Lorian – A Taste of Mortality

Echo of My Thoughts

For Darkenaz, featuring her shapeshifting dragon character, Jev.

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I dig my talons in the flesh of the man who fucks me. I bury deeper and I know the man doesn’t mind it. I see in his mind a devious and twisted need and I find it thrilling. My female body presses hard to his, he moves hungrily, the blood of the woman we killed, dripping between us. Thick strings sticking to us, while her dead eyes seem to follow our passion, as we make her blood live. His thoughts echoe in mine, and I can feel his ecstasy. So well fitting to the one he shows outside.

I lean to his ear, pointy one, elf-like.

“This drives me so much… all of this” I push him harder inside me with my legs. His body is like made for this, toned, well-built, but not too much, filled with energy and passion.

I needed this.

“She begged for mercy in an enthralling way…” he forces deeper, I feel a pleasant shiver down my spine. He reads my mind just as I read his, he knows what pace, what pressure I like most. I love all kinds of sex… but some things never change. I have my own sets of favorites.

And I know what makes him abandon.

What makes him hard most. Violence. And control. Pain. Not only of his victims.

I pull him even harder, fingers deep in the skin on his back, droplets of blood, blue, like the clear sky.

“All humans beg for mercy” I purr, my blue hair receiving him and I allow him to bury his hand in my tangles. My thighs press hard, harder, I feel him spreading me.

“Intoxicating…” he whispers in my ear and I know he really thinks so – just like me. Humans, begging, bleeding… perfect aphrodisiac. For both of us.

His shadows penetrate my body alongside with him, sensing me, passing my pleasure to him, giving me a taste of his own rapture, and this is so similar to what I know of black-flame elves… but also different… a new species to fuck, an elf yes, but not completely.

And I have never had an elf yet…

My hips meet him at a faster pace, we are close, both. I drip between my thighs, my body receives exactly the treatment I like.

He hits the spot.

I roll over him, to stride him, to look at him when he rides his climax, look at him as he lays under me, pulsing inside. My hands bury in his short thick hair, pull, hard and I sigh, when he fills me with his release. I feel his climax, when my own rushes through my body. His own pleasure transferred between us, drowning us, making our bodies shiver.

Delicious.

I needed it.

I needed it and didn’t even know how much.

His eyes meet mine. Our thoughts intertwine. It’s the first time I can hear my own thoughts in someone’s mind. Someone who is like me, in more than one aspect. He sees this thought too – of course – and laughs, so beautifully. If I was a lesser being, it would bring me to my knees. But I am not.

My muscles relax, I still twitch between my legs, I feel he throbs too. We both love it. We love fucking. I hope this week will be long and allows me to go as deep as I need.

The throbs slowly fade, pulling me back to reality, leaving me pleased and filled.

For now, I think.

“Your world never ceases to intrigue me” he muses, slowly separating from me, standing up, He finds his scattered clothes; pulls up the tight black trousers and feathered shirt. “But humans feel the same fear and pain. That never changes.”

“They are perfect playthings. Perfect amusement” I stand up as well, pulling something on myself as well.

Devin’s t-shirt.

Fuck it.

He is absent and I don’t need to wait for him. I never needed it.

I am a dragon, and I am one to rule. I am the one to play the winning figure in this game. Even if he is so under my skin…

I see an amused glint in Lorian’s black eyes. He told me about his women. I wonder suddenly, if he would wait for any of them in a way I wait for Devin.

“Waiting is good, Jevon” he pins his upper shirt with an azure gem. “But only if you get a good reward.”

Now, I want him to not be able to look into my mind. But… I see it in him as well. Years of pain. Cruel suffering he takes in himself willingly and with sick joy. Twisted. But in some way… tempting.

He doesn’t smile anymore. He is torn between two women, between his desire for life and never ending agony. And he knows I see it all. Possibly first time in his long life. I am a first person who see past his masks. I know he finds it both intriguing, attractive and uncomfortable.

We are pulling all out on the plain sight.

“Time to show hospitality to our guest” I grin. No more doubts. Not when he can read all of them. I know he doesn’t know nor care about Devin.

I could not think.

Not delve into this.

But Lorian seems to understand, in some dettached, alien way. Fey kind is both passionate and cold. A mix that can be terrifying.

I will love to see how much terrifying we can be.

“You like it raw?”

Lorian doesn’t feel good in the kitchen. He possibly never had to cook in his palace, which – this time – amuses me. But he is not the type to be offended. He knows his worth, and that is one of the things I like in him. Powerful, like me. But not pushing this, he just beams – tastily – with self confidence.

We are so alike.

I suddenly feel I want to fuck again.

Especially when I see the fearfully open eyes and struggles of the captive man. He possibly sees in us… serial killers, a deadly couple who finds thrill in killing random strangers. He doesn’t even suspect who we really are. Kings. Almost gods to his weak kind.

“Raw has the best taste” I grin at him, a slender finger in my hand.

“I think every good meal needs additional care” Lorian slowly lifts the spoon with meat on it. Her meat, human flesh, so well cooked. He learns kitchen rules, slowly – if we forget the incident with shadows. His playful gaze slowly lands on the captive man, passes him, and lays on me. My smile is cruel, when I bite the finger, savoring the taste of the human woman. I know how cruel my smile can be.

“Please… let me go…” a voice reaches us, the shock has to be big, because he doesn’t recognize his wife’s finger. Strange that he doesn’t. But he will. Now, he almost wets himself.

“Oh, allow us to take care of you” Lorian puts the spoon again in the pan. “It would be such an ungrateful thing, to just leave us alone, in such an unsatisfied need for being the good hosts.”

“We brim with need” I smile, my smile seems to scare the human even more.

He tries to retreat, when we approach him, two looming figures, powerful in their dominance. Lorian’s shadows lift him up a bit, closing hard on his throat. He moans in pain, but Lorian pulls him ever higher.

