Just the Two of Them

David raises his head. "You don't get my throat. You didn't pay for that."

Nathaniel half sits up, panting. "Eight."

David laughs. "No negotiations once the act has begun." He leaves Nathaniel moaning and goes back to work: Nathaniel's balls dance on his tongue, and with something akin to pity for the poor man he takes them one by one into his mouth. He sucks gently, and feels Nathaniel's hand on his head. He has half a mind to /bite/, but it isn't hard -- Nathaniel's only stroking his hair. Still he comes up, and before he gets back to the meat of his work, he looks up at Nathaniel, and with absolute surety says:

"If you try to force my head, I'll bite your cock off."

Nathaniel nods, breathless. "Of course."

"So long as we understand each other." And he takes the head of Nathaniel's cock into his mouth, his tongue working, and begins to bob his head. It's just a little -- he meant it when he said Nathaniel wasn't getting his throat -- but it's enough. His hands work what his mouth won't reach, and it does, not quite the work of his throat -- but with his skill it's close enough. Nathaniel puts his head back and /sobs/.

He lifts his head -- that's enough -- and climbs gently into Nathaniel's lap. Both of them are breathing a little heavily, and David swoops in to kiss him. It's a long kiss, and Nathaniel tries to say a lot with it: gratitude and affection and pleading for forgiveness. David deliberately keeps his kiss just a kiss, and kneels up to slip down his own trousers.

"What is it you paid for next?" His smile is crooked. "My body?"

Nathaniel's eyes widen. "Oh, David -- oh, David."

David just grins, and rubs himself wanton against Nathaniel's cock. The tip is wet enough that is finds him, finds the hole of him, and /begs/ to be allowed inside.

"Now you'll have to go slow," David admonishes. "You know we have nothing to lubricate here. I'm doing you a favour by not demanding you get something."

Nathaniel splutters and starts to speak.

David's finger is back over his mouth. "Sshhhh. It's all right. Let your precum do it. But I'll need to go /slow/. Don't move your hips." He chuckles. "You think I'm going to wait to feel you stretch me out again?"

And he starts to circle, small, gentle circles, and he puts a bit of weight on, and he feels Nathaniel's cock /press/. He grins, and goes harder, and maybe he /is/ a little too eager, because in an instant Nathaniel slips inside him, and he /stings/. His gasp brings Nathaniel up to him, holding him close, kissing his neck, whispering sweet nothings into his skin.

His lesson learned, he moves gently, slowly, letting his arse swallow Nathaniel's cock at its own pace. He doesn't fight the gasps that come to his own throat now; he buries his head in Nathaniel's shoulder and for a moment loses himself in the heat of it, the smell -- of cock and perfumed furs and /Nathaniel/ -- the sweat starting to break out in his armpits, on his back, on his forehead. He rocks and circles with his hips and Nathaniel goes deeper and deeper and he barely muffles his moans -- until Nathaniel pulls his face up to look into his eyes, and starts to move. He bites down on the noises coming out of his throat, and meets Nathaniel's eye with defiance.

"I said /still/."

But Nathaniel's eyes have their own defiance, and he holds David still. "Did you?" And he rocks his hips, and David swallows him whole. There's no pain any more -- David is wide and ready, and he takes Nathaniel's cock with embarrassing ease.

He spits in Nathaniel's face.

In the instant of surprise afterwards, he's up and off Nathaniel's cock. He backs to the table, pulling up his breeches, and when Nathaniel is too slow to stop the anger rushing however briefly to his face, his fate is sealed.

"You just don't listen, do you?"

Nathaniel growls, and turns his head. "Forgive me."

There's a moment of silence. "Forgive you?" Savage laughter comes to David's throat. "Forgive you? Oh my darling, wouldn't that make this easy?" It erupts in peals, and the sound scares him. For a moment he feels like he's going mad. "You get on your knees and beg for forgiveness and I stand there and frown, and cry, and you cry, and I say I forgive you, and mean it, and then I come back and live in your castle and sleep in your bed and tell you I love you, and --" He shakes his head, gritting his teeth. "Wouldn't it be easy if it were that simple?" He scoffs. "But I wore your collar. You bought me like a /cow/ and I wore your collar and called you master and, no, you never had me beaten and didn't you think yourself /so kind/, but when you were angry I feared for my /life/ and when you were pleased I thought I would drown in the gratitude, and I took your cock and I served your /court/ and I was your /favourite/ and I never expect you to know --" He laughed to himself sadly. "I never expect you to understand what a /burden/ that is. What a /burden/ you are. What a burden you are still, with your new laws and your sad eyes, /begging/ me, all of it, just /begging/ me to forgive you." He shakes his head, and realises he is crying. The /bastard/. "Well I don't forgive you. I don't think I ever will." He swallows, and snarls. "I want you on the floor."

