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“Are you fucking mad!?” Alisaie screamed, drawing attention from just about everyone in Mor Dhona.
“Not here!” J’asper protested, grabbing her arm as he dragged her towards his lodging.
“Oh… forgive me for not being okay with what the Warrior of Light just confessed to me,” she said with a dramatic flare.
J’asper kept his hold on her arm until they were secured behind a lock door. “Calm down,” he practically begged her.
“Calm down!? Calm down!?!? What the fuck is wrong with your head!?” She lamented. Her fists were balled up and she practically shook as she paced the floor.
“It’s not like I said I was going to fuck him…” J’asper groaned, sitting on the bed.
“No… you said you want to fuck him, which is just as bad,” she clapped back, stopping to stand immediately in front of him.
“I believe I said that he’s a looker and under different circumstances, I’d rather like to have had my way with him,” J’asper repeated, absolutely failing to placate Alisaie. “Anyways, you saw how he looked at me… three times now,” he added.
The glint in Zenos’ eyes, each time they had met, had left J’asper with an uneasy feeling. There was plenty of bloodlust and hunger in those eyes - but it was the hunger and slight softness that troubled him the most.
Their first meeting was informative - in terms of gaging Zenos’ prowess with a blade, but also getting a taste of his single-minded personality. While he confessed his longing to engage a worthy opponent, J’asper wasn’t certain he meant only on the battlefield. He could vividly recall the flash of steel that tore through the air and subsequently his chest - the angle had been all wrong to be a killing blow - it had been purposely thwarted at the last moment to spare him.
Their second meeting in Doma was much less intimate. J’asper did not share whatever sentiments Zenos held, and had been fully prepared and eager to end Zenos’ fight then and there. Yet, even with the vantage of surprise and numbers, Zenos had dropped them like flies. In the moments before sleeping, they’d made eye contact, a seemingly extended moment of time passing where Zenos somehow managed to communicate his longing without uttering a single word. Hunger, fierce and raw, longing… yet within the confines of anticipating an intense battle - but hardly believable.
Their third meeting was, to date, one of the most profound battles J’asper engaged with. Zenos almost seemed proud of the progress J’asper had made in such a short time. While it fell far short of the one-on-one duel that Zenos professed longing for, it was nothing short of sensational. The subsequent battle against Shinryu only served to fuel a sense of passion and excitement in J’asper - one which was both mortifying and confusing.
When Zenos accepted defeat, as a coward, J’asper watched with a growing sense of hate and a touch of disbelief as the blade drew across Zenos’ neck. It had seemed almost cruel to watch him die by his own hand when he had so long processed his desire for either his or J’asper’s death to be a gift from one another.
“J’asper!” Alisaie shouted.
“What?”
“Can you at least pretend to not daydream about your megalomaniac boyfriend while I’m here?”
J’asper rolled his eyes, “you’re so fucking dramatic!” He winced as something made contact with the side of his head, looking down at the floor to see one of his tomes laying askew at his feet. “Rude!”
“It was that or my blade,” Alisaie said flatly. “If for a moment I suspect you running off to do anything foolish, I’ll not hesitate to inform Y’shtola, Tataru, or Krile - mayhaps all three and watch them rain fury upon you!” she warned.
“Gods Alisaie, Alphinaud is right about your ability to blow shit out of proportion.”
“That fucking shit stain!” she responded before storming off from J’asper’s room.
J’asper laid back in bed, taking a few moments to himself before he figured he’d start packing for their trip to Garlemald. Mor Dhona was simply a stopping point on their way to Ilsabard.
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Garlemald was cold, much colder than he’d anticipated. J’asper felt snow crunch beneath him with each step as he pulled his coat tighter around his neck. Though the battle had been grueling and he’d been covered in untold layers of gore and grime, he’d been given no choice but to resume wearing the damned thing.