I allow my dragon features to bloom. Blue, like the sky. Like Lorian’s blood. Like the eyes of the captive man. I bathe in blue and in my glory, when I become a god of myths before him. Lorian’s form flickers and becomes more smoky, darker… more dangerous. A shadow incarnate. Which I want to explore later. Let him into my every crevice.

“I like your experimental nature, dragon.”

“And I like your surprises, fae.”

This human isn’t able to comprehend who we are… what we are. If he knew that world he knows is just the beginning, with so many wonders to discover… and of course predators to fear.

He looks at us with a plea in his eyes… I feel how Lorian feeds on his fear. I never met anyone like him. Devin… he would condemn us now. He has his own rules, despises feasting on suffering. An own moral code, which doesn’t include killing for fun.

But Devin is not my god.

“Please… release me, I won’t tell anyone about you…”

The human lost his hope, I can feel it in his mind. Still, it’s natural for humans. To beg.

Lorian chuckles. I like his laugh. Soft, deep… but touched with darkness. Which makes it even more interesting.

“Your wife will surely love to become part of us. Consider it a feast of senses… she will please us… with her flesh.”

“Eating someone out never had more apt meaning” I add, seeing pure fear widening human’s eyes.

Lorian pats him over his cheek, with a tender move, a kind expression lighting his face. I see that this act becomes too much for the human. This fake care. He knows how to disturb the weak mind.

“Do not worry” I add, dark gleams in my eyes. “We will share with you. The best morsels.”

We would rule the world, if this had chances to last.

But I already savor how much pleasure I can squeeze from Lorian, how much I can give him and take from him. I know he doesn’t belong here and I won’t stop him from returning. But what will be mine, will always be mine.

It will be a glorious week.

sitely

Chapters

It’s time to continue actual chapters – I got drown into these unhinged NSFW stories 😱

Next chapters will be still from Dal’coler. Prepare for mayhem.

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Playful

The fairy lights, attracted by Nymre’s anger, danced around her and dispersed, when she chased them away with her gloved hand.

Lorian…

His secrets, his lies, his… all. Her spells drowning in his dark aura, like in a sea of old blood. Sticky, pulling her in with tendrils made of oily night. She knew she was burying harder into the black soil of his deception. Her mausoleum of false hope.

Her tomb of wishful thinking.

Now, when she knew what he was planning to do – what he was doing, subject himself to this torment – she was even more angry. Her past screamed at her how things changed. And she was painfully aware that nothing will give it back to her.

The worst thing was… she loved him. Still, fiercely, foolishly. And she knew that in his own twisted way, he loves her too. And she longed for it.

A poison dressed in silk and gold.

A well in which she sits, chained, even if the locks are open.

She felt his arms around her.

“Your mind creates the most tempting visions, my raven…”

Her jaw pressed, when he stuck her like honey to a tree bark, his presence pulling her like a cobweb thread pulled the unwilling prey.

“You are a hopeless liar, Lorian” she growled, deep, repressed sound, a touch of wild beast under the mask of beauty. “How long would you hide this from me? How long would you suffer alone, until it ate you? You dared to love me, while those… gods drilled your body with pain. You knew how I would react, yet you continued your lies. Until you decide on a whim, it’s enough…” She rejected his embrace, facing him. Her eyes were blooming with white rage.

Lorian didn’t look put off by it. His smile still present, his aura amassing around them, making her feel like she swam in it. His gaze was drilling her soul, but she was used to it. Now, she wanted to pull from it as much as she could… a confession. A promise. Something he could so easily break once again. She wanted to hate him. But instead, she adored him.

No, she hated him now. Even though she knew it was only temporary.

Somehow, she was tormenting herself with vicious pain as well, just like him. But he was her god from which she drank.

“Ah, but you were too proud maybe?” her finger touched his chest. Feathers of his attired brushed her hand. Raven feathers. Her lips curved in a grin. “Fearing weakness, that this pain will make you look less in my eyes?”

Lorian… laughed. His hand drifted to her hair but she caught it in the mid-move. He smiled wider.

“You read minds not less skillfully than myself. My cruel raven, exposing my motifs faster than I find her spells burying into me, to pull the truth out.”

“You dare to compare it!” she scoffed. Her fingers still closed over his hand, holding in before her like a defiant trophy. “Once and for all put away your masks. You can parade with it before your pet, Leira, but not before me. I know you too long, Lorian. And I am not a frail human, which you can fool and destroy.”

His eyes smiled. She saw that he was amused, which infuriated her. But before she thought of saying anything more… his features losing youthful taunt. His eyes gleaming with attractive seriousness. He retracted his hand, which she released. She could feel his aura lighter, less tensed, less overpowering.

“This was never a joke, Nymre. This pain is nothing to joke about.”

“Why? Why did you never tell me?”

His bitter smile brought a retreating storm in one’s mind.

“Because you would want to stop me.”

“Of course I would. I would never let you to—“

“And that is not an option and never was. I am addicted and even if I wasn’t… you know perfectly well, how this would end. With death. Not only our court’s. Yours. Mine. I could not care about them, but I never would allow us to perish. They would have awakened years ago, if not me. And they would leave debris after them, drowning us in our own magic.”

He got closer to her. This time she allowed it. Her anger still flaring in her., but muted, dull, like a pain in an old wound.

“We are old creatures, Nymre” he whispered into her ear. “And lies stick to us. We are spiderwebs that attract secrets.,.”

She felt the dark flame that radiated with not less dull power of his, dragging her into the abyss. Her own aura pulsing around the shadows, tugging at them.

She was lost.

He was lost.

She pushed him off herself.

She could predict how this ends.

But… that was the only right way and they both knew it.

He grinned at her, his smile cruel, just as she loved most.

“No.”

His expression changed, like touched with starlight. Like black sun coming from a full eclipse. They both needed it. Fuck the tension up. Forget about looming danger. Destroy the net of uncertainty that spread between them, devour the doubt, allow for forgetfulness. And paint it with blood.

Curse it, Lorian.

His hand again reached her hair, and slowly went down, through her chin; to the neck, to eventually caress her, a slow, slow move. She felt the scent of his aura, sweeter now, thicker.

