Copper Kisses

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Baalthemar held Nathandiel close as he slowly drifted off to sleep. His heart dropped, as he thought about what was going to happen to Nathandiel. Softly in Thalassian he lamented.

“Nieninque’ Talah, ash an thera ni do'rah…”

“Fal lo ano diel, a ethala luin ar’ dur lo agar.”

“Nieninque’ lo tel' raa ar’ tel' draug.”

“Asto're lo Talah Ash Tur Dath, nei al lle ishura ni namaarie?”

“Ni do'rah a umbar, ar’ lemba lle I'anor.”

“Maranwe ni n'uma ner rana tel' emyn.”

“Lle lema sii' tela e’ huine.”

“Tel’ tincya rista. Tel’ manu rusva.”

“Tel’ tinta en’ lle coia tela kirma sina palurin.”

“Alkarinque, wanwa. A'maelamin Nieninque’ Talah.”

With a sleepy voice, Nathandiel asked. “What was that?” Baalthemar looked at him and smiled weakly. “It’s a poem, of a sort.”

Nathandiel his eyes still closed cuddled into Baalthemar’s chest, his arm wrapped around Baalthemar's chest as he hugged him. “What does it mean?”

Baalthemar thought for a moment, “It doesn’t translate very well into Orcish, or Common for that matter. And things are lost without the right context. But…” Baalthemar repeated his poem in Orcish for Nathandiel.

“Angel white, who is loved so dearly…”

“Man of two lives, a banner blue and one of red.”

“Angel of the lion and the wolf.”

“Kindest of those who are grim, why do you choose to leave?”

“To accept a fate, and leave your sun.”

“Fated to no longer wander the hills.”

“Your journey will end in darkness.”

“The bonds cut, the spirit broken.”

“The spark of your life will leave this world.”

“A great light, extinguished. My beloved Angel white.”

Baalthemar looked down at Nathandiel, he had fallen asleep again. “Sleep well. A'maelamin Nieninque’ Talah.” Baalthemar gently kissed Nathandiel on the head before he closed his eyes and fell asleep himself.

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A baked potato stacked with cheddar cheese, broccoli, sour cream and smothered in vegetable butter was one of Nathandiel's favourite meals; it had been at home, and it was still his favourite with the Grim and at the Undercity. He shoveled another forkful of the delicious muck into his eager mouth, his eyes on the patient chart he was scribbling in. He'd been starving when he'd arrived and part of his consent to stay later than he'd intended to--to do as Howard Phillip Glinn asked and sign-off on all of Sidus Tel'Inthar's charts because Mharren had fucked off--was that he be brought a steaming, delicious potato; covered in Amazing.

It's pretty damn good. He thought. He'd had the cook put so much slop on the piping tuber that he nearly needed to slurp it off his utensil. It tasted good because it tasted alive; minerals and salts and complex sugars, all of them came together on his tongue to excite a primal place of pleasure in his brain that only respond to nature's goodness. Nature makes good ground-apples.

He stopped to gulp some water--another natural favourite. Where his hearty hunger had come from he wasn't sure. It might have been Baalthemar. Pairing-off with a male lover was taxing for a man his age. Baalthemar was young and full of zest. And lust. He couldn't forget the lust.

Not even if I wanted to.

He rubbed his genitals through the fabric of his theatre greens. He wondered if the women he'd made sport of in his youth had felt that sort of...well he wasn't sure what he'd call it, was it soreness? Was it fatigue? Could one's bits be tired? Even as a physician he didn't know. He didn't want his bits to be tired if that was their business, there was a pretty boy at home with a tight rump and a delightful playfulness that pleased him. There was no time for tired tidbits. He was dreading the time when Baalthemar would go for him and he'd fail to find himself firm. It could happen at his age though, especially with such a lad around.

Age. He's so worried about it now.

Yes, Baalthemar was worried. Not so much that he now thought Nathandiel was old, at least that wasn't what Nathnadiel thought, but just that age was a factor. Age limited things. Age made endings. Baalthemar was young and didn't yet think about endings in any way that wasn't fearful. That was why Nathandiel let him talk with magicians and sorcerers, why he listened when Baalthemar spoke excitedly about "blood-magic." Nathandiel had no intentions of extending what time he had left, but the wound was still too fresh for him to fortify his stance on this; Baalthemar was still in denial. Nathandiel would let him come to acceptance on his own.

He pushed his plate away and wiggled his nose, pulling the flesh over the cartilage with his facial muscles to scratch it inside where his fingers couldn't. His hand was still in his lap. Well fed and focused on Baalthemar, he closed his eyes and ignored the junior physician's charts. He took deep breaths and let himself enjoy a fantasy, shepherding the recalled images into vivid technicolour before dipping his hand into his pants. He ran his free hand over his chest and fingered at one nipple, his finger so cold from the surroundings that it could have belonged to a lich. He liked that though; the feeling of being lich-fingered.

He thought of Baalthemar and how he looked when he was in Nathandiel's lap. He thought of Pascal and how he sounded when he was on his elbows and knees. He thought of Drinn and how she felt when she fought back, and he thought of Clara, and how she screamed when she made him hit her.

When he went he stood and signed the last of Tel'Inthar's charts in a manner that Howard Phillip Glinn had not intended when he'd agreed to provide the potato.

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**************************** WARNING ADULT CONTENT R18 ONLY! ****************************************

**************************** Explicit: Language & Sexual Content. ****************************************

(( This is a collaborative work between: Nathandiel, Shokkra and Myself. Enjoy.))

**************************** You have been warned: Adult content. R18 ***********************************

Nathandiel had suggested chains to keep the Orc woman bound, but she had boasted that she would break them. At the time Baalthemar thought she might have been playing up her strength, Orcish culture frowned on weakness and Orcish women had to fight hard to prove themselves.

But as Baalthemar looked at Shokkra he started to believe her. So he asked her flat and to the point. “What would keep you bound?” She replied “Magic probably.” Before she took a large drink of wine.

Baalthemar enjoyed Shokkra, the two had gone to a specialty store in Dalaran. The only place he knew that worked with simple yet powerful magic runes. There he had her size taken for custom shackles.

He watched her show off her body, he needed to take accurate measurements but he also enjoyed her form very much. Her body was indeed strong well build, a warrior woman. Baalthemar looked over her tattoos as she flexed her muscles for him.

As each part was completed he tested it on her, the shackles were fine quality, strong steel with soft leather lining. The binds proved to be strong enough to hold her, but they had another effect on Baalthemar. Lust fueled thoughts washed over his mind, Nathandiel had done well inviting her to stay with them, and Baalthemar would ensure that everyone had a good time.

When Shokkra was fully bound he looked over her. Her wrists were bound behind her back, her elbows held in place with a steel rod. Her ankles shackled together stopping her from fleeing. Her mouth was forced open with a round steel ring, her tongue poked through it in a wonderfully lewd display as she breathed slowly. And lastly her eyes were covered by a soft leather blindfold.

Baalthemar was breathless, this warrior woman, this stunning creature was beautiful. And bound as she was, she seemed to radiate lust, she was dangerous like a caged beast. But what struck him most was that she seemed to be enjoying her binding.

It pained him but he removed the bindings, ensuring that everything was comfortable and not too tight as to cut off the blood flow. Before they left he had fitted her with a leather choker. It held to her throat tightly, its dark color contrasted wonderfully against her green skin.

Baalthemar suggested that they show off her new equipment at Tahzani’s boat, but when the two arrived the party had died down. So instead they set off to the Wyvern’s Tail for a few drinks before heading back to Nathandiels garrison.

Some light chatter with a Goblin had allowed Baalthemar to play with Shokkra’s hair and run his fingers over her skin as they talked. This had the desired effect on her, as Shokkra slightly shivered under his touch.

The Goblin took her leave and Baalthemar pushed Shokkra gently to the floor, he was ready to take her there on the floor in front of Gravy and Herzegor. After a few minutes Shokkra suggested they should leave, by that point they were both very ready to see Nathandiel and test out the new equipment.

Baalthemar led Shokkra into Nathandiel’s home, he had set quite the mood. Candle light lit the room and the soft smell of wild flowers hinted at the air. Nathandiel grinned as the two entered, “You took your time.” He said holding a glass of wine.

“We went shopping.” Baalthemar said as he headed to his equipment chest to store his combat gear.

Shokkra handed Nathandiel the black box, and chuckled at the candles and sweet scented air. "Really went all out didn't you? Kinky bastard." She grinned and took a good look at the room, the general surroundings of typical elven romance, or at least what she thought was typical elven romance, making her smile all the wider.

Nathandiel opened the matte black box, taking out the blindfold and holding it to Shokkra. "Don't be so modest Shokkra, by the look of things you're as twisted as I thought you were." He smirked and tossed Shokkra the soft leather, setting down the box and starting to take out the other implements.

Baalthemar returned with only his eye patch and some loose pants on. He held glass of port and pointed at Shokkra. “She looks stunning in them Nath, you have got to see her.”

The orcess laughed and caught the blindfold, turning to admire Baalthemar's unclothed chest. "I better look fuckin' stunning in them, if pictures or whatever the hell get out I should at least look hot as fuck."

Nathandiel grinned as he looked over the implements intended to bind Shokkra. “Grab our guest a drink Baal, I’ll place these in the bedroom.” Baalthemar nodded and fetched a glass of wine for Shokkra, the orcess wasted no time as she finished the glass in one long drink. “All the fucking elven pomp let’s get down to it already.” She growled at Baalthemar.

Nathandiel laughed from the bedroom and returned with his own lounge wear, dapper black pants and a smile. “You’re not dressed for the elven fanfare Shokkra, come into the bedroom and we will help you get you into something more appropriate.” he said with a slight smile. She looked him over “About fuckin time.” She grunted and walked to him with a grin.

Baalthemar watched her walk toward Nathandiel, the slight sway of her hips held a surprising grace to them. He finished the last of his port and placed the glass down as he headed to the bedroom to join them.

Nathandiel was already kissing the orcess. She had her hands around him; one around his waist pulling him into her, and the other gripped his hair. It almost looked like a grapple than an embrace. Nathandiel pulled back from their fierce kissing with a gasp of air. “Let’s get these clothes off. Now.” Signs of his arousal starting to show in his lounge wear. Shokkra eyed his lap "Fuck yeah." she said as she gave him a wolfish smile.

Baalthemar stalked up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist, He gripped at her top and kissed her neck as they both removed it. Nathandiel saw his chance and moved in to add his tender attentions to Shokkra’s now exposed chest, his mouth finding her softer green flesh.

Shokkra let out a guttural sound as the two men worked at her, and her clothes. Torn between grabbing Nathandiel in front or Baalthemar behind the orcess chose to do both, she reached behind and grabbed a fist full of blonde hair, and with her other hand she pulled Nathandiel by the belt of his pants close to her. It didn’t take long for the elven men to disrobe the warrior woman.

Nathandiel looked over her naked form. They might have taken a little long to get here but whatever they had done, Shokkra was ready. He could see as much from the way she shined in the candle light. Shokkra had enough of waiting, Baalthemar had teased her in the Wyvern’s Tail and she was no longer in the mood to play games. “My turn to fuckin ‘help’ you...” The orcess reached for Baalthemar and with a strong quick movement tore his loose pants off his body.

Baalthemar looked down at his now exposed flesh. “Uh… Alright then.” Then shot a concerned look to Nathandiel, he just laughed at the look on Baalthemars face, but stopped as Shokkra turned to him. He grinned and removed his own clothes without Shokkra’s ‘help’.

Shokkra watch Nathandiel strip for her, then she nodded to the equipment set out on the bed. “Fuckin get on with it then.” She said as she put her arms behind her back and pushed out her chest for the two men to fit the bindings. Nathandiel and Baalthemar didn't wait for another invitation they both stepped toward her and started fitting Shokkra with the bindings, with each item that was attached they would plant a kiss on her skin or squeeze a handful of exposed flesh.

