Khaled's soft lips enveloped Liandre's mouth eagerly. One of Liandre's hands went to his slender waist, and the other to his smooth face; he didn't care that his hand had previously been stained with blood. Dirtying him was the least of his concerns, and perhaps he even preferred it that way, as the kiss stretched longer than the one on the train. His desire could make him push the mage to the floor and take him right then, but he knew it was irrational to do so in such an unhealthy condition. So, he held his mouth just a few centimeters from his face, panting softly.
He noticed the elf's breathing was unsteady, and his hands rested on Liandre's shoulders, gripping over the white linen shirt. His face was more flushed; the sight was too tempting. Liandre didn't know if he could handle such a seductive look. He claimed his mouth again before the elf could say anything that might break the moment, pressing their bodies together with desire.
He burned inside. Why couldn't he resist the mage? He questioned himself only for a moment; the elf's kisses were enough to empty any more elaborate thought he might have.
Finally, they pulled apart. Liandre was breathing heavily; it felt like he had held his breath so many times during the kiss that now he struggled to breathe.
— We'd better head to the city before nightfall — he said, trying not to think about kissing his lips again.
— Of course — Khaled smiled. Obviously, he had enjoyed it; the mercenary knew what he was doing with his mouth. And the best part was that the bond between them had been reinforced; the other would question his goals less and less. Now, all that was left was to head to the place and think about the next step. He knew one of the fragments wasn't far.
They continued on their way. Neither seemed willing to talk about what had happened; they just knew they had both enjoyed the sensation that softly coursed through their bodies. Liandre was eager to reach the city, find a good place, and finally rest without worrying about pain, endless battles, and challenges, at least for one night.
It didn't take long for them to leave the cornfield. Ahead was the first city Khaled had seen in two centuries. It looked different from what he remembered. The houses at the entrance were farms with huge pastures. The two walked along the dirt road toward the city gates. Some carriages passed by, transporting goods or arriving from distant places. The flag of the old monarchy was gone, and the gates stood open. In the distance, the sun was setting, bathing everything in a soft orange hue and offering a beautiful view of the horizon.
They entered without trouble. The guards only searched outsiders with large loads, and their backpacks didn't draw attention. The first houses were made of masonry, rustic bricks. There weren't many citizens around; most were already inside the warmth of their homes as night fell. Liandre pulled up the hood of the cloak he wore, and Khaled followed suit. They didn't want to attract attention. Even though two newcomers might draw glances, people were too busy closing their shops, so they slipped by unnoticed until they reached the Rabbit's Paw inn.
The mercenary entered as if he already knew the place. There was a strong smell of tobacco and brandy in the air, along with a faint hint of saffron. It wasn't too crowded. Wooden tables were scattered around the common area, along with the counter where the attendant served drinks. Just as he remembered from having been there two weeks earlier. Some drank and sang, others played cards or dice hoping to win some money. Liandre could only think of a minimally comfortable bed. Upstairs were the rooms, some shared.
— Two rooms — Liandre said impatiently. Before the woman could say anything, the mage cut in.
— One will be fine — he smiled kindly, and the woman understood, while the mercenary seemed too stunned to say he'd rather sleep alone.
The woman handed him the key, which Khaled made sure to keep.
— I'll go exchange our money, you can go ahead — Liandre said, nervously scratching his beard. Khaled handed him the coin pouch and walked over to one of the tables, wanting a hot meal before resting.
Liandre's intention wasn't really to go exchange money; he preferred to rest until morning, but he needed to prepare mentally for what might come next. He didn't know if it was an invitation—but if it was? His heart raced at the mere libidinous thoughts igniting his soul. He still didn't know if he could allow himself to take this step forward, and in his mind, it seemed wrong to retreat now. They had already kissed twice; why create unnecessary complications over it? They were partners in a goal and could have something more, beyond just wandering the world trying to find the fragments and facing the most powerful beings on the planet—that part he tried to ignore for the sake of his sanity.
He managed to exchange the gold coins for the current ones, stamped with the Republic of Elderam. It wasn't a hard task, just a long walk that made him return to the inn later than he'd like. Night had already fallen. A light drizzle wet the mercenary, soaking his cloak and the shirt he wore underneath. The cold night air made his body tense as he entered the warm place they had chosen to spend the night.