“Your burning anger is intoxicating. Filling, like human fear…”

“Human fear!” she chuckled, but allowed his caress… so allowed it. Leaning to it, against her will. “I won’t ever fear you. Not like that.”

“Even if I am going to pull your feathers, one by one…” his voice a tease and a threat.

“Just like those poor birds those fools killed, to sew you a robe” her laughter was not less cruel.

“No…” he purred. “It will be much more painful…”

Her heart beat with a wild drum. Pulsed with lingering rage. He won’t have her.

And that was the most beautiful and desirable thing in all of this…

He caught her by her waist, dragging her closer. The warmth she felt from him, boiling shadows, in which he poured the power of these hopeless gods he ate every day, was licking her like a lover, like a flame.

He caught her hands and bent them behind her back. She tossed in his grasp, her smile wild and defiant. She was his cruel raven. And he was her dark king.

“You are perfect when you seethe with rage…”

And he bit her. Hard.

Just over the collarbone, his teeth sinking in the soft flesh. Blue blood started to trickle, slowly, hypnotizing. There was something in it, the pain and all the elation, that made her form a moan, desperate and needing.

Aimed to please.

“Fuck you…”

“I would prefer your welcoming body…”

He lifted her up, her wings beating him with all the strength she had, when he dragged her with himself and tossed on the bed.

Feathers fell off the wings. Pulled by their struggle.

“If you make one more fall off…”

“I would tear them all from your back….” he whispered into her neck and she couldn’t stop another moan. Pleasure pooling in her underbelly with a warm sea of pure desire. “I am going to do such thrilling things to you…”

“If you dare…”

He laughed. In this beautiful and threatening way she loved so much. No, admired. Adored.

He pressed her brutally to the bed, when she tossed wildly, trying to crawl from under him, fight him and not allow…

… to allow. Completely.

His one hand closed over her throat, nails dug in a place where he bit her; she welcomed it with a sigh, while she still struggled, kicking him off her body with her legs, strong kicks, to cause pain , to harm him.

His hand blocked her air completely, blood trickled down his fingers, staining the sheets with azure. Her spasmodic chokes cause him only to press against her harder, pinning her to bed with his body, his shadows slowly entering between her legs, so cruel and hot.

“Should I have you like this?” he purred, just into her ear, when she was fighting for breath. “On the verge of death, squeezing life from you?”

Her talons buried in his flanks, drawing blood, his back arching slightly and she knew he loved it. His black eyes beaming with violent desire.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to feel like he slowly send her into oblivion…

He released her throat, her lungs filled with a blessing of the air. She saw like through mist how he pulls himself from his pants, how he violently drags her closer.

Her feathers…

… scattered around, his trophy…

He silenced her again, so easily. Leaning over her he took her cheeks into a tight grasp, her eyes hating and adoring him.

“You want it so much… a willing raven…”

“Never… ever…”

His kiss was like a molten iron, killing her inside, pouring shadows down her throat, hot and merciless. So delicious, so wrong, a taste of burning violet mist… His other hand drifted between her legs. She pressed them tight, so tight, defying him with all that she had, but he opened them, forcefully… and she was wet… so much of it pooling between her thighs, when his fingers entered her, rubbing her inside.

“You…”

She tossed wildly, his fingers deeper into her, she pressed with herself against them, a desperate and angry groan left her mouth, straight into him, he swallowed her again, with a violent kiss.

“I will kill you if you enter me” she moaned, but her thighs dripping with wetness and her eyes beaming with light as vicious and victorious.

He smiled at her and alongside her protest, she pulled his fingers out.

And pushed himself into her.

Violently.

Hard.

Her wings shivered spasmodically, beating against him, losing feathers, in places where his hands were pushing them to the bed – trying to hit where it would pain him most. But he fucked her into the pillows, oblivious at her tries, with this beautiful, cruel smile, which she loved more than anything.

He pressed her even harder to the bed, almost melting into her. His wild pushes were sending shivers down her spine, wet flickers inside, like tiny tongues, hungry mouths. Shadows crept, just inside her, licking her with heat, painful, pleasant, all the same…

“… you will pay so much for this…”

“I count on your imagination… and your skilled hands…”

She came fast, she always was coming fast, when he was violent with her. She buried her face into his arm and gifted him with a desperate growl.

“You are the best prey I ever had” he murmured, when he filled her with his release. Hot, shadowed, just like himself.

“You awful, terrible…” she moaned but the feeling of him coming inside her was too tasty to not give in completely. He huffed into her hair and she dragged him closer, caressing him with her feathers; a delight only she could give to him.

She knew they didn’t solve their problems. They were hanging over them, like the moon over Ain’asel… enormous and threatening.

But it was sweet, the abandonment in what they loved the most.

Hungry gods on one end of this tangled rope.

And the foolish human, who was slowly reaching Dal’coler, weak and pathetic, on the other.

A human who he chose. A human who traveled here… to die. Beaming with the meek light of mortality.

Lorian…

…. always loved the taste of it.

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This Wrong Feeling, This Cruel Need

His neck was already bruised from the silver strains he was bound with, his stomach craving for food and his throat for water. He felt like his mouth was filled with desert sand, dry and hot. The panorama behind the windows was changing slowly, from day to night, showing him how powerless he was. His fiery power didn’t appear since he passed the gate of Dal’coler, like laughing from giving him hope, for proving he can fight but taking it from him, when he needed it most. He was slowly returning to his old self, fear gnawing on his entrails more hungrily than a wild animal.

Mina.

The only thing he wanted was to find her safe. Pry her from talons of the fae and take her away from here. Now he was seeing how delusional it was. The palace was a center of all nightmares that haunted him for the last months. How could he ever think that he could try to fight with darkness itself?

No.

Do not.

They want you to.

They would not bind you, if they didn’t sense your fire.

They would kill you, if they didn’t need you.

