[Infinity's End] Master and Commander
Sep. 27th, 2010 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsona/n: This particular piece is from my Infinity's End Trilogy. It's a prequel to The Edge of Tomorrow, the first in the series, and takes place approximately three months before the series begin. You don't need to have read the series to necessarily understand the oneshot but you might enjoy it if you do. *grins*
This is NOT worksafe at All. Just a warning. It's porn, porn, PORN. And a brief introduction into Azriel and Kieran's relationship.
Enjoy!
Title: Master and Commander
Pairing: Azriel/Kieran
Rating: M/NC-17 - !NSFW!
Placement: Canon. Pre-Edge of Tomorrow.
Description: No matter what anyone else thinks, Kieran isn’t submissive. It’s just a game they play.
Warning: Porn. Really, that’s all there is to it. Handjob. Oral. Wicked porn. Role play.
Azriel stomped against the ground, trying to dislodge the clumps of snow and mud that filled in all the gaps on his boots. It was bitterly cold outside, but the warmth within Paragon battled mightily against that.
“Boss!” Sabriel greeted cheerfully, voice wandering down the short hall with an echo as one hand lifted in greeting. “We didn't expect to see you tonight.”
He unwound the scarf – one his mother had woven for him – from his neck with fingers still stiff from the cold. “I wasn't sure I was going to make it to be honest,” Azriel said with a short smile.
“This snow... it's too heavy,” Sabriel commented and frowned, uncomfortable as he gazed past Azriel to the heavy door that was being pushed shut by the guards for this evening. “It's unnatural.”
“It's a result of their foolishness,” the older man agreed. He sighed and pulled off his heavy hat, shaking his head to free his hair. “And something I hope to fix.”
Sabriel fell into step beside him. “Not soon enough for anyone's liking though,” he grumbled, but it was good-natured. He knew better than anyone how hard Azriel – how hard all of them – worked for a better future. “Ishmael’ll be glad to know you're here.”
“Just Ishmael?” Azriel returned with a lifted brow as they passed from the entrance hall into one of the main corridors. There was another blast of heat directly to the face, and it chased away the lingering chill.
Sabriel chuckled, remaining eye sparkling with humor. “Do I even need to mention your snuggly-bear? Because I thought that would go unsaid.”
Azriel made a face. He half-wondered why he seemed to be stuck with the less than sane former members of Meropis.
“Please, don’t call him that. Gale might overhear, and then, I’ll be hearing it for the next three years.”
Sabriel clapped him on the back. “You made your bed, bossman. All that’s left to do is lie in it.”
“I’m still not convinced the idea was mine,” Azriel remarked and waved Sabriel off as other man slipped down another hall, laughter echoing around him. Sabriel was always in good humor, it seemed.
Azriel continued on his own, knowing the halls of Paragon better than he knew the dusty rooms of his house in Grayshire, and pondered. If he knew Kieran, the scientist was no doubt locked up in his lab and had been for the past few days. Azriel didn’t even need anyone to tell him as much. He’d like to think that he knew Kieran pretty well by this point. Going on… thirty years now? Great Diana, that was a ridiculously long time.
“Boss!”
Azriel paused, peeking down an adjoining corridor to see Gale carefully balancing a tray of what appeared to be someone’s dinner. His brows lifted.
“Weren’t you on patrol?”
Gale shrugged, coming to a rest just before him. “Helene switched with me. Something about Naomi and special occasions. I didn’t pretend to understand.”
The platter of dishes was suddenly thrust Azriel’s direction. He just stared at it.
“What’s this?”
“You can’t guess?” Gale asked with a hint of red tinting his cheeks.
Azriel flicked his gaze over the platter appraisingly. A sandwich of some kind, leafy bits of lettuce peeking out from between two thick pieces of brown bread. A few juicy pickles. And a clear glass of brightly-colored pulpy mixture that smelled fruity and obscenely sweet.
“It’s for Kieran,” Gale added after a moment.
Azriel sighed, taking the tray in hand. “I take it he’s been locked up in his lab. As always.”
“Yes. And you know how Talya gets when he doesn’t eat. Or when any of us don’t for that matter.”
He made a face, a rather childish one that took years off him and made him look more like the boy Azriel still remembered. Though to be fair, Talya did have the bothersome habit of mothering pretty much anyone within her line of sight, despite the fact she was hardly the eldest within Paragon.
“I’m very familiar with her methods, yes,” Azriel agreed before he turned to sniff at the glass. Pureed fruit, he guessed, and judging by the overwhelming scent, it was peaches and blueberries mixed with… was that lemons? “And you were the lucky one chosen to deliver this?”
“Even luckier that I ran into you.” Gale not-too-subtly backed away. A wise decision considering it took a brave soul to interrupt Kieran in the middle of a scientific experiment.
Things tended to explode around him far too often for anyone’s comfort.
“Anything new to report?” Azriel asked as his companion made a very subtle retreat back down the hallway.
Gale paused and glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll wait until after you’ve talked to Kieran before we get into business,” he said with a suggestive tone, which he would’ve almost pulled off were it not for the light dusting of red across his cheeks.
Azriel cursed the nobility for causing Gale to be that restrained. Even if it was, at times, utterly adorable. According to Kieran at any rate. And well, most of the female population of Paragon.
“If you insist,” he said, utterly amused. But Gale was already gone, little more than a flap of robe down the adjoining corridor.
Shaking his head, Azriel carefully balanced his tray and let his feet carry him toward the laboratories. He passed others, faces familiar, and made his greetings but didn’t stop to chat. If Talya had resorted to sending Gale with a tray, Kieran must’ve been approaching the point of sheer starvation. Not that he’d even notice without someone to remind him, and Azriel was the only one courageous enough to attempt such a thing.
Down a deserted hallway, a fair distance and in safe isolation from the rest of Paragon, the door to Kieran’s labs came into sight. Someone – Naomi, Azriel suspected – had drawn a picture that read “Danger! Keep Away!” and taped it to the front of the metal door. Knowing Kieran, he’d have been charmed by the picture, no doubt considering it a compliment.
The door to the lab creaked open under Azriel’s coaxing before stopping halfway, obviously blocked by something on the other side. Unsurprised, Azriel gave it another nudge with his shoulder and shoved the obstruction further away, allowing him to slip inside. He watched over his shoulder as the door all but bounced shut, and a wobbling stack of books and papers came into view. No doubt the original doorstop.
Again, Azriel wished he could be surprised.
Sighing to himself, he glanced around. It appeared Kieran had rearranged things in his absence. A common behavior, particularly when Kieran was stuck in a rut and needed some mindless activity to sort through the stumbling blocks. That was all well and good, but it also meant Azriel would have to re-learn his way through the maze of shelves, storage containers, and completed or half-abandoned experiments.
And Azriel meant labyrinth literally. Kieran had so many bookshelves that they were arranged to make paths, lined back to back and forming corridors that angled off in various directions. Not unlike a hedge maze. Not to mention that it was ridiculously hot in here. Briefly setting the tray aside, Azriel pulled off his over robe and hung it on a rack already full of lab coats in various states of repair.
Reclaiming his burden, Azriel prepared himself for winding his way through a maze of shelves to the center where his prize awaited. Or a Kieran who probably hadn’t bathed or slept or ate anything substantial in the past several days. Either way, something awaited Azriel, and he’d have to take his licks as they were owed. Like Sabriel claimed, Azriel had made his bed; all he had left was to lie in it.
Steps a bare wisp of sound across a floor papered in old notations and scribbled equations, Azriel navigated through the passageways with the ease of someone long used to such puzzles. It was ridiculous how many shelves Kieran had crammed in here. Yet, they proved to be not enough as scrolls, books, and documents practically spilled from each level.
It took several seconds for him to realize that there was a subtle humming in the atmosphere. It thrummed through the stone floor, making his toes tingle, and danced in the air like the buzz of lightning before it struck. Of Kieran or any possible experimentation, Azriel heard nothing, though he didn’t doubt the strange vibrations were the man’s doing. The strange humming was even strong enough to make the dishware on the tray rattle just a smidge.
What in Talemar was Kieran working on?
He was still pondering that when luck proved itself to be on Azriel’s side; he took a left and found himself finally at the center of the maze, light spilling over him and illuminating the cleared space along the far edge of the huge lab. Here was where Kieran centered most of his work. An experiment – mid-construction by the looks of it – clustered busily against one wall while another wall was covered in variously sized bits of paper with scrawled notations and diagrams. A desk occupied a rare empty area, and perched at it, carefully balanced on a three-legged stool, was Kieran.
He was hunched over, completely engrossed by whatever had grabbed his attentions this time. Azriel could hear him muttering to himself as though trying to reason out something particularly baffling. Predictably, Kieran hadn’t heard or noticed his arrival. Not even when Azriel came closer and set the tray off to the side, out of Kieran’s line of sight. When Kieran was focused, he wouldn’t notice a rampaging Merihem. Thank Diana, Kieran wasn’t a soldier; that sort of focus could be deadly on the battlefield.
Azriel admired his best friend for a moment, noticing dark, shaggily cut hair that just barely brushed Kieran’s shoulders. Glasses, for more than just sharpening Kieran’s eyesight as the scientist was fond of boasting, perched on the end of his nose, thin-rimmed and oval. Behind them, eyes that shifted between gray and green were framed by short eyelashes.