He climbed the stairs without greeting the other patrons much. He knocked on the door of the room they would be sharing. It was no surprise to find there was only one bed. He entered, trying not to think about it as he removed the wet clothes from his body. Khaled stared at him. As Liandre took off the damp garments, the mage found the sight of the big man quite beautiful.
— Do you just want to sleep? I know the day was... — Before Khaled could finish the sentence, the mercenary held his face, touching his smooth skin with a cold hand and caressing his pointed ears.
— You know I'm not just going to sleep after all your teasing. — He broke any remaining distance between them, kissing his lips with eagerness.
The touches grew hotter as Liandre removed Khaled's garments, while Khaled, in turn, closed the door behind him with the same urgency, in a chaotic tangle of tongues caressing each other with a certain desperation. The desire stemmed from both need and despair. He could feel his entire body urging him to overpower the mage; however, he needed to be calm. He knew it had been a long time since the elf had felt the warmth of another, so, without stopping his assault on his mouth, he carefully laid his body down on the bed, holding his face, wanting to dive ever deeper into his lips, until he pulled back to look at Khaled, seeking his consent. It came with a shy, embarrassed smile; that small sudden change of expression made him even more aroused, and it felt as if his body were feverishly burning.
He bit his neck gently, marking the olive-toned skin, and let his hands wander down, exploring his body patiently. He wanted to feel the soft flesh, now naked before him. He quickly shed the last of his own clothes. Soon, both were in extreme intimacy, exposed in a raw way. Even though he liked rough, harsh, even painful sex, he knew the beginning needed to be slow. Khaled was stronger, but still delicate, so Liandre wanted to savor what was before him.
The elf exuded sensuality with his restrained moans, unsteady breathing, skin flushed in various spots, especially his soft cheeks. He touched every part, caressed him with his own lips, exploring, taking his time to appreciate every inch of the man beneath him. He nibbled his hardened nipples, trailing his fingers down to the deepest part of his intimacy. He was glad he had bought the cinnamon oil recommended by a vendor who was about to close for the night. He searched for it in his pants, tossed nearby, but never stopped giving attention to the mage's body.
Their breathing was slightly louder. His moans were ragged tremors with each thrust of Liandre's fingers inside the mage's warm interior, which now smelled of wet cinnamon. He decided to devote more time to the elf's lips, seeking his mouth, even though he was enjoying hearing his moans. Khaled lay with his legs spread, allowing Liandre to do anything he wanted in that tight space.
— I thought such a big, manly guy would be more brutal — Khaled said, trying to keep his voice sweet and soft.
— Are you disappointed? — Liandre kept his voice hoarse, as he slipped in a second finger. — I figured, after so many centuries without sexual contact, you'd prefer something gentler.
— Your concern makes me happy, but you can be rougher. I like that, especially how you devour me with your eyes — he was telling the truth, even though it was hard to keep his tone steady due to the thrusts inside him, which had become more intense.
As Liandre touched him, now more roughly — grabbing his chin firmly, directing his mouth to his own and taking his lips with the voracity of someone with insatiable desires — Khaled realized how much he needed that contact, the feeling of being desired, of being loved in a sexual and depraved way. He begged for it at every moment, exuding depravity, and the mercenary seemed eager to take advantage of his state of lust.
Pressing his tip inside him, entering without any hesitation, as if finally fulfilling what he had desired. The pain sent shivers through his body, but even so, he liked the painful sensation of having something so large inside him, invading him, claiming him. It was good; pleasure mingled with pain and turned into something hard to describe. He could only let his voice echo through the room, not caring about possible neighbors. He wanted to feel that he could finally be free, and Liandre did that job very well.
He held Khaled's wrists above his head with just one hand, pressing them with his strength while moving constantly against his body, intensely. With his free hand, he spread Khaled's legs wider, exposing him shamefully. Beads of sweat moistened Liandre's body as he imposed his dominance over the mage. Liandre gasped at the exhilarating sensation that coursed through him with each thrust, each increasingly rough. He didn't need to hold back; he could do whatever he wanted with that delicate body, without worrying about hurting him. The pleasure intensified with each blow. He noticed the mage tightening around him, gripping him, so he simply filled him with his sudden release, noticing the elf's body tremble at his own climax in the same way.
He collapsed on top of him. Their breaths and scents mingling in the room that now seemed so small. He took his lips again, not waiting for him to recover. He had to admit: he still wasn't satisfied. That's why he continued the act, turning Khaled onto his stomach, seeing his intimacies exposed in such an exhilarating way.
