sadly, these I wrote long ago
Sep. 16th, 2007 10:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrSo I can't actually use it for bragging rights. They probably show their age, but Kitty assures me they're still good. Sandstorm was actually the first bit of smut I wrote -- I just haven't been able to post it 'til now ^^;;
NWS, obviously
Sandstorm
Sahayl yawned tiredly as he finally climbed out of his bath. It was a luxury he still felt guilty about, but it obviously had been used in the distant past and before he could tell anyone no they’d gone ahead and repaired it for his use. It seemed silly to waste their efforts by not using it…
And after the long days, he was hard pressed to turn down the opportunity to soak in steaming water until the worst of his aches eased.
Being a Prince of Tavamara was spoiling him terribly.
Laughing softly, Sahayl grabbed a robe from where several were kept on hooks along the wall and strode into his suite. The bathing room connected directly to the wide room that was both bed chamber and private sitting room, styled very much like the room in which he’d stayed not so long ago in Tavamara. It was larger, decorated in a more Desert style in colors and patterns – in this the women had given him no say whatsoever, seeing to the matter while he was away in the sands.
Still, he liked it. Deep jewel oranges combined with browns and blacks, touches of dark gold. The overall effect was of a desert sunset. It never failed to make him smile.
His eyes, however, did not linger long on the room. Instead, they sought out and immediately found the three men who shared the space. Bahadur sat at a small table meant for holding wine and simple foods while lounging about the floor on cushions and pillows Currently Bahadur reclined against a handful of large, plush pillows, dressed in nothing more than the loose dark-brown pants his harem wore. The skirt that wrapped around the pants was lying discarded nearby.
Isra was much the same, sitting opposite Bahadur and sipping idly at the dark blue wine set out, his arm propped on one drawn up knee.
In the middle of the soft mat that occupied the lounging area, Shihab sat completely naked beside a bowl full of dark, shining liquid. Even from here Shihab could smell the sweet-spicy herbs that scented the massage oil.
“Sahayl. We were starting to wonder if perhaps the bath had decided to keep you for good,” Shihab teased gently.
Sahayl chuckled and obeyed as Shihab motioned him forward. Hands came from behind and pulled his robe off, Isra pressing a kiss to his throat and then between his shoulder blades before withdrawing completely.
Shihab wrapped an oil-slick hand around his wrist and tugged Sahayl down, smoothing his hands up his chest to settle on his shoulders, kissing Sahayl deeply before making him lie facedown on the floor. “Shadowfire…”
A last soft kiss to the back of his neck, then Shihab straddled his thighs and set to working out all the knots in Sahayl’s muscles. Sahayl fell easily under the spell of those too-clever hands, almost dozing, surrounded by the scents of spiced oil and his men. By the Lady, he would never grow used to the idea of being a Prince but he was willing to keep trying.
He stirred from his light doze as the hands shifted in the way they touched, less firm, more teasing and exploring. Sahayl drew a sharp breath, suddenly awake and far from relaxed. Nails raked lightly down his back, making him shiver, a moan escaping as Shihab’s too-knowing mouth sought out the most sensitive parts of his back.
The hands vanished briefly and Sahayl bit back a whimpering protest, shivering again as they returned slicked with more heated oil, Shihab’s fingers kneading the muscles in his back for a moment before turning back the more sensual touches and teases, working lower and lower until the hot, oil-slick hands reached his ass, teasing along the crack, slipping briefly between before retreating to continue teasing. Sahayl shifted restlessly, aching now with need, face flushed even as his thighs obediently spread at Shihab’s urging.
Several long, torturous minutes later, Shihab finally stopped teasing and pushed two slippery fingers inside him, making Sahayl gasp and writhe. The burn and stretch filled a deep need but not enough to ease it, only worsen, and Sahayl shifted back against the fingers in search of the more he needed and which Shihab would not yet give.
