negromanzia | A Debt and a Gift

The realm of Cocytus was a cold, dark, barren little island in the midst of a river, which made it quite to the taste of the god-thing that owned it and not at all to the taste of anyone else. Cocytus made certain to meet her guest upon the shore, welcoming the senior deity who was not quite her liege.

"Ereuvir," she said, in a voice reminiscent of things that bubbled in the dark depths of caves. Her rags fluttered as she performed a slow bow. The gray, tattered hood that covered her head served also to conceal her face and the elegant, swollen, contorting blisters that her guests found so strangely unpleasant. Cocytus simply could not understand the universe's lack of appreciate for her beauty and wonders. "Welcome. I have such a thing to give you."

A gift that was not quite a gift. Cocytus owed a debt after all, which was not the sort of thing that Cocytus liked, and recently she had come into possession of something else that she did not like. Cocytus liked suicides, and she liked them to be as self-loathing or as depressive as possible. The particular despair that came from those who had turned violence upon themselves was a vintage sweeter than any Cocytus had ever found, and the rest of the gods were happy to let her collect her little tragedies. Except that one of those tragedies, lately, was proving to be such a thorn.

Well enough, then, that Cocytus was expecting a visitor, and one with very different taste. Debt and thorn could be bundled up together and handed over to Ereuvir, and Cocytus could go back to basking in the soothing misery of her precious island.

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"So you think to trade your body for luxury, safety? Or perhaps you think you can twist me around your fingers just because you fuck well?" the obscenity falls cold from his mouth, along with a grinding push back against his ass, vulgar.

Unlike the questions before it, this one seems colder, more like a test of some kind.

Ashley growls at that, the sound of an angry kitten, and scuffles briefly against Ereuvir's grip. "Fucking," he's too irritated to find the words, and he huffs for a moment, sulking in Ereuvir's lap. He's scared now, of failure and of being merely ordinary, neither a great beauty nor particularly interesting when compared against the ranks of history. Nothing but a momentary diversion, soon forgotten. The thought made Ashley burn with indignation and terror. "I was offering more than that."

Not surprisingly, the struggle gets him nowhere. Ereuvir might as well be carved from stone for all he moves him. Ereuvir lets him struggle, both physically and with the words to try to explain, but in his terror, Ereuvir finds what he was looking for and a moment later, he shifts his hold, and now he's got a hand tangled in all of that hair, using it to yank his head to the side, deliberately brutal and uncomfortable, but not quite painful, unless he struggles too much, of course.

"There," he breathes and it's likely more of what Ashley was hoping for, voice low and covetous, "Show me what lights you on fire. I have no use for burnt out torches and less for someone going through the motions or doing what they think is expected of them. I care nothing for what you look like. Burn for me, and then you will have what you wish of me."

The kiss that follows is inescapable but, soft, once he's moved into a better position for it, completely at odds with the way Ereuvir has touched him so far.

Ashley's breath is quick and scared as Ereuvir wrenches his head to one side, but the fear only spurs his temper and pride. As Ereuvir kisses him, softly, Ashley yields a little, spreading his legs a little wider and hooking both of his feet around Ereuvir's calves in half-unconscious appreciation. He likes being handled like this, likes the possessive hold balanced against the soft kiss.

And yet the instant he can speak again, Ashley's temper bubbles over. "How dare you compare me to a burnt out torch."

Ereuvir laughs to that,

"Well, then never give me reason to again," he throws back, in challenge, before he bites into the meat of his shoulder, sharply, though not quite enough to break the skin, just enough to work a bruise there, even through his shirt. He tears said shirt down one side in the next instant, not at all painful, but violent and sudden, and places a kiss over the skin he's just abused.

"I like you better like this than you posing for me. If you are insistent on coming to my bed, I want all of you there, not just the parts of you that are pretty. I would not force you to share my bed, but if you wish to come there of your own free will, I will have your honesty, there. You will face the truth of yourself. It is what I do. It is what I am."

Ashley's mollified by the laughter, because he doesn't mind being laughed at half so much as he minded Ereuvir's accusations. Ereuvir's attention is back where it belongs, on him, and Ashley's pleased by it.

He moans at the bite, arching against Ereuvir and writhing in his lap, wanting more of such treatment. "I like posing," Ashley argues, having no intention of ceasing prettiness and posing just on account of Ereuvir finds it less honest. It is a sort of honesty, for Ashley, and he doesn't intend to give up any aspect of the things that please him. "Force me to share your bed," he huffs next, still sore over the things Ereuvir said. "As if it was your idea."

"I am merely laying out the terms," Ereuvir says, evenly, "You may make of them what you wish. I want your honesty and your fire, not your beauty. I want all of the dark things underneath your skin and inside your heart," it's said low and dangerous into his skin, but he's also got his hand more properly between Ashley's legs now, "And if you stay here, I will not give you the choice on whether to show them to me or not."