The dryness in his mouth was making him feel like he is dry himself, dry as a broken branch, like a burned forest he passed with Ona. Dry… but still able to instill doubts in minds of those who were passing it…

His room was spatial, bedsheets made of soft material, windows allowing the soft winter breeze, adapted to his human needs by the magical barrier… But the stone faces that looming from the cellar were looking at him with ominous interest and he couldn’t know for sure if they are sculpts… or guardians set there to watch his every move, When he was not looking straight at them, he could swear that they moved, blinked, their tongues out.

Everything here is not as it seems.

His bed was so comfortable, dressed in a black silk… but he was bound to it.

And naked.

Exposed. Served on a plate.

No.

Do not think of it. You are the fire. Make your fear flame in you and ignite the blaze. They won’t dare…

He felt him first before the door opened. A beautiful laugh inside his mind, like gems and starlight… drifting on the edge of an empty bottomless well.

Him.

The one who stole Mina, killed his parents, destroyed his life. He will not let him hurt him. Not now, not ever. He must flame. He must burn.

Lorian entered alone, soft steps over a stone floor. His black eyes held amusement which made Tiyan’s guts turn in rage. His fear masked with hatred, so strong, so primal. Lorian had to feel it, because the laugh rang again. So beautiful. So… misplaced.

“I see you got comfortable in your abode” he mused, walking in, close, closer. He stood near his bed, Tiyan backed off, instinctively, but he couldn’t do much. He was painfully aware of his state. And what Lorian could see when looking at him. “Humans hate our soul-matching robes, somehow, they scare them. So I decided to not offer you one. Your soul… would produce a really… intriguing attire.”

Tiyan started to crawl back again, when Lorian nonchalantly sat on the edge of the bed.

“Ah, human reluctance. Interesting at the beginning… but after some time becoming… dull.”

“I am not here to entertain you” said Tiyan, surprised by the words that are leaving his mouth.

“Are you sure?… if you say so, I must believe it, after all, a human can’t lie to a High Fae” he patted Tiyan’s cheek. “Which makes you a very interesting prey.”

Tiyan’s face flared with anger. He didn’t even know he was able to react as such. Fear somehow pushed back by rage- for all he had to endure to get here, after Qhal’s betrayal and the meat… the meat he was devouring with so much eagerness, through the passages of Ain’asel… a sadistic treat, even more sadistic lie. All fae are the same. All fae are empty, like small folk’s eyes.

Another chuckle, but Tiyan could see that Lorian’s eyes were not laughing.

Tiyan felt the enchantment around Lorian; cruel and tempting, whispering to allow him open on everything, to fall on his knees… humiliating and spiteful, even more scary, because Tiyan knew if Lorian wanted, he would make him crawl before him willingly.

“What have you done with Mina” his voice was dry too; like desert, like sun-licked stone.

His heart twisted in his chest, when Lorian leaned towards him. His fingers, longer than on a human hand, slowly took a hold on a chain that was binding him to the bed. He saw as shadows started to creep from around the corners. Shadows which could kill him or… make him suffer, if he still was needed.

For fun and joy.

Lorian’s smile became wider. He could see his thoughts. And it amused him. Of course it did.

“Mina.,.. a delicious young soul… what would you like me to do to her?”

His hand pulled the chain and Tiyan was involuntarily was dragged closer, his neck protesting from the treatment.

“If you harm her…” Tiyan’s voice dripped with despise.

Lorian’s face was now so close that he could feel his breath on his face, scentsy; violets, jasmine… and something unearthly.

“She was here for so long… how do you know if I didn’t harm her already?”

Tiyan trashed in the binds, Lorian smiling at his futile efforts. Warm smile. Youthful, like not belonging to an ageless fae that kidnapped his sister and destroyed his life.

“Your fear is delicious. So filling” he purred. “But I feel more in you, which interests me much more…” his finger landed on his lower lip, and stayed on his chin. A soft grasp, but strong enough for Tiyan wouldn’t be able to free himself from it. “Your power… a god’s gift, stronger in you… because touched with my shadows. What a powerful creature you are… weak and strong at the same time… fearing me… but still wanting to oppose.”

He got even closer, the scent of night flowers, as if violets were blooming at night. Everything in him was… night.

“You opposing me… a delightful thought. Strong” he chuckled in his ear. “But I want you to give yourself to me. The thought of winning over your flames… impeccable.”

Lorian’s fingers laid on Tiyan chest and he realized that something pulls… inside him. Fingers, stroking him, like melted into his flesh, making him shiver not only from disgust.

“You are such a beautiful treat” dark gleams in Lorian’s black eyes. “I will love to taste what you hold for me.”

Tiyan suddenly was pressed hard against the mattress. Silk. Awful in its softness… and shadows around him, dancing over his skin. Trying to find a good crevice to push into.

Tiyan realized a terrifying fact. He was a prey. And Lorian… he was a predator that won’t back off before anything.

Horror enveloped him.

He will be submitted by a male.

And even if he told him he doesn’t intend to force him. He will. He will.

The moment in the mountains came uninvited to his mind, and the unwanted pleasure he felt when the same shadows pressed him against a mirage… who was very real now. Looming over him, dripping off stars and black moons.

When Lorian leaned over him, Tiyan lost it. He tossed wildly, trying to somehow break the silver strains, to not allow this to happen. To call his power, given by cruel gods. To burn Lorian , not allow him to do it… kill him before he gets to it… to him. His flames silent though; the tight collar and binds keeping him in place, a merciless reality, which he could not escape.

“Your flame is something I always wanted to taste” Lorian murmured into his ear. “I wanted to feel your power, terrifying for all the others… but so tempting for me…”

He pulled hard by the chain attached to his neck and shifted him, so he landed on his stomach.

“You are so delicious… an unwilling god… but so easily submitted to my will…”

No.

Lorian pressed against his back.

Tiyan felt a warm breath over his neck; he tried to trash in place, but Lorian’s power held him hard and mercilessly. The shadows slowly entered into his muscles, into veins and tendons; spreading, pushing in… and he felt… not real pain… a horrifying pleasure… and his flame reacted and tossed in him, like a rat trapped in a ribcage. A delightful pain that takes your mind into forbidden places, against your will and against you whole being. He realised he starts to take the pleasure in, against his nature. Against himself. Leaning towards it like a tree bends to a wind.

