Warnings: Sexual Themes/Acts - Alcohol/Substance Use - Eludes to Traumatic Past / SA. Forced Servitude.. probably others that I'm forgetting.
The pirate lay on his back, staring up at Beledar as it shifted dark. The night had been a strange sort of wicked to him, he'd meant to take a dip in for the sake of a drink, and possibly a touch of flirting.. but what he had seen...
He couldn't stay. Not for the full show, not for the dancing afterwards. No, he'd nearly instantly shadow-stepped back to Dornogol, picking up a few things from his ship along the shore. A change of clothes, a large bottle from his personal stock... and a cigar box. These ones free of the poison that he knew those he had grown close to would scream at him for... these ones designed for one thing alone... make him forget who he was for a while... He'd traveled away from the town, along the rocky cliffs that overlooked the valley. Far out of the reach of Kobyss, of Nerubians... and even the Arathi or their other guests. Tucked up into an alcove, he stared at what amounted to the sky, removing the patch from his scarred eye, bright sapphire shining out next to it's jade twin. Popping open the cork on the bottle of whiskey, he poured himself a glass, swirling it, before setting it aside to pluck out a cigar with a dark purple wrap, smelling heavily of the opiates he used to oh so favor, along with a heavy currant undertone.
Lighting the cigar, he took a deep drink from his glass... then raised the strongly scented object to his lips, Inhaling, sharply, before leaning back, glass in one hand, and cigar in the other, allowing his eyes to drift closed.
~*~
"Professor Duskember, so glad you could make it. Dining will be at eight in the Great Hall, followed by a Ball shortly after, which will last most of the night. This evening's entertainment will be provided by the Therandian Quartet, and my dear collection of hosts and hostesses."
A figure comes into view in the haze of darkness, always the same bright smile, that so many warmed to, that sent a chill through to Jarethius's Core. A single gesture from the nobleman and he felt himself stepping forwards, offering a low, sweeping bow to the older gentleman as he was introduced.
"Jarethius here will see to your every need during your stay, Professor. I assure you he is one of my -best-. Well trained and eager to please."
Bowing at the waist, mismatched eyes met, and held the magister before him's gaze. The man looked to be an older elf, though not quite fully past his prime, he was beginning to show sign at the edges of his eyes. He had a kind face. From experience he knew that could be either good... or far more sinsiter than he dared think about. For now, he simply smiled, and with all the practice and precision he could muster, he slipped into the role required of him. "It is a pleasure to serve you this eve."
~*~
The memory was a dull ache amidst the haze, another drink, another deep draw on his cigar... The crack of a whip, the show he had run from.. and back to the memory...chasing the dragon to forget the present...
~*~
"Tell me about yourself, Jarethius..." The pair was walking through the large gardens of his master's estate, slow, calculated movements as the music played on within. The mage was looking at him with such a curious expression, he spoke in turn. "You have much potential beyond whatever this is, you know."
"I am not certain what there is to tell, Sir. My name is Jarethius, though I have been referred to by many other things. I am trained in the use of swords, pistols, and on occasion bows. Daggers, too, come with ease. I am skilled in court etiquette and sentry work. I have been a body guard, a taste-tester, and of course, as with tonight, an escort." He paused in a particularly floral archway, the roses, black with crimson tips along their petals, towering around them. His voice lowered as he shook his head, a hint of reddened marks shining just above the collar of his shirt as his hair swayed, before he pulled it back over the marks. "I am in my place, Sir. I know this well. But I thank you, for the compliment." He had to make a good impression. It had been drilled into him that morning. This was the professor his master wanted to teach his children. Make a good impression. Don't swive it up. Make him pleased before the business dealings... or suffer the consequences of failure.
~*~
Jarethius shifted on his back, his gaze slowly opening once more to stare at the shadow-clad crystal in the cavern's ceiling. The opiates were doing their job... and he was sinking further into the memory, the cross-fading haze taking him after denying himself for weeks.
~*~
He trembled as fingertips brushed across the lattice-work of red marks, some entirely too fresh, upon his back, his eyes squeezing shut as the mage spoke quietly. "I could heal these for you... I've dabbled in the priestly arts, and alchemy both, in my day...Though with that potential for darker magics that's inside you.. it might hurt you..."
"They don't bother me. Pain and pleasure... they are both.. attention." He lied, quickly, without thinking, as he turned to face the magister, slipping to his knees beside the bench upon which they sat, his hands sliding to rest lightly on silken robe clad thighs. "And... Please forgive me.. I do not wish to correct you Sir, but.. you are mistaken. I have no magical ability, trained or otherwise. My brother .. My brother received all of the ability of our line... and all of the privilege.. it.. It is why I serve. All that I am.. is a man.. The man you see before you.. who wishes to please you." His voice was soft, but strong, his gaze never looking away, not once. training keeping the mask heavily in place. This was his life now, and he was good at it.. if the professor would just stop digging and let him show him. Then, his master would be pleased.
~*~
Jareth groaned, arching slightly as the memories took a turn.. the pirate's breath catching as he envisioned hands upon skin, far less scarred then, save for his back.. the shadows around him moving, as he lay in the alcove, mimicking motions echoing in his drugged, hazy, half-dream.
~*~
"Down the side hall, back of the garden. He keeps me away from the others because of my prior status." The admission was quiet as he led the magister through the halls. Few along their journey bore similar marks, indeed, it seemed as if only Jareth held such 'gifts'... was he the only one the man struck? There was little time to express that question as Jareth led the man into his room. There was a large, round bed in the center, curtains hanging from the ceiling, barely hiding the chains that also hung there, the edges of the comforter hiding the ones that came out from under the bed. In the next room, left viewable from the bed, was the bath, a large number that one had to step down into, and a small porcelain toilet beside it, all viewable from anywhere in the room. To the casual observer, the idea of this room would be clear. If someone was in this room with the young man, they would see anything and everything he tried to do. It was an over glorified prison cell.
"Do they chain you to the bed when you sleep?"
"Not when I sleep, No."
~*~
The shadows removed what was left of his cigar and the drink from his hands, setting them to the side, before drawing the pirate's hands above his head, pinning them there as his memory played out the sensation of chains being wrapped around his wrists, the sensation of soft pillows beneath his form, legs splayed akimbo and pinned as....
Another low groan left him as his half lidded gaze stared into the open air above his form, hands bound, magic doing what those hands did not, raking and clawing, biting.. all without leaving marks, the *sensation* enough to send him into a wicked spiral as various figures appeared in that hazy vision... Recent faces seen.. The gentle touch mingled with wicked strikes, his breath catching again as he arched, a particular face clouding his drug-addled mind as the shadows brought that peak he sought... before collapsing back against the stone with a low growl.
Laying, panting for breath, he hissed as Beledar began to shift to light and the darkness fled once more. Sitting up, he grumbled. He'd never get that with him... Lucien... The boy was too gentle.. too sweet.. an open heart and a helper's nature... and the kind of aggression that was so hard wired into Jarethius at this point was something so very few could give. He sighed. He was going to have to clean up and sober up before he could return to that inn room. Lucien didn't like the smell.
But for now....
He peered to the side at the rest of that bottle.
For now, another drink.