It is not a threat, or even really a warning. It is just the truth.

But then, it also doesn't seem like he needs any further convincing, either, if the way Ashley's shirt is now a ruined mess hanging on his shoulders is any indication, or the way he's leaving lesser bruises to the first up his neck.

Ashley makes a soft, breathy laugh at that insistence. He's warm and relaxed in Ereuvir's arms, basking in the touches and the attention. "Oh, are we finally on the same page?" he asks, playful and slightly challenging. "That's what I was offering in the first place."

Rolling his hips into Ereuvir's hand, Ashley turns his head to press a sweet, tempting kiss to Ereuvir's jaw. "Anything less sounds so awfully boring."

"Well, I would hate to bore you," it's said with a bit of sharpness, if only because of the difference in their power here, but it's clear that it's more playful. He's not really some kind of dictator unable to enjoy a situation where he's not controlling every last element nor one for throwing around his power overly much. He's used to power and to his power being absolute. There's little need for him to prove himself to anyone.

He is also used to is mortals saying one thing to him and quickly changing their tune once they figure out what that entails. Plenty of people are perfectly fine to bed you right up until they figure out what that means. Plenty of people beg for mercy until they realize that, sometimes, compassion cuts every bit as deeply as contempt. He is not sure that Ashley isn't going to be someone who changes his mind, once the reality of his situation sinks in. Ereuvir is not human and he knows full well that that means his reactions to things don't always line up with the expected, that he can be hurtful or callous or even cruel without even meaning to.

But Ashley seems insistent and Ereuvir isn't opposed. It seems silly to refuse something for a dead man's good, counter to both their wishes and your own.

So his hands make short work of Ashley's pants so he can get that pressing hand down inside them, stroking him almost idly. They are alone and have been this whole time, but he seems entirely unconcerned that the door is still open and that there are occasionally the sounds of servants moving through the halls. He knows they will not be disturbed unless he wishes it, but Ashley does not.

Ashley’s fully aware that Ereuvir holds all the power, and the only card Ashley holds is his ability to charm. He trusts that will be more than enough. It always has been in the past.

Pleased by the touch, Ashley writhes happily in Ereuvir’s lap. He doesn’t care that he’s in full view of the door. Ashley’s always been an exhibitionist, and he’s proud that he’s secured Ereuvir’s attention and interest. The king of the underworld. That’s an ego boost all on its own.

The only sour point is the deep ache in Ashley’s heart, longing for his brother. He doesn’t even know whether Arkady still lives, but can only assume he doesn’t.

Which makes Ereuvir the best way for Ashley to find him again, and a motivation that Ashley neglected to reveal in their negotiation. Such a tiny little detail. All the rest of it is true, after all. Arkady or no, Ashley wants a place at the king’s side.

He turns his head, sweetly nuzzling at the side of Ereuvir’s throat. “My king.”

Ereuvir nuzzles back a bit and then shifts to add more bruises to the first on Ashley's neck. He doesn't seem to be a particularly brutal lover, at least not for the sake of being brutal, but there's a caged viciousness in some of his movements, not so much painful or violent as just committed, inexorable.

His grip on Ashley's cock turns a little firmer, more purposeful, the other arm wound around his chest to hold him tighter against him. Ereuvir isn't doing a whole lot of moving, other than his mouth and that hand, but it's clear from the way he's got Ashley pulled down in his lap, that that's because he's letting Ashley do most of the moving for him as he writhes.

He makes a small, amused sound at Ashley's title for him, but he doesn't correct either the designation or the possessive, at least not at the moment.

Ashley's willing to do most of the moving for him. He does like a challenge, as long as it pleases him, and he likes the opportunity to show off how limber he is. Grinding against Ereuvir's lap and up into that hand, Ashley loses himself in the pleasure of it, enjoying the physical sensations and the focus of keeping a steady, undulating motion that doesn't falter even as he tires and grows increasingly distracted and aroused.

No longer bothering to pay quite as much doting attention to Ereuvir, Ashley trusts himself to the arm around his chest and the hand around his cock, breath coming a little quicker as he gets close to the edge.

Ereuvir makes a pleased noise once Ashley relaxes into the pleasure more, even if he is, paradoxically, working harder for it.

He has had many, many flatterers, many people with pretty words, many people who have offered him something like this in exchange for something else: power, usually, wishes, occasionally. He perhaps likes it as much as anyone would, but he doesn't trust it, and he doesn't trust people wielding it.

But this? This is honest, pleasure for the sake of pleasure, and if there's a little bit of proving oneself, it seems more like it's just that Ashley wants to show off, more than he wants to impress him, specifically. Perhaps he's just fooling himself, but the illusion at least allows him to enjoy it more openly, himself, moaning low in Ashley's ear.

