There was something unspeakably beautiful in the sight of sleek muscle sliding beneath bronzed Antivan skin. Lit only by the room's fireplace and candles, the assassin strained against the loops and knots of scarlet rope that tied him thoroughly down against the dark bedding beneath him. Tannusen watched in open appreciation, running the fingertips of one hand down over the warm planes of the darker elf's chest and stomach, over and over, almost... soothingly.
Zevran was his to stroke and restrain and pet, if only for the night.
"And?" he asked, once Zevran had relaxed again beneath his touch, almost lounging within his bonds, "Is that up to your standards?" Tannu's voice almost always held a purring quality, and now was certainly no exception, his voice sounding warm in the room's cooled air.
It wasn't often that he'd been able to use a real bed for this, in a real room, with real walls, even before his conscription. Trysts had been in closets and beneath furniture on cold stone floors, and only very rarely had involved a bed and the time to truss anyone up. Apprentices slept in barracks, after all, and the templars were always watching.
And so Tannusen had seized this opportunity with both hands, so to speak, pulling his scarlet ropes from his pack and backing the stronger elven man up onto the bed before either of them had even taken their boots off. The healer's fingers were nimble and fast, and they knew their way around Zevran's armor well enough by now to make stripping the other man quick and effortless.
A roughly-whispered, "You are mine tonight," had been more than enough to make the Antivan hold still for the proper application of soft-linen ropes, strongly-crafted and richly-dyed, but not slick like silk. Those knots would not slip and tighten when they weren't meant to, nor would they loosen, even if the strong Crow struggled to his heart's content.
And now, here he was at Tannusen's mercy, splayed out on the bed and already half-aroused by his own helplessness. "...My left hand is a little loose, I fear," Zevran replied after a moment of distracted thought, answering his question about standards. And with an amused look at Tannu, he added a sultry, "Ser."
Tannusen chuckled deeply, and gave the other man's inner thigh a pinch that made the Antivan's breath catch as he climbed onto the bed over him, looming. He pulled the knots on Zevran's left hand a little tighter with his right, splaying his own left over his willing captive's chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken a little beneath his palm as the bindings became something the assassin couldn't squirm free of. Zevran was truly at Tannusen's mercy all over again, and the mage felt himself harden a little faster beneath his robes and in the confines of his trousers at the thought that this was how it should be.
If Zevran wanted to be a servant to the man who had spared him, he could be a servant of a sort, at least behind closed doors.
"You are a beautiful man, Zevran," the mage purred as he sat back onto his knees, between Zevran's bound and spread thighs. Tannusen trailed his fingers over the other man's tattooed cheek and down his neck and chest as he moved, watching the minute shifts in the assassin's expression. "Your trust is perhaps the finest gift I have ever received in my life, do you know that?"
Zevran didn't immediately reply, he just stared at Tannu for a moment, breathing a little harder than before. "I..."
"Hmm," Tannusen interrupted his hesitant response, stroking the backs of his fingers up the underside of the other elf's growing interest. "But I wonder, how far does that trust go?" A sharp inhale from the Antivan as Tannu leaned down and placed a soft kiss against his toned stomach. "You know," he purred against that richly-colored skin, "as a mage, I am never unarmed. The same really can't be said for you, can it?"
"Are you trying to make me nervous, my dear Warden?" Zevran half-laughed, sounding just a bit on-edge. "Saying such things to a -- to a helpless Crow... you are going to give me fits. You know this, I hope?"
"Yes," Tannu smiled darkly at the other man, thrilling at hearing Zevran calling himself helpless so easily. "Everything, to me, has to be pushed," he spread his hands out over the Antivan's thighs, squeezing possessively, "quantified," a teasing nip at the man's hipbone, "cracked. Would you enjoy that, Zevran? I imagine it's been some time since you were truly pushed."
"What... ah..." Tannusen didn't make it easy for the Crow to speak, running his tongue hard and insistent along the crease between thigh and body, distractingly near swelling flesh. "What are you planning, you devious man?"
"Choose a word, Zevran," the mage sat back, untying his robes slowly and shrugging out of them, leaving only his dark trousers and boots to contrast with his pale skin. He selected a separate part of his sash and pulled it free of the rest before tossing the remaining large bundle of cloth aside. "You may need it by morning. I intend to make you cry for me."