When she was fully bound the two men could enjoy the view, they stood at the foot of their bed and looked her over. Baalthemar wrapped his arms around Nathandiel he had slipped in behind Nathandiel, he pressed his chest against Nathandiel's back and nipped at his ear. “See. She is beautiful in leather. We should keep her.” Nathandiel moaned slightly as his ear was bitten, “We could use another pet.” He grinned.

Shokkra watched them, she felt strange bound like this. She was at their mercy, under their control. But Baalthemar had sworn to keep her safe and release her when she wanted. She stood as a predatory thought entered her mind. Let me show you how even bound like this, I’m too much for you bloody knife ears. She stood and lunged at the two.

Baalthemar hadn’t been quick enough to move Nathandiel out of the way and the two of them had been tackled onto the bed.

Nathandiel groaned as a twinge of pain shot up his leg. He was stuck between Baalthemar’s and Shokkra’s naked bodies. Shokkra had been quick, she had turned around and was already trying to mount him. Baalthemar looked over Nathandiel at Shokkra, she frantically worked to impale herself on Nathandiel, quite the task without the aid of her hands, and although she tried she just couldn’t quite reach with her elbows bound. He grinned and offered his hand to aid her.

Nathandiel gasped as Baalthemar’s hand gripped him and he helped Shokkra guide herself down. Baalthemar whispered softly into his ear “Lucky boy. How does she feel?” Nathandiel answered by letting his head fall back into Baalthemar’s shoulder and letting out a low sigh. Shokkra kept true to her promise, despite her initial attack her movements were smooth and steady as she rode Nathandiel with long and gentle strokes. Baalthemar watched the show from under Nathandiel, taking great delight from the sounds the two were making.

He ran his hands over Nathandiel gently teasing and caressing his chest and abdomen, Baalthemar dragged his fingers over Nathandiel's flesh, using his long pointed finger nails to devastating effect and the two started to reach their peaks. As the two crested the peak their voices echoed around the bedroom in a cacophony of low guttural sounds and lustful moans.

Shokkra slowly grinded her hips into Nathandiel as she was carried on a wave of bliss, her breathing was heavy but she didn’t intend to stop with just one. Oh no these elves need to know what a warrior of Sanctuary was capable off, these two would know they got fucked be the morning… if they lived that long. Baalthemar slowly slid out from underneath the two, careful not to injure Nathandiel he let him enjoy Shokkra’s slow movements.

Baalthemar walked around the bed to face the orcess, the show had gotten his blood up he had been ready to have Shokkra since he had seen her try on the bindings. Baalthemar looked her in the eye, and smiled. “Turn around.” She nodded and dismounted Nathandiel. He groaned in disappointment as she got off him. “Oh come on, that was nice.” He said looking at Baalthemar and Shokkra.

Shokkra walked on her knees toward Baalthemar giving him a defiant look as she turned around. “Nath why don’t you bring yourself closer to us, I’m sure Shokkra would like to have something to do with her mouth while I keep this end busy.” Baalthemar said with a playful grin, as he gently patted Shokkra’s rump.

“Uck oou” Shokkra managed to say around the ring gag in her mouth. Baalthemar waited until Nathandiel was in position and then gently helped Shokkra lean down, “Uck you? That’s the plan yeah.” He said with a grin. With one hand Baalthemar held hers so she wouldn’t fall onto Nathandiel, with the other he aided the joining between them. He smiled as he felt an oddly affectionate squeeze of his hand from Shokkra.

Nathandiel watched the two work, the warrior woman fought against Baalthemar as much as he fought her. The violence of their love making had steadily increased the longer it went on, he looked at Baalthemar and watched the young man labor. This was a test of wills and stamina, he knew Shokkra had a deep well of energy she could tap into that would help her, but so too did his young Baalthemar, the changes to his body had granted strength and endurance that had surprised him. No, those two can fight that battle another time this is my house, and I’m the master of it. Nathandiel grinned and held tightly onto Shokkra’s head, he took control of her speed and depth.

Shokkra pushed back hard against Baalthemar, she had promised not to hurt Nathandiel, but Baalthemar had been foolish enough to allow her to be rough with him. He will regret that. She thought.

She had been close for what seemed like an age, but he hadn’t slowed or finished. And she wouldn’t be defeated not by this one, or any for that matter. When Nathandiel took control it split her focus, she couldn’t concentrate on two things at once, it started slowly... a slip of control here, a twist a little too deep there, a slight choke here. In the end a slip turned into an avalanche and unable to control herself she crushed down on Baalthemar.

He had gotten into a rhythm, controlled his breathing and sharpened his focus, but something had changed, a slight movement had changed the tune, its note carried. Another movement and the note became a melody, then the melody a song. Shokkra had started her song, and Baalthemar couldn’t stop his own. The three of them fell into rapture together.

Nathandiel grinned down at the two, spent and defeated. That's right. I win. He thought as he enjoyed the warm feeling that came after.

Shokkra rolled over and put her feet up near Baalthemar, prompting him to undo her ankle bindings. Baalthemar was still coming down from their song and so wasn’t thinking clearly, he thumbed the rune on the shackle and she was free. She stretched her legs, both of the men watched her straighten and bend her legs in the air.

She played the harmless kitten, and slowly she slinked her way toward Nathandiel on her knees and got him to unlock her wrists and elbows. She rolled her shoulders, and removed the ring gag. “Thanks.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips. Before giving him an evil grin. “Boys are so fucking dumb after you cum.” She turned and lunged at a far too relaxed Baalthemar. Nathandiel sat up and watched the two fight.

Shokkra kicked Baalthemar into the bed and he had stumbled back onto it, she followed him and dropped herself down hard onto his chest. Baalthemar grunted in pain and his hand shot to Shokkra’s throat. “That. Fucking. Hurt” he said as his hand tightened on her throat. “Good. About fucking time you got mad.” She grinned and looked down at him. “It makes the next part, way more fun.” She grabbed him and forced their joining, Baalthemar grunted and let go of her throat.

Nathandiel had got out of the bed, he walked behind Shokkra and using the bed to lean against made himself known to Shokkra’s unsuspecting rear. “FUCK! NATHANDIEL!” she turned to him. “Fucking warn a girl if you are going to do that, you dirty bastard!” she roared at Nathandiel.

Nathandiel smiled and gently patted her rump. “Do you want me to take it out?” he asked already knowing what she would say. “No. you fucking freak, just try to keep up with me.” She turned back to Baalthemar, leaned back and head butted him hard on the forehead.

“The fuck Shokkra?!” he turned his head and exposed his shoulder to her. “Big mistake Baal.” She bit down on him hard. And started to rut wildly.

Dawn broke and Baalthemar sat on the floor his back against the foot of the bed, he held his ribs with one hand, and clutched at a sheet that covered his lap with the other. Dry blood from a shoulder wound stained his neck and chest. His hair was covered in blood, sweat and other signs of the night’s events.

Nathandiel smiled at Shokkra as she walked toward her clothes. “That was fun, we should do this more often.” He said as he picked up his glass and poured himself a drink. Shokkra wiggled into her pants, she grinned at the warmth that she still felt within her. “You know. I didn’t hate this, maybe we should do it again.” She shot Baalthemar a sly grin. “If you can handle that Baal.”

“Next time, I’m getting you a muzzle.” He grinned back trying his best not to move around much. Nathandiel laughed and sat on the bed next to Baalthemar, he put his hand gently on the twisted mess of blonde hair.

Shokkra slipped her top on, and looked at the two men. “See you around boys. Thanks for a good time.” She held the matte black box under one arm held her boots over her shoulder with the other. She left the garrison with a smile. Might have to use these things again. She thought as she looked at the box under her arm.

Baalthemar watched her walk away. “At least one rib broken, some stitches for this bite. and a concussion if I’m unlucky…” Nathandiel leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “But worth it.”

“Worth it.” He agreed.

The two men limped to the bathroom to relax and recover.

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******************WARNING: Adult themes. ********************

Baalthemar felt like he had been stabbed, a pain deep within him twisted and coiled. He is dying. He fell to his knees and clutched at his chest. It hurts so much. He gasped for air, before another wave of sorrow hit him. He wept.

Baalthemar fought to get his emotions under control. But each time he breathed in the cycle would start again, pain and sorrow. He screamed venting his sorrow and pain into the cold night air of his garrison. His lungs burned, and his face stung from the cold, but he had stopped crying.

“No. Fuck you!” he yelled to the night sky. “I won’t let you take him, I’ll snatch him from your jaws before I let you have him.” He swore to the stars. He forced himself to turn this anguish into something more useful. Anger and focus.

“I’ll save you Nathandiel. Even if I have to save you from your own foolish notion of a natural order.”

He stood, and wiped his face. Think Baal, Think. You don’t have much time. His mind raced. Running the possibilities in his head. The Dragon flights? No. Demonic energy? No. The Plague? No. Baalthemar paced while he thought.

The idea had hit him like a club to the skull. “Aderlee’s Blood-magic?” He paused thinking about all the different angles. Yes, it would work. He laughed it fit so very well. “I’ll get him to teach me, and I’ll save you.” He laughed like a madman in the snow. Hope flooded back into him, and he howled with laughter at the moon.

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******************WARNING: Adult themes. ********************

Baalthemar stumbled through the back streets of Orgrimmar, drunk and angry. He had stocked up drinks from the Wyvern’s tail, the glass bottles clinked in his pack as he walked.

He was angry at Nathandiel for choosing to die, for giving up on him. And for thinking that he had the right to take his own life when he still needed him. Baalthemar finished his bottle and threw it at the street behind him, the sharp pop of the bottle as it shattered was pleasing.

“Fuck the ‘natural order of things’.” Baalthemar pulled another bottle from his pack, He uncorked the bottle with his teeth and spat the cork to the side of the street. He drank as fast as he could, he needed to kill something in his gut, drown it in poison.

“Don’t you think you’re over reacting?” the woman with golden eyes asked. “Ugh, you again.” Baalthemar grunted at her. “Why are you so angry at him?” she asked as she walked next to him.

“He has given up, and he thinks I can’t see it.” Baalthemar took another drink.

“What makes you think he has given up?” she asked with a smile. “He doesn’t want to live, he wants to ‘see’ his family. The dead call to him stronger than the living. So what’s the point?” he growled “Did you explain how much you need him?” she tilted her head to regard him.

“Of course he knows. Why are you asking all these questions? Who the fuck are you?!” he roared back at her. She laughed softly as the two walked into a darkened ally way. “Who do you think I am?” Baalthemar shook his head. “Oh fuck off, don’t answer my question with a question you bitch.” He spat back at her.

“Oi pretty boy! Who do you think you are talking to?” a shape stepped out from the shadows. Baalthemar rolled his eye. And now this. Wonderful. “I’m not in the mood tonight, just leave me alone.” He spoke back to the shadow cloaked shape.

“Yeah? Well I’m in the mood pretty boy. You best use your head and hand over that pack you got.” The shape stepped into the light. A heavy set orc with a spiked club walked toward him.

Baalthemar looked him over, he didn’t move with the same muscle driven power as other warriors of his race did. He is slow. Just a thug, thinking he found an easy mark. “Look, Trust me. Find someone else to mug, I’m not the mark you think.” He tried one last time to convince him to walk away.

“Oh yeah pretty boy? You think you’re tough? Me and my boys will show an elf like you a good time.” He laughed, as up ahead two other shapes walked toward him. “Fine. You know what? Fuck it.” Baalthemar placed his pack on the ground careful not to break any bottles.

He finished off the bottle he held and broke it against the street.

Baalthemar sighed, one of them had fallen on his pack and smashed all his bottles. “Fucking assholes.” He stood over the leader’s body and removed his gold pouch. “Not even enough gold to cover the drinks… useless sack of shit.”

*Hurrk* one of the thugs choked on his own blood. “Right, Yeah troll… be right there, just let me search your friend here.” He spoke to the thug as he walked over to the next body. “You never answered my question. Who do you think I am?” the woman asked, she sat next to the troll.