Nathaniel looks like he's just been run over by a horse. "David, I --"

He almost shouts -- almost but not quite. He's pleased he has that much control of himself still. "On the floor."

Nathaniel's eyes never leave him, but he slips to the edge of his chair and down to the floor.

David pulls down his breeches. He's subsided a little, but he strokes himself free.

"Breeches off." Nathaniel's eyes are still pleading -- /gods/ those /eyes/. "On your belly."

Nathaniel lets out a sob that's half a moan and turns on the cold stone. David comes down behind him, close on his back. He dries his tears on his shoulder. "You've missed this, haven't you? My /weight/ on your back. My cock against your arse. My voice is your ear. Haven't you?" He feels a burst of savagery in his belly. "Say it, pig."

Nathaniel moans like he's stuck in the belly. David laughs in his ear. "I told you it could never be the same. But I think you like it. Now, tell me, slut. Have you missed it?"

"Yes," he moans. "Oh /gods/, David, yes. Every night, every /night/."

He pulls back and spits on his hand. It's a light coating on his cock, enough to make it slide, but not nearly enough to make it slick.

"It might be a little /lot/ of pain." He sneers. "But you'll take that for me, won't you? I've earned that from you, haven't I?"

This moan is certainly in the affirmative. His hair is too short to grip, so David puts an arm around his throat and pulls his head back. He feels delicious underneath him: hot and quivering and David had a sudden, hungry flesh memory of how he will feel when he yields.

"Now tell me you want it."

He gasps and writhes against David's cock. "I want it."

"More."

"Fuck me." He sounds as though he's shocked it came out of his mouth. David's arm tightens round his throat. "Please, David --"

David snarls. "Master."

Nathaniel all but cries out. "Please, master, fuck me."

"Louder."

He whimpers. "Please, master, please, fuck me."

David growls in his ear. "/Louder/, gods damn you, I want your guards outside to hear it, /louder/, or I dry my cock off and take you /raw/."

He sobs, but sucks his breath it. David grins to think of the guards outside -- very deliberately not moving, not looking at each other. "Please, master, fuck me!"

And he pulls apart Nathaniel's arse apart, and plunges into him to the hilt.

Nathaniel's scream echoes.

David is laughing, ploughing him, feeling him tight and hot and writhing around his cock, and beneath him Nathaniel is sobbing.

"You like this?" David growls into his ear, tightening his arm, choking him. He feels cruel; he feels justified. Nathaniel whimpers. "Do you?"

"I'll take it," Nathaniel pants. "I'll take it for you."

David scoffs. "Oh, shut /up/." He takes Nathaniel's fur and stuffs it in his mouth, and dips his head against Nathaniel's shoulder to hide his tears.

A few strokes later he realises he's not enjoying himself half as much as he thought he would. He lets out a sob. Is this it now? Is this all that's between them now? He thought he could fuck his anger out, but it leaves him feeling hollow.

He's come too far to fuck -- to fuck /this/ man -- in a way that doesn't give him pleasure.

He pulls back, takes the fur from Nathaniel's mouth.

"Turn over."

Nathaniel's face is lined with tears. There's blood coming from his lip. He must have bitten it, David thinks, and feels a rush of pity, and a rush of anger at his pity. His face he keeps as stone.

"I don't like hurting you." His smile is self-mocking; he brushes his tears away angrily. "Even now, I don't like hurting you. You know that?"

Nathaniel swallows. "You deserve to hurt me." His eyes are earnest. "But if it gives you --" He sobs. "If it gives you no satisfaction ..."

David smiles. "I think I like that little bit of pain. Don't you?"

Eagerness comes back into Nathaniel's eyes. "Yes." He smiles, tentatively, answering David. "Please." And he wriggles down to put his arse closer to David's cock.

