Gaius is not either of those things, and his body is energized; the power of having a man come apart like that, it's a heady thing. With little power left in his hands, Gaius will take all the thrill that comes with this for what he can. He broke the Azure Dragoon with a crook of his fingers -- a victory that is small, but nonetheless is still a victory.
"I won't," Gaius says, husky voice still warmer than it was an hour ago. "But I must either ask you your patience or your blindness -- at this point, I find myself in sore need for my own release. You need not assist, but if you do not wish to linger, I can wait."
His--oh. Estinien lets his hands drop and lets out a long, shuddering sigh.
"If I tell you to just take what you damn well need, will you do it?" he asks, embarassed and open, still feeling sticky in unusual places. "I know not what you need, but you will."
The pause there is the damn near pregnant sort, heavy with weight and expectation -- promise too, but also a touch of dread. He can rationalize it; he has given and thus now he can receive and this too will be a lesson, or he can admit he would actually just prefer simple contact while he handles the matter himself, wanting both human warmth and an echo of something like affection or camraderie.
He chooses to remain a teacher, instead.
"If it so pleases you then, Ser Estinen, I will take my piece," he says; and there is some shuffling as small clothes are discarded.
Estinien stays on his back, legs sprawled, though gropingin the dark does find him an edge of some cloth to bite down on. No, the man cannot possibly break him - not when what came before could not.
He still feels silly with his legs out, like a bird about to be spitted, but at least it's dark.
"If you seek a bit, you can use the leather of my belt," Gaius says, picking it and dropping it near Estinien's head. "It'll take it better and will like be cleaner, too. You can also take to your belly, if that'd be more comfortable-- and make the bite down simpler. I can take you either way."
Gaius's hand ghosts over his side; the right hand, unwrapped, skin warm, faintly damp.
Estinien isn't so sure about showing the man his back, but reminds himself that if Gaius wanted him dead he could have done it while he was busy sucking his sanity out through his cock. Obediently he rolls (like a dog, but he forces that idea out of his mind) and braces, keeping the belt by his mouth for when it begins. "Sometime tonight, Black Wolf?"
"So petulant, Wyrmblood. Do you approach everything you do with such impatience?" Gaius asks; he's manuevering in the back, running his bare fingers over slick skin, down from muscle to skin to rolling Estinien's sac in his palm, before he goes back up.
He grips Estinien's hip in one hand, bandages apparent, and then uses the other to grip himself. "This is more than mere fingers, though, dragoon -- and an entirely different impalement."
There's a hot nudge of flesh, and then pushing past that loosened muscle; after all that greedy action with his fingers, Estinien's body is primed and ready to accept this larger penetration. Gaius' sock is as the rest of him: bigger than average, and hard a man can get.
Finally, he breaks control, a shuddery breath as he strokes once, twice, before he bottoms out -- hips flush to Estinien's ass. One hand goes to the hip to steady him, and the other to the back of Estinien's shoulder to keep him in place.
"S--Ser, by all that's good--" He takes his own ragged breath, no longer being able to pretend at disaffection and placid calm. "If you are unhappy, speak a word. I won't have you used roughly and take only pain from it."
The man beneath him sounds as if he can barely breathe. Regrets are definitely occurring, even as open and slick as he is.
"F-fine," he gasps, face pressed to the bedroll. God. He feels as if he's being impaled on his own lance. But Gaius's voice is wavering and that gives him some sort of courage, a smugness that his body is the one doing this to the cocky Garlean.
Gaius is taking a moment there, cock seated in warm flesh. Blood is thundering in his ears, and his teeth are seizing his lip to make sure he doesn't make too much noise himself. But he leans over Estinien's back, keeping his hand on his shoulder as steadying pressure.
The next roll of his hips is tentative, but each stroke gets stronger, easier, smoother, as Gaius remembers what fucking was like. It's been a while, and if he's starting to make soft little sounds of pleasure of his own, little gasps and breaths. Gaius Baelsar is not made of stone; hard though he may be, he's still hot flesh and human needs, holding tight to Estinien as he finally finds his rhythm and things get easier.
It's starting to prick his interest again, somehow. Usually Estinien rids himself an erection wtih a quarter-bell of hard jerking and thoughts about Aymeric in the bath, arousal risking a second time is nearly unheard of. He bites down on the belt to muffle his noises - of discomfort, of need, of desire. This man's rutting into him like a beast and Estinien can't help finding himself loving it.
Few can match Estinien in physicality -- the powerful thighs and the thick legs are mirrored in strong swordsman's arms and brawny chest with wide shoulders. Few could think to be the match for either of them, but here they finally find a good place.
Hearing Estinien make that noise again coaxes up a dry, throaty chuckle, and that smoke-roughened voice is soft but still audible.
