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Chapter Text

Meetings were far less frequent than He Who Was might have preferred – the aftermath of a destructive battle left far too much work for both himself and his Loviatan lover. The Sendings provided some comfort, coming more frequently than the weekly agreement. Abdirak was always swift to point out how the pain of the parting could be its own sweet agony, but the Shadar-Kai was far less patient.

He was far from the comfortable darkness of the Shadow-Cursed Reithwin, now cleansed of the night that clung to the sky through all hours, and was steeped in the intoxicating guilt of a thousand dead that lay strewn about the city’s ruins and graves.  

Each ritual drew in the screaming souls to hold tightly in his fist until their penance could be brought to bear, the rich stock of memories flavouring his own mood far more frequently than he might have preferred. This one had run from their home, abandoning their child to the horrors that crashed through the wall. That one had become one of the horrors, slain by their neighbour after devouring a lifelong friend when their mind was no longer their own. 

The streets had run red with the blood of the doomed and the wicked, providing a feast for the Raven Queen’s emissary harvesting remorse from all that had enough form left to provide it. Yet it left his mind aching with the weight of it all, memories surging through every peaceful moment with little hope of relief.

Unfortunately it had also been some time since he had been able to bring proper penance to the storm of souls that raged at their bearer, brief encounters with strangers goaded into filling his masochistic needs providing little relief.

What He Who Was needed was the very skilled and loving hand of one who wielded pain like it was a part of his own soul. Perhaps, in a way, it was.

—

It took half a tenday for the Shadar-Kai to pick up the trail of whispers, stepping through the shadows that hid the city’s darkest secrets until at last he found the door to his hopes. Simple wood bore deep gouges, a few scorched marks that betrayed the frequency of misfired spells and combat in the alley that hid the entrance – so typical of his lover to pick a place that matched him so perfectly. 

Pale fingers hesitated still, knowing he wasn’t invited, that Abdirak had been perfectly clear about how busy he was in establishing this—

“It took you long enough, Dear One.” The door swung open, revealing sharp grey eyes piercing his soul, swifty followed by the sharp sting of a harsh grip on his arm. “It is unwise to linger on the doorstep. Come.” 

The Shadar-Kai’s feet barely felt the ground beneath them as he was dragged inside, Abdirak leaving no room for argument as the door was bolted behind them. Without space for another breath, his back was pushed against the wood, lips caught in passion that burned hot with pressure of needs that had been held back for far too long. He Who Was gave no quarter, asking none in return, as he deepened the kiss with occasional bites and the crushing grip of an embrace that silently spoke four simple words:

Don’t let me go.

—

So long had passed since their last meeting that Abdirak had stopped counting the days. He was entirely torn between the necessity of attending to duties – founding his own space within a city that had dire need of his Maiden’s touch – and the more personal desire to make it worthwhile. 

The aftermath of the conflict had graciously provided him with several things – an abandoned building to make his home, cover from the eyes of the Ilmatari that might seek to purge his presence from the Loviatan before he could even begin, and even several allies who would prove to be invaluable in the seasons that followed. Yet he knew with so much death clinging to every corner of every street, there would be no rest for the Gloomweaver. 

It took a lot of resolve to hold back his sendings. Abdirak did not wish to disturb important work, instead soothing himself with all manner of devotions, but it wasn’t the same. It was never enough. 

So he chose the more subtle method, the slow poison rather than the swift blade, keeping up the calm exterior of one who could wait as long as necessary and assuring He Who Was that there would be time later. Meanwhile, rumours were seeded through the streets, little clues left in all the darkest places the Shadar-Kai was most likely to tread, and each Sending carried a whisper of desire that culminated in this moment. 

Abdirak’s hands slid easily beneath the open clothing of his lover, seeking their mark – a wound that had not yet healed, a bruise from someone unwise enough to interrupt the Shadar Kai’s important work, and ahh a pressure point that made the breath catch for just a moment. Enough to finally part their kiss with a lingering bite to the lip of He who was already leaning forward for more. 

“Patience, Dear One – now you are here, we may take our time.” 

—

Another torture, it seemed. He Who Was groaned quietly at Abdirak’s thin-lipped smile, following the priest across the room as he finally took in the surroundings. 

The entrance was fairly plain, another doorway leading through into the temple proper to act as a barrier between prying eyes at the door and the truth of the worship that would be practiced here. Ritual runes marked the stone by the inner door – he recognised them as a mix of wards that could be activated for defence, and several that would ensure that noise made within these walls would not reach the outside. Not that it would particularly matter if they did, he supposed, given the tendencies of the area’s residents. 

Still, it was impressive. Despite broken beams and old rubble still laying in disrepair from the aftermath of the recent upheaval in the city, most of the building had held firm – a fitting testament to the current owner. Whilst there were no traditionally woven tapestries, the area had been well decorated with the marks of Loviatar’s love.

An eclectic array of tools were laid out in meticulous order across several long tables, familiar furniture – designed more for work than for casual guests – was arranged in a sensible order on the stone floor that could easily be cleaned at the night’s end. Several canvasses on the walls depicted vague shapes painted in deep crimson, images that evoked the very feeling of Loviatar’s embrace, pain and beauty entwined in shapes that would likely make little sense to those unfamiliar with her touch. His touch. 

“You were not easy to find,” he finally broke the silence as Abdirak stopped beside the tools. 

“And yet here you are, Dear One, precisely as I knew you would be,” the dark cleric smiled more softly, almost infuriatingly calm whilst He Who Was could feel his heart trying to hammer its way right out of his chest.

“I would have been far sooner, had you given me simple directions.” 

“Depriving you of the thrill of the chase? The satisfaction of finding your prize?” Abdirak’s hands spread in a wide and disarming gesture, as always illustrating his mood with careful motion. “I could hardly tear you away from your important work, far be it from me to cross the Raven Queen’s wrath. How is Quoth? Keeping well?” 

“Stop changing the subject,” He Who Was hissed, brittle patience snapping far faster than he intended, “you have no idea how much I…I…” 

“Such sweet suffering, Dear One, and you wear it so beautifully.” Despite the condescending nature of his words, Abdirak’s expression was genuine, a care and concern furrowing his brow. “I missed you too.” 

—

Simple and plain words cut the Shadar-Kai to the quick in an instant – none of the tools that lay upon the bench beside him could ever pierce as deeply or efficiently as pointing out the truth in He Who Was, laying his emotions bare and bleeding. Though as often was the case, this blade had two edges, his own pain writhing its way to the fore. 

“Why did you hide yourself in the darkness? So much suffering around every corner here…loath as I am to share your time, could you not bring your Maiden more gifts by not locking yourself away here?” 

“A matter of safety, if you’d believe it,” Abdirak sighed, the truth should at least be known. “The Open Hand would not permit my kind to disgrace their streets. As, in turn, Loviatar would demand I wipe the Ilmatari from existence.” 

“Surely in the chaos it would be a simple matter to eliminate their Temple.” He Who Was frowned, turning to the most inelegant solution, and one that entirely missed the danger. “Soft monks who devote themselves to healing the sick and weak? Your blade would prune their ilk with ease.” 

“One shark, Dear One, might have little difficulty in swallowing a single piranha whole, but to swim brazenly into a full shoal?” He shook his head. “There are too many, and it would be unwise of you to underestimate their potential. The Rack-Broken Lord does not call only the meek to his flock. Some in their number could endure almost as much as you.”

The Shadar-Kai stood silently as Abdirak stepped forward, his fingers tracing from the pointed ear to the line of his jaw, taking a firm grip before bringing his lips close once more.

“But not one of them could cry out as beautifully as you do.” 

—

Abdirak’s words were brought into reality almost instantly as He Who Was felt the kiss of steel at his waist, thin blade cutting sharply as he scrambled to summon a soul to the fore, bringing their punishment to bare. “Benryn!”, he gasped, at last feeling the passion and pain he had been missing this whole time, “Benryn…lost everything precious—” 

“Shhh,” Abdirak cut off the penance with a kiss, the soul flickering and fading as the green glow of the magic ebbed, “I do not wish to share your gifts tonight. This night is ours, the wine of our agony not for the tongues of any other sinners.” 