In many ways, Kieran scarily resembled his mother, a fact Azriel only knew because he’d seen pictures of the entire immediate Azura family. Ghaith, Kieran’s younger brother, resembled their father more, a scowl perpetually twisting his thin lips and glinting glasses helping to hide the look in his eyes. It seemed every Azura had bad eyesight. A curse of genetics Azriel supposed.
He stepped up behind Kieran, just tall enough to see over the man’s shoulders and peer at the series of equations stretching across a page that’d been crumpled several times over. Frustration lined Kieran’s shoulders and judging by the muttered curses, he was indeed stuck. Azriel looked over the calculations and let a small smile curl his lips.
“You forgot to carry the root of the first tangent,” he pointed out quietly, voice resounding easily in the vibrating silence.
Kieran blinked, pen pausing mid-tap as his eyes skated back to that particular point in his work. “Ah! So I did!”
With an almost gleeful sound, he raced to fix it and then hurriedly moved right along into the next step.
Azriel’s amusement grew. “Where’s Gwydion?”
“Catching dinner,” Kieran answered briefly, free hand flicking through the air. “Said she was hungry or some--”
It took that long for him to realize he was carrying on a conversation. He startled, whirling around in his stool so quickly he almost toppled over.
“Azriel!” he half-shouted in surprise. “You said you weren’t coming back until later!”
“I didn’t realize everyone hung to my every word,” Azriel responded with faint laughter. He reached for the tray, slowly drawing it into their line of sight. “Besides, I changed my mind,” he added as the scent of food wafted up to Kieran’s nose. “I couldn’t let you starve.”
As if to prove his point, a belly noisily rumbled. And Kieran, his usual self, didn’t even look chagrined as he greedily reached for the tray.
“Chicken salad!” he exclaimed giddily, sounding just like a child as he peeled back the top half of bread. “With celery even! Talya spoils me, she does.” The slice was returned to its rightful place as Kieran swung back towards the desk and dug into his meal enthusiastically.
Amused, Azriel preferred not to watch Kieran all but devour everything in sight. Instead, he focused his attention on Kieran’s notations.
“What are you working on?”
His companion swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, crumbs flecking his lips. “I think I’ve almost cracked the base component of the poison in Varos.”
Azriel’s eyebrows crawled toward his hairline. This particular project was one Kieran had been working on for close to three years now. Progress was mind-numbingly slow and painful but ultimately rewarding and necessary.
“Really now?”
Kieran’s shoulders slumped.
“Almost,” he conceded. “I know it has something to do with inherent magic. In fact, I think part of the toxin is magical. It’d have to be to poison something that has no tangible presence.”
“Just another example of Grayshire’s method of twisting things for their own vile purposes,” the brunet said with disgust that was hardly aimed at Kieran but present all the same. His stomach roiled at the thought of Varos and the desolation surrounding the once beautiful land. A desolation and taint that was spreading more and more each year.
Well into the second slice already – Kieran must’ve really been starving – the scientist inclined his head. “Patience, my dear Azriel.”
“No need to remind me.” The other man sighed, choosing to actively change the subject. He hadn’t come here intending to regurgitate the same old stresses. Paragon was more home to him than Grayshire had ever been. “I see you have a door decoration?”
Kieran laughed, the light sound echoing around the high ceilings. “That was a gift from Reina,” he allowed and took a huge gulp of the pulpy drink, smacking his lips in appreciation over the fruity flavor. “I suspect Talya had something to do with it.”
Azriel was impressed. Usually, Reina was too shy. Thus the reason he had suspected the irrepressible energy of Sabriel’s daughter, Naomi, who was so much like her father at times it was a bit exasperating. If not adorable.
“Talya was becoming concerned I take it?”
“Something like that.” Kieran sounded flippant, but there was an edge of cheer to his voice. Often times, he purposefully riled up the motherly woman for his own enjoyment.
“And when was the last time you bathed?” Azriel added, feeling just a bit like Kieran’s father himself, though he doubted High Lord Marduk would put up with half the behavior his eldest son freely exhibited now.
Kieran pursed his lips and swallowed the bite of his pickle. He idly wiped away a bit of juice from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not sure. What’s today?”
Barely biting back a sigh, Azriel turned his attention to the equations to prevent himself from giving the air of a concerned parent. “Thursday.”
Despite his change in position, he didn’t fail to catch Kieran’s wince. “And when did you leave?” Kieran asked, reaching for his drink and hiding behind the glass.
Azriel couldn’t fight the sigh this time and turned to face his oldest and dearest friend. “Four days ago. And please, for the love of Diana, do not tell me the last time you touched water was when you dragged me into the baths before I left.”
Kieran grinned at him, gray-green eyes far too bright. “Well, then, would you prefer the truth or a clever lie, my dear?”
“Kieran.”
The scientist held up his hands before dropping them again, reaching for the last part of his sandwich. “Kidding, oh great and glorious leader. I’m kidding. I’m pretty sure I bathed this morning. Or yesterday.” He twisted his lips as though considering the timeline. “Either way, it was in the last twenty-four hours. Satisfied?”
Shaking his head, Azriel tried to focus on something that wasn’t going to make him want to bang his head against the table. Like Kieran’s calculations. A perfect blend of physics and magic, certain to drive anyone who wasn’t a scholar or scientist – preferably both – batshit crazy.
“What you need isn’t a lover but a mother,” Azriel muttered, gazing down at the complicated glyphs as they stretched haphazardly across the paper.
Kieran never could write in a consistently coherent fashion. It was a good thing Azriel had plenty of experience deciphering his strange manner of outlining his thoughts and theories.
He heard more than saw Kieran shift and set the tray off to the side. “Ah, that is perhaps true, dearest. But right now, I’m a bit more concerned about my wants,” Kieran said quite slyly.
Less than a second later, a hand skated down Azriel’s side. Wood creaked as Kieran rose from his stool, closing the short distance between them. Azriel felt his heart rate quicken, but he pretended he wasn’t affected as he studied the research.
“And I don’t want a mother,” the scientist insisted, deftly insinuating himself between Azriel and the desk as though he belonged there and nowhere else. “I had one of those.”
“I’m aware of that.” Azriel’s lips quirked into an amused grin as fingers traced the collar of his shirt and tickled at his bare throat. “She was a wonderful woman and never would’ve stood for your slovenly ways. Lady Aislin is no doubt furious from beyond.”
The look that crossed Kieran’s face could only be called a pout, though Azriel doubted the man would agree to naming it that. “I can’t decide if that is an insult or a tease.”
“The latter is more likely to encourage further pursuit of your wants as you so elegantly put it,” Azriel retorted, unable to deny his own stirring at their proximity.
Despite his teasing, he could tell that Kieran had bathed recently. Or close enough to it at any rate. A subtle fragrance surrounded the man – an intriguing mix of incendiaries, clove, and nutmeg. Azriel’s hands braced against the edge of the desk, trapping Kieran between them, not that he seemed to mind. The scientist’s mouth curled into a more obvious smirk as he dragged his tongue wetly across his lips. His fingers continued to tease against Azriel’s throat.
“Ah, but the former could also work in my favor as well,” Kieran said, voice growing huskier as the space between them grew more heated, despite the fact that little of their bodies were actually touching. One of his hands had braced itself on the desk behind him, smallest finger brushing against Azriel’s right thumb.
“How so?”
Kieran tilted his head back an inch or so, enabling Azriel to look him firmly in the eyes. “An apologetic lover might be convinced to give me whatever I wanted to obtain forgiveness for an accidental slight.”
Azriel chuckled. “Truly, you are a master of turning any situation to your advantage.”
“One of my finer qualities,” the other man responded cheekily, and his glasses briefly glinted in the light above them.
He leaned forward, a bare inch of space left between their bodies and even less separating their lips. Azriel could feel the warm puff of Kieran’s breathing against his mouth, and it sent a shock of arousal twining through his body. His fingers tightened on the desk.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Kieran added, once again dragging his tongue over his lips, and with their proximity, the back of his tongue slid sensuously across Azriel’s lips in a light, moist touch.
Something akin to a growl rattled in Azriel’s throat, and he closed the space between them with a firm kiss. His tongue slid across Kieran’s lips, asking for entrance, and was rewarded when a mouth opened beneath his. Their tongues touched, and Azriel was treated to the intriguing taste of Kieran’s dinner and those blasted candies that the scientist was fond of. Kieran’s hand ceased its teasing touches on his throat and slid around to cup the back of his neck, thumb tracing the finer hairs and skin.
Kissing Kieran never failed to be a battle, no matter the circumstances. He was never content to simply sit back and let Azriel have his way. No, the man was always ruthless and hungry, sucking on Azriel’s tongue, nibbling on his lips, treating him to hot, open mouthed kisses that never failed to blaze desire in his veins. Azriel never could understand why anyone would think Kieran to be submissive. He didn’t think it was even possible for the man to do so.
Teeth nibbled at his lips before wandering over his jaw in fluttering touches, Kieran’s fingers continuing to trace the back of his neck. The light touch made shivers race down his spine as he leaned forward and aligned their bodies.
“Methinks someone is hungry for something other than food,” Kieran teased, rolling his hips forward pointedly.