Zevran's eyes were fixed on the long strip of black cloth, and Tannusen dangled it from his fingertips, waiting for a response. "...Silver," the Antivan arched his back with a surprised gasp as Tannusen wrapped his fingers around his length and gave it a single stroke as a reward, from root to tip and back down again.
"Very good," Tannu chuckled, "I thought you would know what that meant." This wasn't the first time he'd tied Zevran up for their trysts, but it was the first time he'd done anything half so thorough, and he'd very faintly worried that the Antivan wouldn't play along, cagey as he could be. Tannusen wished to dominate, not force. The pleasure was in the trust, in the willing surrender of power, as beautiful a gift as Zevran himself was.
"Interesting that you would choose a metal," he mused aloud, folding the sash until it was a flat sort of rope in its own right, about the same width as his thumb, before he began an intricate binding around heated flesh. Under and behind the soft sac, around and in front of it and around the base... Zevran shifted beneath his hands, but not in protest, the golden-brown eyes fixed on Tannusen's work were heavy-lidded and dark, and the soft velvet skin under Tannu's fingers pulsed softly.
"You are full of many surprises, my dear Warden," Zevran breathed, his accent thicker, warmer. "And what is this about metal?"
"Some of Orzammar's finest smiths are willing, as it turns out, to forge things that aren't armor or weapons, for the right price," Tannusen ran a finger over the bindings after it had been tied off, making sure they weren't too tight. "Especially if one can provide detailed illustrations of what one wants," and he slid back off of the bed and went to his discarded pack, aware that Zevran's curious stare followed him as the Antivan raised his head to watch.
The first item produced was tossed onto the bed beside Zevran, and it earned him an odd look, the cold metal coming to rest against the Antivan's warm side. "A metal plug?" he asked, incredulous, "This required a detailed illustra--" The next item made him suddenly go quiet, eyebrows raising, although Tannusen merely held this item up between his fingertips instead of tossing it over.
It was a straight metal rod, long enough to mean it and less than half the thickness of his little finger. There was a thick ball at the end currently held upright, and another, much thinner bit of polished steel curved off from just below the ball, arching out and then down for a short distance before ending in a wide ring that looped around the main rod's length. It looked more like a bizarre mage-contraption than something involved in sex, but Tannu was pleased to see a spark of recognition in the Antivan's gaze.
"Do you like it?" Tannusen asked with a sly smile, bringing it and the familiar vial of oil with him as he climbed back onto the bed. "I'm sure you're familiar with the practice, with your background. Adventurous mages can't be the only ones who get creative with divining rods."
"I have... tried such things before, yes," Zevran's eyes never left the cold metal as Tannu traced it over his own lips under the assassin's gaze. The metal was flawlessly smooth, almost liquid; perfect craftsmanship. He had acquired the commission through a series of dire favors done for various related dwarves in Orzammar, ending with the mage cheerfully illustrating the finer details of what he wanted to a very disturbed-looking dwarven smith who owed the family in question a lot of money. It had likely been less about the item itself, and more about having an elf request it with such specific measurements, mostly illustrated with his fingers, and occasionally creative gestures. It needed to be this long, and the ring this wide, angled like so...
"The extra part is rather fun, I think," Tannusen continued, as though discussing an interesting book he'd found in a shop somewhere. "It holds it in place, no matter how you move. It fits right... here," and he lowered the rod, tracing the cool tip just beneath the head of Zevran's heated flesh, pleased at the hiss of breath this earned him.
Tannusen set the metal aside, and lowered himself onto the other man's spread and bound form, capturing his lips. The body beneath him shuddered, hips pressing urgently up against the fabric of the mage's trousers as much as the ropes would allow. Tannusen rolled his in turn, grinding them together, slipping his hand between them to unlace his clothing and push it down until there was nothing at all between their lengths. He broke the kiss and nipped at Zevran's jaw, and then his throat when the other blond elf tipped his head back to expose it to him, his breathing already harsh.
Oil-slicked fingers didn't have to do much at Zevran's entrance to prepare him, practiced at relaxing key muscles as he was, but Tannusen took his time regardless, laving kisses and bites along the Crow's neck as first one, and then two fingers slowly eased in and out of the other man's body, helping him to relax slowly. The steel plug, once he was ready to insert it, was already warm from laying against Zevran's side, and the assassin groaned softly as the weight pressed into him, his breath hitching as Tannusen angled it against the now-engorged bump inside.