What’s wrong with me.

This isn’t real.

“Let me go” he moaned and he knew that his voice wasn’t carrying the weight he intended to put into it. His words were shaky, unable to oppose the terrifying sensation he was being subjected to.

Tiyan could feel through delightful strokes of shadows, how Lorian’s hand traced a path between his legs, a soft, slow caress, becoming more insistent with every stroke. And with horror he realized that he is hard. He was hard, for goddess’ sake. Lorian bit his ear, strong, but the pleasure caused by his power was changing the pain into a delight.

He growled, when the chain pulled him against Lorian’s chest; he followed way too eagerly. Lorian laughed again and it sounded like a liquid lust, going straight into his starved soul, which hated the feeling and hated himself… and wanted it at the same time.

“Hate me” Lorian’s breath. Violets and jasmine. “Hatred is a gate to the strongest rapture.”

Tiyan shivered, when Lorian’s hand resumed its caress between his legs, deliberate, slow, seductive. He was hard, please, goddess. The tighter Lorian’s hand’s pressure, the harder he was getting. He could feel with terrible clarity that Lorian was hard too, against his bottom, pressing to him, cruelly pleasant.

It was awful.

He wanted it.

The night was spreading him, entering him, the night that killed all he loved. And he couldn’t even stop being aroused. Weak, pathetic.

He was pushed face down the pillow, Lorian’s hand just on his neck, where the collar was biting into his skin. Legs spread, he welcomed it with a desperate keen.

Yes… for goddess’s sake. Please no.

His wounds, still not healed, eaten slowly by delicious shadows – almost a caress – blurring the border between a torment and satisfaction. Blood trickled down his sides, wet and crimson.

And in the end, Lorian inside him, pressing him to the bed, bathing in his want. Slow thrusts, a flickering stars before his eyes. Fireflies. And fairy lights. Pain of his pushes slowly changing into a pleasure of him hitting his more and more craving spots.

The shadows… they swallow his free will… they make him a clay to sculpt from. And he can’t say no.

They make him hate it and love it at the same time.

“You give in so beautifully…”

Tiyan huffed helplessly, when Lorian started to increase pace, taking him from behind. His was owned by him, completely and fully. His erection painfully tight, his hips pushing it against Lorian’s hand, unwillingly… hungrily.

More.

No.

Yes.

He wanted it, his fire wanted it. His flame budding in him, intertwining with shadows, brimming with something dangerous. Something that may be even more terrible, if he allows it. Something that may crash him against self-hatred even more. His mouth tasting Lorian’s fingers, his neck bruises wailing against the collar.

The fire…

It searched for shadows, enveloping them with itself, and allowing them to penetrate it. The pleasure started to burn, his flames fastly ignited, tiny sparks over his skin, cracking to the sound of hungry bodies.

“Release your flame” whispered Lorian. “Burn me. As fiercely as you can…”

“Fuck you!”

Lorian pulled out, his hand in Tiyan’s hair, while he was rubbing himself over his trickling wound… shadows sticking to both of them like moths to a molten candle. Tiyan tossed, growling in pain and shock, when the fae slowly dragged the blood over his skin, pain mixed with this terrifying rapture, both suffocating him with wrongness of this all. Lorian, with sensual precision went down, down, and with a sigh, pushed again, sliding inside him even easier than before. Tiyan’s moaned, when he felt his insides wet from crimson and Lorian deep, so deep, fucking the blood into him.

Tiyan tossed, hard, under his weight, his muscles tensing in protest, when shadows entered him alongside with Lorian; hot and seething, burying hard into him, deep inside.

He felt as blood trickled down his tights and pooled under him.

“Nghh….”

Flickering lights under his eyelids becoming darker. Like hollow suns in empty void.

Lorian laughed into his neck, youthfully, cruel; like a child who enjoys destroying his favorite toy.

“Do you feel it? Your flesh opening for me?”

Tiyan did. He felt it. So much. He wanted to scream… and urge this sick bastard to move faster. Faster. Fuck him. Have him. The scar on his chest pulsed, the self-swallowing beast carved in his skin seemed to want to tear out from him. He felt how it burns, almost alive, biting into him with with flame that was coming from shadows;the same that were burying into him where he could feel the most.

He melted. Even if it was… Him. Even if… blood.

Lorian’s hand on his scar.

Almost like… under his skin.

Almost digging under it, pulling weak nerves.

He squirmed, pretending before himself it’s not him who craves this. He feared this… and wanted it, like a poison of delicious taste, which may kill him, yet allows him to reach the sky. And Lorian… hit few spots at once, Tiyan’s back arching, tears in his eyes. The flame bursted off him , hot, and eager. The heated shadows clashed against them and delved between them… becoming one, a terrifying mixture.

Tiyan screamed.

So loud.

The sensation was everything he would even dream of, in nightmares and in the darkest places of his soul. He felt Lorian hand on his neck and he welcomed his long shadowed talons with glee. He pulsed between his legs, hard, cruelly, pouring warm fluid mixed with shadows.

Tiyan allowed everything.

He was being torn. Not only in flesh.

Lorian burned too, with dark shadows, beautiful and tempting, their bodies tightly pressed, their minds in a dark lustful reverie. Fire scorched Tiyan, not harming him, intensifying the heat between his tights. Fire that should burn Lorian… but his shadows submit Tiyan’s power completely, making him a slave of his own need.

A Shadow’s pet. The faeries of the mountains were right. But Tiyan couldn’t care less now.

Please…

He knew it was wrong.

How could it matter though… when his power found a home. A home which sucked him in, opening all doors and windows, taking him prisoner even without using real force. Trapping him in a sticky cobweb made of desire.

A home that fucked him into the bed, taking all what was left from his pride. Making him want to be his.

But a home still.

The silent guardians on the arched ceiling were observing, as Lorian takes everything Tiyan is, crashing against his weak soul, filling him with flesh, licking his eager tears from his cheek.

