Wild Game (3/3)
Characters: Halsin/OMC
Warnings: Dubcon Rated: E
Words: 2416
Part III
The moon rose.
Around him, the forest seemed to sigh as the ritual wore into night’s deepest hours.
Halsin, sated, was uncertain he had the stamina for more hunting this night. Even the prospect of a year’s passing without another’s touch didn’t move him. The bear was lazy, and not given to a great deal of forward thinking, and sometimes that served him ill. Perhaps he would spend the rest of the night in meditation, listening to the moans emanating from the dark.
So he was thinking as a lithe figure crossed the path ahead of him. Tall--though not as tall as Halsin--and nude as the day he was born. Another hunter.
He carried a bow of beautifully carved ironwood. He had to be rich, important, or terribly beloved to carry such a weapon.
Halsin leaned forward and the minute sound of his thigh brushing a maidenhair fern stopped the elf mid-step.
The hunter turned, the watery moonlight a glimmer in his blue-green eyes. He was young, Halsin realized. As young as he’d been his first time. A century, perhaps.
As if sensing Halsin’s gaze, the young elf tilted his head fractionally, the moonlight illuminating his high cheekbones and the clean angle of his jaw. Halsin sucked in his breath; the youth was beauty personified, a demigod in flesh.
The hunter jerked his head at the noise, raising his arrow to point into the shadows where Halsin crouched. Eyes narrowed, he bared his teeth.
The druid smiled, his lassitude forgotten. This one showed promise.
Halsin emerged from the shadows, his silver-tipped club resting on his shoulder, a slight smile on his lips. They locked eyes.
The ritual of the look was a battle of wills, and if the will of prey and hunter were both resolute, could go on for minutes. The young elf did not wish to lose, but Halsin was older, wiser--and stronger. Yet the youth wouldn’t concede, even as the moon began to lower in the sky and the night grew stiller, paler--fading almost to dawn.
Urgency nearly broke Halsin’s will; he must have the youth, his loins insisted, before day broke and the ritual ended. His own mind betrayed him with images of taking the young elf on the ground between them, feeling the hunter shudder beneath him as they climaxed together.
But Halsin remained firm and something in the other elf wavered and he dropped his blue-green eyes to the forest floor, his lips twisting bitterly. Defeat.
With a growl of victory, Halsin closed the gap between them in a single stride, grabbing the youth’s fine bow, nocked arrow and all, and tossing it aside as though it were dead wood for kindling.
Up close, the wildness in the elf’s eyes was apparent. Halsin wondered if he was drugged--but no, it was panic. He even smelled of fear and why not, if it was his first Wild Game? Tenderly, Halsin took the youth’s chiseled chin in his hand, tipping it so their eyes met again. Words were forbidden, but with his gaze he made the youth understand that he was safe, that no harm would come to him. At least, nothing that wouldn’t heal after a few days of rest.
He started slowly, his hand moving up to caress the youth’s temples and then down his throat, the firm plateaus of his chest muscles, pausing to circle the young elf’s hardened nipples. The youth gulped audibly, but he didn’t flinch or break away. That was good--to turn back now was to desecrate the Leaflord’s offering.
Already hard, Halsin leaned forward to kiss the youth, and half of him still marveled at his beauty, even as the other half was distracted by his other qualities. The barest moan escaped his pillowy lips as Halsin teased him with his tongue. The druid dragged his hand through the youth’s dark auburn hair, as long and soft as a girl’s, eliciting another barely audible groan.
Now he trailed his hand downward, skimming the lean muscled ridges of his abs and closing around his hard cock, hot to his touch. The youth cried out, and the sound was both a plea and an exclamation. When he pulled away, need was written on his face, along with the fear Halsin had seen before. This youth had been ill-treated, once, Halsin realized. The thought enraged him, waking the bear within. He kissed the young elf fiercely, raking his fingers down his side, growling into his gasping mouth.
And then the youth fought back, pushing him hard against a lichen-slickened trunk. This was not in accordance with the ritual, but Halsin welcomed it, laughing in appreciation at the young elf’s spirit, his will to survive.