Somehow, Azriel managed to momentarily ignore that. “Don’t you have research to be completing?”
A tongue traced over the brunet’s jaw, moving toward the hollow of his ear as moist breath puffed over the sensitive shell. “I’ve reached an impasse. I could use a distraction.”
Azriel snorted. “Ah, so now I’m just a convenient muse. As well as waiter and whatever else you need me for.”
Kieran’s free hand left its grip on the table, snaking his arm around Azriel and pulling them tightly together. So tightly that he could feel Kieran’s solid length even through layers of fabric.
“I always thought the feeling of need was mutual, my dear,” Kieran said, teeth scraping down the side of Azriel’s neck. “Or do I have to do something to warrant your attention?”
Warmth coiled in his belly, building into a fine blaze. “I’m listening,” he replied, one hand settling firmly on Kieran’s hip and giving it a squeeze.
The other man’s voice was husky. “Shall I bat my eyes and call you daddy?”
Azriel groaned, wishing he could be surprised but really not. Kieran never did anything halfway or without sly intent.
“Kieran…”
“Just kidding.” He licked at Azriel’s ear, voice little more than a seductive purr. “You’d probably prefer professor, master, or maybe even commander.”
Chewing on his cheek in order to bite back a moan, Azriel admitted – if only to himself – that Kieran was succeeding. Perhaps that seduction had in fact been the scientist’s intent all along. One could never be sure.
“Is that the game?” he questioned, need coiling in his belly like a slowly banked flame.
“It was just the one building,” Kieran acknowledged by way of his answer, sounding only half-contrite. He leaned back, reaching up to pull his glasses from his face and setting them on a stack of messy papers on the desk behind him. “And no one was hurt in the explosion. Surely, we can avoid unpleasant side effects this time around?”
Azriel grinned inwardly, while forcing himself to shift into an entirely different mindset, one more in line with the game Kieran had created for them. If there was one thing about life with this man, it was rarely boring.
“Do you know how soft my subordinates would consider me if I allowed such a transgression to go unpunished?” Azriel demanded, pulse quickening as he took a step back. He folded his arms over his chest and squared his shoulders.
It was easy enough to see where Kieran was going with this. Power play was one of his favorite games, and well, Azriel didn’t mind so much either.
No, he wasn’t merely Azriel. He was Commander Azriel, and the pitiful excuse for a scientist in front of him had just blown up a very important, very expensive research facility. One that Azriel’s lord wouldn’t be happy to find himself replacing and would likely take the cost out of his hide. Or worse. He refused to let this go unpunished. If only to get the satisfaction of seeing someone else suffer when Azriel knew what suffering would await him.
Kieran’s eyes darted from left to right. “But I’m a very valuable member of your crew,” he protested, as though reminding Azriel of his usefulness was in any way going to make his commander forget his transgressions.
One could be punished without losing his usefulness after all.
“Perhaps,” Azriel conceded, and he pointedly raked his gaze over the alluring picture the scientist had always presented.
Fair skin, tousled dark hair, deceptively innocent eyes. Kieran wasn’t built like a soldier – though to be fair, neither was Azriel. His intelligence served him better than an overly bulky musculature. Kieran was lithe limbs, carefully concealed by the folds of his robes and lab coat.
“However, rampant destruction invites a possible end to your usefulness,” Azriel reminded the perpetually destructive man. There were only so many times he was willing to make excuses for Kieran, and Commander Azriel had run out of patience. Their lord wanted results, not ash and debris.
Those gray-green eyes widened in fake, if not well-acted distress. “You’ll send me back,” Kieran breathed, dragging his tongue over his lips.
“At the least,” Azriel agreed, knowing full well that the last place Kieran desired to be was back home. Back in that dying city, overrun by beasts, both human and not.
Kieran’s eyes flicked around as though searching for some escape. “And the worst?”
Ah, there was definite worry in his tone now. Mind’s eye no doubt supplying a hefty dose of unsavory possibilities.
The commander barely kept himself from smirking. “I think your imagination can answer that for you.”
Kieran looked, for all the world, positively terrified of whatever imagined end might become of him at Commander Azriel’s discretion. For a moment, it almost broke Azriel from the scene, until a slow smile curled his lover’s lips. A scheming smile that chased away Azriel’s worry, replacing it with intrigue. A light gleamed in Kieran’s eyes, one that was quite mischievous.
“I could make it worth your while,” the scientist hinted.
Azriel snorted and dragged a hand through his hair. “And what could a mere peasant like you have to offer me that I don’t already possess?” he demanded, even as he couldn’t help but rake his dark gaze over Kieran’s body again.
The other man was only a few inches or so shorter than him, but it seemed a lot more considering their respective positions. Azriel watched as Kieran looked up at him through his sooty lashes, as though coy, nimble hands fiddling with the loose knot in the sash wound about Kieran’s waist.
“I have talents other than scientific calculations,” Kieran said, and this time, his voice was husky and tinted with hope. The faintest of a blush stirred in pale cheeks. Quite alluring.
Azriel rolled his eyes and pretended he wasn’t interested, already half-turned in dismissal. “I’ve others more than wiling to take care of such problems for me.”
“But none with skills such as mine.”
The man all but purred, eyes smoldering, voice promising all kinds of deprave delights that tiptoed down Azriel’s spine and pooled hotly in his belly. He was hard behind the concealment of his robes, though he’d be a fool to show Kieran how much the scientist affected him.
There was a rustle of fabric, a soft thump, and Azriel turned back towards Kieran to find that the man had lowered himself to his knees. That enticing blush continued to darken his cheeks, and he licked his lips again, wetting them with his tongue. His hands lifted, faltered as though reconsidering, before boldly placing them on Azriel’s hips.
“Allow me to show you,” Kieran said, tone raspy and echoing with promise.
Despite his misgivings – there were many reasons this was such a bad idea – Commander Azriel couldn’t help but be enticed by the offer. He wasn’t the only one of his men to have held thoughts about the attractive scientist after all. But he could be the only one to have actually sampled the rare treat.
Azriel’s hand had already settled itself on Kieran’s head – apparently his body had made the decision for him. He threaded his fingers through the length of loose black hair.
“Impress me.”
He swore that a set of eyes glinted at him before Kieran smirked, leaning forward to breathe hotly over the small bulge that concealed Azriel’s arousal. His teeth traced the rigid length, fingers flexing on Azriel’s hips. Despite the cloth barrier, Azriel could feel the heat of Kieran’s breathing, a hot dampness that made him twitch.
“You’re boring me,” Azriel said, fingers tightening in Kieran’s hair, tugging at the scalp.
Kieran chuckled, breaking character for a moment. “Liar,” he murmured and deft fingers focused on untying Azriel’s sash and pushing aside layers of fabric.
Azriel let that slide as warm, skilled fingers closed around him, stroking carefully. His hips rocked forward, and Azriel tugged on Kieran’s hair, a non-verbal command to get things moving.
“So impatient,” his lover murmured and leaned forward, blowing over the seeping tip of Azriel’s arousal.
A shiver worked its way down Azriel’s spine as he felt his insides tighten. Kieran had barely touched him, and he was already this aroused, this desperate. He could feel his pulse pounding through his veins, his breathing shallow from anticipation. He was completely focused on Kieran. His vision narrowed to the sight of the scientist leaning forward, first licking his lips before sliding his tongue out, touching the seeping head of Azriel’s length.
He sucked in breath, forcing himself not to move, to reveal the weakness of wanting, needing Keiran’s mouth on him. Azriel was supposed to be in control here after all. Not this destructive scientist. This was about punishment, about Kieran proving his usefulness. Azriel would not let himself fall under the man’s spell.
Azriel swallowed thickly, forcing his lips to form words. “Are you of the sort that needs instruction?”
A throaty chuckle spilled from Kieran’s mouth.
“Only if you’re so kind as to offer it,” he replied cheekily and sucked the head into his mouth, instantly encasing him in wet warmth.
His free hand clenched at his side, nails digging into his palm in order to cling to his control. “Are you hesitating?” the commander inquired, surprising himself with how steady he managed to make his voice. “Or do you just like the taste?”
The heat in those strange eyes all but taunted him. Kieran didn’t answer. At least not verbally. He instead chose to suck Azriel deeper into his mouth, as deep as he was capable. A tongue stroked the underside of Azriel’s arousal as lips provided a delicious pressure. Azriel swallowed down a groan and massaged his fingers on Kieran’s skull.
He could feel the sweat breaking out across his back and forehead from the effort of holding himself back. Somewhere, in the distance, Azriel could hear the noises of Kieran’s experiments bubbling and broiling. The warmth of the lab seeped at his skin and made him feel flushed. Or perhaps that was more a product of the mouth wrapped around him, the tongue stroking the solid length as Kieran boldly watched him without a hint of shame.
Fingers coiled around the base as Kieran slowly dragged his lips and tongue over the sensitive skin. Azriel’s pulse pounded in his ears, the feel of that wet warmth cascading through him. Desire, already pooling like hot fire in his belly, churned like an ocean of flame.
Kieran’s mouth was hot, wet, pressure that was absolutely perfect. Kieran’s tongue stroked him as his cheeks hollowed, sucking. Azriel dragged his tongue and teeth over his lips, small groans escaping as his hips rocked forward. No doubt about it. The scientist was good, and Azriel was glad to let the small matter of a destroyed building fall by the wayside.