While he's certainly been interested this entire time, he's much more clearly turned on, the less of that doting attention Ashley's giving him and the more he's just grinding in his lap, losing himself in pleasure.

"Give in to it," he purrs, dark in his ear, "Be as loud as you want, give all of them something to gossip about," picking up on that exhibitionist streak isn't particularly difficult.

Ashley shivers and laughs, smiling wide at Ereuvir's encouragement, and he's still laughing a little, breathless and easy, as he comes. Shuddering in Ereuvir's arms, he loses his rhythm but keeps moving, writhing and squirming until he finally sags back against Ereuvir's chest, dizzy and worn out.

Tilting his head back over Ereuvir's shoulder, Ashley gives a little sound of contentment and tilts his head to kiss Ereuvir's throat. "Oh, I do like you," he murmurs, offering the praise as though it was Ereuvir who was trying to win Ashley's favor rather than anything else. Relaxed and content, Ashley doesn't have any intention of moving. This is his lap now, and he's comfortable.

That laugh does more to cement his place in Ereuvir's bed than any single other thing he has done.

His mouth raises bruises across the nape of Ashley's neck, heated, while he finds his pleasure, but he's almost doting, himself, in the aftermath. He's still hard, but he's utterly unconcerned about it, they have all the time in the world and he's in no hurry. He'd much rather toy with the edges of overstimulation, makes Ashley protest it a little before he stops stroking him, or just keeps right on making him squirm if he lets him, and plant warmer, longer kisses over the marks he's left with his teeth.

Ereuvir radiates the same kind of contentment, and he chuckles softly to Ashley's comment,

"It would be rather bad for you at this point if you didn't," he points out, lazily, before withdrawing his hand and wiping it carelessly on Ashley's pants. He lets Ashley bask a moment longer, but then he's picking him up into his arms and standing, effortlessly. He makes no effort to really put Ashely's clothing back to rights before he's moving through the house with him, headed fairly clearly towards his bedroom.

Ashley enjoys the overstimulation shamelessly. He whimpers and trembles in Ereuvir’s lap, enjoying the too-intense pleasure with a hint of masochism.

When Ereuvir lets up, Ashley’s still twitching with aftershocks. He nestles close in Ereuvir’s arms, curling one hand around the side of his throat with his thumb pressed up under Ereuvir’s Adam’s apple, and starts sucking a mark of his own onto the other side of Ereuvir’s throat. He’s in disarray, but doesn’t care who sees. Erotic dishevelment is a far more acceptable state than muddiness, after all.

It is, perhaps, a bit of a bold move, to presume to mark him. But Ereuvir doesn't seem to mind, to the point even that, while he doesn't come close to dropping Ashley or anything, it's clear to feel the shudder that moves through him at the touch, the way it distracts his limbs from what he's doing for a moment.

There certainly are servants that see the two of them but, wisely, they seem to barely look or acknowledge what's happening, mostly just because of how well-trained they are.

Ereuvir's bedroom is not entirely in black, but it certainly dominates, along with dark, old wood. Ashley is deposited on the bed and his clothes pulled off without much ceremony, until he's naked on something exquisitely smooth against his skin. Ereuvir leaves him there, to go start pulling off his own clothes rather more methodically. Ashely could get up and help, fairly obviously, but also fairly obviously, he looks fantastic with the backdrop he's been given to preen and roll around on.

Ereuvir must have done it on purpose, for he looks slightly amused by his handiwork as he slowly reveals a body more suited to a statue than a person, but his eyes never leave the picture he's painted across his bed.

Ashley lounges back against the sheets, stretching out and closing his eyes in pleasure. The physical indulgence of the bed appeals to him very deeply, and the aesthetics of it suit him likewise. Ashley knows very well how pretty he must look, with long red hair spilling out around him and long limbs stretched artfully across the bed. He's a very pale young man, with dark red hair at his groin and beneath his arms. There's almost no hair on his chest, and the hair on his arms and legs is faint and sparse.

Ereuvir criticized him for posing, but Ashley's disinclined to care. His posing is an indulgent, pleasurable thing, because Ashley likes the feeling of it, and if Ereuvir prefers his view a little more sprawling, well, he's welcome to toss Ashley's limbs accordingly.

Lifting his head only once he's thoroughly taken his pleasure of lounging, Ashley smirks a little at the sight of Ereuvir mostly undressed, with a very impressive body to show.

Ereuvir is unmoved by posing for the sake of seduction or coquetry, thinks it's ridiculous and a bit shallow, stupid. But this is art, pale skin and dark sheets and the slash of red hair like a scar across the night sky and he takes great pleasure in art.

It makes at least some amount of sense. He, himself, seems molded out of classical Greek principles, like he's just stepped down from some sculptor's platform. Even his cock seems lovely and well-proportioned to the rest of him. It's almost enough to make one think that maybe his heart is made of marble as well, or that he's somewhat untouchable. But there's a bruise fading on his neck that says otherwise, as well as the predatory way he crosses the room to settle on the bed.