"Warden," Zevran shuddered, voice heavy with pleasure, "you are too devious for my own good, I think."
"I'll take that as a high compliment, coming from you," Tannu purred, "but... I'm not done yet."
Zevran made a strange sound a moment later, and then groaned throatily, writhing slowly in his bonds. "Wha... what is... ahh!"
"So I found something the great Zevran Arainai hasn't felt before!" Tannusen grinned against his throat, his fingertips against the end of the plug crackling with a low-level lightning charge. He didn't let up, and Zevran's writhing grew slowly more frantic, the steel toy pressed firmly inside at just the right angle. The Antivan panted raggedly, struggling--!
Tannu stopped the torture, suddenly, and Zevran slumped in his bonds, muscles trembling. "More?" Tannusen offered silkily, holding up his fingers for the Crow to see, and letting a single arc of energy jump between them. Golden-brown eyes widened a little in realization, but the pupils were blown wide with arousal, and his cock looked painfully hard in its bindings when Tannusen pulled away from him and sat back on his heels.
"Yes," Zevran's thick accent warming the word, the assassin tilting his hips up, shamelessly offering himself to the mage's whims, spreading his thighs as much as the ropes would allow. "That was..."
Tannusen lifted the rod from the bed, and held it up for Zevran's gaze to fix on it. "You know I'm going to do that to this, don't you?" he purred dangerously.
The only response Zevran gave was to thrust his hips up the last fraction that he could within his bindings, and nod, honey-brown eyes slipping half-shut as he whispered, "Please, Warden."
Tannusen wordlessly lit the rod on fire, letting it blaze for a moment, the flames reflecting in Zevran's suddenly-widened eyes. But still, no safety word was uttered, and Tannusen tipped his head to one side, sliding his free hand along Zevran's length, stroking, and making the other elf squirm beneath him.
The level of trust he showed even when Tannu acted like he may lower the still-flaming rod to his skin made something inside him feel... odd, and he allowed the flames to go out, keeping the too-warm rod well away from delicate flesh. Sterilized even as it was, now, it needed to cool down before use.
His free hand slid down to the plug again, sending the assassin into a writhing, panting mess with the soft hiss of the constant, low-level charge moving from the mage to the metal. The ropes creaked; Zevran's strength was rather impressive when he lost control of himself, it seemed, and the assassin was nearly mindless with it. His skin gleamed with sweat in the candlelight, and Tannusen leaned carefully down to taste the very tip of him, making Zevran cry out and jerk hard in his restraints.
Tannu let the head of the Antivan's cock slide over his tongue, sealing his lips around his shaft and not moving, knowing full-well that Zevran couldn't thrust upwards any more than this, the ropes already creaking to hold him down. And yet, holding this achingly-difficult position was the only way to stay within Tannusen's warm, sucking mouth, under the care of his devious, knowing tongue, even as the plug in him made him want to buck back down again, the low thrum of energy traveling through it making the Antivan's toes curl and his limbs shake.
Zevran would have come by now, and hard, and Tannusen knew it, were it not for his careful bindings around the other man's flesh. The Antivan sobbed his frustration, his tortured voice echoing sharply in the room over the crackle of the fireplace. If this kept up, the rest of the building was going to get an ear-full, despite the room's proper walls, and Tannusen wasn't done yet. He couldn't find it in him to care very much. Perhaps the others would enjoy the sound of the Antivan's cries as much as he would.
He disengaged with a final lick, and released the plug as well. Zevran slumped onto the bed, panting and shaking, and Tannu stroked his hand over the assassin's stomach, over and over, just as he had at the beginning, until the other man seemed to calm.
The other man's gaze fixed on the rod still held up in Tannusen's hand. It had cooled enough now, still warm but not hot, and Tannu slid his free hand down the Antivan's stomach one more time before taking up the vial of oil and dripping it down the rod's length. The oil spread nicely over the warm steel as Tannusen turned it, letting the excess drip off and onto Zevran's bronzed skin. Beautiful.
"How long has it been since someone has done this to you?" he purred, curious, as he took Zevran in hand and lowered the tapered point of the rod, just barely brushing the man's slit.
Zevran lifted his head to watch, still panting, his eyes catching the candlelight. "Like this? Never," the Antivan admitted, accent thick and heavy, his arms pulling fitfully at the ropes. "At all? Many... years," he sounded distracted, but most people would under the circumstances. Tannusen chuckled softly.