He peeled his eyes open, watching hungrily as Kieran’s mouth bobbed, lips slick with spit as they wrapped around Azriel. His face had taken on a definite flush, and as his gaze rolled up to look at Azriel, it was glazed with desire. Kieran was enjoying himself; Azriel liked knowing that.
He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to sensation, to the sounds of Kieran, fingers moving in tandem with his mouth. To the slick feel of Kieran’s tongue and the building pressure inside of him. His hips jerked raggedly forward, pushing deeper and deeper into Kieran’s mouth, suspecting that Kieran could take it and pleased after discovering that the man could. Azriel’s free hand joined the one already tangled in Kieran’s hair, but he loosened his grip when the scientist swatted lightly at his wrist.
Want twisted in Azriel’s belly, threatening to consume him. Azriel felt it swell inside of him to the point that he couldn’t contain himself. He would’ve liked to extend the moment, take longer to enjoy the sight of Kieran on his knees, mouth wrapped around him. But the man was too damned good at what he did, and the earlier teasing had done its job well.
The motion of his hips became more erratic as Azriel sucked in a breath, tightening his fingers in Kieran’s hair. “Don’t spit,” Azriel ordered raggedly. “Don’t swallow either.”
Curiosity welled briefly in Kieran’s gaze before it was replaced by the gleam of understanding. Kieran swooped down on him, encasing Azriel to the hilt.
A startled sound ripped itself from Azriel’s throat as he shuddered, climax roaring through him. He spilled into Kieran’s mouth, pleasure sparking through his entire body and making him twitch, making him hold Kieran’s hair so tightly it must’ve been painful. Kieran’s fingers clenched on his hip. As the scientist moaned, the vibrations of sound rattled against Azriel, dragging out the last tremors of his release.
Limbs shaking, he felt his body sag as Kieran drew back, fluid dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Deft fingers carefully tucked Azriel away, palm smoothing over the front of his robes. He looked up at Azriel, however, eyes clouded with desire. A very evident arousal bulged beneath his clothing.
“I’m impressed,” Azriel drawled. Or at least attempted to. He was still trying to think coherently after having his brain effectively rattled. “You’ve almost convinced me. But you look to be strained for attention, and I’m always intrigued by a good show. On your feet.”
The flush in Kieran’s cheeks was all the more alluring when it deepened, threatening to make Azriel stir once more. A small moan echoed from Kieran’s throat as he quickly stood, reaching for his pants in a hurried motion. The lab coat slithered to the floor as Kieran yanked open the ties to his trousers and drew himself free, already rigid and purpling with need.
Kieran sagged back against the desk, hips striking the edge for balance. Azriel crossed the mere distance between them, the heat in the room tangible, heart rate refusing to settle as Kieran watched his every movement.
“On the desk,” the brunet said, his tone soft but commanding, giving Kieran no room to argue. Not that he could, considering his mouth was full and all.
Azriel could see Kieran struggling not to swallow, the muscles in his throat flexing, cheeks hollowing in and out. It was a very erotic sight and Azriel felt himself twitch, felt his desire rekindling itself.
“This is a show best viewed naked,” Azriel added as Kieran made motions to haul himself onto the desk. “Don’t you agree?”
Kieran froze, mid-motion, lips twitching.
“And don’t swallow,” Azriel warned.
A pained groan vibrated in Kieran’s throat as he twitched and nodded jerkily. If Azriel had wanted a slow, teasing strip, he was disappointed. Kieran was far too aroused for play, all but throwing his clothes off in random directions until pale skin was revealed to Azriel’s eyes. Goosepimples decorated Kieran’s flesh, despite the warmth of the lab.
Kieran hauled himself onto the desk, scattering papers across the floor, but he didn’t seem to care. This put them at eye level, and Kieran held Azriel’s gaze as he leaned back on one elbow, spreading his legs and reaching down with his other hand, gripping his arousal. A mixture of spittle and semen worked its way from the corner of Kieran’s mouth, dribbling down his cheek, and Azriel was fascinated by it.
He put his hands to either side of Kieran’s body, close enough that his thumbs could brush against bare thighs. Kieran was warm, skin coated in a thin layer of sweat, a deep blush burned in his cheeks. Arousal and embarrassment both most likely.
Azriel licked his lips, glancing down pointedly where Kieran gripped his own length but didn’t stroke himself, before lifting his gaze back to a need-drenched gaze.
“You may begin,” Azriel said hoarsely, resisting the urge to lean forward and capture Kieran’s mouth with his.
Somewhere, after his release and the eclipsing pleasure it produced, Azriel had abandoned his role. But he couldn’t keep the command out of his tone. He knew Kieran liked to hear it, and Azriel enjoyed using it. Just as much as he enjoyed watching Kieran obey.
He knew Kieran wanted to say something particularly witty and teasing, but with his mouth full, all that Kieran could do was nod and begin stroking himself. Long pulls that he alternated with light squeezes, fluid slithering from the swollen head. He was absolutely rigid with need, hips already pushing into the tunnel of his own fingers. Sweat gleamed on Kieran’s brow, and the muscles in his throat fluttered, pushed to their limit as Kieran struggled to obey Azriel’s order not to swallow.
Azriel watched, avid and heated, as Kieran’s fingers worked over his own flesh, thumb rubbing over the leaking head and smearing liquid over his rigid shaft. The flush in Kieran’s face deepened, and his breathing came in short bursts through his nose, lips trembling. His eyes were drenched with need, darkened to gunmetal gray. His hips pushed up in a ragged rhythm that betrayed the depth of his arousal.
Kieran looked beautiful like this, wanton and debauched, desperate for release. Azriel’s fingers clenched on the edge of the desk, knuckles going white as he licked his mouth. The head of Kieran’s arousal was a dark red, like a ripe plum. A sound was building in Kieran’s throat, a whine of deepening arousal.
Despite his own commands, Azriel could hardly sit back and watch without participating. He wanted to kiss Kieran, to let the man come undone at his hands. He leaned forward, reaching out with one hand, curling fingers over Kieran’s own. His palm was hot where it covered another hand, stroking the scientist in tandem.
Kieran groaned deep in his throat, urging a faster pace, and Azriel broke. He leaned forward almost awkwardly and covered Kieran’s mouth with his. Kieran’s mouth opened on reflex, slick fluid dribbling from the corner of his lips as Azriel kissed him, tasting himself on Kieran’s tongue. There was something so incredibly erotic about the wicked act that made Azriel’s gut twist into itself with a flash of lust.
There was a gulp and a throaty moan as Kieran swallowed before returning the kiss hungrily. His moved on the desk, rattling it and causing a few items to fall to the floor, not that either cared. Azriel’s fingers were becoming damp, and he knew that his lover was getting closer. Sweat coated Kieran’s body in a fine sheen, and his motions became erratic, his kisses more bites than anything, breathing ragged.
“Do it,” Azriel ordered, putting as much authority into his tone as he could muster. His eyes were open as Kieran’s head fell back, mouth open in hungry pants. “Come for me.”
As if the command alone had been enough, Kieran groaned and bit down on a much more audible reaction, entire body shuddering as he spilled over their combined grips. Azriel captured Kieran’s lips again, stealing his stuttered breath as the desk rattled noisily.
Fluid coated Azriel’s fingers in wet warmth before Kieran slumped bonelessly, skin flushed such an attractive shade that he had to fight the urge to lick him all over. Which, while a fun thing, was hardly conducive to other thoughts of rest, bathing, and perhaps food for Azriel himself.
Kieran’s other arm left the table, curling around the brunet’s neck, leverage to pull himself up into a sitting position as their kiss turned lazy. More nibbling and sucking than actual kissing. Kieran’s eyes were hazy, as though he were drugged. But as the seconds passed, he became more coherent.
A mischievous grin curled at his mouth.
“Next time,” Kieran panted, teeth nipping at Azriel’s chin. “I get to boss you around.”
Azriel chuckled. “I was under the impression we didn’t need games for that,” he returned, soiled hand resting on Kieran’s hip and smearing semen with sweat, making quite a mess.
The other man’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Are you implying that I’m a nagging wife?”
“I wouldn’t dare suggest a thing,” Azriel retorted, full of good humor.
“Yes, you would, dear Azriel. Yes, you would.” His hand coiled in Azriel’s much shorter brown hair, dragging him down for another kiss that was flavored of dinner and the bitter bite of his own release. Funny how he couldn’t be bothered to mind. “I think you owe me something.”
Tongue swiping over his lips, Azriel cocked his head to the side. “For what?”
Kieran batted his eyes coyly. “For throwing my research across the floor.”
“Weren’t you stumped?” Azriel asked and then abruptly turned his head, trying to politely cover his mouth as a yawn attacked him without warning. He hadn’t even realized he was so tired, but fatigue was certainly nailing him directly, weighing down his eyelids and limbs.
“Not so much anymore.” Kieran looked pointedly at his lack of clothes, and the stain growing on Azriel’s. “We could use a bath,” he added with a warm note to his voice.
Azriel rolled his eyes. “You’re insatiable.”
“Only where you’re concerned, my dear,” Kieran said in all seriousness, and how else could Azriel respond to that but by kissing him again.