“Does it matter? You can’t be real. Coming and going as you do.” He said as he removed another gold pouch. Hmm a little heavier, might be somethi- and it’s some musket balls. “You didn’t have a gun why do you even own these?” he questioned the second dead orc.

“You think I’m not real?” she questioned Baalthemar as she leaned over the troll, she ran her fingers through his hair. “No. you’re some demon or… ghost… or I have gone completely insane.” He said as he walked over to the injured troll. “What about a memory?” she asked as she coiled the troll’s hair around her finger.

“A memory? I would remember you.” he looked for something to finish the troll with. “Would you? What if you made me out of all the woman you have ever met?” she smiled at him. “Then I would be insane, and talking to myself… Wait. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” He frowned, standing over the troll.

She stood up and walked to his side. “Yes, I’m sure you look quite mad. But then, since when did that stop you?” she ran her hands over his chest. “What are you going to do about this one? If you let him live he could tell the guards that he was attacked by someone, in these colours.” She traced the skull symbol on his tabard with her fingers.

Baalthemar shrugged, and stamped down on the trolls throat until it collapsed. “That, I guess.” He took the trolls gold pouch, adding it to his total. Hmm, broke even. “You shouldn’t be mad at Nathandiel. He is just doing what he thinks is right.”she whispered to him. Baalthemar sighed. “What’s right, it’s not like I’m going to make I’m immortal even if this stuff works it would only extend his life by a few thousand years.”

“If it works, could he still see his family?” she asked. Baalthemar walked to get his pack, he shook out the broken glass. “If you are in my mind you should already know that.” He said.

She planted a kiss softly on the back of his neck. “Have you taken the time to explain what you want to do, in detail, like a doctor would for a patient?” Baalthemar blinked. “Oh for fuck sake. Do you think that would help?” he turned and she was gone. only one way to find out I guess. He thumbed his hearthstone and headed toward Nathandiel’s garrison.

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It was close to dusk in Grizzly Hills, Baalthemar had asked Nathandiel to join him while he started work on his cabin. The two had enjoyed some light chatter while Baalthemar cut down a tree for lumber.

The work had been hard but Baalthemar had enjoyed the simple nature of it, and the time he spent with Nathandiel was always welcome.

Nathandiel had given Baalthemar a compliment a few days earlier, he had called him. “His sun” for Baalthemar that was not a meaningless pet name or a simple term of endearment. That was a grand gesture of affection and was to be taken rather seriously.

So in turn he had called Nathandiel ‘Angel white’; a white flower that grew high in snow covered mountains and in frozen valleys. He felt it a fitting name for Nathandiel, as the little flower was resilient and there was an old elven poem about the love the sun had for these little flowers.

Nathandiel had smoked a lot of the leaf that Baalthemar had given him, he was very high. “Tell me the poem about the flower and the sun.” Nathandiel asked as he looked up at Baalthemar.

Baalthemar looked down at him, Nathandiel laid on his back with this head rested in Baalthemar’s lap. He gently reached down and ran his fingers through Nathandiel’s black hair, and softly in Orcish recited the poem.

I am visited from the heavens, and he that smiles on all

Walks in the valley and each morn over me spreads his light,

Saying: 'Rejoice, humble angel white, new-born lily flower,

Gentle maid of silent valleys and of mountains tall;

For you shalt be clothed in light, and fed with morning warmth,

Till summer's heat melts your whiten sheet beside the fountains and the springs

To flourish in eternal vales.

Nathandiel smiled. “It sounds sweet, so I’m your ‘Angel white’ this flower?” he asked. Baalthemar leaned down and put a soft kiss on Nathandiel’s lips. “Yes. And I your Sun, the light that melts your snow. And keeps you warm in the winter.”

Nathandiel sat up and turned to face Baalthemar “I like that.” He said matter-of-factly. "But you're not nearly fat enough to keep me warm in the winter." He said, pressing the tip of one finger into Baalthemar's chest. Baalthemar smiled, and pulled Nathandiel close. “It was good. Now shut up and hold me while we enjoy the sunset.” Nathandiel added.

Baalthemar held Nathandiel as the two watched the sun set on another good day.

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"Do you want to see him?" Ann asked, looking up at him with her eyes so like his own, a tiny, pink infant wrapped in blue in her arms. Her pale face was flushed and her brow beaded with sweat from the effort of labour. "Don't you want to see your nephew?" She asked.

Nathandiel stood from his place between Ann's legs, pulled off his gloves, and discarded them in the bin. He let a nurse help him out of the delivery gown and then he approached his cousin carefully, giving her, the bed, and the tiny baby she held a wide birth. He did want to see his nephew. He wanted to see him desperately.

If I see him, if I hold him, how will I ever let go of him.

"Richard won't be here for hours. It's safe." Ann prompted.

Nathandiel swallowed the lump in his throat, looking passed sweaty bangs of his own as he came to stand at the side of the bed. He looked down at the bundle and the child was so loosely-wrapped that he saw only a pink hand, tiny, sausage-like fingers curling around air, and a mop of obsidian hair.

My hair. Ann's hair.

"Go away please." He said, speaking to the nurses in the room but looking apprehensively down at the bundle. He waited for them to finish their work and skitter away, back into the corridors of the hospital and to leave him and his cousin alone.

My cousin, myself, and the child.

Ann winced as she sat up and offered the child to him. "Meet your Uncle Nathan." She said in a high-pitched voice, the feminine tone of a mother. speaking to a child no yet old enough to be spoken to as an equal. Clara had never spoken to Alexander like that, though he'd always wanted her to. "He made sure you got here okay."

Nathandiel took the bundle, as always when he held a newborn he was caught by surprise at the weight of such a small, fleshy little creature. He swallowed again and held the boy, situating him in his arms as he had his son Alexander when Alexander had been small and new.

With cautious fingers he teased back the folds of the blanket to reveal the fat, pink face of Ann's son. "Daniel Martin Richard Herrington III." She announced the small child as the fabric parted like petals of a flower. "Richard will be so pleased, don't you think? He's perfect."

Nathandiel turned slightly away from his cousin as he looked down at Daniel, astounded by his arrival but also horrified by it. He loved the boy instantly, just as he had Alexander, but he pushed that love aside, crammed it into a box it hadn't been meant for, and locked it away. He couldn't love Daniel the way he loved Alexander. That hadn't been the deal.

"He looks just like me." Nathandiel whispered and the tiny tot made a soft, high-pitch sound as air escaped it's yawning mouth. He looked at Ann, his eyes wide, his body trembling slightly as the boy became very real to him with that little yawn.

She looked back at him and she didn't look spent or frail or at all taxed. Her blue eyes were firm. "He looks like me." She corrected him sternly. "He's Richard's son, he doesn't look like Richard but he does look like me." She asserted. "Richard will be pleased."

"...of course." Nathandiel uttered and he looked back down at Daniel. Even when they'd been together, even when they'd been in the throes of sin to keep Ann's husband happy and provide him with an heir, Nathandiel had still thought that the day would come and the child would be born and it would be Richards. Everything they'd done would have been awful, but excusable perhaps because in the end it wouldn't result in a child. It would turn out that the scheme had all been for nothing and that Richard would turn out to have viable seed. That had been the point of it, of each night he'd lain with her in secret, corrupting their life-long bond as the women in the family had wished, but he'd never really thought that when the child came it would be his.

It looks like me. Daniel looks like me. It looks like Ann but it looks more like me.

And just he'd known when he'd held Alexander that the child was his, he knew that Daniel was too.

"Yes..." he said slowly, peering down at his second son. "Richard will be pleased."

The false heir to the Herrington fortune looked up at him and Nathandiel looked down at it. And that was how they'd stayed that night, waiting for Richard to arrive and for the fiction to be spun into completion; Father becoming Uncle and Son becoming Nephew. For Daniel's sake, Nathandiel swore to make himself believe it.

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****************** Warning adult themes ********************

Baalthemar couldn’t sleep, despite Nathandiel’s promise of a pleasant wake-up if he was asleep.

He was nervous, his stomach twisted in his guts. He would explain his plan to Nathandiel tonight. Lay out everything. His life extension, the possibly of talking with son in the afterlife, and if he could. Returning Nathandiel’s boy to him.

He needed time to make these plans work. The first had to be Nathandiel’s life span. A few extra years and he could achieve everything. But these were big plans. Life changing plans. If he got what he wanted would he stay here or would he leave to go home? He paced back and forth. Castor and Linna watched him, their little heads tilted as they following him looking on with confusion.

This was new and terrifying. Feelings for someone. Caring about another person beyond what they could do for you. All very overwhelming. He thought to himself.

“Ugh, look at me.” Baalthemar turned to the two wolf cubs. “I flirt with death every day. I leap head first into combat without all... this, what’s wrong with me?” the two pups just looked on in silence. “Bah, some help you two are.” He grinned at the two as they wagged their tails.

He took a shaky breath in and sighed. I need to do something to take my mind off this, I’ll go mad if I don’t. He thought to himself as he walked to the cooking area. The two pups following quickly behind him. “I’ll cook us something, and we can all wait up for him to come home.” He talked to the two pups as they waited for the chance to ply him for food with their well-practiced pleading looks and whimpers.

Baalthemar tied his hair back into a pony tail, and washed his hands. He was set to start cooking. He prepared some fresh Talbuk stakes and potatoes for them. Nathandiel enjoyed the starch filled lumps, so Baalthemar had taken the time to learn to make something called ‘fries’ or ‘chips’ or whatever. “Sliced, baked and salted - starch lumps.” He said to himself smiling at the foolish name.

When Nathandiel came home he would cook the meat and chips with some eggs and maybe a salad. Baalthemar sliced some gristle off the meat divided it into two wolf sized parts and threw it to the waiting pups. They moved with a surprising speed to devour the meat.

The time passed quickly as Baalthemar prepared the meal; the potatoes and eggs sat next to the marinated the meat, the small mound of food waited to be cooked. Baalthemar mixed up the salad. It helped to have something to do with his hands, simple tasks allowed him to separate himself from the anxiety he felt.

He had finished with the food and had set the table when it hit him again, a fresh wave of doubt. Look at you! You’re fucking pathetic! Fretting and fussing over this shit. Why did you have to get involved? Why do you cling to any kindness that comes your way? He won’t stay, the second she walks back in you’re going to be forgotten. Thrown away. Used. Baalthemar sat down on the floor and fought against the path his thoughts were taking him down.

Castor and Linna jumped on his lap, seeking comfort or sensing his pain. Either way their little bodies and affection did indeed pull him out of his downward spiral. “Should we wait for your dad near the fire?” he asked them as they looked up at him. “Come on then” He said as he stood and walked over toward the fire with the dogs.

The three of them sat and watched the fire as they waited for Nathandiel to return from work.

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When Nathandiel arrived home he snuck up on the place. He successfully entered the garrison without drawing the attention of the dogs, and as he entered the main rooms he found he had also managed not to alert Baalthemar--a small victory all of its own. The other man was seated with the pups, gazing into a fire that blazed heartily in the hearth.

Must be deep in thought; I can't usually tip-toe to the pisser without alerting him.

He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame for support. His knee was much better, healing far faster than he'd expected and he relied less on the cane. Still hurts though. Yes, but it would be good soon and he'd be able to go running again. He'd be able to walk properly, fuck righteously, and operate with a stool and a pesky nurse so far up his ass assisting that he wanted to stab her. Dear God, it can't be soon enough.

"Daddy's home." He announced, his voice just barely more than whisper. The heads of the pup perked up, ears pert, and they took off like a shot towards him, tearing across the fur rugs. Castor slipped--the less coordinated of the two dogs--and crashed into Nathandiel's leg. He groaned and pressed his lips together to suppress a cry of pain. So much for healing quickly. The mutt was sort of moron, but that was part of his charm.