They practically spent half the night in that exchange of sensations: hands running over each other's bodies, gasps growing more intense as the scent of depravity filled the entire space. Neither of them cared about sharing the feeling of pleasure with their neighbors, with their moans becoming increasingly loud. Khaled needed to feel real while Liandre subjected him to persistent, rough, and wild desires. He was marked all over his body by the mercenary: slaps, bites, and hickeys, in addition to handprints etched into his olive-toned skin.
They fell asleep in the bed. Liandre hugged Khaled's body. Both completely naked, Khaled kept imagining how the mercenary would look at him in the morning — probably with some shyness, even though in bed he completely forgot any introspective personality he had, with his grip so strong that it left him breathless. Khaled couldn't remember the last time he'd had such intense sex; it had been so gratifying that he fell asleep without any problems, in a night completely devoid of dreams.
Upon waking the next day, Liandre realized the marks on his own body while Khaled slept peacefully at his side, completely naked. He could say it might have been a dream, but his sore body told him otherwise. He let out an exasperated sigh. How was he going to maintain his composure? Liandre's mind worked intensely on the matter, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he had enjoyed every detail, their bodies pressed intensely together. Something in his heart felt more intense and satisfied, as if he truly felt jubilant. What did that mean? He had never felt that way about anyone. What was different? His mind worked. The elf rivaled the most perfect creatures created by the gods.
— What the fuck am I thinking?! — He ran his hand through his hair, rubbing it, until he felt small hands wrapping around his robust body.
— You make a lot of noise — Khaled commented. Even though he only needed to meditate, he ended up getting tired; he didn't have as much constitution as the warrior in front of him. — I'm hungry. — His complaint sounded cute to the mercenary's ears, who ended up smiling awkwardly.
He lightly caressed his hand, then got up. He ordered the most filling breakfast the establishment had. Soon they ate breakfast at the table in the room: orange juice, beer, cheese, large and succulent loaves of bread, along with some fruit, butter, and bacon with eggs. Truly, the gold coins they had were proving worthwhile. Liandre ate a lot, so he practically finished the meal almost alone, while the elf was more restrained in his own needs, eating reasonably. Still, the mercenary paid attention in case the mage wanted more, letting him eat as much as he wanted, and once he saw the other was satisfied, he finished everything on the table. He was big, strong, and had done quite a workout the night before; he needed to stay strong if he wanted to continue the journey.
— We can buy something to protect you better. What kind of armor do you like to wear? — Khaled asked as they left the inn.
— A steel breastplate — Liandre commented, while watching people crowd the streets that morning, passing by with their draft animals or trying to sell something to those arriving from elsewhere, as well as carriages jostling for space on the wide street. It was a mess of different smells and sounds — some unpleasant and others not so much — that mixed almost naturally every day in the routine of the population.
They reached the local smithy. It wasn't hard to negotiate; they handed over a few silver coins and soon found what they needed right there. Even though he had always been someone more reserved, dealing with politics or high members of society — including beings of immeasurable power, even gods — Khaled was pleased to walk among normal people, with different bodies, heights, colors, and races, living daily with their mundane concerns. It was intriguing how much he missed the ordinary routine of a medium-sized city like the one they were in now. Little did he know how important it would be to be among common beings instead of the grandiose meetings he had once attended. What had those brought him? Only the loss of his powers and his position, all for the purest selfishness. He needed to get them back.
He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed Liandre adjusting the breastplate to his body. The dwarf woman was making all the necessary modifications as they talked. The warrior had a very evident musculature; his whole body was large and, even so, he had moments of delicacy during sex. Khaled found it amusing how Liandre had cared for him at the beginning and then seemed like a wild beast, desiring him as if there were no one else in front of him. But he couldn't delude himself, nor did he consider that possibility; his perception was being affected by the bond. He could feel that Liandre's emotions were following the flow he desired. It had to do with Liandre's predetermined desire; he had noticed his look the moment he saw him in the tower and knew he could get what he wanted more easily. That didn't discount the fact that he had enjoyed every touch from the warrior: the more intense grips, the way he had marked him completely, possessively and obstinately. It was pleasant to feel wanted and desired again, but he needed to be careful; those feelings needed to remain sexual and, perhaps, a possible mutual empathy regarding Liandre's circumstances.