“Up,” Isra suddenly breathed, voice heated, thick. If Sahayl hadn’t already been hard, that voice would have done it. His face burned, for he would never grow used to such attention after so many years of being too scared to let anyone close, but embarrassment was not enough to stop him from accepting what they offered and did…especially since they always seemed to know better than he what he wanted. “Move so I can get beneath him.”
Chuckling softly, Shihab did as he was ordered and Sahayl fought a whimper as the fingers briefly disappeared and he was urged up to hands and knees. They returned an agonizing moment later, however, and the whimper became a hoarse, barely-stifled shout as a hot tongue explored his cock, fingers teasing at his balls. He gasped and moaned their names, gold eyes desperately seeking the one still missing. So long he’d gone with nothing, and now he was part of four. The thought would be more dizzying if heat and pleasure did not so fully occupy his mind right now, driving out even his shyness and embarrassment.
Bahadur’s calloused fingers reached out to stroke his face, brush away the hair that sweat had plastered to it. Sahayl tilted his head up, meeting the lips that took his in a fierce, possessive and adoring kiss. If there was anything left of Bahadur’s own shyness over this situation so strange to the Desert, he’d long ago ceased to show any sign of it.
Sahayl shivered as Shihab pressed a third finger inside him, the burn better than ever but still not enough. Sahayl kissed Bahadur harder, consumed and dizzy by all that has men were doing, all of it too much and not enough.
Then just as suddenly it was all he needed, fingers replaced by a long, hard cock as Isra swallowed him whole, Bahadur swallowing his pants and cries as though they were the finest wine. Sahayl rocked between the dizzying sensations, overcome completely by heat and need, the scents of spicy oil mingling with the smells of musk and come, dizzying, drugging. In front of him Bahadur stroked himself, making Sahayl shudder and move more restlessly than ever between all the pleasure that surrounded and overwhelmed him. He gave a hoarse shout as he came in Isra’s mouth, Shihab throbbing inside him as Bahadur shouted his own release, the scent of pleasure thick in the air.
What seemed an eternity and a second later, Sahayl finally remembered how to breathe, feeling boneless and lethargic as they all moved clumsily to the pile of cushions. He lay out with his head on Isra’s chest, hand resting lightly on Isra’s stomach as a hand combed through his own curls. “Saa, you will all be the death of me.”
Shihab chuckled from where he was shamelessly using Bahadur as a pillow. “What a splendid death it will be, though, hmmm our prince?”
“Not if I catch you cheating at taaki first,” Isra muttered, but the words held no heat, as lazy as the fingers gliding over Sahayl’s skin, still slick from oil and sweat.
Smiling, Sahayl reached up to kiss Isra briefly, tasting himself there and made dizzy by it. Always he would be humbled by the fact that this man, these men, who all could have been great and powerful in their own right, all chose to stay here with him. He did not deserve it, but he would not reject what the Lady had given him. Would do whatever was necessary to keep them.
Eventually Bahadur stirred, moving to fetch rags to clean them all, and grumbling good-naturedly at losing his pillow as Shihab sat up and poured wine for everyone.
Sahayl drank from the dish Isra held up to his lips, eyes locking with that so blue gaze, knowing what he saw there was reflected in his own, was in all their eyes. “Saa, desert rose. I believe you mentioned taaki? Shall we play for prizes?"
"Yes," Isra and Shihab replied promptly, fetching the game while the other drank wine and waited.
Chaos
"I was really scared of this place when we first visited it," Stefan said quietly, still feeling that he should not raise his voice.
The temple was deserted. Sasha had stripped his priests of all ability to foresee the future. No longer tied to Order as he'd once been, Licht had no need of priests. They were currently in Sonnenstrahl, under the ministrations of Drache and Fritz.
Still it was eerie. The obsidian walls and floor, the odd shadows cast by the few torches still flickering…and he remembered how cold and strange Sasha had acted, back then.