A pull. Lips touching his mouth, his collar digging into his neck even harder. A kiss that tastes of violets. Cruel flowers. His body weak from pleasure.

So good… like a dream, most luscious he ever had.

Please, no more.

Blood trickles slowly. Red. Like a dying sun.

A laughter.

And pain.

Delicious… cruel… both. Like the meat Qhal served him.

Like the eyes that devoured him, setting black flames inside his soul.

poetry

Beautiful Shine

your cruel spell
woven from my fear and my pain
stolen stars and abducted light
[ I crave for you, a glass shard bitten into my heart
if I pull you out, I will die ]

your beautiful shine
a moon feeding on the brightness of my sun
tearing me flesh apart, to sprout new life from it
[ I crave for you, glittering darkness
if I pull you out, I disappear ]

you chose me to darken my path
look how I bloom with nocturnal glory

art

Lorian art

Lorian, by chelzd_art on IG!

art

Arts

I am now a bit resting from writing. I feel tired IRL, so I taje time to recharge.

My latest additions to Lorian army! By aramisdream and Amru.

fairy realm

Family Bonds – I

Enjoy the party.

Veralia’s hair was falling with a golden cascade over her arms, reaching her shapely hips. She was beautiful, in a very fae way, like a touch of setting sun, and was well aware of that. Her aura gleamed with gold as well, an autumnal aura so fitting her auburn eyes and vermilion attire, a dress made of silk and gossamer.

Lorian’s fingers wandered in her tangles, his expression seemed bored, while he, Varalia and the group of ar’salien watched the performance of lower fey entertainers.

Ar’salien. Humans, but not slaves. More of a company, cherished one. Lovers, if Lorian wanted. They proved their loyalty in trials in which they couldn’t lie. And most of them – after delving more into court life, gathered enough knowledge to enjoy their position. As humans, they could end much much worse.

Most of Lorian’s ar’salien were skilled in not only the art of love. Not only in being a good company. Lorian knew how to use lower races and equip them with almost fairy advantages.

Veralia never understood Lorian’s fondness for them. They were so short-living and simple. Of course, humans could be tasty in bed, but… she preferred fae lovers. Too much hassle with educating those creatures to the level of the court,

She caught the gaze of one of them. Twir, a tall human male with light skin and blue eyes, was looking at her with strange intensity. His face was a mask of complete peace. And something disturbing in his eyes… some kind of knowledge and curiosity, which she would find offending in fae’s gaze, but found very uncomfortable and improper in human’s one.

She didn’t like it.

She feigned laughter and sat closer to Lorian, her light gossamer dress fluttering around her like wings of a bird.

Twir still looked at her.

“Lorian” she mused, oblivious to the performers. Lorian was looking bored, either way. “I thought you train your humans better.”

His black gaze drifted from the spectacle. As a prince, Lorian had a reputation of a spoiled one, but also very charismatic, gaining the hearts of many courtiers. Lerrel Ain’Dal perceived him as a bothersome, annoying kid, who uses his privileges way too widely. That’s why he sent her to his younger brother. To spy on him and take his attention away from what’s really important in the court. After all, Lorian liked to indulge, he perceived life in terms of pleasures. Delicious prey for a spy like her. The prince loved to fuck her and she had to admit, that she started to like it. He was passionate lover and knew what she liked, like he read in her mind. Yet, she was not a weak, easily wooed woman. She knew she was a distraction and informator.

Which seemed to work very well.

She was not a trained spy… but Lorian should eat from her hand soon. He got lost in sensual sensations and she felt that he is hers already. She almost pitied him. But he will lead pleasant, wealthy life… even if far from the throne. In some property, where he will be able to do whatever he pleases… as long as Lerrel allows.

His smile was exceptionally beautiful. Like a morning coming from over a mountain, being in contrast to his dark eyes filled with void. Another pleasant thing connected with her work.

“How so, Veralia?”

“One of them looks at me all the time. He should know his place.”

Somehow, she could swear that Lorian gaze landed for a small second on Twir, but eventually slid over him and took in the whole gathering of his human companions.

His voice was especially low, when he spoke.

“Very unfortunate, my dear. Tell me who, and I will mind to punish it.”

His stunning smile didn’t take an ominous mood from his words.

“Point any of them and I will feed it.”

Her brows lifted up.

“Feed it?”

“After all, it must be very hungry for you. It needs a treat. Disobedient pets love attention.”

Veralia felt that air around them becomes heavier, thicker. And that not only Twir but also the rest of ar’salien looked at her with almost insistent way.

This sounded ominous. What he had in mind?

“I didn’t mean anything very vile” she said fast, the eyes of the prince’s companions seemed to drill her soul. “It’s only a gaze. Perhaps a simple flog will do.”

His fingers delved into her hair, separating golden tangles. His smile was as beautiful as before, but his lip corner twisted almost invisibly, giving him a slightly off look.

“Its presence is already an insult to me. Point it, darling. We all want to know.”

Lorian… acted differently. Even the lesser fairy performers stopped, not sure if they should continue or not. After all, they performed for the prince and his concubine and they stopped caring about their art, leaving them confused.

“Perhaps I should choose by myself. Ar’salien are easy to replace, even if they are hard to train. But no human is allowed to disturb you” he looked at his companions who showed no fear. Lorian for a moment seemed to ponder, but quickly decided.

“Choose from yourself, if my lady isn’t sure. The more it prolongs, the harder it will be for you.”

“No” she caught his hand. “You want to kill them?”

“Death is a very… final act” his kind smile was disturbing her more than if he fell among the group of humans and tore their hearts with his teeth. “But… if he dies, it will be interesting to observe.”

She stopped in the mid-word. What she should say? She suspected he is showing off. Ar’salien were hard to replace, even if he just stated otherwise. And killing one of them, would cause lack of real loyalty in the others.

“It’s this one” she eventually said, pointing at Twir. She knew she could just tell him all beautiful lies… but something in his face was telling him it was a very bad idea.

Maybe he was showing off. Or he knew something that he shouldn’t.