* * * * *
a/n: Phew, that was new for me. Still, I plan on writing a lot more about these two. More oneshots and even a novel-length prequel to Infinity's End detailing how their relationship came to be.
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. And if you'd like to see more from these two, feel free to let me know. *grins*
This is NOT worksafe at All. Just a warning. It's porn, porn, PORN. And a brief introduction into Azriel and Kieran's relationship.
Enjoy!
Title: Master and Commander
Pairing: Azriel/Kieran
Rating: M/NC-17 - !NSFW!
Placement: Canon. Pre-Edge of Tomorrow.
Description: No matter what anyone else thinks, Kieran isn’t submissive. It’s just a game they play.
Warning: Porn. Really, that’s all there is to it. Handjob. Oral. Wicked porn. Role play.
--------------------------------
Azriel stomped against the ground, trying to dislodge the clumps of snow and mud that filled in all the gaps on his boots. It was bitterly cold outside, but the warmth within Paragon battled mightily against that.
“Boss!” Sabriel greeted cheerfully, voice wandering down the short hall with an echo as one hand lifted in greeting. “We didn't expect to see you tonight.”
He unwound the scarf – one his mother had woven for him – from his neck with fingers still stiff from the cold. “I wasn't sure I was going to make it to be honest,” Azriel said with a short smile.
“This snow... it's too heavy,” Sabriel commented and frowned, uncomfortable as he gazed past Azriel to the heavy door that was being pushed shut by the guards for this evening. “It's unnatural.”
“It's a result of their foolishness,” the older man agreed. He sighed and pulled off his heavy hat, shaking his head to free his hair. “And something I hope to fix.”
Sabriel fell into step beside him. “Not soon enough for anyone's liking though,” he grumbled, but it was good-natured. He knew better than anyone how hard Azriel – how hard all of them – worked for a better future. “Ishmael’ll be glad to know you're here.”
“Just Ishmael?” Azriel returned with a lifted brow as they passed from the entrance hall into one of the main corridors. There was another blast of heat directly to the face, and it chased away the lingering chill.
Sabriel chuckled, remaining eye sparkling with humor. “Do I even need to mention your snuggly-bear? Because I thought that would go unsaid.”
Azriel made a face. He half-wondered why he seemed to be stuck with the less than sane former members of Meropis.
“Please, don’t call him that. Gale might overhear, and then, I’ll be hearing it for the next three years.”
Sabriel clapped him on the back. “You made your bed, bossman. All that’s left to do is lie in it.”
“I’m still not convinced the idea was mine,” Azriel remarked and waved Sabriel off as other man slipped down another hall, laughter echoing around him. Sabriel was always in good humor, it seemed.
Azriel continued on his own, knowing the halls of Paragon better than he knew the dusty rooms of his house in Grayshire, and pondered. If he knew Kieran, the scientist was no doubt locked up in his lab and had been for the past few days. Azriel didn’t even need anyone to tell him as much. He’d like to think that he knew Kieran pretty well by this point. Going on… thirty years now? Great Diana, that was a ridiculously long time.
“Boss!”
Azriel paused, peeking down an adjoining corridor to see Gale carefully balancing a tray of what appeared to be someone’s dinner. His brows lifted.
“Weren’t you on patrol?”
Gale shrugged, coming to a rest just before him. “Helene switched with me. Something about Naomi and special occasions. I didn’t pretend to understand.”
The platter of dishes was suddenly thrust Azriel’s direction. He just stared at it.
“What’s this?”
“You can’t guess?” Gale asked with a hint of red tinting his cheeks.
Azriel flicked his gaze over the platter appraisingly. A sandwich of some kind, leafy bits of lettuce peeking out from between two thick pieces of brown bread. A few juicy pickles. And a clear glass of brightly-colored pulpy mixture that smelled fruity and obscenely sweet.
“It’s for Kieran,” Gale added after a moment.
Azriel sighed, taking the tray in hand. “I take it he’s been locked up in his lab. As always.”
“Yes. And you know how Talya gets when he doesn’t eat. Or when any of us don’t for that matter.”
He made a face, a rather childish one that took years off him and made him look more like the boy Azriel still remembered. Though to be fair, Talya did have the bothersome habit of mothering pretty much anyone within her line of sight, despite the fact she was hardly the eldest within Paragon.
“I’m very familiar with her methods, yes,” Azriel agreed before he turned to sniff at the glass. Pureed fruit, he guessed, and judging by the overwhelming scent, it was peaches and blueberries mixed with… was that lemons? “And you were the lucky one chosen to deliver this?”
“Even luckier that I ran into you.” Gale not-too-subtly backed away. A wise decision considering it took a brave soul to interrupt Kieran in the middle of a scientific experiment.
Things tended to explode around him far too often for anyone’s comfort.
“Anything new to report?” Azriel asked as his companion made a very subtle retreat back down the hallway.
Gale paused and glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll wait until after you’ve talked to Kieran before we get into business,” he said with a suggestive tone, which he would’ve almost pulled off were it not for the light dusting of red across his cheeks.
Azriel cursed the nobility for causing Gale to be that restrained. Even if it was, at times, utterly adorable. According to Kieran at any rate. And well, most of the female population of Paragon.
“If you insist,” he said, utterly amused. But Gale was already gone, little more than a flap of robe down the adjoining corridor.
Shaking his head, Azriel carefully balanced his tray and let his feet carry him toward the laboratories. He passed others, faces familiar, and made his greetings but didn’t stop to chat. If Talya had resorted to sending Gale with a tray, Kieran must’ve been approaching the point of sheer starvation. Not that he’d even notice without someone to remind him, and Azriel was the only one courageous enough to attempt such a thing.
Down a deserted hallway, a fair distance and in safe isolation from the rest of Paragon, the door to Kieran’s labs came into sight. Someone – Naomi, Azriel suspected – had drawn a picture that read “Danger! Keep Away!” and taped it to the front of the metal door. Knowing Kieran, he’d have been charmed by the picture, no doubt considering it a compliment.
The door to the lab creaked open under Azriel’s coaxing before stopping halfway, obviously blocked by something on the other side. Unsurprised, Azriel gave it another nudge with his shoulder and shoved the obstruction further away, allowing him to slip inside. He watched over his shoulder as the door all but bounced shut, and a wobbling stack of books and papers came into view. No doubt the original doorstop.
Again, Azriel wished he could be surprised.
Sighing to himself, he glanced around. It appeared Kieran had rearranged things in his absence. A common behavior, particularly when Kieran was stuck in a rut and needed some mindless activity to sort through the stumbling blocks. That was all well and good, but it also meant Azriel would have to re-learn his way through the maze of shelves, storage containers, and completed or half-abandoned experiments.
And Azriel meant labyrinth literally. Kieran had so many bookshelves that they were arranged to make paths, lined back to back and forming corridors that angled off in various directions. Not unlike a hedge maze. Not to mention that it was ridiculously hot in here. Briefly setting the tray aside, Azriel pulled off his over robe and hung it on a rack already full of lab coats in various states of repair.
Reclaiming his burden, Azriel prepared himself for winding his way through a maze of shelves to the center where his prize awaited. Or a Kieran who probably hadn’t bathed or slept or ate anything substantial in the past several days. Either way, something awaited Azriel, and he’d have to take his licks as they were owed. Like Sabriel claimed, Azriel had made his bed; all he had left was to lie in it.
Steps a bare wisp of sound across a floor papered in old notations and scribbled equations, Azriel navigated through the passageways with the ease of someone long used to such puzzles. It was ridiculous how many shelves Kieran had crammed in here. Yet, they proved to be not enough as scrolls, books, and documents practically spilled from each level.
It took several seconds for him to realize that there was a subtle humming in the atmosphere. It thrummed through the stone floor, making his toes tingle, and danced in the air like the buzz of lightning before it struck. Of Kieran or any possible experimentation, Azriel heard nothing, though he didn’t doubt the strange vibrations were the man’s doing. The strange humming was even strong enough to make the dishware on the tray rattle just a smidge.
What in Talemar was Kieran working on?
He was still pondering that when luck proved itself to be on Azriel’s side; he took a left and found himself finally at the center of the maze, light spilling over him and illuminating the cleared space along the far edge of the huge lab. Here was where Kieran centered most of his work. An experiment – mid-construction by the looks of it – clustered busily against one wall while another wall was covered in variously sized bits of paper with scrawled notations and diagrams. A desk occupied a rare empty area, and perched at it, carefully balanced on a three-legged stool, was Kieran.
He was hunched over, completely engrossed by whatever had grabbed his attentions this time. Azriel could hear him muttering to himself as though trying to reason out something particularly baffling. Predictably, Kieran hadn’t heard or noticed his arrival. Not even when Azriel came closer and set the tray off to the side, out of Kieran’s line of sight. When Kieran was focused, he wouldn’t notice a rampaging Merihem. Thank Diana, Kieran wasn’t a soldier; that sort of focus could be deadly on the battlefield.
Azriel admired his best friend for a moment, noticing dark, shaggily cut hair that just barely brushed Kieran’s shoulders. Glasses, for more than just sharpening Kieran’s eyesight as the scientist was fond of boasting, perched on the end of his nose, thin-rimmed and oval. Behind them, eyes that shifted between gray and green were framed by short eyelashes.