"Welcome home." Baalthemar came to meet him, looking polished with his hair tied back and out of his eyes. Baalthemar helped Nathandiel out of his coat and took his bag, smiling. The smile was a bit hesitant though, Nathandiel thought. Baalthemar headed to the kitchen and Nathandiel lingered a moment with the dogs, both of whom looked torn between following their friend Baalthemar and doting on the return of their Dad. He gave their rumps a pat and they headed after Baalthemar.

Baalthemar had wanted to talk him, he'd said as much when he'd come home the night before and slipped into bed. He'd been exhausted, off dealing with Naring and his lot and some problem with darker matters that Nathandiel didn't pretend to understand. He'd asked to talk, Nathandiel had declined. He'd distracted Baalthemar with one hand under the blankets instead. Young men we're easy to persuade to their peaks and that had hushed Baalthemar.

That and cuddles. The boy really does like to be held. He's starved for affection, poor thing.

He stepped into the kitchen and went to stand behind the blond man at the stove, slipping his arms around him and giving him an adoring squeeze. "Hello sweetling. What's all this?" He asked, sneaking a kiss to Baalthemar's neck. Baalthemar smiled and tossed meat into a pan then reached for some eggs, his cheeks high with colour. As long as Nathandiel could still make the young man blush he would feel a smug sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. It was affirming to a older man to make young, pretty thing blush. Young, pretty things were sexiest when they were embarrassed.

While Baalthemar cooked, Nathandiel favoured him with butterfly kisses--soft, little, light pressings of his lips that he gave to those he cared deeply for. Drinn had permitted his butterfly kisses, so long as they had not be toe kisses. She hadnt' liked toe kisses. Nathandiel did though, he thought the toes of ladies were cute and deserved soft, little kisses. She hand't lked that, but she'd let him sometimes, groaning as if he had been toruring her while he presses his lips to her pretty, little toes. When he and his kisses got in the way of Baalthemar's cooking, Baalthemar shooed him away, still blushing. Nathandiel took to the floor to favour his pups with hearty neck scratches, and firm belly rubs while Baalthemar cooked.

"I have something I need to talk to you about. But we'll do that later." Baalthemar said. Nathandiel tilted his head. He wasn't going to be able to avoid whatever it was that was eating at Baalthemar.

"What about" He asked.

"Just something important."

"Is it bad? It's bad isn't it?" Nathandiel pushed. He didn't like waiting for a fight, or a cry, or an anything-the-could-suck-and-result-in-us-not-sleeping-in-the-same-bed. He didn't really think it could be that bad, not with Baalthemar, but he went for the thing he did fear, the thing that had happened with Drinn. "'re leaving, aren't you?" He asked.

Baalthemar looked at him over his shoulder, his ponytail flying and his eyes big. "What? No! That's the last thing I want...." He looked a little hurt under the surprise.

"...alright." Nathandiel said easily, rubbing Linna's belly, her milkless teats crowned by soft little nubs that were notable against his palm. She didn't care what they were talking about, laying on her back with her legs open like a whore while she was rubbed and patted while Castor looked on enviously. Such a good bitch.

Baalthemar swallowed and turned back to the stove, tending to the food. He dropped sliced potatoes into oil and they made it hiss when they were engulfed. "...I...I think I've found a way to extend your life." He said.


"You could even do away with the orb, you wouldn't need it anymore. No more illusions." Baalthemar smiled shyly at him, but his eyes were alight with hope. Nathandie's eyes narrowed.

Aw, my poor boy. No, no, no. "...Baalthemar. No." He said.

"But it would save you! We could be together longer, it would keep you here with with the living!" Baalthemar protested, spinning to face him, the food forgotten.

Nathandiel patted Linna's tummy and and prompted her away. He crossed his legs, assisting his injured one with his hands, then he patted his lap. "Come here a moment." He said.

Baalthemar came and slipped into his lap, his bum fitting neatly into the bowl of Nathandiel's crossed limbs. Baalthemar wrapped around him in a pantomime of the way they sometimes made love. That was how Nathandiel liked to hold his lovers when it was about closeness and tenderness and affectionate feelings. He liked to look up into their eyes, they were always just a bit above him if they were in his lap. They could move slow and he could focus more on touching them, feeling their bodies and favouring them with kisses, than on putting it to them deep. He’d held Pascal like that, Clara and Drinn too, now he held Baalthemar like that when he could. The boy he’d just liked to bend over had become one he liked to place butterfly kisses on.

The elf's ears were drooping. “No new bodies.” Nathandiel said, caressing one of Baalthemar’s cheeks with the backs of his knuckles. He wondered if Baalthemar knew that he was pouting; it made his lips look delicious. “I won’t live to see my children die, and I won’t live as anyone else but me.” He said and he could see the defeat settle into the elf’s eyes. “I’m not saying ‘no,’ just that I won’t do those things.” He amended and the blow was softened. He realized then that he really wasn’t saying ‘no,’ he was actually open to the idea of a longer life if it made Baalthemar feel better. There were other people that he loved back home, that he wanted to see again, but they weren’t there right then, they weren’t making his supper and supplying him with good company and satisfying closeness.

“Fine.” Baalthemar said, the pout deepening. “I’ll keep trying. I’ll find something else.”

Nathandiel smiled and tipped up the elf’s chin so he could kiss him. “We’ll discuss it then. I don’t want you to hurt, I love you too much now for that.” He teased and went to kiss Baalthemar--but the other man pulled back, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You….love me?” The question was barely a whisper.

Oh dear. “Yeah…of course I do.” Nathandiel chuckled, surprised at Baalthemar’s surprise. Had he really not known?

Baalthemar kissed him then, forcefully and with something innocent and gracious in the heart of the kiss. It was kiss full of youth and vitality, feuled by vulnerabilities made bare by kindness, and forceful by desperation and fear that it wasn’t real.

He’d have had Baalthemar right there on the floor of the kitchen, shown him just how many butterfly kisses he was worth, but the fries were ready.

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**************** WARNING Adult themes. ***************

“Love.” Baalthemar smiled as he said the word, he sat on the cliffs above Orgrimmar. He felt like he could run to Thunderbluff and back, like he could jump up and snatch a star from the sky. He was filled with energy and joy, he couldn’t stop himself for what seemed like the hundredth time a wide grin crept across his face.

He had told the few people that might have cared, Lilliana and Shokkra. Both had been kind in their own way. Lilliana had given him some words of wisdom, and a warning. And then surprised him with a warm genuine hug.

Shokkra the rage filled warrior woman, had cried all over him. She had smiled and hugged him and told him how happy she was for the two of them. Before she added with a tear-stained face. “If you ever hurt him, I’ll beat the ever-living shit out of you”

Baalthemar laid down on his back and looked up at the night sky, he smiled and relaxed against the warm rock as he thought. Hendrick didn’t scare you off. Pulling my eye out didn’t scare you off. You found me when I was lost. Put me back together when I was broken. All with a kind smile, and a gentle touch. How could I have been so lucky to have you come into my life? He questioned himself. And now he will let me help him, he will let me save him. Baalthemar laughed into the cool night air.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” The woman with golden eyes smiled down at him. “I am in a very good mood.” He replied with a grin. She slowly walked around him, her long black dress cling to her body. “I’m glad you have found some kindness, the two of you will work well together.” She stopped at his feet. “You should start your work again, you have a long list of names to get through.” she took a step over him her legs on either side of him.

Baalthemar looked at her. “You’re right. I have something in mind.” the woman lowered herself down and started to crawl toward his chest. She moved with an odd fluid motion like oil, she slithered her way up his body.

She stopped at his chest, her thighs tight around his hips. “Tell me.” She whispered.

“There is a woman, she can absorb life force. I want to watch her bathe naked in blood. I want her to explain what it feels like.” he said as the woman grinned. She pushed herself up his chest and looked down at him, her golden eyes blazed at him. “I can’t wait to see you two work together.” She leaned in to kiss him and he closed his eye.

He didn’t feel her lips, he opened his eye and looked back up at the night sky. She was gone. He felt her excitement, and she was right. He needed to start working again.

Working with someone he loved, and someone that loved him. He thought. “What a strange thing, I hope he likes working with me.” Baalthemar sat up and smiled, he couldn’t wait to see Nathandiel and tell him his idea. A rush of joy came back to him as he thumbed the hearthstone. What a wonderful pair we make. He couldn’t help but blush at the thought as the soft green light enveloped him.

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Nathandiel had woken up without his younger lover and had felt a moment's panic before he'd seen the fresh glass of water, the dish of biscuits, and the pain killers on a folded napkin on his bedside table. He'd relaxed then, a bit embarrassed by the acid-flash of fear he'd felt. Baalthemar wasn't going anywhere. The silly thing was unwilling to accept that Nathandiel would die in the late future, he wasn't likely to be anything but extremely attached and on his way back.

He'll come back.

He laid back down, wiggling into the blankets and reaching out over the spot where Baalthemar had lain. It wasn't really warm anymore. The dogs were at the end of the bed, out cold. Baalthemar had gone some time before. That was fine though, he relished a little bit of time to himself, if only to appreciate his company when it came back.

Also to fart, burp, and scratch myself whenever such whims strike me. His nose itched, so he picked it, worming a finger up one nostril to get right to the heart of the issue. Can't do such things with company.

No, but then Baalthemar wasn't really company, not anymore. It wasn't just the young man that had become attached, Nathandiel was as well. He knew that he should have been thinking of Drinn, of Pascal especially, at least of getting home to Daniel, but he'd found some peace in Baalthemar and while he was aware that he was being selfish, he wasn't yet willing to stop being so.

Perhaps I can convince him to come home with me?

He didn't think that would work, but wasn't going to rule it out. Baalthemar would convince him to live longer and he might consent, but he'd have his own request too. "Come back with me. When it's time. Come back with me." He'd request. He wouldn't ask. He would request it. He liked Baalthemar too much to ever go home without him. He was pretty, sweet, and he felt oh so good whether he was face down or straddling for a ride.

"Lovely...." He whispered, closing his eyes again, his fingers curling into the spread where the blond boy was not. "Take you back to a real home, somewhere you can be taken care of."

Thoughts of spoiling Baalthemar with good food, nice things, pretty playmates, and fruitful engagements carried him back to sleep. It wasn't unheard of for a man like himself to keep an elf; they were fancy creatures that spoke to a man's good taste and filial status. He had no intentions of keeping Baalthemar, the boy was not a pet, but it would make a workable story for them to be together in a safer place. If they were safe, they could eat fruit in bed, make love, and drink fine wine off each other. They could wake up when they wanted to, go out when they felt like it, and live under their own mandates.

But until then, things were good just as they were and Nathandiel didn't want them to change. Not yet.

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****************** WARNING: Adult themes *********************

Baalthemar walked away from the specialty store in Silvermoon, in his hand a black paper bag, he had slung it over his shoulder as he headed out of the city. He thumbed his garrison hearthstone while he walked.

Nathandiel had put him on the back foot, by asking him to dress in a school uniform. But he couldn’t say that he didn’t like the idea, although he honestly thought it would have been harder to find a Silvermoon school uniform in his size.

Baalthemar entered the garrison to the sound of little feet frantically rushing toward him. Castor and Linna yapped their greetings, he let them come outside before he knelt down to pat them. Once the two pups had sniffed and licked at their blonde friend they ran back inside to the warmth.

Baalthemar followed them in and headed to the bedroom, he laid out the uniform on the bed.

It reflected the totalitarian nature of Silvermoon. Black pants and matching vest, a jacket with the icon of blood stitched over the left breast, a light grey shirt and a royal red tie. The shoes had already been shined to a high polish, he was thankful for that. The sales woman had given him an odd look when he asked for her to shine them, but he had given her a sly smile and she did as he asked.

He headed to the cooking area to make up a light meal for the two for when Nathandiel came home, a chicken salad and a platter of meats fruits and cheeses. Baalthemar set the table with food, he stopped to throw some cheese to the two pups.