"You certainly had no reason to like it, sweet," Sasha said, squeezing his hand. He smiled faintly and stopped them in the middle of the small hallway through which they'd been walking. He reached up to tuck back a loose strand of Stefan's violet hair, then trailed his fingers along Stefan's cheek, making him shiver.
Sasha's touches always made him shiver, from the most casual to the most intimate.
Then Sasha closed the space between them and kissed him deeply, long and slow, taking over his mouth. Stefan clung, never trusting his legs when Sasha kissed him so. "Perhaps we should give you happier memories, hmm? I would not have you disliking your own temple, my shadow, my heart."
"Happier memories?" Stefan asked automatically, more interested in the way those long fingers were stroking his face, his throat, rubbing the soft linen of his shirt against his skin, his nipples. He dipped his head, moaning softly as the hand dipped lower still, stroking his now hard length through his breeches. "S-Sasha—"
Chuckling, Sasha pushed until Stefan collided with a wall, oofing softly, tightening his grip on Sasha's arm to steady himself, distracted by the feel of the tight muscles beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.
"I recall, a few years ago now, when I went to return a couple of books to the High Priest of Pozhar," Sasha said idly, as though they were reminiscing over tea. The tone was so at odds with what his hand was doing that Stefan shuddered "This was back when I was still a Duke, of course. Imagine my…surprise…when I caught two priests doing something rather…inappropriate in the main sanctuary."
"W-what?" Stefan managed, moaning, head dipping low, legs spreading wider as Sasha opened his pants and pushed fabric aside to explore him even more thoroughly.
Oh, Mercy of the Light – Sasha was stroking him in a temple. Stefan shivered and tried to tell himself why this was wrong, but through the haze of Teufel's memories…he was going to die from mortification and lust.
"This," Sasha said, then sank to his knees and swallowed Stefan down.
Stefan screamed, then clapped a hand over his mouth.
The temple was only supposed to be deserted, that didn't mean there couldn't still be people around. What is someone heard him? What if Drache or Fritz came by for some reason?
He could feel his cheeks burn, but it was as much from passion as from embarrassment, and he certainly wasn't not participating was he? Oh, he knew exactly how evil Sasha was but it nearly killed him every time.
Killed and humbled. Awed. He didn't care what Sasha said – he could have had whoever he wanted, if he'd ever crooked his finger just so. Sasha might not believe him, but he'd seen more than a few people look at his light with a certain spark in their eyes.
If they knew just how wicked his pretty mouth could be…Stefan would be using his powers as Teufel in less than strictly appropriate ways. The shadow he was now was not nearly as timid as the boy he'd once been.
"Sasha!" He shouted, forgetting to be quiet as he came hard, hands trembling on Sasha's shoulders. Slowly he slid down the smooth wall, into Sasha's arms. "You—that—we're in a temple, Sasha."
In reply, Sasha only laughed and kissed him.
Stefan felt warm clear through, to see Sasha smile and laugh in a way he never really had before. Sasha would disagree, but being Licht suited him.
"What is the point in being a god, sweet, if I cannot misbehave in my own temples?" His fingers once more dipped low, this time sliding over cock and balls to the entrance behind them, teasing him. Then Sasha bent his head to whisper low and husky in Stefan's ear. "Shall we go see what we can do with an altar, sweet?"
Moaning, Stefan attempted to shake his head, but in the end he could only whimper Sasha's name and obediently follow to see what they could do.
NWS, obviously
Sandstorm
Sahayl yawned tiredly as he finally climbed out of his bath. It was a luxury he still felt guilty about, but it obviously had been used in the distant past and before he could tell anyone no they’d gone ahead and repaired it for his use. It seemed silly to waste their efforts by not using it…
And after the long days, he was hard pressed to turn down the opportunity to soak in steaming water until the worst of his aches eased.
Being a Prince of Tavamara was spoiling him terribly.
