Sun Bird

To the owner's sputtering fury, Arsha didn't dismount to pass through the establishment. He just spurred his mare harder and ran right through the middle. Patrons leapt out of the way to avoid being trampled but Arsha didn't care. They were elves for the love of chocolate! Naturally agile and fast of reflex, they could get out of the way in time. And besides, he had a race to win and more importantly, he had an upstart assassin to deal with who seriously needed to be taken down a few notches!

"Sorry, oops, sorry about that! Look out! Just passing through!" Arsha was laughing hard by the time he finished negotiating the eatery.

He saw the inn directly on the other side of the round pool and water fountain that held the centre of the small, immaculately groomed park. He didn't head straight for it though. He wanted to gloat over his victory so he turned to face the arch that Ba'ith would have to pass through to enter the area. He wanted the assassin to see him laughing victoriously and more importantly, wanted him to see that he had reach their destination first and know without a doubt that his arse had been officially kicked. The look of disbelief on Ba'ith's smug face when he realised he had lost a simple race to a 'simple' healer would be priceless.

Arsha was so engrossed with his anticipated victorious revenge that he didn't even register the smell of stale magic when it wafted to his nose. He wouldn't have had time to do anything about it though, even if he had. He was pummelled from the back of his mount so suddenly and forcefully that it was as though a cannon ball had been shot at him from point blank range. He was sent flying through the air with the 'cannon ball' wrapped firmly around his body until he hit the water in the pool with a loud splash.

He barely knew what happened since it had all passed so quickly. All he knew was that he was sinking to the bottom of the pool, fast, with no idea as to who or what was pulling him down. He began to struggle, fighting to hold back the panic that tried to overwhelm him as surely as the thing clinging to him was. He felt the grip it had around his waist loosen slightly and he tried to thrash out of its hold but it was too strong and hauled him back again. His lungs screamed painfully from lack of air and he could feel his eyes beginning to bulge.

The body that was restraining him began to swim powerfully toward the surface, hauling him along with it. He gasped explosively once he could feel air against his skin instead of water and then he was thrown roughly onto the side of the pool. He laid for a few moments, spluttering and coughing out the water he had inhaled.

Suddenly, he was slammed onto his back.

His eyes widened when he saw that a dagger was pressed to his throat. It dripped with poisons and enchants - a typical rogue's weapon. But Arsha didn't need to see the dagger to know who held it and was straddling him. The point pressed into his vulnerable flesh and lifted his chin to expose his neck.

He raised his eyes slowly and they held a fierce promise of pain when at last they met with Ba'ith's own, remorseless gaze. "You'll only get one chance to use that dagger on me rogue. For your sake you had better not miss."

"I never miss." Ba'ith growled and fisted Arsha's long golden hair, pulling it back so hard that the elf's neck arched to breaking point.

~Four~

The assassin sniggered derisively at Arsha when he didn't struggle but Ba'ith was an elite killer and the elf knew that the bastard would know how to hold a dagger so that if his victim moved even the slightest bit, they would impale themselves on his blade with no effort on his part.

If he was going to die, and he was quite sure that he was, Arsha wanted to go with dignity at least. Despite his brave words, even if Ba'ith 'missed' he would still probably eventually die anyway as a result of being infected with the poisons that laced the dagger, or as a result of the fact that an assassin had many more ways to kill than just one. Still, he would make sure he hurt the arsehole on the way down…somehow.

The assassin's wrist shifted ever so slightly and Arsha braced himself for the death stroke. He wondered absently if it would hurt, or if it would be quick and painless. He hoped it would be the latter and he made his peace quickly, with the nameless God he served.

Suddenly, Ba'ith sat up, still straddling the elf's hips and sheathed his dagger. He let his heavy, lethal hands drop to rest on his thick muscular thighs. Then he looked at Arsha's puzzled face and winked. "There you go, precious. All done."

Arsha felt a droplet of sweat run down his neck and he lifted a hand to swipe at it. "What did you do you bastard?"

Ba'ith laughed a low, rumbling sound that would normally have made Arsha's spine tingle with goose bumps. He ignored the question and rose smoothly to his feet. "See if you can 'shortcut' your way around that."

Arsha pulled his hand away from his neck and blinked when he saw that his fingers were smeared with blood, rather than sweat. His movements were unnaturally slow and it took him twice the time it normally would have to sit up.