— Shall we? — The taller man approached with the new armor, sword in its sheath. The breastplate's material was of good quality and had a bluish and shiny tone.
Khaled handed the coins to the dwarf woman, who gladly accepted the money for the service and the armor.
— Is the fragment far? — Liandre asked as he fetched two good horses, paying the corresponding coins for the animals. He handed the reins to the mage, who mounted gracefully; he seemed to move with impeccable lightness. He stared longer than he should have and coughed upon noticing the other's gaze at his prolonged stare. He climbed onto the horse with his usual roughness. They left the city with backpacks on their backs and extra supplies on the sides of the two animals. They were stocked and now had sleeping bags and tarps that could protect them from cold nights and possible rain.
— No, I can feel it near the city, above that hill — Khaled pointed toward a hill beyond the short forest. He could feel his heart racing with the excitement of obtaining his first fragment of power and wondered what dangers they would face. The goddess never made things easy; there was always a trick behind her schemes.
The passage through the forest wasn't difficult; there were paths leading to the hill. The trees on the roadside had a white stripe around them. There were some stones strategically placed with marks and symbols, some names in ancient and unique languages. Liandre knew what it meant: the fragment was probably in a cemetery. He wasn't pleased with the conclusion. Perhaps they were after a gravedigger? They arrived around noon, ate something quickly, and continued on.
He didn't feel comfortable commenting on what they had done the night before, even though he knew he was being teased: the elf's smiles, the way he stared at him or said any nonsense with his soft and comforting voice. He needed to recover and focus on the mission. However, he couldn't resist:
— About what happened yesterday... — Liandre began, trying to keep his voice rough and steady.
— You don't need to worry. It was something natural, the desire of two people. And it can happen again whenever we feel like it — Khaled was simple in that regard; his relationships were based on the desire and interest the partner sparked.
— Won't this get in the way of our mission? — Of course he had his insecurities and was exposing them at that moment. He would love to repeat what they had the night before, but he was also bubbling inside with thoughts about the mage. The images of the touch flashed in his mind: the desperate breaths trying to pull air in the midst of intoxicating ecstasy, while the blushing face showed the act's gentle shyness and his effort to control the moans, which sounded like erotic sonnets on a stage of delirium and depravity. And that disturbed him.
— I don't think it will. Liandre, you're so strong and impetuous; how can you be feeling insecure? It was just a moment of pleasure, and I liked it. In fact, it was so delicious that I almost fainted during the third orgasm.
Khaled saying that was unfair. Liandre was having a prominent erection, which was covered by the fabric of the shirt beneath the breastplate.
— No, it's nonsense. I also enjoyed the night — he tried to sound cold and indifferent but failed miserably. His impulse was to stop the horse and take him against the nearest tree.
He controlled his desires. They could do that later.
The first gravestones were right at the entrance; the names were usually written in the human language, with some exceptions, like halflings who died in the city and were buried there. The walls were tall, but the entrance had no doors or gates; anyone who wanted to visit and mourn their dead could do so without hindrance. Besides tombstones, there were some mausoleums, statues of gods, and angels from other planes of existence, giving the place an even darker atmosphere. The horses refused to cross the stone portal; they couldn't continue with the animals.
— There — Khaled dismounted before even crossing the portal, and Liandre did the same. He pointed towards a mausoleum at the top of the hill; it was made of marble and had a majestic structure despite its age. It had obviously belonged to some noble of the past; its structure exuded social status. They walked towards the place. The mage's eyes glowed intensely, indicating he had used magic. Liandre, for his part, had his sword drawn. He had already figured out that the fragment was in some noble's dead body. As his own lineage would end with him, he imagined that if he hadn't found Khaled, he would be in the same condition — but in his case, in some mass grave.
When they got close enough, Liandre felt something wrap around his legs, gripping his ankle firmly, sinking its claws into the leather boot, piercing the material and tearing his flesh. He stared at the cadaverous hand holding him. He cut it on instinct and took a few steps back to distance himself from the creature. Still surprised, he barely heard what Khaled said:
— You take care of this; I'll get the fragment — and disappeared before Liandre's eyes.
— Fucking hell! — Liandre said irritably, seeing the bodies starting to rise from their graves. How many corpses were around? Fifty? Fuck! How was he going to face so many enemies like this? He tightened his grip around the sword as he realized he was screwed.