He figured he was only a half bell out from camp, having seen to the very last of the survivors being carried out before heading off on his own. The rushing wind and falling snow had dampened his senses, adding to a chilling anxiety that grew the nearer he got to camp. Instinct told him someone or something was trailing him - yet to stop and attempt to identify the thing was futile in the growing flurries.
“Haha!” came a disembodied voice from the left, sending shivers through J’asper’s body as aether swirled and the world went dark. He felt the familiar pull of teleportation, to where he had no clue - even once he’d arrived in whatever destination had been set. “Splendid splendid!” Fandaniel’s voice rang out.
“You fucking maniac!” J’asper shouted, attempting to lunge towards the Ascian but finding himself firmly fastened to a chair by aetheric chains.
“Now now… none of that,” came the grating voice. “My, you’re not at all dinner appropriate!” Fandaniel singsonged about as he got to setting the table, snapping various foods into existence before a final wave of his hand seeing J’asper none the worse for wear, as though freshly showered and dressed. “Yes, he shall be pleased!”
J’asper remained silent, knowing well enough there was no reasoning with an Ascian, especially Fandaniel. Instead he waited, only a few minutes before the heavy fall of boots sounded outside the door, a gauntlets hand pushing it open to reveal Zenos in full regalia.
He’d forgone the heavier mail J’asper was accustomed to seeing him in, instead opting for a lighter chain mail and leather jacket and pants which fit snug and showcased and impressively built body.
“My friend,” Zenos smiled as he took a seat across from J’asper, having propped his scythe against the wall, unwisely out of reach.
“I’m not your friend,” J’asper immediately replied, howling as a surge of pain wrapped its way up and around his spine.
“How dare you!” Fandaniel began.
“That’s enough Ascian,” Zenos declared, immediately relief washing over J’asper as the aether withdrew from his body.
“Lord Zenos?” He sounded confused.
“You’ve brought my query, I’ve no further need of you,” Zenos said calmly, waving Fandaniel away. “Those shackles will also be unnecessary,” he declared.
“Are you certain?” the Ascian asked.
“Quite…” Zenos said with an air of confidence and authority.
“Very well, call should you need me, my lord.”
“Unlikely,” Zenos replied, never breaking eye contact with J’asper.
J’asper felt the moment the chains left his limbs, immediately standing up before finding that the door to the room had disappeared with Fandaniel’s exist.
“There’s no escape, so I suggest you sit down and enjoy yourself,” Zenos explained before leaning back in his chair, smiling.
“What is this?” J’asper demanded.
“A reunion of friends.”
“I’m not your…”
“Yes, so you’ve said. I do hate repetition. Now sit,” Zenos said, picking up a grape and placing it in his mouth.
J’asper was disarmed and trapped, finding he had no choice but to see where this was going. Sitting down required he fight against every instinct, but once again sat at the table, Zenos began his typical spiel about the glory of battle before diverting.
For the entire speech, J’asper remained stoic and silent, refusing to eat anything created by an Ascian. The whole while he studied the way Zenos’ face shifted as he spoke about conquest and battle, about the competition of strength, his rise to power over Garlemald - and his assumed power over Fandaniel. J’asper felt hatred towards Zenos and the paragons alike, felt rage as Zenos spoke about colonial usurpation as though a side hobby.
However, alongside that was almost a sense of interest - something about Zenos remained intriguing. His focus shifted to the way Zenos’ lips formed words, thin, yet soft in appearance. When he spoke of ear and fighting, his eyes took on a crazed look. Yet, when he spoke of ‘the hunt’ and conquest, that crazed look melted ever slightly into one of hunger - a hunger J’asper began to better understand was not going to be satiated by battle.
The shift happened slowly, Zenos continued his monologuing, but eventually rose from his chair, dragging it before setting it next to J’asper. He then turned J’asper and his chair to face him before sitting again, their knees brushing.
J’asper took a deep breath, betraying heat flooding his body as he focused on Zenos Adam’s apple move with each breath. He found himself paralyzed when Zenos leaned forward, close enough to nearly whisper in his ear as he sought to emphasize the importance of competitions, how it kept men from growing stagnant, how it had driven him to hone his craft.
