ML Manga Challenge response

[emthornhill]

A special thanks to Roo and Foggynite. Their suggestions were truly
taken to heart in this story. If you consider this good. Thank these
wonderful ladies!

If you are not on the ML this fic will not makes sense. It is basically a what-if scenario, what if Daryun worked for the other side...


Breathe
Author: RoninBrat

"So, what brings you here, Daryun?"

"The coming war," I simply offer.

"Ah, yes. I've heard some frightening things."

I observe Narsus as he walks nervously around the table, putting it
between us, his artist's fingers tracing along the edge. Avoiding my
eyes as I study him. Had he already heard about my change of loyalty?

"We need you, Narsus."

His elegant brow rises; he still avoids my eyes. "Who needs me,
Daryun? Which idiot is it you fight for?"

"Hermes."

A laugh passes those lips which I once claimed as mine. Almost
nightly, so many years ago. In need; in passion; in ownership. He
still belongs to me, I can tell his feelings are still there, despite
the years.

"Hermes? You are trading one mad king for another, Daryun. Why not
Prince Arislan? Usurp Andragous, replace him with innocence."

"Why indeed?" I start. "Why, because Hermes' madness was born of his
need for revenge. The crown is rightfully his. He has as good a head
on his shoulders, Narsus. He's not afraid of the fight before him. He
is what our country needs and you are what Hermes needs to succeed."
By the end of my little speech, Narsus has leaned his tall, slender
frame against the wall. His arms are folded across his chest. He now
studies me.

"I never thought it possible," he whispers, "the great Shogun Daryun,
the defender of innocence, the black knight... I never thought it
possible he would change sides." A smirk crosses those lips as he
looks away, beyond me. "Hermes must be quite the man to sway you,
when your lover could not."

It is I who look away. I regretted letting him go, regretted letting
him go without telling him I loved him. I could tell him now, that
the nights could be ours once more. But again my traitorous tongue
will not speak for me.

It takes me a moment to realize Narsus' head is shaking a negative as
he mouths a silent 'no.' "I cannot, Daryun. Hermes has reaped nothing
but destruction since crossing our borders. What kind of King would
he make for these people? He's shown little regard for human life,
for his future countrymen."

"Then show him, Narsus, show him the way to obtain the throne without
further bloodshed. Make it your mission."

"No." A sigh escapes his parted lips, as he leans his head back
against the wall, closing his eyes. "Perhaps, had he come to me in
the beginning, maybe I would have said yes."

He pushes off the wall, walking to the table and picking up his
discarded goblet of wine. This he drinks down swiftly. I had noted
earlier the redness of his eyes. This was not his first sip of the
strong liquid.

The act of drinking gives me time to move up behind him, to wrap my
arm about his waist. He does not struggle as I press up against him.
I say no more, I just bury my face in his hair, inhaling his scent.
So many memories surface in this simple act.

I'm surprised when he grasps my hand, pulling it down toward his
crotch. I do so willingly. None too gently I grasp him, feeling his
heat through suede. The goblet slips from his fingers, quickly
forgotten, dropping with a clang to the floor. He throws back his
head against my shoulder. With my free hand, I untie his sash,
opening his tunic, swiftly moving to find his nipples.

Both our hands move inside his tan britches, working simultaneously
to bring him to fulfillment. Then it will be my turn; I will fuck him
and make him scream my name and then...I refused to think any further
than the moment.

His hips buck, thrusting his cock into my hands, his growing erection
straining inside the pants. I intend to remedy that. Satisfied with
the state of his nipples, taut and perky, sensitive from my harsh
administration, I move my hand down and begin pushing his britches
below his hips. His squirming offers me enough assistance.

His moan fills the expanse of the small room. With his pants down to
his thighs and out of my way, I instruct him with a husky whisper
against his throat, "Place your hands to the side."

He obeys; he was always good about that in our bedroom, giving me
control over his body. I used it, pleasured it and a few times abused
it when the mood struck me. I feel the heat of his fingers as they
dig into the sides of my thighs with bruising force.

A picture of perfection.

Narsus at my mercy, surrendering to me. Trusting that I will gratify
him. And I do, as I roughly stroke and pull on his cock, kneading his
balls with calloused hands. Already I am hard and I know he can feel
it, as my cock presses against his back side. But it's not my turn,
yet.