“You two are spoilt you know that? Most wolf cubs don’t get cheese.” He said to them as they licked their chops, the cheese devoured a few seconds after it hit the floor. He headed to the bathroom to wash up before he got dressed in the uniform.

Baalthemar entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist and another resting over his shoulders, he stood and dried his hair looking at the uniform on the bed. “If any of the Grim saw me in that I would never live it down. Fel, I can almost hear Syreena laughing now.” He said shaking his head with a slight smile.

He finished drying off and started getting dressed, he had the pants on and had buttoned the shirt when he looked at himself in the mirror. “I hope you appreciate this Nathandiel.” He said as his face started to grow hot.

Baalthemar finished with the uniform, he looked over the tie and ensured that it sat correctly. He stood tall in the uniform and tested how it fell. The woman at the store had done well, it was a well fitted suit. He raised an eyebrow looking at himself, if it wasn’t a school uniform he might have worn it out.

He checked the time, Nathandiel was due home soon. Baalthemar walked to the table, taking one of the high backed wooden chairs and planted in the middle of the lounge facing the door. His normal cool and calm composure was gone, he sat waiting for his lover to come home.

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“You're the first to worry about what I like.”

Baalthemar's words continued to loop in Nathandiel's mind throughout the evening as he worked. Baalthemar had come with a snack and a request to submit for the check-up that Nathandiel had suggested he have. Baalthemar was an orphan and no one had cared for him correctly, no had seen to his health and ensured he'd seen a paediatrician and eaten his vitamin chewies growing up. He'd confessed to Nathandiel that he'd never seen a doctor for routine check-up and hadn't understood why someone would go to the doctor if they weren't ill. Nathandiel endeavoured to change that—as such a check up was in order. He was healthy by all observations, though they would have to wait until the lab work returned to be sure.

And during his check up he saw me with my glasses. And Nathandiel had seen how Baalthemar looked at him in them. He liked them. So Nathandiel had offered to wear them later to accompany the bout of spankings he wished to administer to Baalthemar. Baalthemar had never gone to a proper school so they would play a little game to fit with the spankings--Nathandiel had always maintained that setting the scene was essential for role-play. Baalthemar wasn't in trouble, Nathandiel simply desired to paddle the boy's pretty pink bum until it was red as a rose and just as tender as the petals of such. He wanted to beat it, tickle it, press his mouth to that bum and pet the more tender under-parts. He wanted to feel Baalthemar grow against his lap, face down and helpless with his rump exposed.

“What else do you like? Besides me in my spectacles?” He'd asked.

“…I don't really know. Perhaps we can find out together?”

Indeed they could. Baalthemar might not like spankings, but they'd find out. Often sweet ones thought that they wouldn't like spankings, and then they got spankings from the right person and found them to be delectable treats of affection. Such sweet things then became eager to have their undergarments peeled back and their bums exposed, the invisible hairs standing up when the air kissed their flesh and then the warm caress of a palm as the flesh was readied for a righteous smacking. The sweetest ones loved it, Nathandiel knew.

Nathandiel's knee had mostly healed. It was still sore, but he expected that it was sturdy enough to allow him to put it to Baalthemar properly. As accommodating as Baalthemar had been in bed since Nathandiel had been hurt, Nathandiel was a domineering lover and part of him had been impossible to satisfy when Baalthemar did all the work. He wanted to hold Baalthemar down while he mounted him, bite the back of his neck while he took him, cover his mouth with his hand when Baalthemar screamed, and lock Baalthemar's hips in place whenever the poor boy was compelled to try and scuttle away from a penetrative assault.

He smiled at all these things and stole a grope to his groin, his testicles suddenly feeling heavy with anticipation. He intended to be rough with Baalthemar after he'd spanked and tortured him, after he gave him a real lesson.

But then I'll be nice, so he knows that I want niceness for him and that I'm not really mad.

Baslthemar had been used by many men in the past, and while Nathandiel was quite sure that his younger treat enjoyed being planted face-down, he also knew how deeply Baalthemar blushed when Nathandiel was soft with him, when he held him close and cradled him so he could kiss him while they made it. Tenderness was reassuring, and after the assault that Nathandiel had planned he would finish off the young man with sweetness to smooth over his soreness. He'd show him that no matter how much he used him for his own delight, Nathandiel cherished Baalthemar's submission.

When he arrived home he was greeted by the pups, a well built fire, and one pretty blond elf in a boy's uniform looking as nervous as a lad that really had been sent up to the headmasters office to pay for an infraction. This made Nathandiel grin.

He approached Baalthemar, gesturing with one hand for the pups to go away. He was silent as he circled the seated young man, hands crossed behind his back and his steps deliberate, peering over the rims of his spectacles. They were going to play, and Nathandiel had no problem slipping into a role. The longer Nathandiel said nothing, the further Baalthemar’s ears drooped.

He feels it, he feels like he’s really in trouble.

Perfect. The punishment would be all the sweeter.

He stopped behind Baalthemar and put his hands on the young man’s shoulders. He’d picked a good uniform. “Dawnsorrow.” He purred, lowering to speak into one of those drooping ears as it snapped to attention. “As I understand it you’ve been a bad, bad, young lad.” He spoke the last against Baalthemar's warm, soft cheek. He could feel Baalthemar quivering under his touch, but as he peeked over Baalthemar’s shoulder he could also see the excited state in his lap.


Nathandiel beat him, made him sing, had him until he cried, and then he loved him, really loved him, and by the time they were done and the uniform was gone and the two men were a tangled knot of warmth and intimacy, Nathandiel loved Baalthemar just a little bit more for each smack he'd taken, and for each thrust he'd submitted to.

"My very, very good boy." he whispered, combing his fingers through Baalthemar's hair and planting a soft kiss on his warm forehead. "My boy....Mine."

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Baalthemar’s body stung, he could feel every movement that Nathandiel made. The man had coiled himself around Baalthemar, he glowed while he slept. His arms and legs tangled around him in a tender hug, and his sweat covered head rested against Baalthemar’s arm.

Baalthemar looked at him and thought about the nights events. Pain. The same abuse I felt so long ago, but different… there was a warmth behind it. Not the cold malice or selfish anger like the others. He looked at Nathandiel as a slow drip of drool slipped from his lip onto Baalthemar’s arm. He couldn’t help but smile. You care so much… it’s overwhelming. I’m lost in the woods here Nathandiel. You have me all fogged up, I don’t know where to turn or what to do. He thought as he gently put his forehead against Nathandiel’s.

Baalthemar started to softly hum a tune and whispered “Angel white. Sweet love of mine. like the morning mist you surround me, with a cool touch you caress me.” As if on que, Nathandiel joined in with a soft snore. Baalthemar laughed to himself and slowly started to roll over, he needed some rest.

As he moved, Nathandiel let out a low growl, and a sleepy. “Stay, Mine.” Baalthemar looked at his lover and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, I just need to roll onto my back.” He rolled and Nathandiel came with him, he cuddled into Baalthemar’s chest and found a new spot to drool on. “You make a good pillow.” He mumbled before letting out another soft snore.

Baalthemar smiled. “And you make a good blanket.” He kissed Nathandiel on the head and relaxed in the warmth of his body heat. We should go hunting soon, I want to see you tracking prey with me… if you look as good as you do with glasses on, we will have another long night. He thought as a slow grin crept over his face. “A long night indeed.” He whispered before he allowed himself to fall asleep.

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********************Warning: Adult themes********************

Baalthemar stumbled into Nathandiel’s garrison, he hopped on one foot as he removed his boot, a mountain of clothes in his arms. He dropped it onto the floor, and headed toward the bedroom.

Nathandiel was tucked into his side of the bed, he had stayed up and read some notes or medical books. Baalthemar didn’t try to work it out, he was just glad to be home again. He peeled off the last of his clothes and slipped in next to Nathandiel’s warm body, Baalthemar pressed up against him.

Nathandiel let out a low growl, and mumbled “You’re freezing.” Baalthemar started to roll away not wanting to disturb the sleeping man any more than he already had. “I didn’t say you could leave.” Nathandiel said as he pulled Baalthemar back toward him and wiggled his rump back into Baalthemar.

“I sent you a letter, you didn’t need to wait up for me” Baalthemar said as he hugged Nathandiel close. Nathandiel gently kissed his arm “Did you keep the girl safe?”

Baalthemar grunted and nestled his face into Nathandiel’s neck breathing in the smell of his skin before finally he answered. “Yeah the distressed damsel is home safe, she didn’t find her friend though.” Nathandiel sighed softly and pushed his hips into Baalthemar’s lap. “My BIG hero” he added with a slight grin.

Baalthemar groaned and bit Nathandiel’s neck as he felt himself swell against Nathandiel’s warm flesh. “You are dangerously adDICtive” He said as he pushed himself against Nathandiel.

Baalthemar opened his eye with a sudden realization. “You’re not wearing any sleep wear…” Baalthemar said almost stunned. Nathandiel laughed and said “It took you long enough.” Baalthemar sighed and blushed. How did I miss such an obvious invitation? “I’m tired, forgive me…” Baalthemar said as he gently held Nathandiel’s waist.

Nathandiel reached up behind him and grabbed a fist full of Baalthemar’s blonde hair. “I have waited long enough for you to come home, get the oil… I have an itch I need you to scratch.” He said with a tug on Baalthemar’s hair, before he pointed to a bottle of oil that sat next to their bed. Baalthemar smiled, before he rolled over to grab it Nathandiel pulled him close. “I love you, silly boy.” he said as he planted a rough kiss on Baalthemar’s lips.

Baalthemar’s heart skipped a beat, a wide smile washed over his face. “I love you too, Angel white.” with a speed granted by youth and skilled reflexes Baalthemar rolled away and snatched the bottle of oil from the side table and returned to his lover to set about their joining.

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********************* Warning: Adult content! *******************************

********** Reader discretion advised this post contains: Explicit sexual content *********

Baalthemar had cooked up a meal for the three of them, but only Nathandiel and Baalthemar sat at the table.

"To think, a few weeks ago this all started with a little black business card." Baalthemar said with a grin.

Nathandiel rolled his eyes, "You know she was lying, I never worked... for her." Nathandiel replied with a slight shake in his voice. Baalthemar watched him and smiled. "Perhaps. But it did bring us our newest plaything, and I can tell you enjoy him."

Nathandiel gripped the table and glared at Baalthemar. Oh you act smug now, wait until he gets to you. he thought with a sly grin. "Yes... he... has quite the talent…" his speech and train of thought broken.



A few weeks ago.

Nathandiel watched the two men, Baalthemar had taken control and ordered him to watch and not cross over his peak. A cruel game but one that he let Baalthemar play with him, knowing that the payoff would be worth it.

So he sat in his reading chair with his wine, drinking and watching Baalthemar play with their new bed mate. Nathandiel watched the guest push himself to take what Baalthemar fed him, while also threatening with his hands to take over from beneath. He was enthusiastic and from the look on Baalthemar’s face, was doing a good job.

Nathandiel shifted in his chair, he was pressing hard against the fabric of his pants. Cruel boy. You delight in teasing me like this. He thought to himself as Baalthemar looked over at him and smiled. He sipped his wine and slid his hand into his pants.

Baalthemar watched Nathandiel, as their guest worked. He fought to keep his knees straight. His breathing was heavy as he spoke to Nathandiel. “Remember. You’re not allowed to finish until we let you.” Nathandiel rolled his eyes and pulled his hand out of his pants again. Taking a long drink of wine. Baalthemar groaned and held onto his guests balding head as he reached his peak.

Their guest willing though he was, fought to get air. In his haste Baalthemar had pushed down hard and held him. He tapped at Baalthemar’s legs to get his attention, slowly at first then a rapid slapping urging the young elf to release him. There was an audible pop as he pulled away from Baalthemar.

Panting Baalthemar looked down at him. “I’m sorry, I… uh I got lost a little there.” The man couldn’t help but smile up at him, what with the stupid look on the young elf's face. “Tha's fine, mean ya enjoyed it much as me,” he said with a wink of his green eyes.