A warmth trickling onto his bare skin revealed the meaning behind the priest’s word – a truly double-edged blade ran crimson with Abdirak’s blood from a wound angled slightly higher opposite his own. “But…I need—” 

“You may visit me any other time for that, I will never turn you away from my door,” Abdirak smiled, pressing both ends of the weapon deeper into their cuts, “allow me to be a little selfish, Dear One, just this once. I wish to hear you, and only you.”

He Who Was moaned a little louder, keeping himself grounded in the moment, honouring the request as he made one of his own. “Then let your ears tonight be the only ones to savour the sound, and I swear I will be yours alone.”  

—

No words could have sounded sweeter to Abdirak in that moment, the low voice of his lover followed by his body pressing closer, blood mingling against the pale skin of both men as they savoured the indulgence of pain’s embrace. A hundred tools had been prepared, at least a dozen structures built or borrowed – with gratitude to one rather generous incubus who asked for little more than stories in return – yet not one of them could be more satisfying than the feeling of the Shadar-Kai’s fingers digging into the wound alongside the blade’s edge. 

“Dear One, you spoil me~” Abdirak’s words were barely above a whisper, the echo between them swallowed up in another passionate kiss as their lips crashed together once more. 

There was, perhaps, some measure of regret – that he had not caged his desire, nor taken time to prepare himself, yet in truth he could not have been sure precisely when his lover would arrive. Besides which, he reasoned it would be far more divine to let He Who Was be the one to choose the manner of their shared bliss. 

“You’re holding back,” he teased, biting at the Shadar-Kai’s pale lip, drawing a thin trickle of blood this time.

“Is the agony of anticipation no longer enough for you?” He Who Was replied with a sharper grip in the wound, cruelly finding the raw nerves along the bloodied flesh. “If we are both to be selfish, I will use every second to ensure you are satisfied.” 

Abdirak sighed – realising the sound was far too similar to a swooning maiden being presented with a bouquet of roses – as he leaned toward the pain. A brief gesture activated the wards at the door, silencing their pleasure even from Loviatar herself. That debt would easily, and gladly, be repaid on his own another day. The promise in the Shadar-Kai’s words was worth far more, his embrace infinitely warmer, his kiss the taste that he craved upon his tongue. 

The agony of anticipation, indeed.

Chapter Text

The first cut was little more than a handshake to Abdirak, a sentiment shared as He Who Was considered the options around them. Plenty of things they had enjoyed before, each willing to take on the role of the one to give the pain or to savour it, yet this time… 

“More,” He Who Was muttered between kisses, “I want this to endure.” 

“The choice is yours, Dear One, I shall be delighted by whatever it is that you decide.” Abdirak reluctantly parted, cleaning the twin edged blade on a soft cloth and placing it on a side table to be sterilised later. He took a seat on a spike covered bench, carefully avoiding the chains and anchor points so they didn’t catch in his robes. 

He Who Was examined the tables first, looking over the myriad of tools on display – knives, clamps, cages… There was a particularly fine looking leather pouch that drew his attention, unrolling it to reveal a full set of needles and numerous piercing studs. Some had hooks, others tipped with spikes, some with loops of metal on their ends. 

This…this would be perfect.  

“Is there somewhere you would prefer to lay down?” The Shadar-Kai glanced at his lover, storm-grey eyes seeming to sparkle in the torchlight. “Or perhaps to stand, so I might enjoy all of you.” 

“There are times,” Abdirak began as he stood moving across the room to where a rope pulley was secured to the floor, “where the simple option is also the most satisfying.” 

—

Abdirak lowered the pulley, giving a couple of brief instructions on the optimal way to use the mechanism along with the lock and release. Attached to the thick ropes was a solid metal bar, leather manacles on either end. Similarly on the floor there were a pair of cuffs attached closely to iron rings bolted to the stone. 

“Do you wish me to undress, Dear One?” He gazed into pitch dark eyes, marvelling at the way the darkness itself reflected light most beautifully rather than swallowing it up. 

“Are you wearing any undergarments?” 

“I am not.” 

“Then we will keep your clothes on, for now.” He Who Was grinned wickedly as Abdirak nodded agreement and positioned his feet by the ankle cuffs. “Besides, I feel your pauldrons and particulars of your outfit will add to your suffering in this position.” 

“Very astute,” he smiled wider, feeling altogether seen and appreciated by the only one whose opinion mattered. “I shall enjoy this.” 

With no more words passing between them for now, the Shadar-Kai pulled the leather tight around wrists and ankles, the sweet bite of pain embracing his joints with bliss. A small side table was pulled up to hold the tools – the array of piercings and needles joined by a thick candle and a bowl of water that shimmered with the false steam of frost betraying the cantrip that chilled it to near ice. 

Clearly, He who was not hiding his intentions had quite the treat in store. 

The first needle pierced his chest, heated on the candle’s flame both to sterilise and to add the burn to the sharp sting that drew Abdirak’s laughter bubbling joyfully to his lips. “There is no greater pain than that which your loving hand provides.” 

The reply came in the form of the second piercing on the other side, this needle instead chilled by the ice to give a different burn to his skin. Silver rings selected from the table were pressed into each hole – a manner that some may believe was a choice of fashion rather than a part of their game, yet Abdirak knew better. 

His suspicions were confirmed as a fine chain linked the rings across his chest, another two chains hanging loosely from the centre and pulling down with delicious tension. 

To his surprise, however, the next move from He Who Was did not involve a needle, but instead a greedy kiss, one that devoured his tongue as the Shadar-Kai teased at the chains far too gently, providing only the subtle edge of pain. Yet he returned the passion threefold, pulling hard against the manacles that held his arms splayed above him, relishing the burn of his shoulders wrenching in their sockets as he sought more of his lover’s warmth. 

“What was that for?” He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, not complaining at the additional affection, yet curious if there was some purpose that had escaped his notice.

The answer was a confirmation of his suspicion, as He Who Was held one finger beneath his chin. “Because I shall miss it. Hold out your tongue.” 

—

Gripping Abdirak’s tongue between the fingertips of one hand, He Who Was held the barbed hook in the other, marvelling at the viciously sharp edges with some measure of envy. His own pain, for once, could wait – watching his lover’s pupils blow wide with arousal was providing plenty of enjoyment for now.

He dragged the tip of the hook in a long fine scratch across the centre of Abdirak’s tongue until he reached the perfect point to force the barbs through the muscle, going in from the top and curving the hook until it grazed the inside of his lower lip. One of the loose chains was easy enough to pull upwards, measuring the length of the links to secure it to the other side of the hook. 

With that, the tension would connect chest and tongue together, so any movement of his head risked pulling against the piercings. 

He stepped back for a moment, admiring Abdirak like a piece of the finest art – the way he smiled and panted around the piercing, the trickles of blood painting his lips and abdomen, the rise and fall of his chest further illustrating his arousal from the blissful tortures. Glancing further down, there was a far clearer indication of the priest’s lust lifting his robes. 

The Shadar-Kai selected a simple knife he had lain on the side of the table, chilling the blade in the ice water before kneeling on the hard stone. The cold metal traced a line from Abdirak’s ankle to his knee, a shiver rattling the manacles briefly as the touch roamed higher, the dagger’s whetted edge barely grazing skin that yearned to be sliced without mercy. 

When it cut, however, the knife merely tore at the fabric of robes, ripping a long slit to reveal the evidence of Abdirak’s need. Settling back on his heels, He Who Was too another brief moment to merely admire his lover’s body, how perfect his muscles looked when tense, how beautifully his eyes gazed down with desire… 

If there were any memories of his own that would be treasured and carried eternally close to his heart, it would be these moments. When all the world melted away leaving only the heady cocktail of pleasure and pain, and how utterly divine Abdirak looked when overcome by the bliss of it all. 