Laughing softly, Sahayl grabbed a robe from where several were kept on hooks along the wall and strode into his suite. The bathing room connected directly to the wide room that was both bed chamber and private sitting room, styled very much like the room in which he’d stayed not so long ago in Tavamara. It was larger, decorated in a more Desert style in colors and patterns – in this the women had given him no say whatsoever, seeing to the matter while he was away in the sands.
Still, he liked it. Deep jewel oranges combined with browns and blacks, touches of dark gold. The overall effect was of a desert sunset. It never failed to make him smile.
His eyes, however, did not linger long on the room. Instead, they sought out and immediately found the three men who shared the space. Bahadur sat at a small table meant for holding wine and simple foods while lounging about the floor on cushions and pillows Currently Bahadur reclined against a handful of large, plush pillows, dressed in nothing more than the loose dark-brown pants his harem wore. The skirt that wrapped around the pants was lying discarded nearby.
Isra was much the same, sitting opposite Bahadur and sipping idly at the dark blue wine set out, his arm propped on one drawn up knee.
In the middle of the soft mat that occupied the lounging area, Shihab sat completely naked beside a bowl full of dark, shining liquid. Even from here Shihab could smell the sweet-spicy herbs that scented the massage oil.
“Sahayl. We were starting to wonder if perhaps the bath had decided to keep you for good,” Shihab teased gently.
Sahayl chuckled and obeyed as Shihab motioned him forward. Hands came from behind and pulled his robe off, Isra pressing a kiss to his throat and then between his shoulder blades before withdrawing completely.
Shihab wrapped an oil-slick hand around his wrist and tugged Sahayl down, smoothing his hands up his chest to settle on his shoulders, kissing Sahayl deeply before making him lie facedown on the floor. “Shadowfire…”
A last soft kiss to the back of his neck, then Shihab straddled his thighs and set to working out all the knots in Sahayl’s muscles. Sahayl fell easily under the spell of those too-clever hands, almost dozing, surrounded by the scents of spiced oil and his men. By the Lady, he would never grow used to the idea of being a Prince but he was willing to keep trying.
He stirred from his light doze as the hands shifted in the way they touched, less firm, more teasing and exploring. Sahayl drew a sharp breath, suddenly awake and far from relaxed. Nails raked lightly down his back, making him shiver, a moan escaping as Shihab’s too-knowing mouth sought out the most sensitive parts of his back.
The hands vanished briefly and Sahayl bit back a whimpering protest, shivering again as they returned slicked with more heated oil, Shihab’s fingers kneading the muscles in his back for a moment before turning back the more sensual touches and teases, working lower and lower until the hot, oil-slick hands reached his ass, teasing along the crack, slipping briefly between before retreating to continue teasing. Sahayl shifted restlessly, aching now with need, face flushed even as his thighs obediently spread at Shihab’s urging.
Several long, torturous minutes later, Shihab finally stopped teasing and pushed two slippery fingers inside him, making Sahayl gasp and writhe. The burn and stretch filled a deep need but not enough to ease it, only worsen, and Sahayl shifted back against the fingers in search of the more he needed and which Shihab would not yet give.
“Up,” Isra suddenly breathed, voice heated, thick. If Sahayl hadn’t already been hard, that voice would have done it. His face burned, for he would never grow used to such attention after so many years of being too scared to let anyone close, but embarrassment was not enough to stop him from accepting what they offered and did…especially since they always seemed to know better than he what he wanted. “Move so I can get beneath him.”
Chuckling softly, Shihab did as he was ordered and Sahayl fought a whimper as the fingers briefly disappeared and he was urged up to hands and knees. They returned an agonizing moment later, however, and the whimper became a hoarse, barely-stifled shout as a hot tongue explored his cock, fingers teasing at his balls. He gasped and moaned their names, gold eyes desperately seeking the one still missing. So long he’d gone with nothing, and now he was part of four. The thought would be more dizzying if heat and pleasure did not so fully occupy his mind right now, driving out even his shyness and embarrassment.