His jaw dropped with disbelief. "Slowing poison? You fucking used slowing poison on me? Over a stinking race? You godsdamned fucking prick!"

Ba'ith rested his heavy hands on his hips and balanced his weight on one leg. His chest puffed out arrogantly and he grinned broadly, victoriously. He wiggled his eyebrows in that infuriatingly endearing expression that clearly said 'cute, aren't I?'

No, you aren't! You are a BASTARD! Arsha saw that Ba'ith grinned with the victory that should have been his! And now the assassin was taking his victory away with a leisurely, swaggering walk and a cheeky look over his shoulder! Be fucked! Arsha focussed his outrage until if formed like a hard ball in his throat. His usually sapphire blue eyes darkened with deep shadow that boiled over them like storm clouds brewing in an otherwise clear sky.

Ba'ith raised an eyebrow when he saw what Arsha was doing. "You wouldn't…"

It took twice as long for the elf to gather the energy required to form the spell than it usually would have but at last he felt it intensify strong enough for him to cast. He opened his mouth in a wide, soundless howl and the bones of his skull were illuminated momentarily with fel energy as he released a psychic scream. With his shadow altered vision he saw a small evil, violet flame ignite over Ba'ith's head and suddenly, the assassin's eyes flared with unnatural terror and his face contorted in a silent horrified grimace.

Arsha sniggered and rose painfully slowly to his feet. He sprinted past the assassin as fast as he could, that is, with all the speed of a sleepy snail. Ba'ith didn't move. He was consumed with psychic terror so intense that it gripped his senses completely and left him unable to function at all. He couldn't talk, he couldn't run, he certainly couldn't give chase but Arsha saw a flare of anger behind the façade of fear that his spell had caused and he knew that even though he couldn't respond, Ba'ith was absolutely conscious and as aware as ever.

"Let's see you 'slow poison' your way out of that one." The healer bent over –slowly – and murmured close to the assassin's long, pointed elf ear. His lips brushed against it, more from Arsha overbalancing than any real intention to touch him. Yeah right! Who are you kidding?

With a final wink that mirrored Ba'ith's earlier expression, Arsha 'sprinted' at a snail's pace toward the inn and victory! He estimated that the duration of the spell he had cast left him with about twelve heartbeats to get to the inn before Ba'ith would be able to come after him. That was a big call considering he was handicapped with slowing poison. He knew the effects of the poison wouldn't last too long but since he wasn't an assassin himself, he had no way of knowing for sure. A rogue's 'tools of trade' were a very tightly guarded secret.

In slowed motion, Arsha ran toward the purple and gold awning that framed the entrance to the Inn. The glowing crystals that magically illuminated the elf city at night made the gold glitter and the purple shine. The awning flickered and snapped like a flag…a winner's flag, urging Arsha to hurry, to power through the slowing poison and claim the victory he so bloody well deserved!

As suddenly as a click of the fingers, the slowing poison wore off and Arsha instantly shifted from snail pace to speed! He lowered his head and his legs pumped like pistons moving so fast that he could feel his muscles beginning to burn. A smile began to stretch is handsome lips as the Inn drew closer and closer…victory was his!

He glanced over his shoulder just before he reached the portico to see where Ba'ith was. He hoped the spell he had cast on him had worn off so that he could see his face twist with crushing defeat! He hoped the assassin would cry like a baby and fall dramatically to his knees, hands outstretched in supplication to the heavens, to the very gods above, his voice cracking with grief as he cried 'Why? OH whyyyyyyy?"

Ba'ith however, had never cried a tear in his life and there was only one reason he ever dropped to his knees and that was only ever to incite ecstatic moans and cries of orgasmic bliss. Instead of 'crushing defeat', Arsha saw him ploughing toward him so fast that the outlines of his fine elfin form blurred and left a trail behind him.

Fucking sprint! He used his fucking sprint spell...Arsha had just enough time to identify the assassin's magic that gave Ba'ith his unnatural speed before he launched into the air. His massive, impossibly delicious body sailed outstretched as though he were flying. His muscular arms reached for Arsha. Time seemed to stop for a split second just so the priest could scream "Fuck!" before it sped up once more and the 'cannon ball' hit him again.