—

Abdirak watched and waited, unsure what he wanted more between the simple sexual gratification of his lovers lips wrapping around him, the warmth of his tongue caressing every contour of his aching shaft, or perhaps the greater satisfaction that looked certain to follow the Shadar-Kai’s smile as he picked up the next needle and piercing. 

Taut flesh was pinched and the needle held for a long moment against a point low on his shaft, nearer the base. He Who Was tested a few pricks, waiting to find the point that drew the loudest moan from deep within his chest. The noise was less of a reaction, and more a culmination of desire and need boiling over as he relished the pinch and pull, the tug of the metal as his skin resisted the intrusion. 

Several more piercings followed, evenly spaced, set with simple bars with thick metal balls on each end. The heat of the flame cauterised each wound as it was made, depriving him of the satisfaction of hot blood running over tormented skin, though he couldn’t complain. Literally, given the way his tongue was held by the hook and chain.

He Who Was paused, however, dark eyes awaiting clearer consent as a thick and almost bladed needle was held just shy of his tip. 

In response, Abdirak pleaded with his expression, a long and low groan rising as he strained more against the bindings to encourage his lover. Yes, by the Maiden’s agonising embrace, please let me feel everything you are willing to offer me.

That was all the permission required, as a mere shadow of a second later the metal bit through his skin to pierce through, the sharp burn followed swiftly by the bruising pressure of the heavier ring stretching the new hole beyond its limit. 

The final chain hanging from his chest secured to the final piercing, his body connected by tension and thin metal that felt divine as He Who Was hooked a finger around where the links connected and pulled. 

—

The Shadar-Kai sat back on his heels again, enduring the harsh stone against his knees as he gazed up once more at the perfect art he had created for himself. The dark cleric’s goddess might even be envious of how perfectly her most faithful was gazing at him with a look of far more pure devotion than he had seen in any previous worship.

Perhaps Abdirak had been right – the absence making their meeting all the more potent – however He Who Was preferred to claim this victory all for himself. However, his work had barely begun. 

He chose a new needle, holding it in the flame long enough for the metal to begin to glow before he brought it close to his own bare chest. He closed his eyes and imagined that it was Abdirak’s fingers pinching his skin together, pressing the point through, pulling more harshly to tug the ring into place. 

The second was much the same, satisfying as even with his own eyes closed he could feel the sharp stare of Abdirak watching every motion. He let his voice resonate a little louder in the prolonged sigh as he hooked a matching chain to his piercings, though this time there was only the singular line of metal connecting each side with a latched hook in the centre. 

He who was kneeling rose to his feet slowly, making a show of every movement as he undressed under the Loviatan’s watchful gaze. He let his fingers linger across the still bloodied wound from the night’s first cut, dreaming once more of a different touch pulling the flesh apart and relishing the sting of the tear. 

—

Being so close yet unable to touch, unable to be the source of the pain – Abdirak had to admit, it was a particularly devious ploy. Of course, he would have his due, his pound of flesh, taste the cries of his lover’s agony at its peak—

For now, however, Abdirak could only savour the torture of patience. 

He Who Was came closer taking his time to circle his captive, cool fingers lingering in delicate touches along a body that ached to feel a far harsher embrace than the soft arms that coiled around with a soft whisper. “You are not the only one being tested,” He Who Was kissed the back of his neck, a gentle bite providing just enough pressure to sting, “but I shall endure, for you. Can you endure it for me?” 

Abdirak felt the knife’s edge – sadly only metaphorical for now – on which he stood. The desire to pull, to seek greater sensation, to urge his beloved into sharing more exquisite agony balanced against the rising wish to obey, to listen, to give himself fully over to the only one who had proven truly worth of such. 

“You do not need to answer with your words,” He Who Was stepped around him, a gentle caress on his face moving to one finger pressing against his pierced tongue instead. Abdirak moaned softly against the bare edge of pain tearing at the edge of the hole. “Perfect.” 

To his surprise, the Shadar-Kai sank to his knees again, but this time far closer. The warmth of a kiss pressed against his inner thigh, followed by a long a languid lick from base to pierced tip, pale lips dyed with the hint of blood that had run down from the piercings.

Loviatar, have mercy, the devious elf might just break him with such calculated teasing.

—

He Who Was smirked as he looked up at his lover, flush and desperate, pulling subtly against the manacles. It was not so rare that he took this role, but every time he did, it was intoxicating . He could get drunk on the power, on the sight of Abdirak full of pent up desire, need itself practically humming off heated skin. 

What’s more, he knew that winding him up tightly promised for far more when their roles reversed once more. 

Still, there was time for a little indulgence of his own with the game he had in mind. He left Abdirak waiting with just one more soft kiss on the cheek before stalking back across to the tables full of tools to find what he was looking for, something that caught his eye earlier.

The double ended item was perhaps not designed for what he had in mind, but many things could have more than one purpose. This was a wickedly sharp fork, two prongs on each end, sharpened and slightly curved – usually it would be set into a strap on a penitent’s neck, forcing them to pull their head up or have the spikes pierce into their chin and chest at once. That might have been an ideal tool for Abdirak’s predicament, but not if they were to share the experience.

Naturally, the priest of pain understood quickly with a glance of cool eyes, a slight hum of approval as He Who Was linked the chains attached to their piercings at the centre, balancing the fork between their chests with the pointed tips pricking their skin. A simple matter of push and pull – if Abdirak were to pull back, the chains would pull on both sets of piercings at once. Press forward, and the fork would piece into the bared skin of their chests. 

There was very little space between them, and even less room to move back without pulling on the chain. The table had been pulled closer with everything He Who Was needed in easy reach as he placed a teasing kiss on Abdirak’s nose, lips barely caressing a deep scar that crossed it. 

The game had truly begun. 

—

With their bodies so close, there was no way for Abdirak to see what was coming next, so he chose merely to look deep into the darkness of his lover’s eyes – to some they might appear like a pit of tar, a trap that would ensnare and drown any fool to come close enough.. But to Abdirak? Those eyes were a starless sky, a comforting night, and for once devoid of the green glow of souls rising to the fore. 

He pressed forward, relishing the fork’s cut into his flesh, and the challenge in the smile of He who was relishing the pain too. Perhaps he should have thought the Shadar-Kai’s gaze as more a tar pit trap, as he was so thoroughly pulled in to their depths that he hardly noticed the knife being heated until it was slicing a line along his arm. 

Abdirak pulled back from sheer reflex, the pain catching him by surprise and the pull of the piercings bringing a fresh gasp from both of them before he fell forward again, weight pressing back on the fork. 

The ebb and flow was the perfect tide washing through him with adrenaline and lust, the dagger next catching his hip on the opposite side and this time chilled by the ice water. Being so enveloped by the sensation was making it impossible to track the Shadar-Kai’s movement, each new cut unpredictable in both temperature and location. 

His body became a harp, nerves forming the strings that were plucked with almost alarming precision as He Who Was took a turn as a bard, bringing forth a symphony of shared indulgence. Abdirak longed to steal a kiss, to reach out and hold him, to take back control and show him the true depths of agony’s bliss—

Very clever, Dear One, to rile me up so. I will be sure to repay you tenfold for your indulgences.

—

He Who Was relished every little noise from his lover, the way there seemed to be fire blazing in eyes usually as cool as the ocean, the blissful agony of shared longing and shared pain. Need built in him too as he shifted his position, bringing his hips in closer as one hand began to tease at Abdirak’s pierced shaft, his own pressing up against the new textures the metal added to already heated flesh. 

The knife was left upon the tabletop as he began to wrap his hand around both of them, a guttural moan rising in him along with a fresh surge of need. His free hand sought to ensure his beloved would not miss the sweet agony he craved, finding a pressure point in the front of Abdirak’s shoulder and pressing his thumb in harshly against the weakest part of the joint that was already strained by the bindings. 

