Oooooooo i gotta know what would happen if Nadeem tried to drug one of the ifrit lmao
Author's Notes | Takes place a few months into captivity. This piece is to be followed by a second part—one that is explicitly nsfw. EDIT: This is no longer a canonical story! but the whump is all yours <3
Only tagging my NSFW list for what this is about to become in Pt. 2 | @secretwhumplair @kixngiggles @whumpvp @thebewilderer @ink-and-salt
Nadeem hadn't exactly planned it. At all, really, but especially not like this.
The dining galley was raucous and warm, so many bodies with so many limbs all shifting in the same space with laughter and heat. The long, low table that spanned the length of the room was packed with ifrit, each folded up shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor. Bantering, bickering, and playfully fighting over the limited space as they passed back and forth plates of dried fruit, nuts, and strange pieces of hard bread made from saltwheat.
Lanterns burned brightly throughout the room, casting wavering shadows of orange light up the walls. In places even the windows flickered, churning with liquidy reflected gold that made the panes look as though they were on fire. Outside, where they had been opened to allow in the air, night was descending quick and heavy upon An-Nadr.
He watched it with the same resigned scowl as always, back turned to the ifrit's table. He was pressed into the narrow wedge of space between Yeezumon and one of the female crew members, forced to press close to his side in order to avoid touching her. The unpleasant heat of his thigh seeped through Nadeem's clothes, a point of contact that was making him feel more ill with every passing minute.
So when Yeezumon nudged him and told him to bring more wine, he took his cup and siezed the opportunity to leave without complaint. He stuck close to the wall, dodging careless limbs and spare floor cushions as he picked his way to the secluded part of the room where they kept the pitcher.
Another ifrit was filling his drink, and he spared Nadeem only a smug glance when he saw Yeezumon's cup in his hand. Nadeem tensed as he reached out and skimmed his fingertips along the cloth at his arm as he passed, the touch sending ant bites up his spine.
Then he was alone. And suddenly, bowed forward to brace against the table, he found himself staring at nothing as tears filled his eyes.
Just as quickly he blinked and wiped them away, letting out a shaky breath. Then he reached for the pitcher of wine and—
...and stopped.
Right next to the smooth clay vessel that held the wine, there sat a pitcher made of hammered silver. He stared at it for a long moment, fingers frozen in midair.
He could do it, he realized. There was no one here to witness it. And with Yeezumon disoriented, maybe...
Suddenly his heart was pounding in his throat. He glanced back toward the dining hall for just the briefest moment, then willed down his nerves with a shaky breath.
His fingers closed around the handle, and he poured the eerily glittering eadh into Yeezumon's cup. He filled it halfway, so much more than he had ever given Nadeem at once, and then set the pitcher back exactly as it had been before. He filled the rest with wine, checking to make sure that the red hid the strange glittering of the liquid's surface. Then he took one last steadying breath.
He schooled his face, and returned to the long table. He didn't have to pretend to scowl as he handed Yeezumon the cup, and settled unwillingly back into place beside him.
Yeezumon took the goblet, and spared him a glance that seemed to linger a moment longer than it usually did. Nadeem stared blankly ahead at the window, ignoring him, hands folded in his lap to keep them from shaking.
After a moment a hand snaked around his waist, and his breath hitched as Yeezumon pulled him closer to his side. He flinched as grey fingers reached for his face, the backs of his knuckles brushing down his cheek as he turned Nadeem to look at him.
Eyes darker than the emptiest parts of the night sky met his, something glittering in them that made his heart stop. And, seeing the look on Nadeem's face, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"You're trembling, little jackal. What's got you so worked up?"
His gaze was a little too intense, idly swirling the cup without raising it to his lips. There was an edge there, amused and knowing.
"Let go of me—" he snarled, trying to pull away from Yeezumon's hand.
The gentle caress immediately turned to a grip on his jaw that bordered on painful. He felt his heart pounding in his throat as Yeezumon turned his face back to him.
"Try again."
Nadeem's mouth snapped shut.
When he didn't respond, Yeezumon leaned in closer. Voice quiet in his ear, "Your heart betrays you, jackal. You should know better by now."
His pulse point was fluttering against Yeezumon's palm, hard and fast. Nadeem sucked in a breath, but refused to let his expression betray him any more than it already had.
But when Yeezumon lifted the cup to his lips, he knew it was over.
"Drink."
Nadeem stared at him, hatred coloring his face. He very much planned to spit at him, but Yeezumon immediately read his intention and pressed a thumb against his lips.
"I suggest you not dig yourself into any deeper a hole than you're already in, zanzadi." There was a threat in his voice, the edge from before growing darker, "Drink."
He tipped the cup to his lips, and Nadeem had only a split second to decide between swallowing or spitting it out—to decide between the eadh or the scourge.
In the end, his throat bobbed as he instinctively chose the former. Yeezumon loosened his grip on his jaw, but didn't remove the cup until Nadeem had swallowed at least three mouthfuls of the sweet, acrid liquid.
He was doomed. And they both knew it.
Then the hand at his jaw turned him to look Yeezumon directly in the eye, the flash of a grin, "You play with things you do not know how to win."
And then Yeezumon downed the rest of the drug himself.