"Ah, so you do like that, don't you, Wyrmblood?" The hand on his shoulder moves to tangle in his hair, just to keep a grip, a pressure but not a yank. The other moves beneath, to jerk that reviving erection as he thrusts. "Being a sheath for a blade-- or meat for the lance, if you prefer! A good-- fitting-- sheath!"
The words betray a ratcheting of tone, but he clamps down, teeth in his own lip until it he tastes the tang of his own blood in his mouth. A count of heart beats later, he thrusts through his climax, muffling a groan as best he can as he finally spills, emptying himself into Estinien and finishing with a soft sigh of contentment.
Estinien sheds curses at him through the belt but never forces him to stop, never denies his place as Gaius's sheath. It should be demeaning, and perhaps it is, perhaps that is why it feels so good despite being so unnatural. When the hand comes down to clutch him he thrusts into it, though it never reaches its proper fullness.
Only when Gaius is spent, and the movement stopped, does Estinien carefully let the leather drop from his jaws.
"I lost my forethought," Gaius admits as he goes back on his haunches, cock going soft against his thighs, still damp. His hand untangles from Estinien's hair, stroking down his back. "My apologies -- all things considered, I would have chosen otherwise."
It's messy and strange, but-- also, Estinien just felt so good.
"I do not suggest trying to rise immediately," he says, grabbing his undershirt and then also handing Estinien his own. God knows where his smalls are at the moment, they're crumpled somewhere together. "Your legs will likely betray you. Then again, with thighs like yours you may be steadier than most after their first time taking a man."
He fishes his canteen from his things, and takes a drink to wash the taste of blood and Estinien from his mouth, and then offers it to the prone dragoon. Peace offering, perhaps.
There is a brief moment where Estinien arches into that caressing hand like a cat. Where he admits that he needs it.
Then he grabs his shirt and rolls away, huddled and sulking again. The canteen is taken without a word of gratitude as Estinien tries to clean himself up as best he can. This will be a very...sticky walk back to his tent.
A cat is an apt description; the stray that wanders in and wants pets, but when he decides he's been satiated, he must resume a cold shoulder. But he tosses a roll of cloth Estinien.
"Use those for the mess," he says -- a wad of the bandaging he uses for the finger-tip to shoulder and chest wrap he wears over the cereuleum burns that have scarred his left side. "They've been washed since I last wore them."
Estinien takes it, eyes it, and then reluctantly sets it aside. "You will need it more, and you will need it clean," he notes, instead using his undershirt to mop things up. He can live without it for a bit, and wash it later when no one is looking.
Gaius does not speak on what he needs regarding his injury, but does not argue it either.
"Rest if you need," he finally says, "or leave when you trust your legs."
A tacit invitation to stay, but no complaint if he leaves, either. Gaius remains carefully neutral, in control again -- the shuddery voice and the vibrant thrum of pleasure he had earlier are gone, and all the things he said with a dirtier mouth remain unvoiced.
Estinien, after some time spent in silence, dresesses himself quietly and slips back out of the tent. He is not one to stay even in the best of times and this all feels too awkward in the wake of their...their acts. Unusual though they had been, they were enjoyable. He has a lot to think about it.
But he'd rather be alone to do it, as the darkness will hide where the delicate tears of his orgasm had left marks down the corners of his face.
Satiated in a way he hasn't been in... years, honestly, Gaius has his first deep, restful sleep in the lat year, at least. He sinks back into sleep relaxed, content, and warm. So content, he's late to wake -- usually up at the crack of sunup, he actually sleeps until the skies are warm with a painted sunrise.
He's dressed about as well as he can these days, despite last night's activity, gets the fire a little brighter for making shitty camp coffee out of old grounds and a tin. It is what it is out here.)
Estinien sleeps deeply as well, a pattern that is not missed by Valdeaulin. He keeps a steady eye on Gaius, to the point of waking when he does, and waking so early before Gaius is...noteworthy. Also noteworthy that the dragoon follows suite.
By the Twelve, if they really are fucking he's going to eat his own staff for breakfast. He prowls restlessly at the edges of the camp as Estinien emerges, walking a bit stiffly -- well, shit. They actually did do something. Ugh.
Gaius is as intense as ever; quiet as he goes about the breakfast prep, silent as he offers a cup of coffee to Estinien -- but not in an angry way, brimming with frustration as they marched. No, he was just quiet, without the ever burning emotion seething below the surface. He was calm. At peace; at least for a little bit.
The old feelings will come back. One lay doesn't mean Gaius is floating on cloud nine once they march. But he is having a distressingly well-rested and well-shagged morning, and he'll savor it while he can.