Baalthemar led tonight's playmate to Nathandiel’s bed. “You’ll enjoy this too.” He said with a grin. That comment was met with a tenor chuckle and the challenge of a quirked eyebrow as his guest crawled onto the bed and got himself settled in an inviting position. Baalthemar walked over to Nathandiel and kissed him. “I want you on the bed for this.”

Nathandiel tilted his head, “What why? I have a good view from here.” Baalthemar smiled at him. “Because I can’t keep my eye on you if you’re all the way over here.” Nathandiel sighed as Baalthemar pulled him to the bed. “You know you are rather cruel Baal.” He said with a slight grin on his face.

Baalthemar stopped and turned to him. “Cruel in a good way though, I promise.” He reassured Nathandiel with another tender kiss. “Now in the middle there, I want our guest here to help tease you.” Baalthemar grinned.

He watched the two elves join him in the bed and smirked, he knew just what to do. His years of experience could be used to keep Nathandiel on the edge of rapture until dawn. The man smiled warmly at Nathandiel, looking forward to a trio, “Dun’ worry handsome, ya’ll be in very good hands tanight.” Nathandiel climbed into the center of the bed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He said with a slight laugh.

Nathandiel groaned as he was kept on the brink for hours as the two tormented him, each kiss or tender touch from their guest send electric shocks running down his spine, but everything he did would only bring him to the edge. He ached from the torment, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself. It felt very good.

The guest enjoyed drawing out loving Nathandiel, he was so responsive to his skilled hands and mouth. Baalthemar worked behind him, as his body started to shake again. For the third time tonight the elf boy had brought him over the edge. His eyes rolled back into his head and he held on as it over took him again.

Nathandiel panted and looked down at the two, he dropped his head back onto the pillows. “This is torture, just so you know.” Baalthemar smiled at Nathandiel, their older guest slowly taking his time to recover.

Baalthemar shined with sweat, and his breath was labored. “I’ll let you finish, soon…” he said as he gently stepped away from his guest to enjoy some wine and to cool down. Nathandiel looked at Baalthemar’s naked body, and his mind filled with lewd thoughts.

The man had still had enough energy turn over on his side, he watched the elves and thought to himself. These younguns... well, THAT youngun had way too much energy for this to be a regular thing. But it'd been a while since he last had a chance for a good threesome with just men. Usually it was women, and there were some exciting things you could only do with men... When he'd first met Baalthemar he'd had a good feeling despite being warned about the Grim. It'd taken some time to flirt this one into interest and he'd come with another man as a bonus! He was glad he had followed through.

The guest crawled up and laid next to Nathandiel, “Ey der, handsome.” He leaned toward Nathandiel to give him a gentle kiss, his head cleared and he started to feel as if they'd begun to form a bond that helped anchor him to this present. “Told ya, I be takin care of ya.” Nathandiel grinned and kissed him back. “You teased me. I still have needs to take care of.” His eyes darted down to his lap, where he still ached.

Baalthemar returned with two glasses of wine, handing one to each of them. “I will take care of you Nath, finish your drinks and I’ll show you what I have planned.” Baalthemar shot a playful grin at Nathandiel that told him what whatever the young man had planned, his night was going to be very satisfying indeed.

The three relaxed and drank the wine slowly as Nathandiel tested his knee, it didn’t hurt as much and he could feel some movement returning. Perhaps he would avoid needing that cane after all. The thought was pleasing and he smiled to himself as he finished his wine and handed Baalthemar the empty glass.

Their guest smiled as he watched Nathandiel play with his knee, knowing that he could help him in this way made him very glad that he had come tonight. Love and healing, two things he could offer in great abundance. It always made his heart swell with warmth when folk could share mutual joy, mending of the body and spirit in this manner; and this night was filling his heart to overflowing. So much better than the pain more commonly dealt out. He finished the wine with Nathandiel and handed his glass to Baalthemar after him, brushing fingers with the randy young elf with a grin. The man was ready for another round now.

Baalthemar placed the glasses next to the bottle and turned on his heel to face the bed. “Nathandiel I want you to get up and allow me to take your place.” Nathandiel tilted his head slightly but moved to allow Baalthemar to lay down on his back. “Now come here” Baalthemar pulled Nathandiel on top of him and as the two faced each other the idea became clear.

Baalthemar slapped Nathandiel on the rump and held him for their guest. “Come and get him.” He provoked the new bed mate. “Wait what?” Nathandiel asked as he looked back. Baalthemar reached low and gave Nathandiel a gentle squeeze. “You really think I would let you suffer this long and not take care of you?” Baalthemar asked Nathandiel as he guided their paring.

Their guest smiled, he watched the tender scene and waited until the two were joined before making his own paring. All that tormenting earlier made it easy for them to fit together and move as one.

Nathandiel held onto Baalthemar’s chest, his mind was overwhelmed. Hours of torment had come to an end. Each little movement anyone made was exquisite, he held onto Baalthemar taking in the smell of his skin, and the sound of his heart beat. It centered him, helped him focus on what was about to happen.

Baalthemar looked at Nathandiel and smiled. “How do you like being the meat in the manwich?” Nathandiel rolled his eyes and laughed. “You…” he shook his head almost at a loss for words. “Just… shut the fuck up.” He grinned at the smart mouthed young man, before he moved to kiss him.

Their three separate rhythms came to synchronize together, moving as one and giving voice to a chorus of throaty moans. Waves of pleasure washed over them like the ocean over the shore. Their guest had a view of the entire scene, with each movement of his hips he could tease out a moan or gasp as his actions cascaded to the other men. Baalthemar held tight to Nathandiel, he clawed at his back as their guest worked.

Nathandiel was pinned between the two, he could feel Baalthemar rake his back with his long finger nails. The slight sting sent a fresh jolt down his spine and he peaked with his lover. Their new bed partner felt the two shudder under him, and he smiled.

Their bed partner let Nathandiel roll to one side, shaking and still sensitive the two elves still held each other. Slowly he slid between them and shared in the warmth. Baalthemar rested his head against his shoulder with his arm over their guests’ chest, his hand holding Nathaniel’s, their fingers interlocked. Nathandiel cuddled into the warmth of their guest’s side.

Their new bed partner watched as both men slipped into sleep, he gently ran his fingers through Baalthemar’s long blond hair, He curled it and let it fall between his fingers. While on the other side he slowly rubbed Nathandiel’s neck and watched as his entire body relaxes under his touch. The two elves fell asleep quickly while their guest enjoyed the feeling of their bodies against his, he smiled to himself as he too slowly fell asleep.



Back at the dinner table.

Nathandiel closed his eyes and held onto the table edge as he struggled to force himself to maintain proper table manners.

Baalthemar watched him with a twisted pride, "I enjoy this game." he declared. "You always work so hard to win, but you end up looking so wonderfully cute when you peak." Nathandiel gave up and groaned. "Oh shut the fuck up." he gasped at Baalthemar, as he let his head fall back toward the ceiling.

Baalthemar laughed as Nathandiel slowly recovered and returned to normal, "There he is, nice to-" He was cut off as their dinner guest stated his work on Baalthemar.

Nathandiel grinned and watched Baalthemar try to collect himself. "So... you were saying something about the cabin." he asked as the young elf returned to his dinner.

Baalthemar coughed and continued his conversation with Nathandiel about the cabin he was working on, the game started for him this time, and he was determined to win. "Yes. The foundations are coming along nicely, once the stone and copper arrives the basement will be built in short order." he replied with a cool and smooth voice.

Nathandiel grinned. We will see how long you can keep this up my sweet boy. he thought as they talked.

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****************** Warning adult themes ********************

Baalthemar stumbled out of the Wyverns Tail bar, his head full of firewater and lust. He swayed at the top of the steps leading into the bar, he had to focus to get down them. Each step was a small victory against gravity, when his feet hit dirt he grinned and reached for his hearthstone.

I’m coming home Nathandiel. I’m coming home, and you’re going to get it. He grinned at the thought as the soft light spiraled around him and in an instant he was out of the dry heat of Orgrimmar and in the cold bite of Frostfire.

Baalthemar walked toward the garrison, stumbling up the path toward his lover’s home. He swung open the door and was greeted by the warm air within. Castor and Linna looked up from their spot on Nathandiels bed, where he slept after a long day of work.

Baalthemar crept up toward the bedroom, he removed his equipment and placed it in his footlocker. He grinned as an idea slithered its way into his mind.

He crawled onto bed, his movements woke Nathandiel from his sleep. “What are you doing?” he asked as he looked down at a very drunk Baalthemar. He had caught him as he tried to crawl under the blankets. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Baalthemar replied as he swayed slightly.

The blonde elf had positioned himself over Nathandiel’s lap and tugged at his sleep wear. “It looks like you woke me up in a drunken attempt to get at my manhood.” Nathandiel said with a slight grin. “It’s a good thing you’re cute when you’re drunk Baal, or I might have to kick you out of my bed for waking me up.” Baalthemar gave Nathandiel a big grin. “Yeah, I’m cute. You love it.” he replied as he pulled Nathandiel free of his clothes.

Baalthemar’s hair fell over his face as he worked, Nathandiel just relaxed and let him work. “Long day I take it?” he asked his blonde lover. “Mhmm” Baalthemar replied. “And you missed me… eh?” Nathandiel asked as he brushed Baalthemar’s hair off his face to get a better look at him.”Mhmm” Baalthemar said again looking up at him. “I’m glad you’re home too.” Nathandiel said as he let his head fall back onto his pillow.

By the time Nathandiel had finished he had worked up a slight sweat, and his breathing was labored. Baalthemar crawled up to his chest and curled into him. “I’m tired now, will you make me pancakes tomorrow?” Baalthemar asked with a slight slur to his words.

Nathandiel smiled and sighed. “I’ll make us pancakes if you’re not too hungover, otherwise you’ll get coffee and fruit.” Baalthemar pouted. “You’re mean.” Nathandiel looked down at his drunk lover. “Hey, I didn’t come in stinking of whiskey and demanding sex.” Baalthemar grinned and gently bit at Nathandiel’s ribs.

Nathandiel yelped. “Go to sleep you drunken mess.” He said as he swatted Baalthemar softly on the nose. “I’ll make you your damn pancakes.” He gave in. Baalthemar hugged Nathandiel and grinned at his victory. “Good.” Baalthemar fell asleep on Nathandiel’s chest.

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****************** Warning adult themes ********************

He was glad that the two had chosen barbecue for dinner, something he could cook without much thought. Because thanks to these two most of my blood is no longer in my head, it has been diverted to somewhere else. He thought as he ached against his pants.

Araku and Nathandiel had teased him on the boat, Nathandiel worst of the two. He had removed Baalthemar’s gloves and sucked on his fingers the act itself not extremely sexual, the memories and thoughts that it ignited within Baalthemar’s mind did all the work for Nathandiel and when Araku added his own little bites and kisses to an already weakened Baalthemar there was little he could do but try not to moan too loud.

“Evil…” Baalthemar said with a slight grin on his face. He made Talbuk kebabs with baked salted potatoes. Simple food that he could throw onto the fire and ignore until it was ready. His tormentors drank whiskey in the lounge, enjoying some light chatter, Baalthemar could hear Nathandiel and Araku laugh at one of the many stories Nathandiel had about medical school.

Baalthemar sighed his mind wouldn’t let him calm down, his head was full of lewd images and visions of how he was going to get his revenge on the two. Nathandiel on his knees as tears ran down his face, He could feel him fighting for air and he looked up with his beautiful blue eyes. And on the floor, Araku folded over, spent and used after he had vented his frustration against Araku’s rump. He grinned at the thought, but he wouldn’t hurt them like that.

He finished cutting all the meat and vegetables for the skewers, and started to thread the food onto the metal spike when Nathandiel came into the kitchen to join him. “Are you almost done in here? We miss you out in the lounge” Nathandiel said as he slid up against Baalthemar’s back, his hands groped below Baalthemar’s belt.

