Archive of Our Own ^beta

"We are at a resort in a non-extradition country and continent, Ludinus. I think you can take the moment to relax," Trent says, lifting another pink drink to his lips with an improbably designed bendy straw. He pulls deeply from the beverage and Ludinus watches the drink level sink in the coconut holder it is contained in.

"We still have much to do, Trent, and you would do well to remember that. The powers that are after us may not be at our level or attention to detail, but we cannot deny their craftiness nor drive."

Trent reclines further, setting the drink down on a side table. His legs are skinny and laid bare until upper thigh on the beach chair. Thick silver hair, short and interestingly curly runs down to taper out along mid-calf on both sides. Trent's smile reminiscent of the moment before he traps an outside party within their own words.

"Worry is useless. I am prepared for many contingencies at a moment's notice. As are you, I know. Why not take what this resort has to offer, and release some tension, ja? There will be time to plot and plan another day."

Ludinus does not roll his eyes. He'd mastered a presentation face long ago. He does shift his weight, however, leaning further on the finely crafted cane and sinking it an inch further into the sandy beach.

"Even so. I will not be caught unawares like you seem determined to, Trent." He grips his own hand over the handle of the cane tightly for four seconds before releasing. "I will be back at the room, excuse me."

He turns and walks off, stalking towards the room and trying to push the frustrating circular conversation they've had multiple times since arriving out of his mind. He doesn't see or feel Trent's gaze linger on him as he goes, nor see the brief flicker of tongue wetting Trent's lips or the spark of light in his eyes as he does.

-

-

By the beachside, an attendant comes to refresh Trent's drink and take any other requests he may have. Trent stretches out lifting his arms up over his head, knowing his midriff is bared as he does so, the corded muscle showing to the young man replacing his drink.

"Thank you, son, your service is prompt and welcome," he says, taking the freshly offered beverage.

"My pleasure, sir," the attendant says, eyes drifting down the length of his long body. Trent lowers his arms slowly, shaking out the tension in his shoulders. "Is there anything else we can do for you?" the boy offers.

Trent looks up to the boy's face. Elven kind. Honeyed complexion. He rolls his shoulders again.

"My back and shoulders are bothering me, would you rub them out? I find it hard to relax with all this tension crowding the top of my spine. And your hands look clever enough to work out the knots," he says, voice low and feathery. He lays just enough suggestion into his tone that the boy nods, agrees.

"Where do you want me, sir?" he asks, setting his tray down.

Trent moves forward, sitting up so the boy has room to settle behind him. He lays his hands over Trent's shoulders and begins kneading, working his thumbs into little divots in the skin and concentrating on moving in and down, working the problems out of the skin.

While the attendant works, Trent talks. He compliments the boy's hands again. He lets out one genuine sigh of relief when a portion of his neck is cracked gently and then massaged. But mostly he talks of his companion to the attendant.

"My partner is a stranger to indulging in free time. He is so on edge, so unable to relax, no matter the environment," he laments, pushing a hint of regret into his tone. "I wish there were a way to help him be comfortable. If you think this is bad, you should feel him--tense night and day, even as he trances," Trent says. Behind him the attendant makes a noise of sympathy.

"Our resort offers many activities, solo or paired, that could be employed to help him enjoy the moment in his surroundings. Has he been informed of the options?" the attendant dutifully inquires.

"Yes, and he is still hesitant. He just needs to come out of his shell. To be introduced to the world of pleasure," Trent nearly purrs, leaning back into the hands of the attendant he'd swayed to stay. He wets his lips, turning to see their expression. In front of him, unseen, his hands pull a component from the pocket of his shorts and begin casting.

-

-

"Recalcitrant old man," Ludinus mutters to himself, looking up at the sun and guesstimating the time. Trent's been out for a couple hours longer than he expected. "Hope he comes back with a burn to rival a lobster. Serves him right for not taking this seriously."

This is a vacation in one sense, yes, but it is not a time to be taking their security lax or remove their good sense from their bodies! He has no one to control or schemes to manifest at the moment, only to ensure their continued survival until such a time as returning to the Empire will prompt a welcome and not a misguided death sentence. He hasn't lived this long to be confounded by some mercenaries and their stupid bleeding hearts.

Dinner arrives as placed by a standing order, portioned just for one, however. Ludinus stops the attendant before he can leave, questioning it.

"Of course, sir. Your partner sent a request to have his portion delivered to one of the patios near the beach earlier this evening. He said he'd be spending more time with the offered activities before retiring. Would you like to join him? I can have your meal re-prepared and fresh--"

"Certainly not," Ludinus interrupts. "If Trent wants to spend his time being burnt to a crisp and ogled by locals, that is his business."

"Of course, sir," the attendant bows, hair falling over one shoulder, tied improperly. Sloppiness does no one any favors. He doesn't comment on it, however, and allows the elven boy to leave. No tip, though, in exchange for his messy demeanor.

Ludinus sits at the table in the living area of their room, taking a bite and drinking from the goblet. The cuisine is fine and held to the standard he is accustomed to, thankfully. Though little else seems to be, lately. He finishes his meal quickly, tidily.

It's not until he feels his vision double that he realizes he should have questioned further that Trent did not accompany him, tonight.

He hears the door open and he tries to call out, reaching for the cane that had fallen to the floor beside him. His vision is shifting horribly, his mind trying to reach for a spell to break him of this disorientation, but unable.