The way Estinien refuses to quite meet his eyes as he takes the coffee, the way he's avoidant even for Estinien...Valdeulin knows what it means. It burns in his stomach to think something he did gave that monster even a moment of pleasure.
But he can't blame Gaius for taking a victory offered so easily. Estinien, though, he should have known better. Sevara notes how he vanishes off into the woods before his emotion can be read on his face, and shrugs. (Like she cares where the Black Wolf sticks his dick.)
Pleasure that lead to peace, peace to a clarity of focus: Gaius is on his mission, driven by something other than shame.
Once the brief break in the fast is finished, Gaius help pack camp, goes briefly over the map, and then sets off hiking under the late morning sun. They won't cover as much ground today, but it will not be as draining a trek. There would be warmer climes soon, after coming down from Garlemald's frozen peaks. There among the wooded stretch, Gaius toils with a less heavy heart and a mind honing to focus on the goals of the future.
As to Estinien's case, he doesn't exactly have peace over him. A lot of questions, a lot to think about - what strange impulses drove him to Gaius, what they may mean, if they are troublesome. He thinks a lot about his impulses these days.
Wonders what parts are him and what parts are from the same source as the endless howling that once threatened to overwhelm him entirely. This one, not so much. It's nice to be able to concretely decide that, at least.
Nidhogg had a mate, yes, a consort-- but that was not about sex. That was about companionship and bonding. They did not couple or breed.
What happened last night? Someone got bred, alright.
They stop short of the borderlands -- just deep enough into the forest that no one should see a fire, but the pinprick glows of warm hearths through village windows down in the valley were visible from where they were.
The village was a way point. A stop-off. Warm beds, before they went a little further. From there it would be short trip to Ala Mhigo by airship, and then... Well, they'd see how they reacted to him. Few knew his face outside his fellow Garleans -- but he was certain some might know him.
Hopefully he wouldn't be walking himself to the chopping block. Hopefully they'd at least let him talk before Valdeaulin arranged his execution. He could hope for that much, at least. A last ditch effort to save his beloved Garelmald from Ascian rulers.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-08-19 02:59 am (UTC)"I won't," Gaius says, husky voice still warmer than it was an hour ago. "But I must either ask you your patience or your blindness -- at this point, I find myself in sore need for my own release. You need not assist, but if you do not wish to linger, I can wait."
no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 03:15 am (UTC)"If I tell you to just take what you damn well need, will you do it?" he asks, embarassed and open, still feeling sticky in unusual places. "I know not what you need, but you will."
Just fuck him already, you coward.
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Date: 2022-08-19 03:42 am (UTC)He chooses to remain a teacher, instead.
"If it so pleases you then, Ser Estinen, I will take my piece," he says; and there is some shuffling as small clothes are discarded.
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Date: 2022-08-19 04:33 am (UTC)He still feels silly with his legs out, like a bird about to be spitted, but at least it's dark.
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Date: 2022-08-19 04:55 am (UTC)Gaius's hand ghosts over his side; the right hand, unwrapped, skin warm, faintly damp.
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Date: 2022-08-19 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 05:21 am (UTC)He grips Estinien's hip in one hand, bandages apparent, and then uses the other to grip himself. "This is more than mere fingers, though, dragoon -- and an entirely different impalement."
There's a hot nudge of flesh, and then pushing past that loosened muscle; after all that greedy action with his fingers, Estinien's body is primed and ready to accept this larger penetration. Gaius' sock is as the rest of him: bigger than average, and hard a man can get.
Finally, he breaks control, a shuddery breath as he strokes once, twice, before he bottoms out -- hips flush to Estinien's ass. One hand goes to the hip to steady him, and the other to the back of Estinien's shoulder to keep him in place.
"S--Ser, by all that's good--" He takes his own ragged breath, no longer being able to pretend at disaffection and placid calm. "If you are unhappy, speak a word. I won't have you used roughly and take only pain from it."
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Date: 2022-08-19 12:09 pm (UTC)"F-fine," he gasps, face pressed to the bedroll. God. He feels as if he's being impaled on his own lance. But Gaius's voice is wavering and that gives him some sort of courage, a smugness that his body is the one doing this to the cocky Garlean.
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Date: 2022-08-19 03:24 pm (UTC)The next roll of his hips is tentative, but each stroke gets stronger, easier, smoother, as Gaius remembers what fucking was like. It's been a while, and if he's starting to make soft little sounds of pleasure of his own, little gasps and breaths. Gaius Baelsar is not made of stone; hard though he may be, he's still hot flesh and human needs, holding tight to Estinien as he finally finds his rhythm and things get easier.
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Date: 2022-08-19 03:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 04:02 pm (UTC)Hearing Estinien make that noise again coaxes up a dry, throaty chuckle, and that smoke-roughened voice is soft but still audible.