Lorian frowned, his one feet resting on his knee, his arms spread over the back of the bench. The performers looked at them with curious and intrigued impressions.

“Come, Twir” he moved his finger at him.

The human raised slowly from the seat, and approached, his long hair windswept, his eyes set just at Lorian. But she didn’t see fear in them. Lorian was known for very often strange ideas… sometimes violent, but that human knew that he wouldn’t kill him, just for looking at her, yes?

Lorian nodded approvingly. And he laughed silently. Veralia looked at him with surprise, his laugh, even if quiet, rang in the silence like a knife separating sky from the earth.

“We are civilized people ” his laughter stopped fast, like a cut with the same blade. “My lady would like you to be flogged. Would you like that?”

Twir at first didn’t seem to want to oblige and reply. But in the moment when Veralia wanted to ask Lorian to stop this, he replied.

“No, my lord” his voice was silent, and strangely ethereal, like not belonging to a human.

“Insolent boy” Lorian clicked with his tongue.

The human companion looked down, like not being able to stand his gaze.

Veralia felt… strange. These humans were with Lorian for longer than her. He many times showed he cares for them. She would assume that he shows off indeed… and she hoped this is it. If no…

Lorian waved at one of the lower fey guards that stood between the gardens and the meadow on which they were sitting. Veralia observed as the tall winged fairy approaches, and bowed slightly. He didn’t feel moved by his prince’s cruel behavior. Like he has seen it before lready.

What I ommited?

“The human was insolent, as you heard” Lorian’s tone was as lazy as the summer reign. “Hold him tightly. Hunger must be appeased.”

The prince reached under his shirt. His fingers swiftly delved under the material and pulled a small bottle. Veralia looked with doubtful air at the crimson liquid inside.

“Shivara” mused casually Lorian, and the time stopped around them.

Veralia now knew it was no game at all. Lorian really meant it. Shivara. Most dreadful poison in the whole Ain’asel. Rarely someone was using it, if they didn’t wish someone the worst. And even then, they didn’t. Made from the seeds of the rotting madanis, the trees, which were long gone wiped out from the terrain of the palace, were causing the most hideous and painful death one could imagine.

And Lorian wanted to force this poor creature to drink it.

Because he looked at her.

“Lorian, are you mad?” she didn’t even try hiding terror. This couldn’t be. “This was only a gaze… you can’t really mean it.”

Lorian stood up, uncorking the bottle slowly. His black eyes showed no emotion and his smile was making her skin creep.

“Lorian…”

“Force him on his knees” he said silently and the fey guard tossed the human man on the ground, pushing him hard, so he landed on his fours. Veralia still couldn’t see fear in his eyes. But something… more. Love. And trust.

This was hideous.

Lorian’s fingers opened the jaws of the human companionand slowly poured the blood-colored liquid into his throat.

“We are civilized people” he patted him on the cheek. “And know how to cause a lot of pain.”

Veralia with even more intense shock watched as the human ar’salien curls in himself. His veins slowly started to be visible, darkened, like the night sky bubbling under his skin. No scream came from his mouth, like some force didn’t allow him, and she realized it was Lorian. One of his abilities was muting voices and he did it exactly now. He wanted to watch his agony, without disturbance.

He returned to the bench and seated himself next to her, his one arm over her shoulder; she was too shocked to wipe his hand from herself.

Her eyes met his black ones and found in them something that made her nauseous.

She underestimated him.

“Why?” she asked, anger flowing in her, from her own naivety, which shouldn’t be present in her after long months of working for Lerrel.

He leaned to her, his lips almost touching her ear. His warm, fragrant breath reached her skin. Jasmine. And violets.

“Because the spies get the best performance. This could happen to you so easily. If I had such a whim, I could do that to you. Lerrel should know better – and consider your well-being much more. You are so delicious to bed, but your own performance in the game of deception was average at best.”

He didn’t allow her to express her surprise, but clicked at the guard.

“Assist the lady to gardens and forth. What happens here is not for delicate eyes.”

The human ar’salien was slowly dying on the grass floor and Veralia could almost hear his scream in her head, coming along with his tensed features, bulging eyes and swollen veins.

wip

This Cruel Pain – II

Corvel never felt so lost in any place. Dal’coler was dark, overwhelming and monumental – traits he wasn’t accustomed with. Devlonmere was different, light, sun licking white curtains and entering white walls behind white curtains. His family was bound with the white, since he remembered. White – like snow. Like winter. Even if his father seemed to hold autumn in his heart, also since he remembered. Corvel never knew king Marnsul, a companion to his father, good one. Yet Marnsul gave life, when the forest chose his son.

Corvel Devlon – his name meant that he had lord’s status, yet he never grasped the subtleties of commanding, acting like the world belonged to him. Self-confidence. He grew up in a secluded place, where he was loved. Adored, without needing to give orders. He was aware this kind of upbringing is not common among High Fae. Most of fey didn’t bond with their children that much. He knew his family was unique.

But Corvel wanted to taste life in the palace. Far from safety. Far from the warmth of his manor. Something dark bloomed in his heart for some time. His father would say that he grew up, that his claws became sharper. He thought that he needed the change to see how others live. Compare, drown in night, and return. Maybe bolder.

Father always was telling him that love can command just as well as fear. Even illusion of love. Even a lie. But among High Fae fear-inducing was more respected. That, Corvel wanted to see as well.

Darkness was… tempting. Somehow… less polished to shine, but beaming with timeless power. Father said once that it was the matter of time that blossomed in him. Corvel was as much wanting it, as he was afraid.

But the want was stronger.

When he at last traversed the dark and shadowed passages of Dal’coler, he felt the ages in them. Whispering ghosts of the blood which was spilled here through ages. It spoke about power, relentless, hungry and unstoppable. Every young fae would be moved.

And Corvel was very moved.

Each of the stones here had its own history. He would love to know each one of them.