Heart hammering in his chest, J’asper was utterly shocked when he took a deep breath and was met by a fresh woodsy scent, having expected a metallic scent from one as bloodthirsty as Zenos. He also had expected much more ruggedness, yet as his eyes took in Zenos’ features - while unarguably masculine - they were not quite as rough as supposed. He had a sharp jawline and nose, yet remained clean shaven, his skin unblemished aside from a few small scars. His lips moved over sharp looking teeth and his eyes, a baby blue color, were suddenly much easier to look at.
“Quiet when you haven’t a blade in your hand,” Zenos exclaimed with a chuckle. “Or lost for words…” he added, J’asper being unsure if he was being called out so blatantly. J’asper tensed as Zenos took hold of either corner of the back of his chair, leaning in so that their faces were only a couple ilms apart. “Tell me, Warrior… if fighting hardly stirs your blood, what does?”
Before J’asper could think of a response, soft lips clashed with his, pulling a gasp from him out of shock. A sane person would have pulled away, yet all at once his inhibitions started failing - evident first by the fact he was reciprocating the kiss. Followed by his treacherous hand which found its way to the back of Zenos’ head.
He knew he shouldn’t, his conversation with Alisaie only days prior now resurfacing. Yet those ruminations were silenced as Zenos slipped his tongue between J’asper’s lips. He gave in willingly, moaning lightly as a gauntleted hand roughly stroked his ear.
For all the talking Zenos had done, he was silent now, aside from heavy breathing and a chuckle as he pulled away, face flushed. The sight felt sinful, intoxicating. The flush was wholly different than the exertion of battle, much more becoming, J’asper thought.
“Undress,” Zenos said with a gravelly voice. Though unrefined in his request, J’asper felt inclined to acquiesce - the command in Zenos voice startling, yet exciting.
Without protest J’asper began to remove his jacket before moving on to his half gloves and undershirt. Within the same time Zenos had gotten rid of just as much, leaving both inky in their pants. Before he could move in, Zenos stepped forward, towering over him, and swept him in for another searing kiss.
Where the first kiss had been exploratory, the second was dominating and conquering. There was no doubt in J’asper’s mind that Zenos was accustomed to control. Such was the case as calloused hands brushed against his waist, sending his muscles fluttering as fingers trailed to the front of his pants and hastily unfastened the tie before shoving them down over his hips.
He suddenly felt bashful for his near nudity - a sentiment which felt illogical when the man before him had seen him nearly dead, at his own hand. Once again his ruminations were short lived as a solid, but gentle grip wrapped around his growing length. His moan came unbidden from surprise, the sensation all the more intense for the knowledge he shouldn’t be entertaining what was now happening.
Without any higher thinking, he reached out and began unfastening Zenos’ pants, fumbling a bit as he learned the fastenings. Impatience suddenly took Zenos as he released J’asper, long enough to deftly undo and pull away his pants, his smalls coming off with the rest. Curiosity, ever at its peak, controlled J’asper’s movements as he glanced down between them, nearly freezing where he stood as he eyed Zenos’ length. Crude jokes amongst the Scions and rebellions had depicted Zenos as a man, homicidal due to his inadequacy… we were wrong , J’asper thought to himself as he tentatively reached out and brushed his fingertips along the generous length.
Zenos audibly breathed in as J’asper wrapped his fingers around the head of his cock, slow tentative thrusts with his hand causing Zenos’ knees to slightly shake. “Long have I wondered what it would feel like to be held like one of your blades,” Zenos said, twisting the carnal moment towards depravity. It was almost enough to remind J’asper of where he was and who he was with, yet failed to forestall any continuation of their activities.
The hesitancy Zenos’ comment left in J’asper slowly melted as he resumed caressing the hot skin. He enjoyed the slight look of shock on Zenos’ face as, maintaining the grip on his dick, J’asper led them to the bed where he sat down, practically placing him eye level with Zenos’ waist.