Baalthemar groaned. “You know… I’m holding long thin metal rods here, I could slide them into some other meat if you are committed to driving me wild.” He said with a playful grin. Nathandiel gave him a gentle squeeze. “You don’t scare me Baal, I know you enjoy this game.” Nathandiel said as he kissed Baalthemar on the neck and ran his hand up under his shirt. Baalthemar sighed. “You… are cruel, you better take care of me after dinner.” Nathandiel continued to tease him as Baalthemar tried to work.

“I will always take care of you… my sunshine.” Nathandiel said softly into his ear, Baalthemar blushed and finished up with the kebabs. “Don’t take too long.” Nathandiel said and he patted Baalthemar on the rump and headed back into the lounge.

Baalthemar returned to the lounge with a large plate of food for them all to eat, in time to see Araku headed toward the door. “You’re leaving?” he asked as placed the food down on a table. “Ya, der be sometin I be needin ta do.” He said with a worried look in his eye. “Baal is not going, he is staying here with me, Rutilus Luna can have him another night.” Nathandiel added with a stern voice. Araku nodded and hurried off into the snow without another word.

Baalthemar shrugged. “If it was demons he would have stayed here. It’s probably something with Naring or Ranadarus.” He looked down at the huge plate of food. “I guess you’ll have to eat all this food with just me.” His mind raced to make a meat pun, he open his mouth to make a joke and Nathandiel put a kebab in his open mouth. “Eat what I put in your mouth” He said with a grin, Baalthemar raised his eyebrow. I love this man. He thought as he ate the kebab.

The two talked and ate their hearty meal with a glass or two of wine, by the end of the meal Nathandiel has curled up next to Baalthemar and had rested his head against his chest. “Thank you for feeding me, Baal.” He said as he slid his hand under Baalthemar’s shirt. “Time for me to take care of you…”

Baalthemar sighed. Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night. He thought as he gently put his hand on Nathandiel’s head and helped him work.

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********************* Warning: Adult themes! ****************************

Baalthemar’s head still spun, he was unsure if it was the punch that Khorvis had given him or the shock of Shaeile’s truth. He and Aderlee sat at the feast table and talked, his troll friend had bought him some cider to enjoy while he waited for the room to stop turning.

The Grim supplicant Kiannas had joined them as they talked about the events of the night, while Baalthemar blew out the blood and snot from his nose onto the floor, his entire face ached as he did so. He drank more cider and tried to follow along with the conversation.

Nathandiel walked over to the table the three of them sat at, Baalthemar turned to him and smiled with a bloody grin and bloodied nose. “Hey, remind me to duck next time.” he joked as Nathandiel looked at his face in shock. “Who did this to you” Nathandiel asked as he moved to clean his lover up.

“Khorvis, but its fine.” Baalthemar said with a smile, Nathandiel frowned and stated to help Baalthemar. “Your nose is broken.” He said. “Nar its fine, Aderlee has me covered.” Baalthemar replied. Nathandiel frowned and pushed on Baalthemar’s nose, the force pushed it back into place. Baalthemar groaned and winced at the pain. “Ugh, Alright I guess it was broken.” Nathandiel placed torn up strips of napkin up the wounded elf’s nose, Baalthemar sat and let Nathandiel fuss over him while the other two talked.

Kiannas was the first to leave, the mandate demanded him elsewhere. Aderlee soon followed suit, he bid the two farewell and reminded Baalthemar of his next lesson before he used his hearthstone to exit the tavern.

Baalthemar pulled the tissue from his nose and rested his forehead against Nathandiel. “I missed you.” he said with a heavy voice. “I missed you too, that’s why I came to find you.” Nathandiel said as he played with Baalthemar’s hair. The two sat there for a time before Nathandiel smiled at him and said “I have a gift for you.”

Baalthemar watched Nathandiel pull something from his pack. A slender gold chain with a delicate pendent of a bird trapped within a sun. “Nathandiel, This is jewelry… you’re giving me jewelry?” Baalthemar said almost stunned. “Here, let me put it on you. My free flying freedom bird, heart of my sun.” Nathandiel said as he moved Baalthemar’s hair out of the way “There. What do you think?"

Baalthemar trembled slightly “I uh, It’s wonderful.” His mind raced. Jewelry… a real gift, not a blade or a meal or something that I can use… but a symbol. Jewelry, like other lovers give each other. His mind started to spin again. “You… I… “He stumbled over his words. “You want to go home? Like right now.”

Baalthemar stood up and grabbed Nathandiel’s hand “Don’t you need to see Aderlee?” Nathandiel asked as he was dragged out of his seat. “Not right now I don’t, we are going home.” Baal said with conviction.

Baalthemar pulled Nathandiel into the garrison, Nathandiel barely had time to close the door before his blonde haired lover was on him. He stripped Nathandiel with little effort. The two made it to their bedroom without a word their embrace had left little room for anything that couldn’t be said with a kiss.

Baalthemar threw Nathandiel onto the bed and crawled on top of him his blonde hair and new necklace falling down toward Nathandiel. “This means a lot to me Nath.” Baalthemar said as he looked him in the eyes. Nathandiel smiled and wiggled his hips down to get into a better position. “If I had known that a necklace would turn you on so much, I would have given you one when we first met.” He said with a grin.

Baalthemar reached back and guided their joining. “That’s…” he sighed as he lowered himself onto Nathandiel. “I mean this. You and me, I’ve never had anything like it and I don’t want to lose It.” he leaned over and kissed Nathandiel before he could say anything.

Dawn broke after a night of tender love-making, Nathandiel looked over at his lover. Baalthemar’s blonde hair was a mess, sprawled over his pillow and face, but rested against his chest was the delicate pendent. “You won’t lose anything, you are mine as much as I am yours.” Nathandiel whispered as he brushed away some hair from Baalthemar’s face.

Baalthemar awoke to Nathandiel as he walked into the bedroom. Baalthemar looked him over, he had dressed in his black sleep wear. “Always so dapper, my beloved angel white.” He said as he ran his hand through his hair. Nathandiel stood with two plates of golden pancakes. “Thought we could have breakfast in bed.” He said with a smile. Baalthemar sat up and looked at him, Nathandiel had promised to make him every type of pancake when Baalthemar had admitted that he had never had them before.

He grinned and moved the blankets to and furs to allow Nathandiel to sit next to him. “I’ll hold those while you sit next to me.” Baalthemar said with a wide and warm smile. Nathandiel handed him the warm plates and crawled into bed next to him then gave him a quick kiss before the two enjoyed their breakfast. Baalthemar looked down at his meal and smiled. “You spoil me. If I didn’t know better I might think you were trying to make a civilized man out of me.” He said as he pulled strips off his pancakes and popped them into his mouth.

Nathandiel looked over to him and watched him eat for a moment. “I don’t think I could ever do that, not with all the brushed hair and baths in the world.” He smiled and cut into his own pancakes with a knife and fork. Baalthemar licked the honey off his finders as Nathandiel finished up with his plate. Baalthemar watched him, waited until he was finished. “Thank you for breakfast, I’ll run us a bath and show you how grateful I am.” Baalthemar leaned over and kissed Nathandiel before he headed to the bathroom, still naked form the night before.

Nathandiel watched the blonde man walk across the cold floor to the bathroom, his firm buttocks bounced slightly with each step. “Grab the brushes, I want to do your hair too!” he yelled at Baalthemar as he entered the bathroom. Before he put the plates away and joined him in the warm bathroom.

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Magical thinking: that was what doctors like Nathandiel called it when a patient was convinced that doing something--or, conversely not doing something--would lead to an outcome that, when looked at objectively, could not have been the result of the action or inaction. It was a staple of pathological thought patterns and mainstay amongst patients who suffered from compulsive and anxious behaviour.

And yet here I am....He thought, as he arranged the tablets on the metal tray, positioning each just so, ensuring that the cut-lines were coordinated uniformly across the buffet. If I do these drugs, I will never see Drinn again, The magical moron in his own anxious brain asserted. He turned his attention to the little bit of white powder he'd tapped out of a one-dram vial. He and Drinn had done powders together, sometimes they did them off of eachother. Though skinny like a stick, she'd had a bubble of an ass that had been an amazing surface to insuflate illicit substances off of. He missed her ass. If I do these drugs and feel good I'll never see her again. I feel like this without her and I'll never feel her in any way ever again.

--and that exactly why you need to do them. Enough of this silliness! Magical thinking will bring about nothing except neuroticism and anxiety. Do the drugs!

He tilted his head as he looked down at the smorgasbord he'd procured from the chemist's shelves. He chewed at one ragged thumbnail as he looked down at the items, worrying the nail the way he might have a pencil during his university entrance exams. What to do, what to do? Which bubble do I shade in?There was nothing left to arrange, no more symmetry in the presentation to achieve. No more excuses.

Are you gonna do this or what?

What if he didn't? Wasn't it better to play it safe? Step over every crack just in case it would break mama's back? Say his prayers at night and make sure to thank God for all the little shit he took forgranted so that it wasn't taken away? Not jerk off while his patient was hanging by a thread on the off chance that selfish pleasure could make them crash? Suffer so that he wouldn't suffer more? Wasn't that just playing it safe and being smart?

It's being insane.

His upper lip twitched into a sneer and he swiped up the first of the pills, pressed it past his resistant lips and took it down into his loading bay with a toss of water--

--then the next, harder to get down, tears threatening, the other followed as his eyessight blurred in the wake of unshed tears.

Moron! Now you've done it! She's fucked for sure!

He emptied the jug of water, washing the bland-coloured babies in his belly with the medium that would carry their contents to his cells quickly, then he plugged one nostril, stuffed the rolled bank note into the other and made the lines of powder gone. He slammed both hands on the table top as he came up, inhaling deeply and sucking back the snot that had instantly flooded his sinuses in protest against the powder that burned the membranes. He let out a guttural, animalistic growl that, in itself, was somehow satisfying.

Then he sat.

He waited.

He bounced one foot up and and down on the floor absently, making his whole leg jitter and shake.

Then it started to work.

His eyes watered and the back of his throat screamed. It only took a few minutes for the first soldiers in his chemical onslaught to attack. A pleasant warmth crept up his spine and bled down into his bowels, tickling the vagus nerve along his colon in the same pleasant way that a remarkable bowel movement did. Satisfaction at the animal level; food, sex and fighting could do it. A good shit or a full stomach could do it. So could drugs. He closed his eyes, his tongue between his lips and tasting the air the way he sometimes did when he could pee, as further forces broke passed the domestic gates and laid their charges. The magical consequences were gone, now just ludicrous products of the mammalian brain when it confused anxiety for instinct, obliterated by the abandon that only true recklessness at the cellular-level could provide.

He stood slowly, feeling his sinew move over his bones, eyes closed, the technicolour plates of his own anatomy moving on the backs of his eyelids. Beautiful. Disgusting. A marvel of machinery that was anything but magical. He wanted to feel that magic machinery with his fingers, feel the bursa that held the fibres of his muscles together slide under his fingertips and the bits of fat under the skin slid sloppily away, but when he touched himself there was just the fabric of his theatre whites and his warm, bare skin.

Theatre whites. Go to work. Touch the magic machinery.

He didn't open his eyes as he slid away from the table, moving to the music that washed over him from the turn table the way the water had the pills in his belly. Notes capsizing on his auditory nerves and stroking the coat of cilia in his cochleas like a good rub-down. He sang along as he donned his gloves and secured his mask behind his ears, humming along or contributing his own verses when he didn't know the words, gyrating with he music. The string in his spine was glowing and there was nothing magical about that unnatural feeling. Everything was explainable, everything was at the mercy of natural law.