In many ways, Kieran scarily resembled his mother, a fact Azriel only knew because he’d seen pictures of the entire immediate Azura family. Ghaith, Kieran’s younger brother, resembled their father more, a scowl perpetually twisting his thin lips and glinting glasses helping to hide the look in his eyes. It seemed every Azura had bad eyesight. A curse of genetics Azriel supposed.
He stepped up behind Kieran, just tall enough to see over the man’s shoulders and peer at the series of equations stretching across a page that’d been crumpled several times over. Frustration lined Kieran’s shoulders and judging by the muttered curses, he was indeed stuck. Azriel looked over the calculations and let a small smile curl his lips.
“You forgot to carry the root of the first tangent,” he pointed out quietly, voice resounding easily in the vibrating silence.
Kieran blinked, pen pausing mid-tap as his eyes skated back to that particular point in his work. “Ah! So I did!”
With an almost gleeful sound, he raced to fix it and then hurriedly moved right along into the next step.
Azriel’s amusement grew. “Where’s Gwydion?”
“Catching dinner,” Kieran answered briefly, free hand flicking through the air. “Said she was hungry or some--”
It took that long for him to realize he was carrying on a conversation. He startled, whirling around in his stool so quickly he almost toppled over.
“Azriel!” he half-shouted in surprise. “You said you weren’t coming back until later!”
“I didn’t realize everyone hung to my every word,” Azriel responded with faint laughter. He reached for the tray, slowly drawing it into their line of sight. “Besides, I changed my mind,” he added as the scent of food wafted up to Kieran’s nose. “I couldn’t let you starve.”
As if to prove his point, a belly noisily rumbled. And Kieran, his usual self, didn’t even look chagrined as he greedily reached for the tray.
“Chicken salad!” he exclaimed giddily, sounding just like a child as he peeled back the top half of bread. “With celery even! Talya spoils me, she does.” The slice was returned to its rightful place as Kieran swung back towards the desk and dug into his meal enthusiastically.
Amused, Azriel preferred not to watch Kieran all but devour everything in sight. Instead, he focused his attention on Kieran’s notations.
“What are you working on?”
His companion swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, crumbs flecking his lips. “I think I’ve almost cracked the base component of the poison in Varos.”
Azriel’s eyebrows crawled toward his hairline. This particular project was one Kieran had been working on for close to three years now. Progress was mind-numbingly slow and painful but ultimately rewarding and necessary.
“Really now?”
Kieran’s shoulders slumped.
“Almost,” he conceded. “I know it has something to do with inherent magic. In fact, I think part of the toxin is magical. It’d have to be to poison something that has no tangible presence.”
“Just another example of Grayshire’s method of twisting things for their own vile purposes,” the brunet said with disgust that was hardly aimed at Kieran but present all the same. His stomach roiled at the thought of Varos and the desolation surrounding the once beautiful land. A desolation and taint that was spreading more and more each year.
Well into the second slice already – Kieran must’ve really been starving – the scientist inclined his head. “Patience, my dear Azriel.”
“No need to remind me.” The other man sighed, choosing to actively change the subject. He hadn’t come here intending to regurgitate the same old stresses. Paragon was more home to him than Grayshire had ever been. “I see you have a door decoration?”
Kieran laughed, the light sound echoing around the high ceilings. “That was a gift from Reina,” he allowed and took a huge gulp of the pulpy drink, smacking his lips in appreciation over the fruity flavor. “I suspect Talya had something to do with it.”
Azriel was impressed. Usually, Reina was too shy. Thus the reason he had suspected the irrepressible energy of Sabriel’s daughter, Naomi, who was so much like her father at times it was a bit exasperating. If not adorable.
“Talya was becoming concerned I take it?”
“Something like that.” Kieran sounded flippant, but there was an edge of cheer to his voice. Often times, he purposefully riled up the motherly woman for his own enjoyment.
“And when was the last time you bathed?” Azriel added, feeling just a bit like Kieran’s father himself, though he doubted High Lord Marduk would put up with half the behavior his eldest son freely exhibited now.
Kieran pursed his lips and swallowed the bite of his pickle. He idly wiped away a bit of juice from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not sure. What’s today?”
Barely biting back a sigh, Azriel turned his attention to the equations to prevent himself from giving the air of a concerned parent. “Thursday.”
Despite his change in position, he didn’t fail to catch Kieran’s wince. “And when did you leave?” Kieran asked, reaching for his drink and hiding behind the glass.
Azriel couldn’t fight the sigh this time and turned to face his oldest and dearest friend. “Four days ago. And please, for the love of Diana, do not tell me the last time you touched water was when you dragged me into the baths before I left.”
Kieran grinned at him, gray-green eyes far too bright. “Well, then, would you prefer the truth or a clever lie, my dear?”
“Kieran.”
The scientist held up his hands before dropping them again, reaching for the last part of his sandwich. “Kidding, oh great and glorious leader. I’m kidding. I’m pretty sure I bathed this morning. Or yesterday.” He twisted his lips as though considering the timeline. “Either way, it was in the last twenty-four hours. Satisfied?”
Shaking his head, Azriel tried to focus on something that wasn’t going to make him want to bang his head against the table. Like Kieran’s calculations. A perfect blend of physics and magic, certain to drive anyone who wasn’t a scholar or scientist – preferably both – batshit crazy.
“What you need isn’t a lover but a mother,” Azriel muttered, gazing down at the complicated glyphs as they stretched haphazardly across the paper.
Kieran never could write in a consistently coherent fashion. It was a good thing Azriel had plenty of experience deciphering his strange manner of outlining his thoughts and theories.
He heard more than saw Kieran shift and set the tray off to the side. “Ah, that is perhaps true, dearest. But right now, I’m a bit more concerned about my wants,” Kieran said quite slyly.
Less than a second later, a hand skated down Azriel’s side. Wood creaked as Kieran rose from his stool, closing the short distance between them. Azriel felt his heart rate quicken, but he pretended he wasn’t affected as he studied the research.
“And I don’t want a mother,” the scientist insisted, deftly insinuating himself between Azriel and the desk as though he belonged there and nowhere else. “I had one of those.”
“I’m aware of that.” Azriel’s lips quirked into an amused grin as fingers traced the collar of his shirt and tickled at his bare throat. “She was a wonderful woman and never would’ve stood for your slovenly ways. Lady Aislin is no doubt furious from beyond.”
The look that crossed Kieran’s face could only be called a pout, though Azriel doubted the man would agree to naming it that. “I can’t decide if that is an insult or a tease.”
“The latter is more likely to encourage further pursuit of your wants as you so elegantly put it,” Azriel retorted, unable to deny his own stirring at their proximity.
Despite his teasing, he could tell that Kieran had bathed recently. Or close enough to it at any rate. A subtle fragrance surrounded the man – an intriguing mix of incendiaries, clove, and nutmeg. Azriel’s hands braced against the edge of the desk, trapping Kieran between them, not that he seemed to mind. The scientist’s mouth curled into a more obvious smirk as he dragged his tongue wetly across his lips. His fingers continued to tease against Azriel’s throat.
“Ah, but the former could also work in my favor as well,” Kieran said, voice growing huskier as the space between them grew more heated, despite the fact that little of their bodies were actually touching. One of his hands had braced itself on the desk behind him, smallest finger brushing against Azriel’s right thumb.
“How so?”
Kieran tilted his head back an inch or so, enabling Azriel to look him firmly in the eyes. “An apologetic lover might be convinced to give me whatever I wanted to obtain forgiveness for an accidental slight.”
Azriel chuckled. “Truly, you are a master of turning any situation to your advantage.”
“One of my finer qualities,” the other man responded cheekily, and his glasses briefly glinted in the light above them.
He leaned forward, a bare inch of space left between their bodies and even less separating their lips. Azriel could feel the warm puff of Kieran’s breathing against his mouth, and it sent a shock of arousal twining through his body. His fingers tightened on the desk.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Kieran added, once again dragging his tongue over his lips, and with their proximity, the back of his tongue slid sensuously across Azriel’s lips in a light, moist touch.
Something akin to a growl rattled in Azriel’s throat, and he closed the space between them with a firm kiss. His tongue slid across Kieran’s lips, asking for entrance, and was rewarded when a mouth opened beneath his. Their tongues touched, and Azriel was treated to the intriguing taste of Kieran’s dinner and those blasted candies that the scientist was fond of. Kieran’s hand ceased its teasing touches on his throat and slid around to cup the back of his neck, thumb tracing the finer hairs and skin.
Kissing Kieran never failed to be a battle, no matter the circumstances. He was never content to simply sit back and let Azriel have his way. No, the man was always ruthless and hungry, sucking on Azriel’s tongue, nibbling on his lips, treating him to hot, open mouthed kisses that never failed to blaze desire in his veins. Azriel never could understand why anyone would think Kieran to be submissive. He didn’t think it was even possible for the man to do so.
Teeth nibbled at his lips before wandering over his jaw in fluttering touches, Kieran’s fingers continuing to trace the back of his neck. The light touch made shivers race down his spine as he leaned forward and aligned their bodies.
“Methinks someone is hungry for something other than food,” Kieran teased, rolling his hips forward pointedly.
Somehow, Azriel managed to momentarily ignore that. “Don’t you have research to be completing?”