A pleading look formed in the priest’s expression, “more, Dear One, do not stop there” – words unspoken echoing into his mind as clearly as if by some unknown spell cast without effort. 

“I will give you all you desire, so you must endure. Not for the Maiden, for me.” The demand was answered with a low groan, and the hot pain of the fork pressing harder and deeper into his chest as Abdirak pressed their bodies closer, seeking the kind of affection that only two as steeped in the bliss of agony could share. 

Perhaps, then, it was cruel to slide the slender and round tipped metal rod into Abdirak’s tip, its twin penetrating him as they were connected at one end like tongs – the light coating of oil was barely enough to cool the burn, but it mattered little when the tool found the paired targets. Nerves inside and out brought to a feverish roar with one thumb pressing down upon the hinged end to torture from the inside whilst skilled fingers pressed the together and continued to wrap around both lengths as they sought friction against one another. 

—

Abdirak could hardly process a single thought beyond the building pleasure tying tighter and tighter knots in his gut, the hot burn of another merciless attack on a pressure point in his hip making him lean in further this time. The perfection of adrenaline surging through the ache, the way that He Who Was had become so demanding – it was relieving to see the Shadar-Kai become selfish for himself and with not a single soul glowing up in his eyes. 

At least, that’s what Abdirak would realise later, once he had space left in his mind to process anything so insightful. 

The simple whisper, the kiss to his cheek, the voice telling him to let go… 

Tension found it’s peak, snapping dramatically as his body writhed in the bonds, dry orgasm trying to push past the intrusion yet stuttering out still as his voice echoed from the walls, joined by another who pulled the rods free in time for both to spill out across the hand that was determined to draw out every second—

The fork fell to the floor with a clatter, He Who Was pressing their foreheads together, breathing heavily as the heat of the moment fell to the calm at the eye of the storm. 

Bliss. The pure and undiluted sensations falling away to peace, the care of a single thumb caressing his cheek with nothing short of devotion. Whilst he lacked the sweet embrace of Loviatar’s approval, there was a warmth to the dull aches that throbbed through every wound, and to the slight shake he could feel from the hands that carefully began to undo the bindings. 

First the chains were disconnected from piercings, now a messy tangle of delicate metal laid with less care on the table. Next, his wrists were lowered and freed, giving him back the motion of arms that were almost weak from the pulling of the bindings at such a harsh angle – but that was nothing a simple potion couldn’t fix. 

Abdirak cautiously pulled the barbed hook the rest of the way through his tongue, leaving barely a second to breathe before curling his hands around the Shadar-Kai’s head and pulling him into a deep and passionate kiss. 

—

The taste of blood was fresh as He Who Was yielded to his lover, arms finding purchase around his waist. He felt the tides of power flow as freely as the affection, the strength slowly slipping from him as he gave himself over to the care of one who was already determined to take the breath from his lungs before even being fully released from the bindings. 

“Dear One, you are exquisite.” Barely above a whisper, yet louder than thunder. Simple words filled him with a brief surge of pride, of knowing he had brought the blessed pain that relieved the suffering that lingered in the depths of Abdirak’s heart. A topic that never rose to conversation, yet was clear in the cleric’s interactions with others. 

Pain with purpose, as he was certain that all who agreed to his loving hand’s touch were reassured, it will not erase the darkness, but through it you can endure, overcome. Dear child, trust yourself to me, and Loviatar’s love will give you strength anew.  

“Dear One?” Abdirak was regarding him carefully, the slip into memories had not gone unnoticed it seemed. Perhaps we should rest a while, before we—” 

“No!” He Who Was snapped all too swiftly, drawing back his composure as swiftly as he had lost it. “No, when you are ready, so am I. There is no cause for concern.” 

“Hmm.” 

Fading slowly over the last few minutes, the adrenaline of control had left an absence behind, one that was most often filled with the roar of souls squirming away from his grasp to avoid their penance…yet… 

Silence. 

An uncomfortable emptiness that only left himself in the space where hundreds should be. Now it was the Shadar-Kai squirming away from the discomfort as he hurried to free Abdirak’s ankles from their shackles, desperation rising as every passing moment felt as if everything could slip away from his fingertips.

“Come,” Abdirak commanded, “sit. I shall need a weak potion to give you what you need.” 

He Who Was followed quietly, resting against the edge of the tables as he watched Abdirak remove the piercings with some level of alarm, the feeling only rising as the potion closed over the holes. 

“You disapprove?” Another simple question that brought with it too heavy an answer. 

“You do not wish to keep them?” 

“And deprive myself the exquisite agony of tearing each hole anew?” Abdirak laughed softly as he flexed his arms experimentally, the potion clearly bringing relief to tortured joints. “Now why, Dear One, might I do that?” 

He Who Was swallowed dryly, wishing that it might rid him of the sinking pit in the bottom of his stomach. “To remember this. Us.” 

Abdirak stepped closer with a smile. “I already do.” He motioned to a scar, long and red and angry along his ribs, another far smaller on his neck just below the jaw, a third on his forearm. 

With each motion, a memory returned – a knife, a whip, a moment of passion where fingers alone had dug a savage mark into heated flesh. Yet many scars were not forged by their time together, but by older memories. Whilst Abdirak could have healed any wound he chose to prevent the scar from forming, they had other sources. How could any be counted as particularly special when there were so many? But also… “And what do I have of us? I cannot afford to treasure a wound, it may be lost to the passage of time, the nature of my being.”

“Dear One…” The smile fell away, replaced by sincerity and concern. “Of course, there is an eternity ahead of you… Very well. I will honour your wish.”

The Shadar-Kai still felt uneasy, finally moving to remove the piercings that remained in his own body. If Abdirak wasn’t keeping them, then he had no reason to—

“No, Dear One,” Abdirak stopped him with a hand on his wrist, the grip tightening as a more dangerous smile returned, “leave them in. If you wish us to be marked by our devotion, it shall be so.”

Chapter Text

Abdirak had been watching closely for some time, listening to the words spoken and those left silent. Perhaps he had left it too long, maybe even now his selfish demand to deprive the Shadar-Kai of the deep relief that punishing the souls could bring was a step too far…

Yet he had trust. Not only that He Who Was would not go too far when he allowed himself to be shackled, but that his lover knew the limits and when to use the signal if it were needed. There was also the trust in his own ability to bring relief through pain, given by a loving hand, and there were none for whom the devoted priest reserved more love for than He.

It even escaped his notice that Loviatar’s name had not sprung to his mind anywhere during that thought.

Abdirak kept a firm grip on the Shadar-Kai’s wrist, feeling that strong familiar pulse racing beneath his fingertips even harder as he pressed down with greater force. “You see, Dear One, every moment can be an eternity unto itself,” he smiled, his free hand quickly taking a grip where long white hair was tied neatly, “embrace it, hold tightly to every second as it passes, savour the pain until the ache is burned into your soul.” 

—

He Who Was certainly felt the ache, the sweet burning of hair being pulled back and wrist damn near crushed by the priest’s quiet strength. Even sweeter, though, was the look in those eyes – the spark growing brighter, a question hanging in the silence between them.

“You choose,” he breathed, “show me your most blissful eternity so we may share it.” 

“As you wish,” Abdirak replied, yanking his head back by the hair before placing a deceptively soft kiss against his throat. “I do hope you are prepared.” 

He swallowed hard and gave the slightest nod as his braid was released. His gaze swept the room as Abdirak began to lead him by the wrist, trying to determine which familiar piece of furniture might take his body, which tools would be used to deliver him into the arms of exquisite agony. Sight, however, was soon deprived with a thick leather blindfold wrapped carefully around his head, turning the whole world dark. 

Hearing followed, as a swift spell took that sense in an instant, leaving only touch to navigate. He was guided further forward – memory telling him he was near the back corner of the room where tools and part-built pieces were stacked by the wall, a few pieces covered in dust sheets. It wouldn’t be unusual for his lover to have invented something new to test his limits, Abdirak never seemed to be short of ideas to share their time together. 