J’asper’s mind blanked as he leaned forward and twirled his tongue over the tip. He yelped as a rough hand nestled in his hair, holding him steady before forcefully pushing his mouth down the length. There wasn’t time for him to catch his breath as the tip of Zenos dick pushed to the back of his throat, muffling any sounds of desire, protest, or distress which may have surfaced. Testing the strength behind the grip, J’asper realized fighting for a more manageable depth would be futile.
Zenos tasted divine, an opinion J’asper swore to take to his grave as his head was held firmly in place with Zenos beginning to thrust. The first few thrusts were tentative, almost gentle, yet when J’asper made no move to gag or protest, they grew in frequency and power. Before long Zenos was all but face-fucking J’asper, leaving him to breath haphazardly through his nose. The rough treatment muddled his thoughts as he gave over to bliss, enjoying the rough fill of skin passing his lips repeatedly. The groans coming from Zenos fueled his desires in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Waves of doubt and shame washed over him as he derived pleasure from allowing Zenos to handle him the way he was.
J’asper felt Zenos drawing near his climax, the grip in his hair growing tighter as the thrusts grew erratic, causing J’asper’s gag reflex to finally kick in. As he sputtered around the length, Zenos offered no relief. Tears filled his eyes, a few slipping down his cheeks as less precise movements left his throat feeling raw.
By the time Zenos let out a roar followed by heat erupting in the back of J’asper’s throat, his vision had blurred. He found breathing increasingly difficult until Zenos had pulled free from his mouth, allowing him to gasp in air.
“How formidable,” Zenos exclaimed between pants, wiping sweat from his brow. “Where is that zeal on the battlefield?” he inquired, catching J’asper’s gaze.
“Fuck you,” J’asper muttered, his moment of clarity telling him to get the fuck out of there.
“Very well,” Zenos said with a wicked smirk. “If your Scions could only see you now,” he taunted. J’asper went to stand, shame urging him to fight, fear resettling in his chest. He only managed to stand partially up before Zenos roughly pushed his chest, shoving him back to the bed, “who said anything about leaving, yet?” he mocked.
Before J’asper could retaliate, Zenos laid him flat against the bed before roughly turning him to lay on his stomach. Though he wrestled his arms out from under him, a well-placed knee from Zenos kept him in place. “Get off of me!” he shouted, muffled by the bunching of bedding beneath his face.
“Surrendering so soon?” Zenos mocked, tugging at the waistband of J’asper’s smalls. “Tell me, genuinely tell me you don’t want this.”
J’asper opened his mouth to protest, but found his words trapped in his throat as the fabric of his smalls dragged across the tip of his dick. Zenos’ strong hand landed firmly on the cheek of his ass, the audible smack further drowning the doubt that he did, in fact, want what was coming - had fantasized about it. It felt like a fever dream - he had resigned to being okay with the fantasies, under the assumption there would never be an opportunity for them to be fulfilled… had reasoned with Alisaie that such was the case… yet here he was.
“That’s what I thought,” Zenos said smugly, smacking the other side of his ass with more force, pulling a yelp from J’asper. “Don’t move,” Zenos ordered as he lifted his knee from the middle of his back, allowing J’asper a full breath of air. Survival instincts screamed for him to make his escape, yet more carnal segments of his brain kept him plastered to the bed, waiting for whatever came next.
He felt Zenos nudge his legs open, the man’s weight coming to wrest behind him as he knelt on the bed. Hands firmly gripped the cheeks of his ass before shifting to fully expose him. The degrading sound of Zenos spitting on his hole should have incited more rage than it did… the feeling of a finger entering the tight ring of muscles pulled a moan where protest should have been.