Arsha felt the wind knocked from his lungs as his back slammed painfully against the cobbled road. Then he heard an ear-splitting 'crack' that sounded disturbingly a lot like the sound every one of his ribs would make if they had been snapped in half at exactly the same time. Ba'ith's wet, hard, heavy body was crushing him into ground so agonisingly that he didn't doubt that if he ever managed to stand up again, there would be an imprint of his form permanently depressed in the stone like a celebrity mark of honour.

Worst of all, he saw Ba'ith's thick, corded neck arch over him. His dread made it seem as though the assassin had poisoned himself and Arsha saw every detail in slow motion. From the ripple of the black silk of Ba'ith's shirt, the slow 'underwater- like' movements of his thick, long black hair, the widening of full, entirely kissable lips that grew slowly into a broad smile, the wrinkle of skin at the base of his shoulder caused by his superbly muscled arm reaching up and over… stretching… straining… toward the dim opening of the Inn's doorway…and victory…

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Yes, even Arsha's devastated cry of denial was in slow motion.

Ba'ith held Arsha's horrified eyes and time resumed normality again. The assassin slammed his open palm over the threshold and it made a loud slapping sound similar to the noise that the carcass of a dead fish would make if dropped to the ground from a great height. "I won."

Under very, very different circumstances, Arsha would have found the assassin's voice which flowed over his sensitive ears like smooth, expensive liquor, incredibly arousing. But as he laid there, every bone in his body aching and his spirit crushed with defeat, he would quite happily have seen the rogue impaled arse first on some mythical monster's spiked tentacles. Ten of them. "Get off me."

Ba'ith shifted until he could straddle the elf's hips and brace his expansive chest above him on his elbows. "You owe me."

"I can't pay for your drinks if you don't get off me." Arsha's voice was little more than a vicious, infuriated hiss.

The assassin chuckled and let his heavy gaze roam over his captive's classically beautiful face. "Sore loser."

"You are a loser. Period. Now get the fuck off me!" Arsha began to struggle but a searing pain in his ribs stopped him.

"I think you may have broken something." Ba'ith chuckled that bastard, prick of a sound again, that sent shivers of excitement up Arsha's spine against his will!

"Ah, you mean, you broke something, and yes, I think you've cracked my ribs!" Arsha glared and breathed angrily out of his nose.

"Give me a kiss and we'll call it quits."

Arsha froze and he exhaled an incredulous breath. "You've got to be joking."

"Kiss me." Ba'ith lifted his head slightly and watched his broad hand slide over the golden white hair as he had wanted to do since the first time he had seen its owner.

"You're out of your mind!" Arsha gasped.

But when the assassin slowly lowered his intense gaze to meet his once more, the priest could see he was deadly serious. "Kiss me."

"I'll pay for your drinks..." Arsha's mind barely retained the coherence required to form the simple words. His senses were drunk on the musky scent of Ba'ith's raw maleness. The smell of strong soap rose around him, carried on waves of heat that the elf on top of him seemed to radiate. The mix was so overpowering that it even drowned out the stale magic of the potion of disguise.

"Give it to me." Ba'ith murmured. His voice was husky and cracked with desire and his breath washed intoxicatingly over the elf's face beneath him. "Or I'll take it."

Arsha struggled to breathe. He struggled to well, struggle even. He wanted to put up a fight but he couldn't move and for a moment he wondered if Ba'ith had sapped him of his energy with one of his spells or poisons or however it was that the bastards managed to render their victims immobile. He did manage to swallow hard though, finally, and he licked his lips nervously. He immediately wished he had kept his tongue in his mouth when Ba'ith growled lustfully at it, his eyes smoky with desire.

"Get off." The simple words hadn't sounded convincing to Arsha either so he didn't really blame Ba'ith for ignoring him.

"Wrong answer." Ba'ith's eyes flickered closed and his long, thick black lashes spread like exotic fans over his tanned cheeks.

Arsha held his breath, unable to believe that this was actually happening to him.

Him! Arsha was a one hundred year old virgin who had devoted his entire life to healing the wounded and helping anyone who needed him. He served so diligently that he had never had the time or inclination to pursue any kind of relationship, no matter how brief. Well, he always told himself that he didn't have the inclination to pursue romance … Lack of time had been the truth though.

He hadn't even been 'goosed' before tonight. Arsha didn't close his eyes. He couldn't. He wanted the assassin to 'take' the kiss but at the same time, he didn't.