His mind began to race once more, with nothing but the fading ache in his wrist from the grip that had now left him standing still on the cold floor, barely enough to ground him, to quiet the roar that rose up within his mind. 

He Who Was felt his lips move, his tongue forming the syllables to ask – to plead – yet there was nothing to the sound that should be there aside from the vibration that travelled through his throat and chest. The spell kept even the quiet rush of his own breathing completely silenced. 

—

Casting the simple spell served two purposes for Abdirak: first, it concealed the sound of the heavy table scraping across the floor, but secondly… He could tell by the expressions crossing the elf’s pale features that his mind was too full, even without the blindfold he could feel the darkness of those eyes swirling with everything that was held back. So the temporary deprivation of senses would sharpen him, hone his need into the keenest point, ready to slice through the weight of everything that bore down upon him. 

“Just a little longer, Dear One,” he whispered, knowing his words would go unheard yet speaking them aloud nonetheless as if the very presence of his voice in the air might be enough for now. 

Temptation rose and was quickly tempered once more – patience was key. 

He Who Was stood waiting, ever more tense, but the tension made him somehow more perfect. After a few more long minutes, Abdirak guided the Shadar-Kai to the edge of the table, helping him to lay flat on his back on the thousands of sharpened points that had been so carefully hammered into the wood. 

He remembered the buzzing numbness in his hands from the hammer, the scent of the freshly cut wood brought into sharper relief with every nail added, anticipation building alongside the furniture itself taking shape. There was some slight measure of envy, of course, hearing the low moan as He Who Was felt the prickling across his skin, wicked metal barely piercing the first layer with how his body weight was evenly distributed across the device. The silence was easily dismissed – he would have his lover hear everything now. 

Like the sound of the thin crop tapping the leg of the table, creeping closer, ever closer, as He Who Was lay perfectly still without a single command. 

—

The lack of bindings mattered little – it was understood that when he was placed where he was meant to be, that the Shadar-Kai would remain there. The caress of a thousand needles in his back, legs, and arms, felt almost like stepping into a warm bath, soft pain washing through him with every slight motion. When his hearing returned, his pulse thrummed through his veins like lightning as every slight sound was like thunder to his ears.

The rapping of something on the wood – barely perceptible through his skin, yet the vibrations were there, and coming closer alongside those familiar soft footsteps on the stone. 

When the cane struck his abdomen he cried out, the pain mild compared to what he was used to yet somehow sharper, more acute in the absence of touch that had built his nerves to the point that the slightest breeze might be mistaken for a hurricane. 

“Beautiful, Dear One, but you can be louder.”

This time the blow caught the piercings on his chest, whipping against both of them with cruel force that brought his body to curl in by instinct – the very motion of it changing the balance of his weight over the nails and driving them deeper into the remaining points of contact before he lay flat again, breathing heavily.

Shapes moved behind closed eyelids, no light to tint the indescribable colours with the soft red of thin skin, no green glow of his magic to chase the darkness that grew hazy with the edges of his mind. 

Another strike and his leg took the force, an angry line of heat burning across the stripe the crop doubtlessly left behind. He focused on each sensation, drawing out the moment in the spaces between, feeling the priest’s wicked smile even without his vision. 

The way the cane hit, it carried with it the desire, the excitement that built in the loving hand of its wielder. 

Yes, more – show me the depths of your love, write your devotion into my nerves until I burn with agony only for you.

—

From the sharp stripes of the crop to the heavier thud of a paddle, every punishment that Abdirak brought upon pale flesh was accepted with the most beautiful of songs, an aria of agony for his ears alone.  The absence of Loviatar’s embrace guiding his hand might have been cold, a discomfort unwelcomed, yet… His hand shook from delight, adrenaline burning hot with desire as he relished the cries of his beloved, cherished every moment of tight muscles writhing beneath his skilled touch.

Angry red marks covered much of He Who Was now, even a simple touch brought quickened breaths, a low moan, the silent request for more clearly legible on parted lips. How different he was, without the call of souls being punished. To see only one soul and his need bared beneath the torchlight, pale skin barely warmed by the fire’s glow… 

Abdirak hummed quietly to himself as he considered the options, picking up and discarding so many of their favourite toys. The Nine Hells Flog, the wire and needles with their electric accuracy in bringing every nerve to a white hot burn, the simple knife that could carve away penance into the shape of desire…

But a devious part of his mind lingered instead on how He Who Was had kept him suspended in anticipation, raising the stakes slowly. Perhaps it was time to use the true trick to the bed of nails. 

—

Dozens of marks blazed hot on the Shadar-Kai’s body as he remained still, no bindings holding him down but the knowledge that staying would bring more satisfaction than attempting to take back control. He waited, hearing nothing but the shuffle of quiet footsteps and a slight scrape of stone on stone from beneath the table. 

When the cool weight was balanced over his wrist, the carefully carved rock applying even pressure to his lower arm, he understood. 

“That’s right, Dear One – let the burden itself relieve you of your own. Can you feel the point?” 

“Barely,” he replied, hoping perhaps to stoke more of Abdirak’s passion for greater pain even as his body ached from the myriad of wounds over every exposed inch. 

“Not this time,” a kiss to the tip of one ear, a finger dragged languidly across a welt from the cane, barely even enough pressure to sting. “Patience will be well rewarded – I want to see how much you can truly bear.” 

The next rock was heavier, balancing on his abdomen over an open cut, yet the cool of the stone was almost soothing despite the pressure of the spikes below raising the pain opposite. It seemed there was truly to be no rushing this, no matter how desperate he became. 

“Very good, Dear One,” the smile was still audible in his voice, calm for now yet thick with anticipation, with desire, “shall I add another?” 

“If you do not, you will regret it.” 

“Is that so?” Abdirak’s casual response told him the threat had fallen upon ears who only found it amusing, though the wait was longer, nothing but the nails and stones to provide minimal contact with a body that yearned for more.

—

Abdirak watched with interest as He Who Was became further entangled in the web he had designed – the desire to demand satisfaction barely tempered by the knowledge that to make such a demand would only delay it. Ah, but he had earned some reward, perhaps. 

The next weight was held over a torch for long enough to char, the simple material taking in the heat until it was ready. Not hot enough to burn – that had not been earned – but enough to sting, to feel. 

He laid the stone slowly over the centre of the Shadar-Kai’s pale chest, observing how the rise and fall became quicker, shallower, careful not to remove the stone. With it came a sweet moan, one that told him the burn was felt alongside the deeper dig of the nails. 

“Yes, Dear One, sing to me,” the joy rose within him at the sight, a little envy still eating away at the edges of it as he held his own needs at bay. 

The next one weight was placed just above the knee, adding the pressure on the joint and the inevitable ache that such would bear to the sharpness beneath. This time, too, it had been cooled to a thin layer of frost over the surface, a different kind of burn to contrast the last. The sound, too, was louder. 

“Do not hold back,”  he instructed as he hefted a much larger stone that was placed far less delicately over a pale shoulder, drawing out a noise closer to a scream this time. “Yes, YES! Let the pain embrace you!” 

—

Arousal was growing as swiftly as the sweet torment, as more rocks were balanced on the Shadar-Kai’s body one by one. Some were heated, a sensation that built up to a searing scorch as the temperature would not so easily dissipate from stone, the adrenaline it summoned burning with a far different feeling as pain blossomed into pleasure. 

However as the weight grew heavier, it also took more effort to breathe. The enthusiastic encouragement of his lover growing louder made him wish to keep his voice at a matching volume, not allowing his cries to subside even if his ribs ached with the effort. 

The contrast of dull weight and sharp spikes pressing slowly deeper and deeper began to envelop his entire body, mind blurring at the edges as he sank into the feeling, his own voice feeling a realm away as he focused only on Abdirak’s gleeful words echoing from the walls. Some was the instruction – not to move lest the rocks fall – whilst the rest blended encouragement with simple joy.