J’asper was almost surprised that he was being prepared at all, having half expected Zenos to move on to fucking him immediately. Yet, a second finger was added, a bit quicker than would have been ideal, but more than he would have asked for in the situation. Too quickly the digits were removed, leaving him longing for more, panting lightly against the blanket as Zenos’ weight shifted once again. He again heard Zenos spit, in his hand he assumed, as the sound of him stroking himself followed. A groan of anticipation escaped his lips as Zenos lined the tip of his dick up against his hole, the girth immediately noticeable as he began pushing forward.
“Ahhh, ahhh,” J’asper groaned, the burning feeling of being stretched and inadequately prepared combining into a pain that sat on the precipice of too much. The sounds and resistance, however, did nothing to dissuade Zenos from sinking half his length into J’asper in a continuous motion, only stopping long enough to place a hand on either side of J’asper’s shoulders as he leaned over J’asper’s back before allowing his body weight to send the rest of his length into J’asper. J’asper all but screamed, feeling overly stretched and the pressure far deeper than he was accustomed.
“Shhh… you swiveled less when I nearly cut you in two,” Zenos scolded, biting the top of J’asper’s shoulder roughly.
Zenos proved an discourteous lover, immediately living himself up before plunging back into J’asper, setting a grueling pace that left J’asper’s mind reeling. Pain sat at the front of J’asper’s brain as he struggled to adjust to Zenos’ size, followed by regret that more adequate lube had not been available. Moments that felt like they dragged on forever passed before pain began to melt slightly in favor of pleasure, Zenos’ length never leaving J’asper’s prostate unstimulated. Even the drag of skin pistoning in and out of him began to take on its own unique allure, not quite pleasurable, but somehow adding to the thrill of the moment.
J’asper couldn’t help the grunts that each downward thrust pushed from his chest as his prostate was accosted and Zenos’ weight pushed air from his lungs. The sound of his voice adding to the sound of skin slapping skin creating a sordid cacophony. Zenos, for his part, appeared unbothered by letting himself be heard as he breathed heavily, grunting with the exertion as he took whatever pleasure he could from J’asper’s body.
The sensations began to become overwhelming once again as Zenos showed no signs of slowing. J’asper cursed his animalistic brain for sucking Zenos off, extending Zenos’ search for a second climax. Moans of pleasure slowly worked their way into sobs as J’asper’s hole felt abused, the frequency and force behind thrusts bruising the sensitive flesh. His dick ached beneath him, begging for any attention that wasn’t the slight friction against the mattress, yet unanswered as his hands were fisted into sheets above him.
“Please…” he begged, “enough.”
“Weak,” Zenos huffed, showing no signs of relenting - if anything his movements grew quicker, J’asper crying out as Zenos shifted positions, pushing impossibly deeper within him.
J’asper squirmed beneath the weight, unable to move away from the assault. His breath caught in his chest as Zenos movements began growing less organized, the first signal that relief was imminent. Thrusts grew more shallow and quicker before Zenos hollered out, sinking his entire dick within J’asper roughly as he spilled for the second time. J’asper’s hole clenched haphazardly around the intrusion as Zenos rode the last waves of his climax before leaning up.
Where J’asper was hopeful it was over, Zenos had other ideas, flipping him back onto his back before once again spitting in his hand and palming his cock. The feeling of Zenos hand on his dick left J’asper panting, his body rising to meet the touch. He cried out as three of Zenos’ fingers plunged into his ass, the overly stimulated muscles protesting the sudden intrusion. Zenos flexed his fingers, brushing against J’asper’s prostate with a rhythm matching the thrust of his other hand, bringing J’asper to his end quite quickly. The force behind his release blackened his vision, his body convulsing involuntary as Zenos drew the last onze of pleasure from him.
By the time he regained awareness and caught his breath, Zenos was already dressing, leaving J’asper laying on the bed, alone, with more questions than answers.
“Get dressed,” Zenos commanded, tossing clothes at J’asper. “We’re not done yet,” he commented.
J’asper groaned, “now what?” he inquired, not expecting an answer and not receiving one. He quickly dressed, missing his daggers which could so easily be plunged into Zenos’ back with how close the man stood. Instead he resigned to simply survive whatever was to come next.