The attendant returns who usually takes his tray and leaves, but tonight he stops short at the sight of Ludinus fallen to his knees on the ground.

"Oh dear, sir, are you alright?" the attendant asks, moving immediately to Ludinus' side. He can't answer, he can barely keep his eyes open for the moment. The intense waves of dizziness are still pulling at him, trying to drag him under.

"Hold on, I can't lift you on my own," the attendant says. He stands and moves away, back towards the door. He hears him call down the hall and in the next few moments of fighting the urge to vomit his dinner, suddenly there are strong arms on either side of him.

"Up you get, sir, we've got you," a new voice says. Deep and honeyed and right in his ear. Ludinus groans as his muscles refuse to cooperate with the order, just more dead weight. The two attendants maneuver him so his legs are held in one of their strong grips, his torso and head supported by the other. It's the one with the messy hair by his feet, he can see.

"To the bed, Dalton," messy hair says. The light changes and he's set on the mattress of the one bed in their room. He can feel a few crumbs dig into his back, but the sensation is lost as another wave of dizziness hits him. He closes his eyes, panting quickly through the pain.

"Oh sir, don't worry. This part will pass in a moment. S'long as you don't get sick in the first ten minutes, the drugs do a damn good job of allowing you to let your hair down, so to speak," Messy elf says again, petting some sweaty strands of hair back from his forehead.

Ludinus squints his eyes open, looking at him, ingesting what he'd just said. Drugged.

The other one--maybe half-elven, unusually strong and sturdily built for one of pointed ears--comes around the bed to his other side. He feels the mattress dip and hands take ahold of the front of his robes. One stray thought of panic flicks through his mind that is just as quickly gone. He can feel a strange, buzzing sort of numbness starting to replace the dizziness. Overtaking the urge to be sick with a pleasant sort of clouded feeling. A heaviness to his limbs, a slowing to his mind.

He opens his mouth and finds he doesn't quite know what he wants to say anymore.

Dalton divests him of his robes, gently pulling his arms from the sleeves and folding it delicately before hanging it up in the closet. He's left in his hose before the two attendants.

"We're here to help, don't worry. We'll have you right as rain in no time, sir," Dalton says, running his hands over Ludinus' chest. He pushes up and makes circles, making note of the slow creep of blush traveling over his chest and up his neck. "Your partner told Ta'len all about it. It's not an uncommon request. You don't need to be embarrassed that you felt unable to ask it of us, sir," he continues, dragging his fingernails down to his hips.

His fingers play with the hose at his waist and he hooks one under the band, tugging it down slowly. The other--Ta'len--stays at his head, lifting his neck and shoulders up to slip behind him and be placed in his lap. Fingers undo the leather that holds Ludinus' hair back and run through the light tangles. Small pinpricks of pain reach through his haze, but as no more than a swiftly forgotten annoyance-like the bite of a mosquito.

"I didn't-" Ludinus starts, but Ta'len puts a finger to his lips, distracting him from finishing that thought.

"Shh, it's alright. Your partner told me everything we need to know to help make this your most relaxing night so far. A one stop drop into entering your true vacation, sir," they say, tracing Ludinus' lips with the finger they'd placed there.

“Don’t worry sir. Your partner gave us extensive detail in your preferences. We’ll get started soon as Dalton warms up.” Ta’len runs a hand through Ludinus’ hair while the other kneels between his legs, slowly rolling his hose down and away. He presses kisses along his legs as he does so.

Even tilting his head down to watch his progress feels a monumental effort. But the slow, heavy feeling in his mind and muscles in no way dampens the sensations of the mouth on him or the fingers tugging at his scalp behind him. (Nor of the crumbs digging into his bare back—fucking Trent—and despite himself, he feels a shiver of fear rack over him.)

[Trent is stealthed, hiding in the closet, watching. He catches the shiver and wets his lips in anticipation.]

Dalton lifts his ankle and finishes pulling the garment from his body. He tosses it behind him, to the floor, but keeps his grip on Ludinus’ ankle.

“Ready when you  are, Ta’l,” his voice rumbles deep in his chest, not looking at the elf as he speaks to him, eyes only for Ludinus’ body.

The drugs in his system won’t allow his shoulders to tighten as he desires. He’s little more than a ragdoll between the two young men. Unable to cast, unable to draw back on his physical strength—many underestimate a mage, especially one of his age. He’d kept himself strong over the years—and now it doesn’t matter. He mentally curses Trent’s name in increasingly graphic ways until he’s brought back by a slap to his bare chest.

“With us, Ludinus? We don’t want you to miss a moment,” Ta’len says, rubbing the spot before dragging lightly over his chest to flick and pinch at one nipple.

He takes a sharper breath in through his nose, eyes flicking up to the one leaning over his head. His lips curl back into a snarl, despite being unable to form words yet, and Ta’len tweaks his nipple harder than the first time. His eyes tighten at the corners but the snarl doesn’t leave. They’ll have to do better than that if they want him to bare his weaknesses.

-

-

earlier that day 

"I will be watching to ensure nothing goes too far, or past previously discussed boundaries. It wouldn’t do to actually cause him lasting harm."

“Of course not, sir. We welcome your participation and initiative in helping your partner. Let us know of anything else before evening’s dinner and we will accommodate your requests best we can.”

Trent smiles, arms folded beneath his sleeves. “Excellent. I look forward to the evening. Excuse me, gentlemen.”