Eventually even the words became sounds without meaning, heart racing as he became buried beneath what felt like a mountain, lungs burning with every breath. Stars sparkled behind his eyelids as he considered giving the signal, admitting it was almost too much, yet…

—

Abdirak knew the game could not go on forever. Much as he had been assured that the Raven Queen would raise her servants time and again from beyond death’s grasp, he had no intention of crossing that line, of breaking his trust. 

He leaned down, caressing the flushed cheeks of his lover as he stole a kiss, pressing his passion deeper until they were both near breathless. “Dear One, you did so well,” he smoothed an errant lock of silvered hair from the Shadar-Kai’s pale brow, “let me relieve you of your burdens once more.” 

It was the work of a few minutes to take the stones from their places and stack them back beneath the table, leaving the blindfold until last and offering his hand as support.

“Not yet,” He Who Was remained still, “I need a moment.” 

Abdirak pursed his lips for a second, considering the options before simply sliding his arms beneath his lover to lift him off the spikes, caring little for how they tore up his own flesh in the process. That was merely a bonus.

“I said wait!” The protests were a poor match for the near limp body that curled in against Abdirak’s chest, the cheek that pressed itself to his bare skin.

“My Dear One,” he chided gently, “we have both waited long enough.” 

Chapter Text

He Who Was contemplated arguing more, yet the pleasant numbness that made him feel weightless as he was carried was not something he was willing to give up just yet. Besides which, when would he be treated like this again? Like something precious, someone who was wanted…

Deciding that perhaps Abdirak was right, that the time to wait had passed, he merely took in the new surroundings as he was carried through several corridors to a back room. 

There was a stark contrast in the layout – one wall was adorned with shackles and a few simple weapons beside a wide wooden board, partially covered with a threadbare blanket. Precisely the kind of sleeping place he expected of a devoted Loviatan. Yet opposite there was a lavish four poster bed with a heavy canopy, and a small heated pool with a subtle scent drifting up from the steam on the surface reaching the far side of the room. 

The ascetic opposite the indulgent…

“Knowing that which you are denied is a pain unto itself, don’t you agree?” Abdirak smiled, though he moved beyond the hard wooden bed and continued towards the extravagant sheets. “Yet there are times we should be permitted our own indulgence.” 

As always there was little point in disagreeing with his simple logic, as long as the night was not about to end here. 

— 

When the lavish bed had first been delivered – courtesy of one rather generous incubus – Abdirak had considered turning down the gift as completely unnecessary. But now, looking down on how beautifully his pale lover’s skin contrasted against dark green silk, how he stretched out and tested the strength returning to lithe limbs…

Exquisite.

If only he were able to freeze the moment, to store the perfect image of the portrait of agonies he had painted upon the Shadar-Kai’s body with a multitude of “brushes”, he would have little wish to gaze upon anything else. Yet was the beauty of the blossom not held within the very nature that it was temporary, destined to wilt, daring the onlooker to savour each second the petals still held their graceful posture atop the stem? 

It was impossible to imagine He Who Was wilting in the slightest, unless it was beneath his whip. 

Abdirak took a little longer, stoking the small fireplace that would serve another purpose later. Flames crackled higher, licking around the bark of the new log and charring the wood with the fresh scent of soot lingering close to the hearth. 

He straightened up, carefully unbuckling his pauldrons and noting with some measure of delight how closely dark eyes followed his every motion. Armour and robes – still torn from their earlier escapades – were stacked neatly on a chair within a matter of minutes, his body bared to match his lover.

“Have you recovered enough, or do you need more time?” 

—

He Who Was answered by beckoning, still feeling a pleasant sting to the myriad of tiny holes that covered every inch of the back of him. Some were deeper than others, but all so sensitive that every motion on the soft sheets brought bright sensation anew to burn the adrenaline hotter in his nerves. “Why do you need to bother with the fire? It is hardly cold in here, and I don’t recall either of us being concerned by the temperature before.”

“I shall assume that is a yes,” the soft mattress yielded beneath the knees of the man coming closer, a hint of mischief still playing about his features. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring any more of your favourite toys to the bed with you.” 

“Oh but I did, Dear One, toying with you is the most exquisite pleasure I can imagine,” Abdirak settled beside him, leaning on one side and reaching over to tug lightly on the piercing that remained embedded in the peak of his chest. 

A fresh spike of pain ignited a deeper heat as a slight hiss escaped his lips.

“You see? I need no other toys to provide your body with all it desires.” The low voice was followed swiftly by a shifting on the bed as Abdirak straddled him, fingers pressing into a long mark on his upper arm as lips at his neck sucked a bruise into pale skin. 

He Who Was wrapped his arms around his lover, nails digging into taut muscle as he sought to repay the generosity, the gifts that were so generously burned into his nerves. To finally be so close, bodies seeking to get ever closer, flesh desiring flesh in heated need…

Abdirak was right. They didn’t need anything else, nothing but one another’s brutal affections.

Frantic fingers clawed at scratches and bruises, kisses turned to bites, it was as if nothing mattered beyond the shared lust that had built over the minutes that stretched to hours of teasing and the shifting balance of power. 

—

In some ways, Abdirak felt like a foolish youth – giving over to the desperate desire, the clumsy slap and pinch and bite that brought such simple pain, but it was no less real, no less satisfying to feel each little heat spread into an inferno. 

He took the lead, flipping the Shadar-Kai onto his front and pinning his arms above his head, stretching out to the small bedside drawer just within reach to pull out the selection of flasks he had prepared earlier. 

That was, of course, the benefit in owning one’s own hidden temple. Everything could be set up ready and waiting for whatever opportunity might arise. 

Opportunity, of course, was not the only thing to arise . The first bottle’s stopper popped off as he yanked it with his teeth, pouring half of the contents over the writhing rear of his lover, tilting another quarter onto his fingers and setting the rest aside. 

Whilst screams and cries of agony were their own beautiful symphony, there were those other sounds, other feelings that one could draw from another’s senses. Like the soft gasp that came as Abdirak slid one careful finger inside the Shadar-Kai’s oil-slicked entrance, relishing the visceral feeling of tight muscle drawing him in.

The second drew out a longer moan as he pressed a constellation of kisses across pale and perforated skin, the slight taste of copper-sweet blood faint on his lips from the numerous wounds the spikes had left behind. He could only imagine how satisfying it had been to feel so many tiny pulls and tugs as He who was weighed down had been lifted free from the bed he had made for himself. 

Such sweet agony, Abdirak lamented, as he worked swiftly and carefully to prepare the Shadar-Kai to receive him, leaving bites and bruises wherever he could reach. 

—

Another stark contrast struck He Who Was, between the soft sheets and pillow that muffled his voice, and the harsh feel of teeth nipping at fresh wounds along his spine. Perhaps there was some magic to it, how the priest of pain always knew exactly how to drive his desire to its peak, desperation leaving him in a growl as he playfully struggled against the grip on his arms. 

Rewarded by that same grip tightening for a moment, and a harsher bite to the back of his neck, the Shadar-Kai pressed his hips up towards the welcome intrusions, nearly whining as long fingers withdrew.

“Dear One, I must insist that I have the use of both of my hands now. Can I trust you to keep yours precisely where I tell you to?” The commanding tone sent a shiver through his entire body in an instant, a silent nod providing the answer as his arms were freed from the single hand that had pinned his wrists together. “Very good.”

He who was not left empty for long found yet another noise rising unbidden from the depths of his lungs as he finally felt the sweet stretch of his lover pressing inside, inch by agonising inch. It was awkward of course, to be flat on his stomach like this, the friction of the sheets against still-fresh wounds almost as pleasurable as the direct stimulation as his hips were pushed down into the mattress.

Every contour was palpable, the slight burn of being more fully opened and filled adding to the pleasure – he regretted not being able to bestow upon Abdirak the same pain, but it was clear that he was not the only one enjoying himself as the pace gradually increased. 