I slow my pace, teasing the heated flesh with slow, deliberate
strokes. He starts to move one of his hands which I quickly slap
away. How easily he forgets my selfishness. "Mine," I practically
growl against his throat. "Mine to pleasure. Mine to release. No one
else's. Have you been true to me, Narsus?"

"Yesss," his voice all but hisses, tight with growing frustration.

And I believe him. "I'm going to fuck you, Narsus."

"Please, Lord Daryun."

"Tell me how you want it." An old bedroom game, one of many, this one
making him beg to be fucked, to be taken."All of it," he manages. A
gasp. His shudder I can feel down the entire length of my
body. "Hard. Deep."

"And so it shall be." A swiftness that left Narsus unbalanced, I
release his flesh and turn him to face me. I am instantly struck by
his beauty. His face flushed from the heat of arousal. I take a step
back, taking in the sight of him. His jutting cock over the band of
his britches, his open tunic, a nipple exposed, red from my cruel
attention. I make a simple command, "Undress."

He grows instantly wanton as he watches me through long lashes. He
too remembers our games. There is seduction in his movements, the
slow gliding of his tunic off his shoulders, letting it fall sedately
to the floor.

The slow, grinding sway of hips as he further removes his britches.
He never takes his eyes off me.

Licking the sweat that beads on my lips, my hungry gaze takes in the
entire length of him. From sable eyes, made bright by his reddish
brown hair, to golden skin covered with the sheen of his own sweat.
His cock, hard and coated, evidence of his desire. Always beautiful.

Taking a step forward I reach up and pull the binding that holds his
hair. Possessively, I run my fingers through the long tresses. He
watches me, a little sadness in his gaze. Does he know how this will
end?

Cupping his face with my hand, I bring our lips together for the
first kiss we've shared in years. I no longer want to play rough. I
want to love him gently and I know he now senses the change in me,
for his kiss is light, and full of love as well. It was a kiss not
about passion, but concerning embedded feelings, long unspoken.

I feel his hand grasp mine and the kiss breaks. He says nothing as he
gently tugs me toward the door that will take us to his room. I go
willingly, entranced. His nearness and my growing need to possess him
edging me further.

I have never visited Narsus here; not once in the three years he's
been gone. I probably could not explain my reasoning behind why, if
he were to ask. Right now though, questions were overshadowed by
desires.

Reaching his room, he releases my hand, leaving me standing by the
door. I watch as he seductively walks to the bed, crawling upon it on
all fours. He doesn't even look to see if I will follow.

Narsus' bed is massive and heavily quilted in silk and satin. It
would seem that some extravagance had followed Narsus here. My
thoughts are brought back to the immediate as I watch my lover of old
sink into that mound of extravagance. His cock presses into the bed's
softness as he exposes his ass to me. Closing the door, I bolt it. I
know not to where Elam has disappeared, and don't want his
interruptions. As I approach the bed, I undo the fastenings to my
uniform jacket, tossing it onto the chair beside the bed. Stopping
short of the bed, I remove my boots. This task I perform without
taking my eyes off Narsus.

Climbing onto the bed, I look down at the feast laid out before me.
From his golden back, down the length of his torso, to the sweet
mounds of flesh that will soon bring me pleasure.

Those twin globes grow firm as I possessively place one of my hands
upon the tantalizing flesh. If Narsus' words were true, then he would
be virgin once again. Just the thought rocks my senses as I recall
how tight he was. I clench my teeth, holding back my moan of desire.

Removing my hand long enough to bring one of my fingers into my
mouth, I take it in, adding moisture to a single digit, thoroughly
coating it with my saliva. It will be all he gets and he knows it. I
have always only given him minimal preparation. I will find that spot
buried in him. Tease it. Make him writhe and squirm. Make him crave
my cock, enduring the discomforts I know he'll experience when I
enter him. In the end we will both be thoroughly satisfied.

Returning my hand to his ass, my moist finger begins seeking that
virgin like entrance, and to distract him I lean forward and begin
planting soft, moist kisses along his spine. I lick his flesh with a
firm tongue. His body quakes with need and anticipation.

My finger having found what it sought, traces a circular pattern.
Narsus' hips rise slightly off the bed. I use the movement to press
in, rotating my finger once inside.

He moans into the bed cloth. I waste no time; I shove into him,
bringing my single calloused digit fully in his ass.