The lesser fairy with black wings and antlers growing from her thick copper hair led him through a richly ornamented corridor; the scenes carved on walls depicted things which Corvel didn’t see well and couldn’t decipher their meaning. As the fey stated at the beginning – they were aiming the private quarters of the lords. Far from the throne room, but placed in a circle around the royal chambers. Corvel stopped to admire the art and spatial build of the capital, even expressing his curiosity a few times. The fairy’s voice was melodic and silent, when she explained to him with a low tone, that she was ordered to show him his rooms and only that. By the king. And his order had to be fulfilled in every detail.

“Why is my father not with us?” he tried to sound as commanding as he was able.

“Your father was invited for a supper with King Lorian, my lord” the fairy smiled meekly. But Corvel could swear that he saw a wild gleam in her burgundy eyes.

“Will he visit me here… or?”

“Please forgive me for my impertinence, my lord. But I do not know. I am only a messenger.”

This sounded reasonable.

“I was accepted to the court. How will my day look from now on?” he was really curious.

“How you wish, my lord. You still don’t have duties in the palace, so your day will be filled with pleasures. You can do whatever you want. Whatever your heart desires.”

The possibilities… that sounded a bit… frightening. He didn’t know anyone here, yet he was given a free hand in everything. Possibly he could get to know other lords, with time. But they were winter fae, and he was raised as an autumn child. How will they react to him?

How will the lords and ladies react to his lack of sophistication?

Maybe they have books here. For sure they have. But then, he doubted many High Fae here liked to read.

“Can you send someone to my room?”

“A woman?” her eyes gleamed.

“Someone who can show me around here, that is.”

“Of course. But allow me graciously to give you advice, my lord. Do not ask servants if they can do something for you. Other lords…’ ‘ she shook her head, her copper hair falling on her forehead, in a very wild way. “Command. You have the right to do so.”

That sounded like the advice his father would give him. Something, which would allow him to not sound like an autumnal child in the winter court. Alnam knew how to command. He led armies to battle. He many times did this against his own beliefs, because he had to. But he knew how to lead faeries, who always were more selfish than loyal. He could be ruthless if needed.

Corvel still didn’t have that in him. But he hoped that it would bloom in him, just like he imagined in Devlonmere. He wanted power, he wanted darkness, even against his own nature. He wanted to be like Alnam, yes.

He wanted to be like Lorian Ain’Dal.

He heard about the power of the king. He possessed rare shadow magic and it was so strong. Stronger than in any other winter king. When he met him, he felt it, pushing under his skin.

When he met him…

and…

HER.

Face hidden behind the raven mask, which was almost blending with her skin. A nonchalant smile on her lips, like everything around her, was boring to her. Her aura was so similar to his own, light, but strong. He felt that she had more power in her small finger than he in his whole body.

Perfect temptation. Perfect trap.

And he fell into it, willingly.

Lady Nymre, the king’s consort.

Oh, he heard about her too. But nothing prepared him for seeing her.

She was allure incarnate.

And she belonged to the king of Ain’asel.

His chances were nonexistent. Trying anything, he would doom himself.

Alnam watched as Lorian lifted the cup with wine and sipped from it slowly, his dark eyes set on him above the rim. Nymre was sitting between them, like a dam between their mutual dislike. Alnam always thought that Nymre was clever, but vain. Intelligent but very selfish, A fae woman in every aspect. Someone who he always had to take into consideration, while traveling to Dal’coler.

Lorian was aware of that. Nymre was not his weakness, though. She was his weapon, just as she was his lover.

Corvel made a bad first impression, yes. Nymre seemed lazily amused by his attention, He hoped Lorian thought the same. It would be unfortunate, if Corvel became a sliver, which he would want to remove. Given that he thought of Alnam as a bother, it would be a good excuse to send Corvel back to Devlonmere, without giving him a chance.

“So…” the cup was put on the table and Lorian smiled. A slight mock behind it, yet not enough to call it an offense. “The young boy wants to taste the flavors of Dal’coler.”

“He is here exactly for that, Your Majesty. My son is not used to life on the court, though. He is very young.”

Lorian’s smile cracked into something darker.

“Many young fae are not ready. But the circumstances make them willingly open before possibilities.”

Alnam’s brow drifted higher.

“Corvel is very excited, my lord. I do not ask for special favors for him, though.”

“Oh, but he will get them,” Lorian’s gaze slid over Alnam slowly. “A son of my father’s most trusted companion must receive… my most special attention.”

“I hope this won’t bother Your Majesty” Alnam’s serious expression hid his thought inside his head, where no one could gaze into.

“On the contrary! I will adore to offer him the right treatment.”

Nymre’s piercing eyes laid on Alnam. He could swear she tried to dig into his mind and pull his thoughts out.

“Your son is very fine,” she mused. “And he has a taste for beautiful things.”

Lorian sipped the wine again.

“He will see many beautiful things here. But he must be aware that some of them hide claws and sharp teeth. A predatory plants in disguise.” his eyes gleamed with stars. “As you know well.”

Nymre took a small piece of meat on the fork. A small droplet of blood fell from the morsel, just on the plate.

“I can promise you that I will keep a watchful eye on your son” Lorian tapped the surface of the table with his fingers. “And do not allow him to fall prey to dangers of Dal’coler. That is the least I can do to my loyal general.”

Alnam was sure that it was true.

Lorian may not like him, but he would not harm Corvel, just to prove his point. He was not petty, cruel, yes, but not petty. At least that he knew well.

Why did he feel that it all went wrong?

“Is life in Devlonmere treating you well?” Lorian seemed to offer him real attention on the subject. “Narlia… it was too long since I had delight to see her.”

“Narlia perceives pleasures of solitude very personally. They soothe her soul… just as mine.”

“We all sometimes long for loneliness… even if surrounded by miracles and beautiful nightmares.”

Nymre chuckled silently, kindly… but enjoying these words, like she knew some dangerous secrets. Lorian and Nymre… the shadows over Ain’asel… yet never step too far, never crossing boundaries. Deadly. And unpredictable.

His own skills will be very useful here. Lorian looked amused by Corvel’s purity.

And maybe, he involuntarily helps him to grow a stronger spine.