Ba'ith made his mind up for him and turned his head gently in the opposite direction to the one he had taken. He lowered his head slowly, and stopped a hair's breadth before skin touched skin, and his eyes opened lazily, just a slit, to look into Arsha's.

He could feel the assassin's warm breath flowing into his shocked, stunned mouth that was gaping with disbelief and a certain amount of lust and willingness too. He hoped it didn't seem as though he was too eager. He didn't like the idea of being too eager. He wondered if he should struggle some more. But if he did, maybe Ba'ith would let him go and not 'take' what he wanted, what Arsha wanted to give him. Maybe he was just going crazy and this was all a disturbingly realistic dream inspired by Neika's dirty little tales about her exploits with Captain Dwin'Aer…

Ba'ith's eyes fluttered closed once more and Arsha stiffened slightly as the assassin brushed his lips with the barest, softest of touches that were hardly even there. It was probably a good thing that Arsha was already lying down because his body had turned into jelly. Shivers raced up his neck, bounced off his pointed ears and shot straight down to his sac.

The assassin was tracing his mouth with is bottom lip, alternating it with his top lip as he circled and navigated his way around Arsha's mouth. He slid the very tip of his tongue in between the priest's top teeth and the inside of his upper lip. Then Ba'ith reversed directions and seemed to be savouring every touch, every heavy breath, committing each detail to memory. Arsha certainly was.

Suddenly Ba'ith opened his mouth a touch wider and let his tongue slide out. It was wet and slightly fat and he swiped it over Arsha's top lip. Then he dragged his lower lip back through the drool. As though the feeling of moisture had pushed him over the edge, the way the scent of blood will enrage an animal, the assassin suddenly groaned a sound that was not easily identifiable as either elf or human and he crushed his lips over Arsha's mouth at last.

Arsha's head was spinning and he feared that if he didn't close his eyes vertigo would overwhelm him and he would vomit everywhere from being so dizzy. He could feel Ba'ith's jaw working powerfully, rhythmically, applying gentle but insistent pressure to his jaw so that he would open it wider.

The assassin's tongue lapped the insides of Arsha's mouth with breath stealing intensity. It swiped over the roof, ran along his gums and teeth, slid under his immobilised tongue and then over and around it until Arsha couldn't help but respond. He felt Ba'ith licking the insides of his cheeks and he thought briefly that if anything touched his tonsils he would quite simply pass out.

Ba'ith tasted like heat and man meat.

One of Arsha's eyes flew open. Man meat?

He found the courage to lick inside the assassin's mouth, just to check of course... Yes, he definitely tasted like meat. Covered with exotic spices and roasted slowly over a flame of desire. Ooo, poetic! He was rewarded to see the corner of Ba'ith's lips curl up in a small smile at his 'tasting', but the expression was gone in a blink. Ba'ith had refocused his concentration on trying to lick Arsha's tonsils.

The sensation of having that warm wet mouth rippling around his tongue almost blew the healer's mind and his head sagged back, over the hard bump under his neck which he realised absently was Ba'ith's arm. His mouth opened wider and the assassin hunched over, almost in frenzy to ravage his lips, his tongue and he sucked a moan from deep, deep inside Arsha that had been bubbling up from only the God's knew where until it erupted from his gaping 'Ba'ith-filled' mouth…a long, dripping exhalation of 'fuck me now' desire.

At last the assassin broke the suction he had on Arsha's tongue and he slid off it, slowly dragging his lips along the length until it fell out of his mouth with an almost audible 'pop'. Or maybe that was just the last of the elf's brain cells exploding. Ba'ith nuzzled Arsha's panting lips with his slightly kiss swollen ones, rubbed his nose and cheeks with his and closed his lips over the tip of his chin. "Come. We are dripping wet and my rooms are close by."

~Five~

"No, Uh…I can't …Um. Look I really need to get my head straight..." A shimmer of energy flowed from Arsha's hands and he absently released a minor spell of healing over himself. "There should be a fire inside…we'll dry soon enough."

Ba'ith's eyes narrowed slightly and he rose smoothly to his feet. He offered a heavy square hand to Arsha but the elf ignored it and stood up on his own with movements far less graceful than the assassin's. His head was cloudy but the pain in his ribs lessened with every hammering beat of his heart.