I hold position there, appreciating hot flesh around that digit.
Gods, it is going to feel good wrapped around my straining cock. I
didn't move again until Narsus squirmed, reminding me of my own
needs, of my own desires-- to pleasure him.

Sitting up to my full height, I reach around his waist with my free
arm and lift his ass. He settles back down on his knees, legs spread.
His cock is still semi-hard, dangling between his thighs. His face
still pressed against the bed.

Careful not to touch his pleasure spot, I focus on his inner muscles.
Loosening him up, preparing him for something much larger than the
single simplicity of my finger. His ass all but begs for me now, as
he presses against my finger, wanting me to touch him in that
intimate spot. Which I do. Narsus' whole body responds with a
jolt,

His hands fisting the quilt. I give him several strokes before he
begs, "Please, Daryun. Now!"

There is desperation in his voice; it matched my own. How could I
argue with such a plea? Removing my finger and hands from his flesh,
I instruct him not to move. Climbing off the bed, I divest myself of
my pants and tunic. My eyes never leave his body. Cock weeping with
need, cum having soaked through my black britches. I take the time to
use those juices to coat the entire head of my exposed cock. I can
feel his eyes on me, watching me through the fallen strands of his
hair. A shiver passes over his body again. A combination of desire or
a little fear? Maybe both.

Mounting the bed, I come up behind him, still coating only the head
of my cock. If I coat too much I will have difficulties holding back
completion as I guide my cock into his body. Reaching under him, I
grab his cock and balls, squeezing them together.

Anchoring him onto the spot. Ensuring us both he won't move anywhere
but back into me when I desire it. Placing the head of my moist cock
to his opening, I do not hesitate to begin pushing into his body.
Both of us strain, groaning. His thighs and back muscles are rigid as
he fights not to pull away. It isn't too much longer and I'm in deep
enough to began rocking in and out of him. Turning it into a gradual
claiming. To and fro, in and out. Deeper and deeper.

A soft sound escapes Narsus and I know he weeps once again at the
discomfort. I stroke his back, his quivering buttocks. I offer soft
words of encouragement. A few times I have to tug on his cock to keep
him from slamming into me. He wants to hurry, to rid himself of the
discomfort. I don't want him to bleed.

Patience won out for both of us as I feel his ass press into the soft
dark hairs surrounding my cock, my balls gently slapping against his.
I hold us there. Closing my eyes and feeling with my body. Soaking in
every detail of heat that surrounds my cock. "Gods, I've missed you."

Releasing his cock, I grab at the head, soaking my fingers with his
juices. This I use to coat the area around his straining muscles. Now
it is time for me to fuck him.

I engage in long, slow thrusts, making him feel every inch of me. The
movements would bring me to peak and then I shorten my thrusts to hit
that spot inside of him. With practiced movements between us, we both
will hit climax at the same time.

It had taken me a few months to train his body to come with me. He
had been young and inexperienced, ejaculating easily. I loved doing
that to him at the oddest, most inconvenient moments, at the King's
table, in the stables. Anywhere. Everywhere. He would get so angry
with me. But when we fucked, we came together or he was deliciously
punished. He never got release until I felt compelled to give it to
him. It was part of our bedroom games.

Feeling that explicit pleasure one feels when nearing climax, I
abandon all thoughts, shortening my thrusts. His head comes up off
the bed and his body becomes an active participant-- His enthusiasm
for riding my cock frees up one of my hands, which I put to use
quickly enough by leaning forward over his back, grasping his cock,
timing my ministrations to the strokes hitting him inside. He cries
out at the perfect unison of it all.

We ride this crest for a few very short moments before we both burst.
A gasp tears from his throat. His seed coats my hand and the bed, as
my own spending explodes inside him. We are frozen in time until I
push forward, burying myself deep, pushing us both down to the bed. I
want that warmth for a few more minutes.

Panting heavily, the bed vibrating from our struggles for air. Our
bodies are slick with sweat. I lie there, enjoying the feel of him,
his moans vibrating into my chest. I slowly gather strength to pull
out of him. Raising on my arms, I withdraw, watching as my cock exits
his body.

Collapsing beside him, I use the remainder of my strength to pull him
into my arms, and we both blissfully fall into slumber.

I awake to the sound of birds, weak sunlight filtering through sheer
curtains. Narsus must have risen and opened a window. The fresh
breeze does nothing to dissipate the smell of sex and sweat that
fills the room. Only a short few hours ago we coupled again, but that
time Narsus had been in charge.