A tongue traced over the brunet’s jaw, moving toward the hollow of his ear as moist breath puffed over the sensitive shell. “I’ve reached an impasse. I could use a distraction.”
Azriel snorted. “Ah, so now I’m just a convenient muse. As well as waiter and whatever else you need me for.”
Kieran’s free hand left its grip on the table, snaking his arm around Azriel and pulling them tightly together. So tightly that he could feel Kieran’s solid length even through layers of fabric.
“I always thought the feeling of need was mutual, my dear,” Kieran said, teeth scraping down the side of Azriel’s neck. “Or do I have to do something to warrant your attention?”
Warmth coiled in his belly, building into a fine blaze. “I’m listening,” he replied, one hand settling firmly on Kieran’s hip and giving it a squeeze.
The other man’s voice was husky. “Shall I bat my eyes and call you daddy?”
Azriel groaned, wishing he could be surprised but really not. Kieran never did anything halfway or without sly intent.
“Kieran…”
“Just kidding.” He licked at Azriel’s ear, voice little more than a seductive purr. “You’d probably prefer professor, master, or maybe even commander.”
Chewing on his cheek in order to bite back a moan, Azriel admitted – if only to himself – that Kieran was succeeding. Perhaps that seduction had in fact been the scientist’s intent all along. One could never be sure.
“Is that the game?” he questioned, need coiling in his belly like a slowly banked flame.
“It was just the one building,” Kieran acknowledged by way of his answer, sounding only half-contrite. He leaned back, reaching up to pull his glasses from his face and setting them on a stack of messy papers on the desk behind him. “And no one was hurt in the explosion. Surely, we can avoid unpleasant side effects this time around?”
Azriel grinned inwardly, while forcing himself to shift into an entirely different mindset, one more in line with the game Kieran had created for them. If there was one thing about life with this man, it was rarely boring.
“Do you know how soft my subordinates would consider me if I allowed such a transgression to go unpunished?” Azriel demanded, pulse quickening as he took a step back. He folded his arms over his chest and squared his shoulders.
It was easy enough to see where Kieran was going with this. Power play was one of his favorite games, and well, Azriel didn’t mind so much either.
No, he wasn’t merely Azriel. He was Commander Azriel, and the pitiful excuse for a scientist in front of him had just blown up a very important, very expensive research facility. One that Azriel’s lord wouldn’t be happy to find himself replacing and would likely take the cost out of his hide. Or worse. He refused to let this go unpunished. If only to get the satisfaction of seeing someone else suffer when Azriel knew what suffering would await him.
Kieran’s eyes darted from left to right. “But I’m a very valuable member of your crew,” he protested, as though reminding Azriel of his usefulness was in any way going to make his commander forget his transgressions.
One could be punished without losing his usefulness after all.
“Perhaps,” Azriel conceded, and he pointedly raked his gaze over the alluring picture the scientist had always presented.
Fair skin, tousled dark hair, deceptively innocent eyes. Kieran wasn’t built like a soldier – though to be fair, neither was Azriel. His intelligence served him better than an overly bulky musculature. Kieran was lithe limbs, carefully concealed by the folds of his robes and lab coat.
“However, rampant destruction invites a possible end to your usefulness,” Azriel reminded the perpetually destructive man. There were only so many times he was willing to make excuses for Kieran, and Commander Azriel had run out of patience. Their lord wanted results, not ash and debris.
Those gray-green eyes widened in fake, if not well-acted distress. “You’ll send me back,” Kieran breathed, dragging his tongue over his lips.
“At the least,” Azriel agreed, knowing full well that the last place Kieran desired to be was back home. Back in that dying city, overrun by beasts, both human and not.
Kieran’s eyes flicked around as though searching for some escape. “And the worst?”
Ah, there was definite worry in his tone now. Mind’s eye no doubt supplying a hefty dose of unsavory possibilities.
The commander barely kept himself from smirking. “I think your imagination can answer that for you.”
Kieran looked, for all the world, positively terrified of whatever imagined end might become of him at Commander Azriel’s discretion. For a moment, it almost broke Azriel from the scene, until a slow smile curled his lover’s lips. A scheming smile that chased away Azriel’s worry, replacing it with intrigue. A light gleamed in Kieran’s eyes, one that was quite mischievous.
“I could make it worth your while,” the scientist hinted.
Azriel snorted and dragged a hand through his hair. “And what could a mere peasant like you have to offer me that I don’t already possess?” he demanded, even as he couldn’t help but rake his dark gaze over Kieran’s body again.
The other man was only a few inches or so shorter than him, but it seemed a lot more considering their respective positions. Azriel watched as Kieran looked up at him through his sooty lashes, as though coy, nimble hands fiddling with the loose knot in the sash wound about Kieran’s waist.
“I have talents other than scientific calculations,” Kieran said, and this time, his voice was husky and tinted with hope. The faintest of a blush stirred in pale cheeks. Quite alluring.
Azriel rolled his eyes and pretended he wasn’t interested, already half-turned in dismissal. “I’ve others more than wiling to take care of such problems for me.”
“But none with skills such as mine.”
The man all but purred, eyes smoldering, voice promising all kinds of deprave delights that tiptoed down Azriel’s spine and pooled hotly in his belly. He was hard behind the concealment of his robes, though he’d be a fool to show Kieran how much the scientist affected him.
There was a rustle of fabric, a soft thump, and Azriel turned back towards Kieran to find that the man had lowered himself to his knees. That enticing blush continued to darken his cheeks, and he licked his lips again, wetting them with his tongue. His hands lifted, faltered as though reconsidering, before boldly placing them on Azriel’s hips.
“Allow me to show you,” Kieran said, tone raspy and echoing with promise.
Despite his misgivings – there were many reasons this was such a bad idea – Commander Azriel couldn’t help but be enticed by the offer. He wasn’t the only one of his men to have held thoughts about the attractive scientist after all. But he could be the only one to have actually sampled the rare treat.
Azriel’s hand had already settled itself on Kieran’s head – apparently his body had made the decision for him. He threaded his fingers through the length of loose black hair.
“Impress me.”
He swore that a set of eyes glinted at him before Kieran smirked, leaning forward to breathe hotly over the small bulge that concealed Azriel’s arousal. His teeth traced the rigid length, fingers flexing on Azriel’s hips. Despite the cloth barrier, Azriel could feel the heat of Kieran’s breathing, a hot dampness that made him twitch.
“You’re boring me,” Azriel said, fingers tightening in Kieran’s hair, tugging at the scalp.
Kieran chuckled, breaking character for a moment. “Liar,” he murmured and deft fingers focused on untying Azriel’s sash and pushing aside layers of fabric.
Azriel let that slide as warm, skilled fingers closed around him, stroking carefully. His hips rocked forward, and Azriel tugged on Kieran’s hair, a non-verbal command to get things moving.
“So impatient,” his lover murmured and leaned forward, blowing over the seeping tip of Azriel’s arousal.
A shiver worked its way down Azriel’s spine as he felt his insides tighten. Kieran had barely touched him, and he was already this aroused, this desperate. He could feel his pulse pounding through his veins, his breathing shallow from anticipation. He was completely focused on Kieran. His vision narrowed to the sight of the scientist leaning forward, first licking his lips before sliding his tongue out, touching the seeping head of Azriel’s length.
He sucked in breath, forcing himself not to move, to reveal the weakness of wanting, needing Keiran’s mouth on him. Azriel was supposed to be in control here after all. Not this destructive scientist. This was about punishment, about Kieran proving his usefulness. Azriel would not let himself fall under the man’s spell.
Azriel swallowed thickly, forcing his lips to form words. “Are you of the sort that needs instruction?”
A throaty chuckle spilled from Kieran’s mouth.
“Only if you’re so kind as to offer it,” he replied cheekily and sucked the head into his mouth, instantly encasing him in wet warmth.
His free hand clenched at his side, nails digging into his palm in order to cling to his control. “Are you hesitating?” the commander inquired, surprising himself with how steady he managed to make his voice. “Or do you just like the taste?”
The heat in those strange eyes all but taunted him. Kieran didn’t answer. At least not verbally. He instead chose to suck Azriel deeper into his mouth, as deep as he was capable. A tongue stroked the underside of Azriel’s arousal as lips provided a delicious pressure. Azriel swallowed down a groan and massaged his fingers on Kieran’s skull.
He could feel the sweat breaking out across his back and forehead from the effort of holding himself back. Somewhere, in the distance, Azriel could hear the noises of Kieran’s experiments bubbling and broiling. The warmth of the lab seeped at his skin and made him feel flushed. Or perhaps that was more a product of the mouth wrapped around him, the tongue stroking the solid length as Kieran boldly watched him without a hint of shame.
Fingers coiled around the base as Kieran slowly dragged his lips and tongue over the sensitive skin. Azriel’s pulse pounded in his ears, the feel of that wet warmth cascading through him. Desire, already pooling like hot fire in his belly, churned like an ocean of flame.
Kieran’s mouth was hot, wet, pressure that was absolutely perfect. Kieran’s tongue stroked him as his cheeks hollowed, sucking. Azriel dragged his tongue and teeth over his lips, small groans escaping as his hips rocked forward. No doubt about it. The scientist was good, and Azriel was glad to let the small matter of a destroyed building fall by the wayside.