Bahadur’s calloused fingers reached out to stroke his face, brush away the hair that sweat had plastered to it. Sahayl tilted his head up, meeting the lips that took his in a fierce, possessive and adoring kiss. If there was anything left of Bahadur’s own shyness over this situation so strange to the Desert, he’d long ago ceased to show any sign of it.
Sahayl shivered as Shihab pressed a third finger inside him, the burn better than ever but still not enough. Sahayl kissed Bahadur harder, consumed and dizzy by all that has men were doing, all of it too much and not enough.
Then just as suddenly it was all he needed, fingers replaced by a long, hard cock as Isra swallowed him whole, Bahadur swallowing his pants and cries as though they were the finest wine. Sahayl rocked between the dizzying sensations, overcome completely by heat and need, the scents of spicy oil mingling with the smells of musk and come, dizzying, drugging. In front of him Bahadur stroked himself, making Sahayl shudder and move more restlessly than ever between all the pleasure that surrounded and overwhelmed him. He gave a hoarse shout as he came in Isra’s mouth, Shihab throbbing inside him as Bahadur shouted his own release, the scent of pleasure thick in the air.
What seemed an eternity and a second later, Sahayl finally remembered how to breathe, feeling boneless and lethargic as they all moved clumsily to the pile of cushions. He lay out with his head on Isra’s chest, hand resting lightly on Isra’s stomach as a hand combed through his own curls. “Saa, you will all be the death of me.”
Shihab chuckled from where he was shamelessly using Bahadur as a pillow. “What a splendid death it will be, though, hmmm our prince?”
“Not if I catch you cheating at taaki first,” Isra muttered, but the words held no heat, as lazy as the fingers gliding over Sahayl’s skin, still slick from oil and sweat.
Smiling, Sahayl reached up to kiss Isra briefly, tasting himself there and made dizzy by it. Always he would be humbled by the fact that this man, these men, who all could have been great and powerful in their own right, all chose to stay here with him. He did not deserve it, but he would not reject what the Lady had given him. Would do whatever was necessary to keep them.
Eventually Bahadur stirred, moving to fetch rags to clean them all, and grumbling good-naturedly at losing his pillow as Shihab sat up and poured wine for everyone.
Sahayl drank from the dish Isra held up to his lips, eyes locking with that so blue gaze, knowing what he saw there was reflected in his own, was in all their eyes. “Saa, desert rose. I believe you mentioned taaki? Shall we play for prizes?"
"Yes," Isra and Shihab replied promptly, fetching the game while the other drank wine and waited.
Chaos
"I was really scared of this place when we first visited it," Stefan said quietly, still feeling that he should not raise his voice.
The temple was deserted. Sasha had stripped his priests of all ability to foresee the future. No longer tied to Order as he'd once been, Licht had no need of priests. They were currently in Sonnenstrahl, under the ministrations of Drache and Fritz.
Still it was eerie. The obsidian walls and floor, the odd shadows cast by the few torches still flickering…and he remembered how cold and strange Sasha had acted, back then.
"You certainly had no reason to like it, sweet," Sasha said, squeezing his hand. He smiled faintly and stopped them in the middle of the small hallway through which they'd been walking. He reached up to tuck back a loose strand of Stefan's violet hair, then trailed his fingers along Stefan's cheek, making him shiver.
Sasha's touches always made him shiver, from the most casual to the most intimate.
Then Sasha closed the space between them and kissed him deeply, long and slow, taking over his mouth. Stefan clung, never trusting his legs when Sasha kissed him so. "Perhaps we should give you happier memories, hmm? I would not have you disliking your own temple, my shadow, my heart."