Sighing, I move out of the bed. I must find the country's strategist
and complete my mission. I must try to persuade him to come with me,
to join Hermes. I must lure him away from the false King. Perhaps
into a future for us. For it is the future I fought for.

There is an urgency in dressing. I had at least a two day ride to the
border to join up with Hermes' forces. Hermes had given me very
little time to pull Narsus to our side.

Upon entering the lower level, Narsus' presence is not immediate.
Frowning, I open all the doors inside the small cottage. I know there
is another room or building, attached to the main house, but as I am
unable to locate an entrance, I head outside. I had seen another door
upon my approach to the cottage yesterday.

I stand before a door to a building that had once been a stable. It
is my assumption that Narsus has converted it to a studio for his
questionable paintings. I smile, remembering the ire I used to raise
in him whenever the subject of his art came up.

Standing outside that door, my smile wavers as I hesitate. I must use
all my abilities to convince Narsus to leave with me. But I know in
my heart that he will not. Angry at our current monarch he is, but
always loyal. He had been one of few that had high hopes for Prince
Arislan.

Reaching for the wooden handle, I pull up, releasing the latch.
Slowly I push open the door and find Narsus sitting on a stool,
paintbrush poised over a canvas. From the corner of his eye he looks
at me. "Good morning, Daryun."

Stepping into the room, I slowly close the door. "Lord Narsus."

Returning his gaze back to the canvas before him, he completes his
strokes. That is his only response to my behavior. "Back to
formalities I see."

I frown.

"My answer is still no, General Daryun."

I suppose, he too, can be formal.

Taking a few hesitant steps, I stand behind him and peer at his
painting. I stifle the surprised response as my gaze beholds Prince
Arislan. The gold crown of Pars in the background. I looked down at
his head and notice his state of dress. He is dressed for travel.
Looking around the room I see a packed saddle bag and his sword by
the door.

"So you've decided."

"Days ago." His only response. Setting down his palette, he picks up
a paint-streaked rag from the side of the easel. Dipping his brush
into a jar of water, he jiggles it around to rinse it. "You know," he
starts, as he wipes the wet brush. "It is not too late for you to
return with me to Ekubatana. Arislan has a forgiving nature."

My teeth clench at those words. A sudden sickness hitting my gut
angers me. I had thought it would be so easy to sway Narsus. To take
him away from this place. But I was wrong. Dead wrong.

"As does Hermes," I venture, turning away from Narsus as he stands.
My mind searches for words and it grieves me that I cannot find them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Narsus picks up his latest
masterpiece. He carries it to the wall and leans it there to dry.
Arislan has never been captured so perfectly. His blue eyes stare at
me. Challenge me. I see how Arislan will look in a few years. Wiser.
Not so trusting. But then it could be my guilt seeing something
that's not really there.

Guilt? What have I to be guilty about?

With the swiftness of a trained soldier, I come up behind Narsus,
grabbing him by the arm. I spin him so that he looks at me. He braces
against me, fist pushed against my shoulder. A weary look passes his
features.

Again no convincing words comes to my lips. I know in my heart there
is nothing I can say to Narsus. So instead I pull him roughly to me,
kissing his surprised mouth. Fate has deemed it our last kiss.

Pulling from him, yet still holding him tightly in my arms, I watch
as his eyes widen in shock and those warm lips I had just kissed part
in an equally surprised gasp. A mixture of pain and shock is etched
on his face. "There are forces at play here, Narsus. They are bigger
than the both of us."

I had intended to give him a swift death, not letting him suffer. At
war with myself, my conscience against the single blade I now hold
clutched in my hand, pulled from the sleeve of my tunic. The very
blade almost buried in his chest, aimed for his heart. My traitorous
hand refuses to obey me. Refuses to drive deeper.

He suffers. The pain shows in his beautiful face. "Daryun."

Resting my head against his, tears streaming down my face, I utter
words that mean nothing to him but everything to me, "I'm sorry,
Narsus."

There is a sound, one I will never forget, a sound overriding metal,
sheathing flesh, as I finally drive deeper... but it isn't the sound
of torn flesh. No. It is a simple sound, a small gasp escaping
Narsus' lips. A final gasp of breath. That last breath of my dying
lover that will haunt me forever.