"It looks about as long as you are," he purred, "you'll feel it nice and deep, Zevran," his own breathing picked up a little when just the words made Zevran moan softly and tip his head back on the bed again. "Nice and deep. And as hard as you are, tied up like this," Tannusen slid his fingers down to the bindings at the base of Zevran's cock, then back up again, "it's going to feel... what would you say, about twice as thick as it is?"
Another soft moan from the assassin, and a slight raise of his hips, pushing gently up against the metal, and Tannusen felt himself smile darkly as he pulled the rod away to compensate, not letting him have it yet. "And then, once you're nice and full, I'll charge it with lightning, all the way in you. You will cry for me, won't you?"
"Yessss," Zevran gasped out, writhing a little in his bonds, his spine arching, "Just do it! Ahh, please!"
And so Tannusen did, slowly easing the smooth steel into him, adjusting for every twitch of Zevran's hips, up or down, to keep him from taking more of the metal than he wanted to give yet. He paused, frequently, until Zevran begged him for more, in part because the man begged so well and in part to make sure he didn't hurt him, swollen from the ties as he was. By the time it was fully inside, and the ring was finally slid into place around the other man, Zevran was a trembling mess and even Tannusen's hands shook as he gave the man a soft stroke around the metal rod.
"Amazing, Zevran," Tannusen purred, lowering himself so that he could place an open-mouthed kiss to the side his hot shaft, and a lick, and another kiss, Zevran making the ropes creak as he nearly thrashed under the sensation on top of everything else. The charge of a lightning-spell would undoubtedly break the man, at least for a short time, and Tannu would have been lying if he claimed the idea didn't make him red-hot.
Shifting, he climbed over one of Zevran's thighs so that he knelt at his side, the better to watch him fall apart, and set his fingers against the ball at Zevran's tip. "Ready?" he purred, threading his other hand into the assassin's dark blond hair beneath his head and getting a good, firm grip on it. He didn't want to miss any of this, and controlling even how much the other man could toss his head... well, that was something of interest too, wasn't it?
Zevran panted up at him, his eyes wide and the pupils dilated. "Do it," he whispered.
The first shock had him throwing his head back as much as Tannusen's grip would allow, his fingers clawing at the bedding. Tannusen gave him a moment to recover, and then did it again, starting up a slow pulse instead of a constant charge, drinking in the Antivan's reactions.
Whenever they weren't rolled back or clenched shut, Zevran's eyes met his, glazed and blown wide, and after only the fifth shock he whimpered Tannusen's name. But 'Silver' never came out of his mouth, even when Tannusen asked him if he remembered his word. All he could get was 'Yes, more, please'.
A charge so low it was barely even present, but constant now, had moisture gathering in Zevran's eyes as he tried to thrash beneath him. Tannu leaned down, kissing the promised tears away, murmuring encouragement and softly-menacing threats that left the other man shuddering anew, his fists in the blankets twisting so hard that the sound of tearing fabric reached Tannusen's ears. Had anyone ever seen the Crow so open, so vulnerable? It was not an emotional thing, the man was simply wrung-out, overwhelmed by the sensations his Warden inflicted on him. He had the power to put a stop to it, but chose to endure.
Finally, the mage let the energy flow a little harder, and let it keep flowing, and he didn't stop until he had Zevran's ragged screams echoing off the walls, the man struggling so hard against his bonds that he would undoubtedly be criss-crossed in dark bruising for days to come. Only then, did Tannusen have pity on him, canceling his spell. The man slumped back down again, trembling violently, tears flowing freely down over his temples and into his sweat-dampened hair.
"Would you like to come, Zevran?" Tannusen purred against his lips, once the man had somewhat recovered, panting hoarsely. He would need to un-bind at least that part of him soon, regardless, to avoid really hurting him, but the Antivan didn't need to know that. Rational thought had little place in a man's head while tied down to a bed.
"Please," Zevran gasped, "I need to..."
Wordlessly, Tannusen slipped the ring off the other man, and slowly withdrew the rod, hissing in an appreciative breath as Zevran's hips rose near the end as though to keep it. He couldn't help but hold the rod still at the end, letting Zevran thrust in the little shallow movements the ropes allowed, fucking himself on the last thumb-length of warm metal. The man cried out in frustrated pleasure, his voice hoarse, and Tannu captured his lips with his own, muffling the sounds.