"Ah, so you do like that, don't you, Wyrmblood?" The hand on his shoulder moves to tangle in his hair, just to keep a grip, a pressure but not a yank. The other moves beneath, to jerk that reviving erection as he thrusts. "Being a sheath for a blade-- or meat for the lance, if you prefer! A good-- fitting-- sheath!"
The words betray a ratcheting of tone, but he clamps down, teeth in his own lip until it he tastes the tang of his own blood in his mouth. A count of heart beats later, he thrusts through his climax, muffling a groan as best he can as he finally spills, emptying himself into Estinien and finishing with a soft sigh of contentment.
It's been a while, and that was good.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 04:08 pm (UTC)Only when Gaius is spent, and the movement stopped, does Estinien carefully let the leather drop from his jaws.
"You've made a mess in me," he mutters.
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Date: 2022-08-19 04:18 pm (UTC)It's messy and strange, but-- also, Estinien just felt so good.
"I do not suggest trying to rise immediately," he says, grabbing his undershirt and then also handing Estinien his own. God knows where his smalls are at the moment, they're crumpled somewhere together. "Your legs will likely betray you. Then again, with thighs like yours you may be steadier than most after their first time taking a man."
He fishes his canteen from his things, and takes a drink to wash the taste of blood and Estinien from his mouth, and then offers it to the prone dragoon. Peace offering, perhaps.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 04:26 pm (UTC)Then he grabs his shirt and rolls away, huddled and sulking again. The canteen is taken without a word of gratitude as Estinien tries to clean himself up as best he can. This will be a very...sticky walk back to his tent.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 04:39 pm (UTC)"Use those for the mess," he says -- a wad of the bandaging he uses for the finger-tip to shoulder and chest wrap he wears over the cereuleum burns that have scarred his left side. "They've been washed since I last wore them."
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Date: 2022-08-19 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 07:37 pm (UTC)"Rest if you need," he finally says, "or leave when you trust your legs."
A tacit invitation to stay, but no complaint if he leaves, either. Gaius remains carefully neutral, in control again -- the shuddery voice and the vibrant thrum of pleasure he had earlier are gone, and all the things he said with a dirtier mouth remain unvoiced.
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Date: 2022-08-21 09:42 pm (UTC)But he'd rather be alone to do it, as the darkness will hide where the delicate tears of his orgasm had left marks down the corners of his face.
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Date: 2022-08-22 02:28 am (UTC)He's dressed about as well as he can these days, despite last night's activity, gets the fire a little brighter for making shitty camp coffee out of old grounds and a tin. It is what it is out here.)
no subject
Date: 2022-08-27 02:02 am (UTC)By the Twelve, if they really are fucking he's going to eat his own staff for breakfast. He prowls restlessly at the edges of the camp as Estinien emerges, walking a bit stiffly -- well, shit. They actually did do something. Ugh.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-27 02:44 am (UTC)The old feelings will come back. One lay doesn't mean Gaius is floating on cloud nine once they march. But he is having a distressingly well-rested and well-shagged morning, and he'll savor it while he can.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-27 02:48 am (UTC)But he can't blame Gaius for taking a victory offered so easily. Estinien, though, he should have known better. Sevara notes how he vanishes off into the woods before his emotion can be read on his face, and shrugs. (Like she cares where the Black Wolf sticks his dick.)
no subject
Date: 2022-08-27 02:58 am (UTC)Once the brief break in the fast is finished, Gaius help pack camp, goes briefly over the map, and then sets off hiking under the late morning sun. They won't cover as much ground today, but it will not be as draining a trek. There would be warmer climes soon, after coming down from Garlemald's frozen peaks. There among the wooded stretch, Gaius toils with a less heavy heart and a mind honing to focus on the goals of the future.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-27 04:23 am (UTC)Wonders what parts are him and what parts are from the same source as the endless howling that once threatened to overwhelm him entirely. This one, not so much. It's nice to be able to concretely decide that, at least.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-27 04:38 pm (UTC)What happened last night? Someone got bred, alright.
They stop short of the borderlands -- just deep enough into the forest that no one should see a fire, but the pinprick glows of warm hearths through village windows down in the valley were visible from where they were.
The village was a way point. A stop-off. Warm beds, before they went a little further. From there it would be short trip to Ala Mhigo by airship, and then... Well, they'd see how they reacted to him. Few knew his face outside his fellow Garleans -- but he was certain some might know him.
Hopefully he wouldn't be walking himself to the chopping block. Hopefully they'd at least let him talk before Valdeaulin arranged his execution. He could hope for that much, at least. A last ditch effort to save his beloved Garelmald from Ascian rulers.
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