Smiling now, the youth took Halsin’s cheeks in his hands and pulled him into a deep, lingering kiss. Electricity shot through his body as their cocks brushed against one another, and it was Halsin’s turn to gasp.
The youth tracked his hand down the druid’s body, achingly slowly, still wearing a sly smile. The druid’s breathing became shallow and rapid as the young elf’s limber, strong fingers circled around his pelvis, knuckles just brushing against his balls. He knelt, his lips so close to Halsin’s cock that he could feel the hot sigh of his breath on it.
Halsin’s desire was building up into something dangerous, he felt, like an unslakeable fire that could incinerate an entire forest.
As if in answer, the youth took him in mouth, his tongue first hesitantly lapping the weeping tip of the druid’s cock, then his entire thick shaft. Halsin groaned, thankful for the support of the tree trunk behind him, as the youth ran his tongue up and down, holding the druid’s hips as they thrust rhythmically. He licked him as flames lick against a log, consuming him as he went.
He felt his climax coming, too quickly. “Stop,” Halsin said, breaking the ritual, but the hunter wouldn’t stop until his work was done. He took him in deeper, to the back of his throat, and looked up at the druid with those piercing eyes of blue-green, entreating him.
He lost control and came in the youth’s mouth, grasping the slick side of the tree as his body shuddered and spurted against his will.
The youth fell onto his hands and knees, gasping and wiping his mouth. A streak of black earth marked one lean thigh, up to the hip, like an ugly brand.
Halsin felt frustration and desire in equal measure, looking at the beautiful young elf crouched before him. This wasn’t how the ritual was supposed to go, but… it had all become a bit rote after all these years, hadn’t it? Worn thin, like a threadbare cloak.
As much as he wished to position himself behind the youth, to carry out the rite with a few powerful thrusts--and despite the pleasurable interlude, he felt eminently capable of doing just that--he also wanted to see into what territories this new approach led them.
The young elf regarded him from the ground, as though privy to his thoughts. He smiled--inviting, or mocking?--and Halsin made up his mind. They would complete the ritual but with perhaps a bit more license than the ancient priests had intended.
A growl in his throat, Halsin pinned the youth to the ground, looming over him, their faces nearly touching. He knew he was an imposing figure, and he used it to his full advantage. His big, callused hand found the hunter’s erection and he squeezed and stroked, enjoying the mingled pleasure and pain on the young elf’s face. As one hand worked, the other reached for the silver tipped club he’d dropped. The youth had a nice, polite dick. It was big without being offensively large; straight and long, clean lined as his beautifully worked bow. He took it into his mouth and the youth groaned, losing himself in the sensation of Halsin’s tongue sliding along his length, running his teeth ever so gently along the less sensitive length of his shaft.
Just as the young elf was about to lose himself, Halsin took his club and teased the silver tip against the youth’s ass. The cold metal made him gasp and struggle, but Halsin put all the weight of his muscled shoulders onto the hunter’s hips, pinning him down as he slid the first inch of the shaft inside of him.
It was nearly dawn, and the youth’s cry shook a flock of nearby ravens from their roost. The boughs of the pine trees loosed their silvery drops on the two figures below, who were insensible to the disturbance.
Halsin didn’t stop pleasuring the young elf with his mouth even as he began to thrust the club deeper and deeper into him, his own cock hardening with every thrust of the runed weapon.
The youth had begun to pant and moan, the volume increasing as the powerful druid put his weight onto him once again, pinning him down as sucked and thrust inside him at the same time. Deeper, and deeper still, until several inches of the club were inside of the youth, his face a mask of naked gratification.
His rhythm increased as he sensed the youth reaching his climax and at the critical moment, he pulled away from his cock and sank his teeth into the muscle of the youth’s inner thigh like a feral beast. The young elf sighed as he came, a strand of opals garlanding Halsin’s chest and neck. Halsin slid the silver-tipped club out from the young elf’s body and rested against his lean thigh as he caught his breath.
