Chapter 4
The material felt scratchy. After having been naked for so many days, my body had to remember what it was like to be encumbered with every step.
But the beige pants kept my cock from bobbing around and at the time, I cared that I was flouncing around naked and who would see what.
They were also a prize won. Bayaden didn’t think I could acquire a pair without his help, but I had.
Bayaden took me for the first time that same day.
It was a build-up of amazing sexual tension due to me being a fucking brat and Baya’s Top energy responding in kind, needing to take me. When Elves are aroused, it’s different than when humans are. As humans, it’s bad enough. We get fucking horny and we crave.
Elves need.
Once they go down that road, it’s near impossible for them to stop.
It wasn’t two days into my servitude to him when I returned to his chambers to find him staring out the window, but he was quick to have me against the wall, held by my throat.
My black collar was ripped off and his teeth sunk viciously into my neck.
I cried out; he cupped a hand over my mouth.
But my cry was only because of the pain; I wasn’t scared.
Fuck no. All of it was arousing, my cock got painfully hard and felt as natural as breathing; I opened my neck allowing him to sink deeper.
The suctioning grip of teeth released with a squishy sound, taking some of the skin of my neck with them; the holes left behind gushed blood.
He pulled his face half an inch away so I could see the burn in his eyes, his anger, laced with pure desire, the ache of it etched clearly on his beautiful face.
He wanted me and he hated that he wanted me, the flea-ridden human forced into his life.
He demanded something of me in Elvish. Back then, I couldn’t understand him.
He was being an arsehole, but his desire for me won out, and he switched to my home tongue to move things along. “Undress, I wish to view you.”
The pants were a victory, which I still swear I saw him crack a half-smile over; they proved how clever I am and Bayaden admires cleverness.
“Forget it Bayaden.” I tried to push past him to my bed, which was on the floor next to his.
I wanted to forget the whole day had ever happened.
It had been a trying day to say the least; I was in no mood for horny Elves.
"Take them off, or I'll rip them off."
"Damn it, Bayaden!"
"Now," he said in Elvish I recognized, his ears flaring.
I was furious, but I did as I was instructed. I didn't intend on putting my new pants anywhere near him, but he snatched them from me. Stupid, agile Elves. "You said I could have pants if I acquired them myself." I full-on pouted at him.
He tossed the pants away; he didn’t care about them; he was more interested in my hardening cock. "See, you desire me."
"I am a male Bayaden, it has nothing to do with you," I lied.
I hated myself and I hated him more. I was married, and I still wanted him.
Badly. I liked what he was doing to me, even as the blood ran down my neck.
By the Gods, I'd never felt like that. My heart thumped in my chest, it does that for him—races without rhythm—it feels like the height of battle.
We stood breathing, facing off. I was naked, sore, bruised, bleeding, and my hard cock throbbing, but he was the vulnerable one, and we knew it: he was about to lose something.
"I want you to suck me," he said.
I knew that day would come. Not only is it common to fuck the spoils of war—well unless you are Markaytian—Andothair had mentioned this. But I thought I would be made to do this, tied down and fucked. I didn't expect how I felt.
I wanted to suck his cock.
I'd like to say that I was only thinking of Diekin's life because in some small measure I was, but mostly, I wanted him. "I'm going to bed,” I said.
He grabbed me by the side of my face. "You are mine." He was fucking breathless.
"I am not yours. I belong to Corrik."
He didn’t like that. He dragged me by clawing at my roots with his meaty hand and unless I wanted my head detached from my body, I was forced to follow.
He threw me on the bed, not my bed, but his large, soft one.
I froze. Bayaden wasn't Bayaden in that moment, he was something else.
‘The Elves are creatures; they are of a different breed than us Markaytians,’ my uncle had said.
And they are.
I realized my mistake, it was one I had been making all along, even with Corrik.
As much as I knew they were like creatures cerebrally, I still operated as if they were human.
It’s hard not to; in many ways they resemble humans and so we humans anthropomorphize them.
But inside they are wired differently. I began to see it with Corrik, but it was Bayaden that helped me understand it.
Arousal possesses them and they turn animalistic.
When that happens, it’s a need and it has to be satisfied; there’s almost no stopping the tumble of passion at that point.
He caged me with his arms planted on either side of me and sniffed up my body slowly, inhaling my scent.
When he reached my neck, he licked his thick tongue across the blood still seeping in tiny rivulets from where he bit me.
The holes patched themselves over. He nuzzled his nose across the mark I could feel there, and I could sense he wanted to bite it again, but he was able to exercise enough restraint not to, else he would have killed me.
As it was, I could have bled out, but he’d bitten just shallow enough.
"That's funny, you smell like you’re mine."
I couldn’t breathe. There's always been something frighteningly vicious about Bayaden everyone senses, especially me, but he's got a way with sarcastic humor that's hard to spot when you're busy being terrified, and when you finally do, it's soothing—you know he's not going to murder you; he just likes you to think he’s going to murder you.
Besides, danger turns me on. Bayaden is the perfect mixture of deadly and hilarious. Ugh. I have a type.
I knew he wasn’t going to gut me, but there was a high probability he would fuck me.
His fingers trailed over my body like he was trying to figure out if I was real or just an apparition.
His eyes darkened, and his mouth latched onto mine.
It wasn’t a kiss; he was trying to suck the tongue from my mouth.
My body bent with his. Bayaden is a force that cannot be denied and that night I wasn't going to try. It never escaped me that I was still married, but desire is a powerful influence. I can’t say it was right, but it didn’t feel wrong either.