He peeled his eyes open, watching hungrily as Kieran’s mouth bobbed, lips slick with spit as they wrapped around Azriel. His face had taken on a definite flush, and as his gaze rolled up to look at Azriel, it was glazed with desire. Kieran was enjoying himself; Azriel liked knowing that.
He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to sensation, to the sounds of Kieran, fingers moving in tandem with his mouth. To the slick feel of Kieran’s tongue and the building pressure inside of him. His hips jerked raggedly forward, pushing deeper and deeper into Kieran’s mouth, suspecting that Kieran could take it and pleased after discovering that the man could. Azriel’s free hand joined the one already tangled in Kieran’s hair, but he loosened his grip when the scientist swatted lightly at his wrist.
Want twisted in Azriel’s belly, threatening to consume him. Azriel felt it swell inside of him to the point that he couldn’t contain himself. He would’ve liked to extend the moment, take longer to enjoy the sight of Kieran on his knees, mouth wrapped around him. But the man was too damned good at what he did, and the earlier teasing had done its job well.
The motion of his hips became more erratic as Azriel sucked in a breath, tightening his fingers in Kieran’s hair. “Don’t spit,” Azriel ordered raggedly. “Don’t swallow either.”
Curiosity welled briefly in Kieran’s gaze before it was replaced by the gleam of understanding. Kieran swooped down on him, encasing Azriel to the hilt.
A startled sound ripped itself from Azriel’s throat as he shuddered, climax roaring through him. He spilled into Kieran’s mouth, pleasure sparking through his entire body and making him twitch, making him hold Kieran’s hair so tightly it must’ve been painful. Kieran’s fingers clenched on his hip. As the scientist moaned, the vibrations of sound rattled against Azriel, dragging out the last tremors of his release.
Limbs shaking, he felt his body sag as Kieran drew back, fluid dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Deft fingers carefully tucked Azriel away, palm smoothing over the front of his robes. He looked up at Azriel, however, eyes clouded with desire. A very evident arousal bulged beneath his clothing.
“I’m impressed,” Azriel drawled. Or at least attempted to. He was still trying to think coherently after having his brain effectively rattled. “You’ve almost convinced me. But you look to be strained for attention, and I’m always intrigued by a good show. On your feet.”
The flush in Kieran’s cheeks was all the more alluring when it deepened, threatening to make Azriel stir once more. A small moan echoed from Kieran’s throat as he quickly stood, reaching for his pants in a hurried motion. The lab coat slithered to the floor as Kieran yanked open the ties to his trousers and drew himself free, already rigid and purpling with need.
Kieran sagged back against the desk, hips striking the edge for balance. Azriel crossed the mere distance between them, the heat in the room tangible, heart rate refusing to settle as Kieran watched his every movement.
“On the desk,” the brunet said, his tone soft but commanding, giving Kieran no room to argue. Not that he could, considering his mouth was full and all.
Azriel could see Kieran struggling not to swallow, the muscles in his throat flexing, cheeks hollowing in and out. It was a very erotic sight and Azriel felt himself twitch, felt his desire rekindling itself.
“This is a show best viewed naked,” Azriel added as Kieran made motions to haul himself onto the desk. “Don’t you agree?”
Kieran froze, mid-motion, lips twitching.
“And don’t swallow,” Azriel warned.
A pained groan vibrated in Kieran’s throat as he twitched and nodded jerkily. If Azriel had wanted a slow, teasing strip, he was disappointed. Kieran was far too aroused for play, all but throwing his clothes off in random directions until pale skin was revealed to Azriel’s eyes. Goosepimples decorated Kieran’s flesh, despite the warmth of the lab.
Kieran hauled himself onto the desk, scattering papers across the floor, but he didn’t seem to care. This put them at eye level, and Kieran held Azriel’s gaze as he leaned back on one elbow, spreading his legs and reaching down with his other hand, gripping his arousal. A mixture of spittle and semen worked its way from the corner of Kieran’s mouth, dribbling down his cheek, and Azriel was fascinated by it.
He put his hands to either side of Kieran’s body, close enough that his thumbs could brush against bare thighs. Kieran was warm, skin coated in a thin layer of sweat, a deep blush burned in his cheeks. Arousal and embarrassment both most likely.
Azriel licked his lips, glancing down pointedly where Kieran gripped his own length but didn’t stroke himself, before lifting his gaze back to a need-drenched gaze.
“You may begin,” Azriel said hoarsely, resisting the urge to lean forward and capture Kieran’s mouth with his.
Somewhere, after his release and the eclipsing pleasure it produced, Azriel had abandoned his role. But he couldn’t keep the command out of his tone. He knew Kieran liked to hear it, and Azriel enjoyed using it. Just as much as he enjoyed watching Kieran obey.
He knew Kieran wanted to say something particularly witty and teasing, but with his mouth full, all that Kieran could do was nod and begin stroking himself. Long pulls that he alternated with light squeezes, fluid slithering from the swollen head. He was absolutely rigid with need, hips already pushing into the tunnel of his own fingers. Sweat gleamed on Kieran’s brow, and the muscles in his throat fluttered, pushed to their limit as Kieran struggled to obey Azriel’s order not to swallow.
Azriel watched, avid and heated, as Kieran’s fingers worked over his own flesh, thumb rubbing over the leaking head and smearing liquid over his rigid shaft. The flush in Kieran’s face deepened, and his breathing came in short bursts through his nose, lips trembling. His eyes were drenched with need, darkened to gunmetal gray. His hips pushed up in a ragged rhythm that betrayed the depth of his arousal.
Kieran looked beautiful like this, wanton and debauched, desperate for release. Azriel’s fingers clenched on the edge of the desk, knuckles going white as he licked his mouth. The head of Kieran’s arousal was a dark red, like a ripe plum. A sound was building in Kieran’s throat, a whine of deepening arousal.
Despite his own commands, Azriel could hardly sit back and watch without participating. He wanted to kiss Kieran, to let the man come undone at his hands. He leaned forward, reaching out with one hand, curling fingers over Kieran’s own. His palm was hot where it covered another hand, stroking the scientist in tandem.
Kieran groaned deep in his throat, urging a faster pace, and Azriel broke. He leaned forward almost awkwardly and covered Kieran’s mouth with his. Kieran’s mouth opened on reflex, slick fluid dribbling from the corner of his lips as Azriel kissed him, tasting himself on Kieran’s tongue. There was something so incredibly erotic about the wicked act that made Azriel’s gut twist into itself with a flash of lust.
There was a gulp and a throaty moan as Kieran swallowed before returning the kiss hungrily. His moved on the desk, rattling it and causing a few items to fall to the floor, not that either cared. Azriel’s fingers were becoming damp, and he knew that his lover was getting closer. Sweat coated Kieran’s body in a fine sheen, and his motions became erratic, his kisses more bites than anything, breathing ragged.
“Do it,” Azriel ordered, putting as much authority into his tone as he could muster. His eyes were open as Kieran’s head fell back, mouth open in hungry pants. “Come for me.”
As if the command alone had been enough, Kieran groaned and bit down on a much more audible reaction, entire body shuddering as he spilled over their combined grips. Azriel captured Kieran’s lips again, stealing his stuttered breath as the desk rattled noisily.
Fluid coated Azriel’s fingers in wet warmth before Kieran slumped bonelessly, skin flushed such an attractive shade that he had to fight the urge to lick him all over. Which, while a fun thing, was hardly conducive to other thoughts of rest, bathing, and perhaps food for Azriel himself.
Kieran’s other arm left the table, curling around the brunet’s neck, leverage to pull himself up into a sitting position as their kiss turned lazy. More nibbling and sucking than actual kissing. Kieran’s eyes were hazy, as though he were drugged. But as the seconds passed, he became more coherent.
A mischievous grin curled at his mouth.
“Next time,” Kieran panted, teeth nipping at Azriel’s chin. “I get to boss you around.”
Azriel chuckled. “I was under the impression we didn’t need games for that,” he returned, soiled hand resting on Kieran’s hip and smearing semen with sweat, making quite a mess.
The other man’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Are you implying that I’m a nagging wife?”
“I wouldn’t dare suggest a thing,” Azriel retorted, full of good humor.
“Yes, you would, dear Azriel. Yes, you would.” His hand coiled in Azriel’s much shorter brown hair, dragging him down for another kiss that was flavored of dinner and the bitter bite of his own release. Funny how he couldn’t be bothered to mind. “I think you owe me something.”
Tongue swiping over his lips, Azriel cocked his head to the side. “For what?”
Kieran batted his eyes coyly. “For throwing my research across the floor.”
“Weren’t you stumped?” Azriel asked and then abruptly turned his head, trying to politely cover his mouth as a yawn attacked him without warning. He hadn’t even realized he was so tired, but fatigue was certainly nailing him directly, weighing down his eyelids and limbs.
“Not so much anymore.” Kieran looked pointedly at his lack of clothes, and the stain growing on Azriel’s. “We could use a bath,” he added with a warm note to his voice.
Azriel rolled his eyes. “You’re insatiable.”
“Only where you’re concerned, my dear,” Kieran said in all seriousness, and how else could Azriel respond to that but by kissing him again.
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. And if you'd like to see more from these two, feel free to let me know. *grins*