—

The simple pleasure of sex alone was hardly unsatisfying, yet Abdirak intended to keep the promise he had made. The dark glass of the remaining bottles and their contents swirling inside called to him with their own potential. But first…

He hooked his arm underneath the Shadar-Kai’s narrow hips, lifting him up onto his knees, repositioning to continue the drawn out pace of languid thrusts that would prolong their shared bliss. Now kneeling upright, Abdirak removed the second cork swirling the acrid liquid around a moment to ensure he had picked the right one, careful not to spill even a single drop to the sheets.

The narrow neck of the bottle allowed a slow and accurate pour, the trickle no doubt stinging open wounds as a pattern was drawn in glistening liquid. But the sting was a mere whisper of the roar to follow. 

Satisfied with the delicate preparation, Abdirak summoned a flame to his fingertip, pressing it to the slightly deeper pool in the dip of his lover’s arched back. 

—

A howl ripped through He Who Was as the cool of the mystery liquid was ablaze in a split second – of course he should’ve expected this, or something at the very least, but before he had the time to process the heat searing its design into his flesh there were droplets of ice stinging in the spaces between.

Another liquid, it seemed, sprinkled lightly and showering him with cold, each splash freezing on impact before melting back out in the heat of the flames dancing along his skin. The whole while, Abdirak was increasing the pace, the tension building as nerves were tormented with pleasure’s embrace. 

Yet every time he thought one of them would reach their end, the pace was broken, slowed and denied, flames extinguished before being re-lit moments later. 

His request had certainly been taken to heart as Abdirak drew every second into a minute, every minute into an hour, eternity stretching out around them even as the walls of the world felt so infinitely small, as if nothing existed outside of this one room. 

—

Fire flickered and faded, lit and snuffed a hundred times over as Abdirak continued to bite back the growing desire to simply give in to the blissful feeling of his lover’s body quivering around him. How sweet it was, to see pale fingertips fisting into dark sheets, the Shadar-Kai’s entire being completely surrendering to the intensity of relentless stimulation, and oh how perfect the sound of that moan as he finally dismissed the fire and ran the flat of his hands along punished flesh.

So many marks, the stains of blood and ice, the tortured pinks of wicked games – this was his devotion made real. This was his love written in pain and pleasure, inked with the bliss that only true agony could bring and sealed with a kiss. 

He Who Was shivered at the affection, writhing and desperately pressing his hips back as Abdirak stilled himself to embrace his lover. 

It wasn’t enough any more, not enough to only hear the muffled voice and see the reactions of body alone…

He pulled out slowly, teasing even in this simple motion, before coaxing He Who Was to turn and lay on his back. Pale cheeks were a deeper hue, eyes wide and watching, even the curling tentacle-like tattoos seemed more beautiful, more alive . He slid his hands from quivering hips to weak knees, coaxing the Shadar-Kai’s legs to raise and fold, pinned between their bodies with shivering calves rested on his shoulders.

“There you are, Dear One…” 

—

The quiet words, and the kiss that followed, were…perplexing to say the least.

“I have been here the whole time,” he mumbled against insistent lips that barely gave him pause to draw breath.

A gentle touch swept stray hair from his forehead, passion colouring each word as those perfect storms in pale eyes seemed to look far beyond the surface. “Of course,” a bare whisper, that gave no sudden insight to his meaning.

Yet somehow, it began to make sense. He was anchored in the moment, filled with life, and far more literally filled with his lover who entered once more with the same languidly deliberate care that made every contour drag delectably over nerves that were alight with desire. By the time their hips met again, he was breathless, lips feeling near bruised from the affection. 

Perhaps it might have been more pleasurable to have left the piercings in, to take the risk simply to enjoy the extra friction they might provide, but perhaps that might have lessened the intimacy that rose with the simple perfection of bodies entwined. He reached up, tracing his fingertips across the scars on Abdirak’s forehead, each little detail already woven deep into his memory. 

His memory. Not any of the others that pressed at the edges of his mind, now silenced for once, raging souls drowned out beneath the tides of lust that threatened to sweep him away if it weren’t for the light bite on his lower lip as Abdirak demanded his attention. 

“You wanted something that we can share, a mark of devotion. Are you certain?” 

“I am.” 

—

Abdirak had expected the answer, the spectral hand subtly summoned some time ago as it held the leather wound handle, the end of the iron now glowing hot in the flames. He left it there a moment longer as he changed their position one more time, wrapping his arms around He Who Was and pulling him up to straddle his lap. 

The brand floated across the room to them in the spell’s grip, as he guided his lover to observe the luminous details glowing with the heat. 

The end was T shaped, two different symbols on each end of the T, something he had commissioned in exchange for a couple of favours from a deep gnome he had met some time ago. The fellow had asked few questions on the intent or use of the item, only ensuring that the end result met the specifications and had full approval. 

“A mark for each – my whip and mace, your feather and tattoo.” He turned the spell’s hand over as he showed the details. It was a simplified design, burned flesh could not carry fine details as well as a tattoo might, but the scar would still show the shape. The swirling tentacles that mirrored the patterns around the Shadar-Kai’s eyes bore a simple feather in the centre, whilst the whip was a simple slender strand with the angular ended mace crossed over at the grips. 

“A fitting memento,” He Who Was gave his answer in an awed whisper, “but where?” 

Abdirak trailed one finger down his lover’s pale chest, rewarding him a little with the occasional pressure over the marks the evening had left, coming to a stop in the convex below the ridge of his hip. “Here, Dear One – where it may be hidden from those with whom you do not wish to share it, yet where you may always see it, feel it, and know we were one in this moment.” 

“Turning pain to poetry,” the sentence punctuated by a kiss even as they continued to rise and fall together in a steady rhythm, “I am ready.” 

—

He Who Was leaned back a little, Abdirak’s arm around his lower back keeping him steady despite the movement of their hips below. 

The heat of the iron was palpable even before it was lowered between them, as Abdirak continued to tease the anticipation with a line of bites and kisses along his collarbone until—

His voice ripped from his throat in a howl of pleasure as the metal made contact, teeth biting at his neck at the same time, a similar sound resonating through Abdirak’s lips with the bite. Flesh was seared slowly, the temperature of the brand lowered enough that it would take extended contact to ensure the pattern was pressed fully into their skin. 

To that end, the grip around his waist tightened, their bodies pressed together tightly even as Abdirak thrust harder and faster into him, the perfect feeling of being so completely filled and surrounded, teeth in his neck and fingernails raking his tortured back, built his own passion to breaking point. The friction between them tipped the balance, his release spilling out and hissing against the iron, the tool cast aside seconds later as his lover gripped his body with both arms to fuck into him with feral need, deep and shuddering growl resounding through his chest as the priest of pain gave himself over to pleasure. 

Once more the seconds stretched out impossibly, agony and euphoria blended into one singular peak of ecstasy, until gradually their shared climax fell to the simple sounds of heavy breaths in the silent echoes of bliss.

—

There were no words in any language that could describe the feeling echoing through Abdirak’s mind and body. The last radiating warmth of his climax was still pulsing in his veins, and He Who Was was leaning forwards against him, arms wrapped tightly around his back. The throbbing burn of the brand was rapturous in itself, and knowing it was yet another feeling they shared in this moment brought with it an even deeper satisfaction.

Exquisite. Perfect. Divine.

Whispers his heart made that didn’t form syllables on his lips were still pressed to soft skin with affection, the taste of sweat and blood lingering on each kiss as he savoured the afterglow. 

He waited for several long minutes, loath to part their bodies, listening only to the soothing sound of his lover’s heart still racing and the ragged breaths of lust’s aftermath. 

No matter how perfect, however, no moment could truly last forever, though this one was seared deeper into his memory than the brand in his flesh. Ah, now there was one word, one that described every hour they had shared together tonight and every time before:

Unforgettable.