Once he's back in touching distance, he draws Ashley the rest of the way to him and wastes no time pulling him into a deep, heated kiss.

Ashley makes an appreciative noise as he's pulled into a kiss and claimed. He yields to it willingly, squirming closer and winding his arms around Ereuvir's neck. He presses their chests together, a little surprised that Ereuvir is as warm to the touch despite the cold marble appearance of him.

Pleased by his possessive and predatory lover, Ashley tangles one hand into Ereuvir's hair, nails scraping across the scalp and fingers grasping, not caring in the slightest if his musses Ereuvir's dark hair.

Grinning and panting as the kiss breaks for a moment, Ashley keeps from making any glib comments if only because he's too busy breathing, and he kisses Ereuvir again a moment later, greedy for more of those heated kisses.

Although he's certainly busily and thoroughly claiming all of Ashley's mouth for his own, it's very clear Ereuvir appreciates the hand in his hair, moans low into Ashley's mouth at the tug of his fingers. While Ereuvir seems like a man used to wielding power, he also seems like a man with so much power that he ceases to care about things like seeming powerful or people's opinions of him.

There's another low moan when Ashley joins the next kiss and he drags him in a bit more, hands running along skin, exploring a bit while they kiss. He seems in no hurry to go anywhere other than this, like he could just keep up these deep kisses for an eternity and do nothing further, though he does eventually tuck Ashley a bit closer via a squeezing hand to his ass and a bit of a warm chuckle.

Finding him a bit of a humorous lover is probably something of a surprise. Hopefully it is not an unpleasant one.

Ashley giggles in reply, light and unselfconscious, and nips at Ereuvir's lower lip.

"All these great claims you made about my limits and unraveling me." He doesn't remember what Ereuvir actually said. "Turns out you're a rather sweet kisser." Ashley gives him a wicked and playfully taunting smile, wanting to see if he can spur Ereuvir, and to find out what will result if he does. After all, Ashley has never been satisfied with having things safe.

"Hm," he considers that for a moment, "perhaps I just intend to test the limits of how far you'll let me go before you'll whine for more, rather than beg me to stop. I'm so used to being begged to stop," the last is said almost off-handedly. He pushes some hair out of Ashley's face tenderly, his fingers sliding into the strands gently for a moment before his hand tightens and he tugs, leaving a biting, kissed trail down Ashley's neck, but from a new angle from in the chair,

"What would you like to beg for?" he asks, low and sensual. He's not really expecting a straightforward answer, but he's curious what the answer is going to be all the same.

Ashley takes a moment to think it over, leaning his head into Ereuvir's grip and sighing with pleasure at Ereuvir leaves more marks upon his neck. He doesn't want to risk being mundane by asking for some deviant kink that Ereuvir has found boring for a dozen centuries, and he also doesn't want to ask for something that he could receive from any ordinary, human lover.

"I think begging should be a spontaneous thing, don't you?" he says instead, playful and challenging. He knows that he's toying with a predator, and he's enjoying every moment of it. "You're welcome to make me beg."

Ashley's fingers roam over Ereuvir's body, lightly questing with caresses that are skilled enough that an ordinary lover might miss the methodical aspect of them. He's searching for sensitive spots and ticklish areas, curious as to what will make the marble statue squirm or groan.

"What would you like me to beg for?" he asks, calm and conversational because he's not dodging the question, he's only buying time, and he doesn't mind if Ereuvir notices. He wants to know more about the god of the underworld, and his preferences, and he wants to take a little more time to turn over the real question Ereuvir asked of him--what would he like?

Ereuvir chuckles to that, can tell that Ashley is looking for spots to make him moan or writhe. The truth is, there's little of that for him in the way of spots that are overly sensitive or specific, singular things that make his blood quicken. He does not need to have sex, often goes a very long time without even desiring it. He is not designed to procreate or to need to have sex for it's own sake and so he rarely bothers.

What he is designed for is to try to understand humans, all their intimate, dark desires, how to best plumb the darkness of the soul. And, for humans, there is this need or fear, an almost mystical set of rules and thoughts, nearly a religion around sex and sexuality and so, like all things human, it fascinates him. He does not have any specific places Ashley finds, but he's making low, pleased noises just at the touch of his hands, an easy and interested lover, once he decides that he would like to be one.

"Something you don't think you should want," he answers, and it would be, perhaps, easy to see it as some kind of diversion, himself not answering the question, except there's no denying the tone, covetous, almost a little breathless, his own hands more clinging for a moment, "Something it scares you to ask for." The second is hungrier still, the words spun out against his skin, Ereuvir unable to stop himself from tasting him again a moment later.

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The King and the Matched Set

October 2018

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