Zevran's desperate sound in the back of his throat when Tannusen slowly pulled the rod out of range made a shudder run through the mage's entire body, and he ran his tongue along the tattoos on Zevran's cheek, possessive. "Mine," he whispered, setting the rod aside and taking up the ends of his clever slip-knot, his other hand still fisted in Zevran's hair, pulling tight.
"Yours," Zevran agreed in fierce whisper, his back arching, "yours!"
"For now," Tannusen added, a little unsettled by the sentiment as he pulled his head back to look at the other man, to watch him pant raggedly for air, drink in the way his warm brown eyes had gone completely unfocussed.
"Always," the assassin gasped, "just, please--!"
Tannusen pulled, and the binding of his sash came loose with a damp slide, his fingers immediately encircling the other man, stroking hard and fast while Zevran came apart, staring openly up at Tannusen as his entire body tensed; spasmed--!
The mage continued to stroke too-sensitive flesh even after Zevran had slumped back down, though his touch became more leisurely and gentle. It was still enough over-stimulation to make the Antivan half-heartedly try to squirm away, and he gave a small, pained hiss when Tannusen bent and licked him clean, flushed skin twitching beneath his tongue. Sadist as he could sometimes be when it suited him, as it did now, the mage sealed his lips around the other man's softening sex, and sucked gently on his tip until Zevran was reduced to soft, helpless whimpers that were as much pained as pleasured.
Tannusen eventually released him, although a dark part of him wished to keep torturing the man forever, just to hear those sounds. "Beautiful, Zevran," he purred, finally stretching out beside him, running his fingers up and down the Antivan's shaking body. Zevran watched him with fogged eyes, his lips parted for his ragged panting, completely flushed and debauched, sweat-slicked skin gleaming warm bronze in the candlelight, sculpted muscle still giving the occasional twitch. Tannusen let him catch his breath before sharing a lazy, satiated kiss with the still-restrained man, his nimble fingers sliding down between Zevran's thighs to carefully remove the steel plug still inside of him.
Zevran shuddered, and relaxed further as Tannusen tugged it free, and then turned to the ropes binding his nearest wrist, letting the slipknot go and gently rubbing the freed arm between his hands until Zevran removed it from his touch, laying it back down on the bed. He didn't reach for his other bonds, remaining passive while Tannusen released his limbs, one by one, repeating the process with the ropes around his body until the man was completely free, loose crimson rope coiled on the bed around him. The bruises were already forming, and Tannusen pressed a kiss to one, firmly enough to hurt a little.
He was a little startled when Zevran levered himself up onto his elbow, gaze resting openly on the mage's untouched hardness, damp at its own end. Tannusen followed his eyes, and then lay back under the urging of shaking hands, watching as the exhausted man climbed between his still-clothed legs and peeled his trousers further down out of his way. "Zevran?"
"Help me," the assassin rasped, hoarse from all of his yelling earlier, and he took Tannusen's nearest hand and put it on his head before going down onto his elbows, and taking the Warden in his mouth in one long, expert slide down to the root. Tannusen's boot-heels slid over the bedding, his fingers tightening in dark-blond hair as he felt himself slide into the back of the man's softly-fluttering throat. Zevran's eyes were fixed upwards on on his, half-lidded and languid, and still submissive to the mage even though he was already exhausted and sated himself.
The darkness inside of Tannusen clenched, and his other hand joined the first, taking a good hard grip that had to sting a little, even though the other man didn't show any discomfort. He pulled up, letting Zevran take a few quick breaths, and then shoved him back down again with a soft groan. Tannusen wouldn't last long now, not after all of that, even without having touched himself during Zevran's performance, and he growled out a warning between his teeth on another downwards shove. He was domineering, perhaps even a touch cruel, but he wasn't rude.
Zevran's only response was to run his fingers over Tannusen's hip-bones, sucking hard on the pull back. One more thrust, two, three, and then his world went white-hot as he briefly lost control of himself, spilling deep into the other man's throat and mouth as his thrusts turned shallow and frantic.
Spent, he slowly released Zevran's head and slumped back down, panting up at the ceiling.
He obligingly curled an arm around behind Zevran's shoulders as the assassin moved to lay beside him, pillowing his head on his shoulder. Both lay still for a while, catching their breaths.
"You... are a delightfully wicked man." Zevran eventually sighed, some time later, "You are aware of this?"
Tannusen just chuckled, the sound warm to his own ears. "So I have been told..."