it.
“Can’t kiss. Eating.” Arsha’s words were slightly muffled. It was hard to talk around a mouthful of man-tit.
“So…I just stand here and let you have your wicked way with me?” Ba’ith smiled and bit his lip as the elf snaked his tongue down the defined crease between his massive, hard cleavage.
“Uh huh.” Arsha bit his pecs and kneaded them. He sucked the small brown nipples into his mouth and was fascinated to feel them harden beneath his tongue.
Ba’ith twitched and jerked uncomfortably every time the elf attacked them and had Arsha had control of his mind, he would have realised that the assassin didn’t seem to enjoy the attentions that he was lavishing on the round hard nubs all that much. “Arsha, stop!”
The elf looked up at him. “Am I doing something wrong?”
Ba’ith shook his head. “No. No, you’re doing fine.” He lifted Arsha’s chin. “Just ease up on the nipples. They are kind of sensitive.” He bent down to kiss him but Arsha was already back to work.
“Ok. No nipples. But I don’t want to stop.” Arsha kissed his way down the assassin’s stomach. “In case I loose my nerve.”
Ba’ith raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Stop. Arsha! Stop…What do you mean ‘lose your nerve’?”
Arsha paused from his maniacal kissing and tasting. “You know. Back out like I always do.” He happily resumed where he had left off.
Ba’ith reached for him again and held him against his chest so that he couldn’t squirm away. He narrowed his eyes disbelievingly. “Always back out…as in…you’ve never made love before?”
“Nope. I’m a one hundred and twenty – seven year old virgin. But…” Arsha grinned toothily. “Not after tonight!”
“Ah, I take it this is the first time you have ever been drunk too.”
“Yep, I’m no longer a rum virgin, or a kissing virgin. Let’s go for the trifecta!” Arsha whooped comically.
“Fuck. I gathered you were inexperienced, but…stop …Arsha, stop!” Ba’ith chuckled and peeled the elf off his body.
“You don’t want me?” Arsha’s brow furrowed with confusion.
“Yes, Gods yes.” Ba’ith growled huskily. “But I don’t want you to wake up in the morning and have any regrets.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” Arsha chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “There, thought about it. Won’t regret it. Now let me get back to licking your stomach!” He squirmed in Ba’ith’s embrace, eager to continue.
“Kiss me, you crazy elf.” Ba’ith captured his lips with his again the elf swooned beneath him. “At least I know how to calm you down now…” Ba’ith nipped Arsha’s kiss-swollen lower lip and then he closed his mouth over his again before he could answer.
He broke the kiss and licked a strand of saliva that still held them joined. “Arsha…don’t get me wrong. I can think of nothing that I would rather do than fuck your brains out and make you scream my name.”
Arsha tilted his chin for more and his voice was a soft, husky growl. “Then do it.”
Ba’ith was trembling, his lips roved over the elfin face he held and he bathed it with his warm breath and spoke through his kisses. “Not when you are drunk. Not for your first time.”
“Why not? I want you to. I think at my age I have a say in what I do with my body. And my virginity!” Arsha looked chidingly at the assassin from under his eyebrows.
Ba’ith chuckled at the elf’s expression and shook his head gently. “If I take you when you are drunk there is a chance that you will regret it and hate my arse for it in the morning. I don’t want to take a chance with you. I don’t want this to be a one night stand Arsha. I want to keep you.” The assassin froze. He pulled back from Arsha a small way to look at him.