He conducted the music with his glvoes hands as he two-stepped into the operating theatre. The shaman on his table attributed his magic to his ancestors and the gods--magical thinking from a weak mind lacking education, that was all that shit was. The only things that his ancestors had given him were the fibrous muscles under his skin, the smattering of moles on his back, his failing vision, the hard skeleton upon which the rest of his meat was stacked. Meat was what came together to make more meat, meat that would eat the other meat to keep it's own meat going. Marvellous meat stacks, that's what people were; maarvellous meat stacked on magnificent bones. As Nathandiel separated the meat from the shaman's bones, his fingers sliding into the warmth as a different warmth washed through him, he thought about how magical the body was and how magical the creator of all that meat must have been.

Music...bones...bones and music...and magic...magic meat and bones...Drinn come home and touch these bones with me...touch these bones and feel this meat. It's marvellous....

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When Nathandiel had been at boarding school, it had been common for the boys to get up to business with each other--in light of there being no girls around to get up to business with. From what he knew, most of his school chums had ceased to bed their friends when they went on to University and were put to school with their feminine counterparts. Nathandiel had taken up with girls then too, but he'd never lost the desire for his own sex. As much as some in his life had blamed his taste for men on the circumstances of his education, he felt confident he would have liked other boys anyway.

And I really like this boy.

He removed himself from Baalthemar's mouth and laid the other man down, even as excited as he was he took his time baring Baalthemar and making him naked. He favoured him with kisses, stopping some times, shirt half-off or pants half-down, just to hold Baalthemar's cheeks and kiss him.

Baalthemar reminded Nathandiel of Pascal and the knowledge that somewhere in that city Pascal was living his life and doing so not so far away anymore made Nathandiel kinder in how he handled Baalthemar. Baalthemar looked nothing like Pascal, but his kindness and conscientious thoughtfulness was similar.

Baalthemar had planned a special date night or them, a treat that Nathandiel wouldn't have received from anyone else. While he couldn't go quite home, he could visit the city where home was. Once there in a safe place he could love on the young man he'd taken up with, surrounded by the sounds of the city, the smell of the harbour, and the familiar feeling of the cities linens and cultural decor. He could be himself there, even if just for a little bit; and that was one of the sweetest gifts anyone had ever given him.

Baalthemar hadn't agreed to his request--he hadn't said no, but he hadn't said yes either; so it was possible that right then might have been the only time he could have Baalthemar near to his home. He took his time, prolonging the act. He endeavoured to caress every inch of Baalthemar and discover where each freckle laid, where each muscle's delicate prominence made his flesh slope, and where each scar had faded in attempt to hide amongst the rest of that lovely flesh. He blessed each find with a butterfly kiss.

When he had Baalthemar he had him without urgency, torturing the younger man by denying him their mutual climaxes. He wanted to make Baalthemar moan, warble, and maybe even a cry a little bit because of the sweetness that he whispered to him. He wanted the tenderness to be excruciating.

I like this boy. I like him a lot.

He didn't have to hold Baalthemar down as he allowed himself to let go of the slow control--Baalthemar clung to him. When they went, their chests were pressed so closely together that Nathandiel couldn't tell his own thumping heart from Baalthemar's.

A night at home. A night of rest.

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It should have been harder to get that good a view of the playground. Even without the false pretense, a strange man with a turned-up collar lurking at trees only yards from where young boys played should not have been so simple to do.

Sixty grand a year and it was this simple?

He was off on his estimation of playtime by a half of an hour--either that or the mid-afternoon schedule had changed. He lurked where the school's wood met the polished grounds. He'd passed a troupe of older boys on a nature walk with their schoolteacher, carrying notebooks and spyglasses. They had pointed small fingers at the trees, discussing bird-songs and arguing over feather colours. Boys, out on a bird-watching trip, each dressed in their athletic uniforms baring the colours of their school. He hadn't spotted the boy he was looking for amongst them. He'd been gone long enough though that the boy could have been--children grew like weeds.

When he had spotted Daniel his heart had quickened and he'd felt actual pain in his chest. Daniel hadn't grown, not much anyway, and that was what had given him away, even more than his black hair and his mannerisms so like Nathandiel's own--he hadn't changed from the version of Daniel that Nathandiel had held in his memory. Daniel had only just recently weathered his seventh birthday, and yet he was still small for his age. Nathandiel could see though that the boys didn't tease him for being small, no, not with the way the little black-haired boy commanded them at their game of jacks.

Quick. Such a fast hand. Ann, do you see how fast he is?

His nephew was small, fast, and if the laughs of the boys around him were genuine, he was also funny. Nathandiel was so pleased as he watched them play that he didn't realize he was crying until the salty tears met his mouth, his lips parted in a grin--a proud grin. He missed Daniel, he missed him so very badly. He wanted to go to him, pick him up and hold him as closely to his breast as he had when they'd last seen eachother, closer even.

Ann was dead, Daniel's father had also died. Before he'd left, Daniel had been causing his grandparents--his own Aunt and Uncle--a great deal of trouble. Daniel could be a volatile child, prone to foot-stomping, hair-pulling, furniture-kicking tantrums. Nathandiel could calm him, and he'd spent a great deal of time with the child, filling in as a father first when Richard had died, then again when Ann had followed.

I was his father before that.

True. When Ann had failed to kindle Richard had gotten on with other women. He'd planned to annul the marriage, and Ann, terrified, had gone crying to her mother and to Clara. The women had not believed the fault to be Ann's, for she had, unbeknownst to her husband, once been with child, albeit one that had been lost very early, so early they hadn't been sure that it had not just been a big, fat, unusually dark clot that she'd passed on her moon. "So she can conceive. It's him that can't." Clara had said on that night when Nathandiel had found himself beset upon by all three women.

Their plan had been simple; to keep Richard from leaving, Ann needed to conceive. If Richard's seed was useless regardless of the soil it was planted it then they needed another tree from which to produce the new fruit. " gave me a son." Clara had said, one side of her slim mouth turned up in a coy smile that had been grossly inappropriate to him. That had been the smile she favoured him with when she enticed him, when she brought up her skirts and parted her thighs so he could bow before her. It had been the look of a woman working her God-given enchantments, but it had not been her thighs that she wanted him to venture between. His wife had wanted him to to bed his own cousin.

And they had talked him into it. Ann's desperation, her begging, her tears, had been too much for him to deny her. So he'd had her. It had taken only eight attempts over the course of a three month period for a moon to pass without blood. It had been Richard's fault, and the women of his house had gotten what they'd wanted--an heir to the Herrington fortune that was of their own blood; The line hadn't needed to be muddied. They had successfully kept their problems in the family.

Richard was so happy. He was such a good father. Richard? Do you see how fast he is?

He didn't often dare address the ghost of the man he'd fooled, but Richard had loved Daniel and loved him as a father should have. He'd loved Ann too, and loved her properly once he'd learned that she was to bring forth a child for him. He'd made mistakes, but Richard had been a good soul and Nathandiel did not think that in death, with all the truth it brought a soul, that Richard Herrington did not still love his son. Nathandiel had made Daniel, but he was not his father.

He watched his nephew until the boys were called back into the school. He lingered until sun-down, eyes on the window of the classroom he thought the product of his sin sat in, waiting and being anything but bored. He was rewarded for his wait by having gained a glimpse of Daniel as he and a gaggle of boys that he seemed friendly with made their way from the school proper, up the hill, and into the dormitory. In that glimpse he'd seen Daniel smiling, and that was the image he took with him as he stole away into the city and out towards the borders he needed to cross again.

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“Repulsive, halfling child.” The nurse snarled. “It’s ears are stubby and it’s eyes are blue!”

Nathandiel held the swaddled child, tucking the discoloured, over-washed blanket under the infant’s chin. They didn’t attend to children in the Undercity and so the new baby had no blue blanket to betray his gender, no little hat to keep his head warm, or teeny, tiny socks knit by retired mothers to keep his footsies toasty against the cold.

Only angel’s hair upon your head.

He lowered his nose to the wailing infant and inhaled the new, signature smell of a new child. It was a heady aroma that could not be duplicated anywhere else in nature, an aroma Nathandiel had been given the privlidge to experience only a few times before. The little boy’s dark wisps of hair were so soft against his nose that he almost didn’t feel them. He brushed his lips against the child's soft, breakable skull and kissed just barely. He smiled and curled one finger over the boy’s fat little cheek, stroking away just a little bit of after-birth that he’d missed when he’d cleaned the baby up.

“There, there. . . .” he purred, ignoring the nurses who stared after him. They’d grown quiet at the bedside of the dead woman, watching him instead of attending to her as he wandered away from her open legs, the gore that was spattered on her thighs and down to the floor ignored, her lifeless body limp and cooling now that it had done it's last deed.

“Such a pair of lungs on you!” He exclaimed to the tiny boy, unable to help but grin. “Such screams. You will be a mighty warrior indeed, just like your mother.”

The paladin woman had hidden not only her illicit rendezvous with a human male, but also her pregnancy. The efforts she’d taken to avoid gaining noticeable weight and the stresses she’d suffered keeping her secret had cost her in the end—she hadn’t been robust enough to survive the birth, not when the hidden baby had come early and feet-first. He hadn't met her before, even right then when he held her son he still didn't know he name, but she'd come to him on duty for records and the baby had started to come. As well-built as she had been, and as hard as he and his nurses had tried to help her, she hadn't been strong enough for the ordeal.

“But you were.” He whispered to the child, running his finger tips over the boy's tiny brow as it screamed itself purple, oxygen flooding it’s lungs for the first time. “You are very strong, yes, a sturdy little man with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes.” He was oblivious to the women behind him as he beheld the little, unexpected creature. How long had it been since he’d held an infant? How long since he’d brought life into the world instead of seen it to the exit?

“Doctor Dah’Lorei. . . .” he didn’t hear the nurse at first, the little boy’s wailing mouth had found the tip of Nathandiel’s finger, closed around it, and began to suckle. “Doctor—"

He looked up at the women, angry at them for interrupting the moment of entry that all children were deserving of, for speaking at all once the child had silenced itself. He glared at them through narrowed eyes, his sweaty fringe over his brow, and his lips pinch with disdain--and they shrunk back visibly. Well, two of them did, the other did not.

". . . do you . . . want us to deal with it?” The younger, elven one--the defiant one who'd spoken poorly of the new child--asked and he saw that she held a pillow. Involuntarily he turned away from her to shield the suckling infant from her, his eyes on the young woman and then on the pillow she meant to smother the little baby with.

". . . he is at least half one of your own, one of our own!” he admonished her. “He’s healthy, pink, and whole and you want to ‘deal’ with him!?” He was angry with her and she coloured, dropping the pillow and putting her hands behind her back and lowering her gaze. How dare she offer to deal with anything. Nathandiel looked at each of the women in turn, daring them to suggest such measures again.

As the baby suckled at his finger tip, latching forcefully, Nathnadiel's rage withered and his attention returned to the unnamed boy. Where his face had been a mask of anger it became one of rapturous joy. The child sucked harder, and Nathandiel could see it's brow wrinkle. It would become frustrated soon when it's stomach received no milk; Nathandiel needed to feed it.

“. . . No. No I don’t wish you to deal with him," he spoke to the nurses as if he had not been angry with them just a moment before. "Deal with her instead. Clean her up and prepare her for disposal. I will deal with the child.” They moved to touch the dead woman and he clicked his tongue against his teeth twice, getting their attention. "And do right by her . . . I'll do poorly by all of you."

As he left the room with the little bundle the women did not follow or call out after him. They didn't question him when he signed the death certificate for both the woman and he child. After they had taken the body away and he'd signed the certificates, he went to his office and plucked the small boy from his make-shift bassinet. He held him and offered the bottle, the boy took the artificial nipple eagerly and began to feast while Nathandiel rocked him slowly from side-to-side, the action as soothing to him as it was for the feeding infant.

"Not too'll be colicky," He murmured. "What will I do with you small boy? I'll confess to you that I don't yet know, but I assure you, tiny prince, that I won't let them near you." The child only gobbled, oblivious to the death of it's mother and oblivious to the fact that it's faith was very much in the hands of a stranger.

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