"Happier memories?" Stefan asked automatically, more interested in the way those long fingers were stroking his face, his throat, rubbing the soft linen of his shirt against his skin, his nipples. He dipped his head, moaning softly as the hand dipped lower still, stroking his now hard length through his breeches. "S-Sasha—"
Chuckling, Sasha pushed until Stefan collided with a wall, oofing softly, tightening his grip on Sasha's arm to steady himself, distracted by the feel of the tight muscles beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.
"I recall, a few years ago now, when I went to return a couple of books to the High Priest of Pozhar," Sasha said idly, as though they were reminiscing over tea. The tone was so at odds with what his hand was doing that Stefan shuddered "This was back when I was still a Duke, of course. Imagine my…surprise…when I caught two priests doing something rather…inappropriate in the main sanctuary."
"W-what?" Stefan managed, moaning, head dipping low, legs spreading wider as Sasha opened his pants and pushed fabric aside to explore him even more thoroughly.
Oh, Mercy of the Light – Sasha was stroking him in a temple. Stefan shivered and tried to tell himself why this was wrong, but through the haze of Teufel's memories…he was going to die from mortification and lust.
"This," Sasha said, then sank to his knees and swallowed Stefan down.
Stefan screamed, then clapped a hand over his mouth.
The temple was only supposed to be deserted, that didn't mean there couldn't still be people around. What is someone heard him? What if Drache or Fritz came by for some reason?
He could feel his cheeks burn, but it was as much from passion as from embarrassment, and he certainly wasn't not participating was he? Oh, he knew exactly how evil Sasha was but it nearly killed him every time.
Killed and humbled. Awed. He didn't care what Sasha said – he could have had whoever he wanted, if he'd ever crooked his finger just so. Sasha might not believe him, but he'd seen more than a few people look at his light with a certain spark in their eyes.
If they knew just how wicked his pretty mouth could be…Stefan would be using his powers as Teufel in less than strictly appropriate ways. The shadow he was now was not nearly as timid as the boy he'd once been.
"Sasha!" He shouted, forgetting to be quiet as he came hard, hands trembling on Sasha's shoulders. Slowly he slid down the smooth wall, into Sasha's arms. "You—that—we're in a temple, Sasha."
In reply, Sasha only laughed and kissed him.
Stefan felt warm clear through, to see Sasha smile and laugh in a way he never really had before. Sasha would disagree, but being Licht suited him.
"What is the point in being a god, sweet, if I cannot misbehave in my own temples?" His fingers once more dipped low, this time sliding over cock and balls to the entrance behind them, teasing him. Then Sasha bent his head to whisper low and husky in Stefan's ear. "Shall we go see what we can do with an altar, sweet?"
Moaning, Stefan attempted to shake his head, but in the end he could only whimper Sasha's name and obediently follow to see what they could do.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 03:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 03:30 am (UTC)Crap, I have to go back to my reading now. And guess what it is? The Bible, New Testament, for my medieval history class. Oh, I'm going to hell.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 07:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 11:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 08:51 pm (UTC)...so now, of course, my brain wonders what would happen if say, someone got frisky in the wrong temple...
no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-18 12:53 am (UTC)damn. i may need a few hours to recover enough english to compliment more than well... *damn*.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-18 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-14 01:51 pm (UTC)Tavamara Royalty: Work hard, play hard. ^_^ I'm so glad that
Shihab orchestratedSahayl found these particular men to be the ones to help him with all the... hardness. Um, yeah. Also, I love that they play for prizes.^____^ As if they aren't ready for sex at just about any time, already.Temple sex. I was just re-reading the comments... interestingly, this neither surprises, nor scandalizes me. It makes perfect sense, that a god would celebrate the sacred love he has for his love, his other half, in the temple erected to honor the god's chosen one. Really, it is almost like Sasha is worshiping Stefan, which is beautiful and moving. Though we all know Sasha owes Stefan for his godhood, but as a god, he certainly wouldn't have to give him anything, much less any form of veneration or servitude. That he gives it... is love. ^______^