He chuckles. "You little slut." He slips back inside: gentle, slow. There's enough of a sting left from his earlier work that Nathaniel shudders and closes his eyes with a whimper. "You've always been my slut, really, haven't you?"

His eyes open. They have new tears in them -- not from pain. "I have."

That makes David laugh. "Just because I'm not tearing you open doesn't mean I forgive you. You know that."

"I know."

"/I/ want this. I want you." He smiles crookedly. "And you're going to take it."

And as Nathaniel opens to him, he rocks harder, faster. "Eyes open," he snarls. "Look at me." He grins. "By any justice, you should have been born the whore. You know that? I'd have been your master. I'd have been a better one by far." He laughs. "None of this guilt. I'd never have let you go. You'd have been mine until the day you died." And Nathaniel whimpers and there's enough pleasure in his whimper to turn David's stomach.

"You're disgusting." He snorts. "On your hands and knees."

It's a better angle: slick and easy, his balls thudding into Nathaniel's body, and he doesn't hold back. He loses himself in the movement, in the drag and thrust of it, in the grip of Nathaniel's hungry arse, in his whimpers, and his moans, and for a moment he feels something in the stone around him realign. /Yes/, he thinks, /this is your master now. On his hands and knees taking the cock of a man who used to be his whore, and loving it. This is the new order of the world/. And the stones -- that have stood for half a thousand years, that have seen warlords and empires rise and fall, have seen its masters humbled before, seen its slaves raised high -- see nothing in that to object to. He feels the rightness in his bones. Nathaniel worked back to meet him, and he threw his head back to the stars, and let pleasure shudder through him.

A moment before he spills, he pulls out.

"Turn to me," he growls, and Nathaniel does so. With a smile he realises what he must be expecting now, despite himself, realises that never before has he fucked Nathaniel, even /rough/, and not made him come, not swallowed it or taken it on his body or in his arse. He grins, and takes the back of Nathaniel's head in his hand.

He slaps him in the face with his cock. When Nathaniel's mouth falls open with surprise, he takes the invitation. His cock drives deep into Nathaniel's mouth, into his throat, and his grip on the back of his head is strong. Nathaniel struggles and chokes, but David holds him there, and thrusts again, and holds him there. Nathaniel chokes harder and bucks his head and breaks free, saliva spilling from his mouth. David slaps him in the face.

"You listen to me. I'm going to finish in your mouth, and you're going to take it on my face, do you understand me?" He snarls. "And then you're going to write me a cheque." And he takes Nathaniel by the chin, opening his mouth, and tastes his throat again.

Nathaniel chokes; idly David wonders if he's ever had a man fuck his face before. When he gags, he decides not, but he doesn't let up for an instant. He holds the back of Nathaniel's head and enjoys the convulsions of his throat, the way he struggles. He fucks his throat like he fucked his arse: swift, rhythmical, and without mercy.

He's an instant from coming when Nathaniel jerks away at last, and throws up on the floor.

He ignores him, stroking, mouth twisted in scorn, and lifts Nathaniel's face to his cock. He spills sweet and white on his face, over his cheek, into his eye. /At least he had the sense to close it/, he thinks. He's had come in his eye too many times to wish that on anyone.

He lets him go, and he falls, his head to floor, still coughing, lying there between spit and vomit and come. David stands and fastens his breeches.

There are sheets of paper on the table. He dips a quill and writes.

I, Nathaniel Arkham, hereby promise the bearer ...

He drops it at his feet. Nathaniel looks up to him, unseeing, broken.

"Sign it."

When he takes it back, the signature is a little wobbly -- but certainly recognisable. He smirks and tucks it into his pocket.

"You know the good thing about running a top-end brothel? I hardly have to fuck men anymore." He raises his eyebrows. "Not that I don't enjoy it. But it's sweet not to /have/ to, you know?" He puts his coat back on. "You know how much I charge? Nowadays?"

Nathaniel doesn't answer. He's worked his way up; his back is against the feet of the chair. His eyes still won't quite focus.

David smiles and turns to leave. "Five hundred. Whatever they like."

Nathaniel runs a hand through his hair. His voice is weak. "Good night, David."

"Good night, Lord Arkham."

He winks at the guards on his way out. They don't look at him. All the way down the corridor, he whistles.