I wanted him, I needed him, so I continued to let him. I wish I would have at least tried to say no, but I wanted him. The Gods help me, I wanted him.
Elves are promiscuous creatures, but Corrik had shown what a possessive arse he was; many times, he’d expressed how much he wanted me all to himself.
The resentment surfaced.
I was forced into the marriage, taken from my home, my identity ripped away. I dreamed of the day I would become Warlord upon Father’s retirement. I earned my place as his successor, but Corrik didn’t care about that. Nobody did.
Now I had nothing. I had been reduced to a slave and there was something I wanted right before me—something I genuinely wanted with no one here to take it away or tell me I couldn’t have it.
I didn’t get to want anyone other than Corrik in order to save my virginity for him.
I wasn’t going to get to choose anything once we arrived in Mortouge; Corrik would have dictated my life down to the second.
I wasn’t called a slave, but I would have been one all the same.
Finally, I was going to have something I wanted, something I didn’t know for how long I would have it and I was going to enjoy the ever-living fuck out of it.
One thing that has always been certain about me and Bayaden is that we have chemistry, and more than one person noticed it from the very first moments.
I denied it at first, but there was no denying it.
I attempted to kiss him back, but he wouldn’t let me and moved down from my lips to my swollen neck, gentle there, then attacked my chest and torso with bites that hurt but didn't break the skin.
When he reached my throbbing cock, I was already gone, gone, gone.
“I did not expect you to taste so good, Tristan.”
He called me, Tristan. I didn’t even have to ask, and he called me Tristan.
He prowled on top of me, and I pushed my aching cock toward him. “If you’re going to fuck me, just do it already.” The waiting was torture.
“Is that what all this poor behavior is? You just needed a good fucking? Will that inspire better behavior, little human?”
“Unfortunately, for you I doubt it,” I said, smirking at him.
I expected anger at a remark like that, but he was wrapped up in some sort of spell. “I know the Gods are taunting me, but I must have you, Tristan.”
“Then do it.”
“No.”
But he didn’t move, hovering over me, his jaw hard and eyes dancing with a dangerous mix of lust and rage.
He wanted permission. I knew something of the kind of restraint it was taking to stop now that we’d started.
I reached my hand up toward his face, he flinched, but let my hand settle on his sandy brown cheek.
“Fuck me, Warlord. Don’t leave anything behind. ”
He nodded, taking one hand away from the bed to undo the buckle of his armored skirt in one, swift motion, tossing it to the ground with a clang.
It was the first time I saw it; his cock and let me tell you, it’s huge, like huge and for a moment I regretted telling him to fuck me, but not enough to take what I said back.
It’s darker than the rest of him and it leaked pre-come, his black pubic hair falling against the wet tip.
He took my leg and was surprisingly gentle as he pushed it toward my head then used his shoulder to hold it there, so he could slide a thick finger into my arse.
I inhaled and cried out when he hit my prostate. I felt myself getting wet and chalked it up to Elven magic. Of course, they have a lubing-spell. I had to arch my back when he got faster and added another finger. I pressed down, needing more, wanting to feel him inside me, owning me.
Making me forget.
He finally pressed the thick head of his cock against my entrance, and I looked down, watching, fascinated until he was seated all the way inside me.
All that day, I’d been in a dance with Bayaden, both of us trying to prevent this very thing from happening, but it was happening and now both of us hated ourselves even more.
We used it. Once he was in and I was relaxed enough I wouldn’t tear, he pulled back to get enough momentum to slam inside me again.
He wasn’t careful with me and I wasn’t careful with him.
I treated the large Elf like he was a leather sandbag, used for sparing, whacking at his arms while he thrust, which remained firm as granite.
I clawed at his shoulders and kicked my heel into where his kidney sat.
It didn’t affect him, other than to ratchet his arousal yet another notch.
He likes the raw violence.
He was equally brutal, slamming into my arse, stretching my legs too far, slapping me across the face each time I kicked him too hard. We were two Warlords in a sexual battle.
At one point, I tried to flip him. I couldn’t of course, it was like moving stone, but my trying amused him. “I don’t think so, you’re meant to writhe on my cock, my lovely.”
I bit his arm for that, and he cried out, digging his hand into my short hair the moment I released him. “You fucking brat.” He fucked me harder as if doing so would subdue me.
I wouldn’t be subdued.
But in between all of that was the sex and it was incredible.
It was how I’d always pictured it might be with a future mate, except we’d be on the field in the mud.
It would be after a long training session; we’d start with metal swords before we moved to our other ones.
He’d take me roughly and leave me bruised and satiated.
Bayaden hit all my buttons as he continued to hit my prostate, while we both continued our skirmish. “Stroke your cock, little human.”
I did, and that sent me over the edge. I came all over my belly moaning loud enough I was sure I could be heard several doors over.
Bayaden was proud of that. “Open up,” he said, and I didn’t get much time before his large cock was stuffed down my throat.
He was close though and, in a few strokes, he came desperately.
I tried to swallow, but his cock was too large and my mouth too small. I did the best I could.
He collapsed beside me in a much better disposition than when I arrived in the room. He reached for me, which was unexpected, finding my hip and placing his meaty hand there as a sign of ownership. “I’m not done with you,” he said. “Stay.”
And he wasn’t. He took me seven more times after that and as promised, he didn’t leave anything behind.
From that moment I became his. I was Corrik’s and I was also his. I didn’t know how to reconcile that.