The sky was lightening; the ritual had ended. But Halsin still was not finished.
Slowly, he rose to his hands and knees, looming over the young elf. The wildness had returned to his eyes, but desire remained there, and now, too, trust. Halsin dragged his hand through the elf’s hair once again, kissing the back of his neck as he rose to all fours beneath him. Now, the ritual would be complete.
He was already hard again, and the youth was ready for him. Without preamble, he grabbed the youth’s pelvis and entered him, just a shallow dip at first, teasing himself as much as he was being careful not to injure him. Halsin knew his girth was too much for most to comfortably accommodate.
The young elf hissed in pain as he went deeper and Halsin had to remind himself to go slowly, gently. He was so tight. He rocked him, leaning in close to whisper sweet words into the young elf’s ear.
The first birdsong echoed through the wood as their tempo increased, and Halsin was fully inside him, gasping with every thrust, his hair, loosened from its binding, spilling across the youth’s back. His cries began to sound ever more urgent, pleading. Like the woman, he begged Halsin, “please,” as the druid’s thrusts became less gentle. The youth bowed his head, dropping his shoulders and raising his hips in a gesture of total submission, and only then did Halsin come, spilling his seed inside him for the second time.
When he withdrew, the youth’s face had been ground into the earth, leaving dirt in his dark eyebrows and grime across his cheeks, which Halsin brushed off tenderly before losing himself in another depthless kiss that tasted of wild thyme and chestnut honey. He wanted to break all the rules, to ask the youth his name, to travel with him--wherever he was going. To protect him from whatever it was that haunted him, perhaps even to avenge him.
But before he could speak, the young elf had broken away, snatching up his precious bow, thing of beauty that it was, and vanishing into the morning fog.
*
When Halsin returned to the grove, no one noticed that he was even sulkier than when he’d left. They were simply relieved to have his gentle tyranny over Kagha’s outright dictatorship.
“Please Master Halsin,” said the drow priestess, shaking him out of his reverie one dinner evening. She grabbed his arm. “Please,” she repeated, inevitably drawing into his mind the soft skinned woman and the beautiful, wild elf. “Don’t ever leave us again.”
And for some years, he didn’t.
*
Halsin, in his wild shape, paced from one side of his cage to the other. The opportunity to end Ketheric’s wickedness--finally, to end the blight he’d put on the land--had been simply too tempting to pass up. He would make the same decision again, though with perhaps more reliable companions. The distant, rational, elven part of his mind realized that, even as the bear simply raged at his incarceration.
Once the goblin spawn had discovered the entertainment value of baiting the bear, they quickly returned. Their torments did not serve to diminish the bear’s rage.
Just when the druid was almost entirely subsumed in the fury, he heard a familiar voice echoing down the cavernous hall. A figure strode down the stone steps to his cage, and before him, as though by some magic charm, stood the young elf, still carrying his beautiful bow. The bear’s anger faded to the background, and Halsin’s mind returned, dizzy at seeing him again.
He could not know him in his bear shape, but all the same the youth’s face crumpled in sympathy to see his wretchedness.
“He’s helpless, let him go,” he commanded the goblins. His voice so strong, certain. Had they met again in the forest, now, would the youth have prevailed in the battle of wills? Halsin thought the answer was perhaps yes. The goblins cackled and jeered. Halsin growled, for a battle was sure to follow. And it did, gods help them. The youth moved with a grace rare even among elves, nocking, drawing, and shooting in a single fluid motion. The walls were shining with goblin blood and the bear’s mouth full of foul entrails by the end of it.
When the last goblin was skewered by the youth’s arrow, a shot that pierced her skull right between the eyes, Halsin reclaimed his elven shape.
The youth’s eyes widened in recognition, but he said nothing as the druid whispered a few healing words. Halsin smiled, though he wanted to laugh, or perhaps weep. Both.
“You aided a bear without knowing whether it would savage you?” he said. The laughter bubbled up in him and he was helpless to repress it. Fate had brought them together, again, in this vile place--and where, now, would it take them?