Chapter Text

He Who Was marvelled at the precision with which the healing bath had been established. It would not be enough to mitigate the burn without leaving the intended scar, but it did soothe the surface of his other wounds as he reclined in the comforting waters at Abdirak’s side. 

Scented soaps lathered through his hair, firm yet gentle fingertips massaging his scalp as he began to melt beneath the affection that made his whole head feel lighter somehow. A few more potent balms were carefully applied to the deeper wounds from the night, the piercings healing over easily once the metal was removed. 

The whole time was shared in a comfortable silence, the soft crackle of logs splitting to cinders in the hearth adding to the peace that filled the room once the echoes of passion had faded into the intimacy of their shared aftermath. 

—

Abdirak sighed as He Who Was leaned back, laying against his chest, head resting on his shoulder as dark eyes peered up with a question faltering alongside the finger that lazily traced over his older scars. 

“Something on your mind, Dear One?” He met his lover’s gaze, savouring the light feel of touch along wounds long since healed. 

“I am curious why you keep these other scars, if they have a meaning you are willing to share.” 

“Each is a lesson,” he began, wrapping one arm around the other man’s shoulders. “A burn teaches a child not to touch the stove unless he wants another, a lash reminds the rebellious teen of his place. Each deep score of tooth and claw tells the youth to heed the warning growl and beware the creature that lurks in bush and shadow.”

He Who Was remained silent, gaze following each gesture to the scar that illustrated a textbook of Abdirak’s past and all he had learned. 

“The cut of the sword, of course, is the mark that oft man can be more monster than beast, and the taste of poison that even a kiss might not carry love.” 

“Poison leaves no scar.” 

“Not where one might see.”

—

There was a long moment of silence as the weight of the words hung in the air, leading the Shadar-Kai to reach up and curl his fingers around the back of Abdirak’s head, guiding him closer. “My kiss will never carry poison, and my blade will never touch your back.”

“A pity,” Abdirak smiled all too easily, “I might not mind that so much.” 

“I mean it. I will not betray you.”

“I know, Dear One,” the smile turned a little bittersweet, “I only hope my kiss does not turn out to be your poison.” 

To stop his heart from sinking like a stone, He Who Was stole Abdirak’s lips in a moment of affection – one that was almost chaste compared to the night they had shared, and all the others before. “There. No matter how many times, I am still not perishing from some hideous curse.” 

—

Abdirak sighed heavily. He was loath to turn the mood sour, but he couldn’t help but feel the full burden of the truth that He Who Was kept neatly avoiding. Someday, he would age. Someday, he may not wake.

Some day in the future, where He Who Was had hardly been changed by the passage of time, the Shadar-Kai would wake alone with the knowledge that their last aria had already played and only the echo of the song could remain. 

For now, he let it go, choosing to cherish the moment for what it was as he caressed a long wound on his lover’s arm that was still knitting closed as the waters continued their work. 

“How did you get the incubus to agree to so many gifts?” Another question, it seemed. 

“Haarlep is a curious creature,” Abdirak smiled a little, remembering a few details of their agreement. “They are beholden to their own whims, and not as subservient to their contracted master as it may seem.” 

“Is that so?” He Who Was curled in a little closer, almost possessive in how one arm encircled his waist tightly. “And do you trust them? When you introduced us, Haarlep did not have a loving hand.” 

“You truly think so?” Memories lined up in succession, the clarity within them slightly more difficult to explain without the incubus seeming entirely selfish. “The first time we met, it was Haarlep who brought us together at their event, and more than once they loaned us their rooms.” 

“The incubus feeds on lust, that serves their needs more than ours.” 

“Perhaps, yet they could have enthralled a hundred mortals, or merely spent the devil’s coin on those who accept it for such work. There are even lovers who would hardly turn down an adventurous invitation to keep their romance exciting.” Abdirak brought his free arm around to fully embrace his lover now, caring little for how the pale braid tickled at his chest where it floated on the water’s surface. “Love, to a fiend, is as foreign to us as our love might appear to a commoner.” 

—

He Who Was turned over the words in his mind. Our love… Of course there was no denying what he felt, what they clearly both felt, confessions and devotions still as clear in his mind as if the last whispers of the echo were still in the air.  

It wasn’t long, however, before quieter whispers began to creep through his consciousness. The downside, perhaps, to allowing himself to get so comfortable, to feel safe in ways that were hard to even comprehend. The souls within were prickling at him with curiosity. Their memories tried to intrude, blurring the edges of his own, as they sought to show him that they too had once known such warmth.

His teeth set on edge as he tried to force them away, body filling again with tension that had not been relieved – he would surely break if the pressure of their guilt was not relieved soon. There had been too many, too much, too fast—

Ripples spread in rings across the water’s surface beneath him as each droplet landed without permission, shoulders beginning to quiver even as Abdirak held him tighter. 

“Dear One…what is troubling you so?” A quiet voice, soft, calming, followed by affection pressed to his damp hair. 

“In the darkness, the shadows are merely a part of the landscape,” he attempted to explain, trying to find the words as he steadied his breaths, “yet here in the light, every shadow is darker. Their darkness…begins to consume me.”

—

The words, and the meaning behind them, was certainly cause for concern as Abdirak tried to understand. He had of course encountered many who had suffered, alleviating that whilst they still lived, offering them the divine caress of Loviatar’s love to protect them…but that was not the same. 

Behind dark eyes lay the souls of a thousand dead, their memories, their essence stored within a vessel that was threatening to crack if the pressure within could not be released. He cursed himself silently for his selfishness in demanding their night be shared without the intrusion, clearly the number of them needed—

“Abdirak, am I wrong?” A voice that should never be so quiet spoke from the face buried against his chest. “They deserve the pain, they all do, but there are so many, such viciousness in their hearts…”

He remained quiet, allowing the thoughts time to become clear, and for the tongue that spoke them to form them fully. 

“Am I wrong to be taking them, is the Raven Queen wrong to send me…”

Finally, the last attempts at syllables dissolved into silent sobs – the second time in one night that He Who Was had been freed from a burden and finally allowed to breathe. “It is only wrong that your deity would deny you this – emotion .” Abdirak held him closer, a gentle hand running along a pale back that quivered and shook. “Perhaps a deity can indeed be fallible…” 

“You are bold,” the muffled voice spoke between choked sobs, “to speak blasphemy in your own temple to your Maiden Goddess…” 

“Ah, but you asked that she not be privy to our passions tonight. The wards remain, her attentions are likely elsewhere.” Abdirak sighed heavily as he thought of all the reasons he did not remain in the Temple he was trained, why he chose to travel, to express his own devotions without the support of those who did not balk at the sight of scars and the self-flagellation of daily prayer. There were…deviations, to how he felt. Ones that the goddess herself seemed to tolerate as she still gave her blessings to his offerings, and yet…

The quiet persisted as he pursed his lips, holding the one treasure he wished to keep over all others. The only thing he would deny if it was asked. 

“Loviatar rarely approves of such feelings as I hold for you, Dear One. You fear that emotion is a mistake, yet I know that what I feel for you cannot possibly be wrong.” 

—

Hearing such open heresy from one as pious as Abdirak gave He Who Was pause for thought. There were those who would surely ruin him for ever uttering those words, and yet… He was sincere . Completely. And the more terrifying part of it, was that the Raven Queen’s emissary realised he felt the same. 

A secret, then, lest he wished to hear centuries of Quoth complaining endlessly, her sharp tongue and sharper beak picking at his feelings, the squawks of “I told you so” and “you should’ve left the cursed land” and “that’s why you don’t spend so long with living souls, they only bring you trouble, you’re not one of them—”  

He waved away the spectral image of the cursed corvid in his mind, unwilling to listen to her when he could instead hear what mattered: the living heartbeat of the man who had just declared his love with heretical fervour and unwavering devotion.

He curled in tighter against the scarred chest of the one who held him, whispering the truth directly to the heart that needed to hear it.

“If my love for you is wrong, I never wish to be right.”