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“Alright, please sign here, here, here, here, here, and here,” the Foundation employee handed him another stack of paper, their impression absolutely unreadable behind that weird-looking white mask. “This is the consent form for joining Team Timekeeper. We will be ready to transfer you to her once you are done.”
Alright, there, there, there, there, and there. Done.
“Here as well, please.”
Ai Meu Deus. Okay, and…
Mr. Duncan’s pen dropped out of his hand at the last signature, drawing a thin line across the paper.
“Oops. I’m sorry, it looks like we will have to start over.”
“Mierda!” He yelled out, leaning back against the chair in absolute dejection, covering his eyes in an attempt to pretend that he wasn’t going to be stuck there for another hour.
“I’m just kidding, Mr. Duncan,” the agent collected the scattered forms, a smirk forming on her face, before quickly standing up, opening the door for both of them. “As promised, you are free to go. Ms. Vertin should be arriving to help you get settled in soon.
Finally, he was out. The Foundation kept him in paperwork hell for way too long, first with all the reports on what happened at the favela, and then with all the questions relating to Mr. Karson, a man he’d never heard of in his life before.
It’s definitely strange, to say the least. Someone who looked exactly like him, so much so that multiple people could not tell the difference, lived a life that apparently no longer exists. The old man shudders to imagine himself in a tuxedo and gelled hair, talking in a funny accent about “class” and “decorum”.
But, that Karson must have been a good man, to have someone like the young lady remember him so fondly. Definitely not a bad person to be mistaken as, he supposed.
Duncan waited inside the courtyard as instructed, his luggage full of tools and exactly 2 sets of clothes, looking around to see if anyone else was joining him. Probably not, he thought to himself, sitting down on one of the stone chairs, almost jumping off when the supposedly hard surface turned out to feel like cushions. The old man was hoping that Lopera would be let out at least, but the gunshots he heard every so often at night meant that she needed more time here.
Poor girl, he sighed. It was already hard losing one family, but to be abandoned by the second one as well? The veteran’s blood just boils thinking about it. And to make matters worse, she was never told any of their plans. He couldn’t imagine how isolating it must have felt when she found out.
He clenched his fist tightly as his mind wandered, eventually coming to the topic of Igor. The man who gave up everything he ever had, even joining hands with the enemy, all to protect his adopted children. The veteran was still mad at him, of course, but he understood the reason. Given the choice, he too would probably make a deal with the devil if it meant saving the people he cared about.
That’s the true ugliness of war. Everyone loses. The only winners are the people who never had to participate in the first place.
The admiral said that to him on the last day they saw each other, after he was ordered to send another batch of new recruits out, knowing that most of their names will be on tombstones less than a month after. They said nothing afterwards, Mr. Duncan just held the teary-eyed arcanist tenderly in his arms as they watched the sun rise over the Veteran’s Residence.
The old man lets out another melancholic sigh, impatiently tapping his foot, looking around the courtyard in boredom. They’ve both made their choices. He just hopes they both live to see the end of it.
It didn’t take that long before the Timekeeper showed up, greeting him with her usual way-too-distanced gaze. Finally, it was time for him to leave. He picked up his large sling bag, praying to never have to sign another cursed thing in his life, then jumped into the open suitcase.
———————————————————
“And this is the main foyer, Mr. Kars- I mean Mr. Duncan,” Vertin quickly fixed her mistake before clearing her throat and moving on. “That door leads to the wilderness, where you are also welcome, if the room provided feels too stuffy at times.”
“It’s quite alright, Ms. Timekeeper. Thank you for your hospitality!” The old man chuckled, taking a seat on one of the huge, soft-looking sofas.
He understood how it must have felt to see such a familiar face on a complete stranger. Like a deep, almost imperceptible scar, only visible once you’ve forgotten its existence.
“You are welcome,” the young woman nodded, a brief and awkward smile stretching across her face. “Please let me know if you need any accommodations. The suitcase is rather busy today, so you might bump into some of our guests.”
As if on cue, a gigantic boar crashes through the side door, startling the old man. Following that, a man dressed in what the veteran could only describe as a cacophony of feathers, furs and ribbons appeared behind it making his way to their space.
“Ah, Ms. Vertin! I thought you were still in São Paulo!” The arcanist flashed a big, toothy grin, hanging the majority of his outfit on the back of a chair before turning to greet the new residence. “And may I be allowed to have your name, my friend? I have not seen you here before.”
“Pfft, of course! You can call me Duncan!” The old man laughed, amused by his new housemante’s manner of speech and cadence. “And what should I call you, young man?”
“Oh! I’m flattered!” The enthusiastic man leaned forward to extend a hand, a glint of amber flashing across his pupil. “My name is Shamane. It is a privilege to meet you, Mr. Duncan! I’ve heard a lot about you from Ms. Sotheby.”
“Haha, all good things, I hope!” The old man shook hands with the arcanist, further intrigued by the mechanical arm and the well-decorated mask hanging off the man’s belt.
“I only remember the good things, of course,” Shamane winked mischievously, making the old man feel ever so slightly flustered. He recovered quickly, leaning back on the couch and chuckling heartily at the young man’s charm.
“This guy’s great, Vertin! Where did you find him?”
“Miss Matilda met him during her travels to Mor Pankh, he helped stop the arcane comet that was going to destroy the whole village,” the Timekeeper spoke matter-of-factly, as if the entire potential catastrophe is just a bit more than a picnic in the park. “After that, he was transferred to Team Timekeeper as per the Foundation’s instructions.”
“I’d love to tell you all about it,” the arcanist spoke, his tone slightly more solemn, letting Duncan know that it definitely wasn’t just a field trip. The somber moment quickly faded, and the young man nonchalantly stripped off the rest of his top, revealing his toned, tanned body for both of them to see. The sudden show surprised Duncan, making the old man blush. Shamane seemed to realize this, so he slowed down ever so slightly, his hands lingering on bare skin for just a moment longer, before putting on a thin open shirt and tying his hair back. “Unfortunately, this boar won’t cook itself. Sorry about the door again, Ms. Vertin.”
The young man then lifted the huge boar, carrying it on one shoulder, before going through where he came from, disappearing into the mist.
“Is he always like that?” Duncan asked after a brief moment of silence, standing up to help the Timekeeper pick up the broken pieces of wood and glass.
“According to the report, he trained at Mount Sadobaht for eight years with an unknown forest shaman,” Vertin replies impartially, focused on sweeping up the broken door. “He can be very energetic at times, but he means well. I’m sure you’ll enjoy his company.”
He turned to the Timekeeper, who gave him a knowing look, with a smile on her face.
———————————————————
“Goodbye, моя любовь.” The silver haired man tenderly kissed his hand, before walking into the fire. Why was there a fire?
The man’s clothes slowly lit aflame, but he did not stop. Soon, they started to melt, and the man slowly kneeled down on the ground. No, he was also melting as well. Why was he melting?
Soon, a black goo started enveloping the flames, putting them out. They continued spreading, eventually reaching where he was. It filled his eyes, his nose, his lungs. He and the world disappeared, as if they were no longer there. At least, not at that time.
Yet he was still so sad.
Why was he so sad?
Duncan jolted awake, a searing pain piercing his chest.
At least it was a new one this time. The veteran slowly loosens his grip on the blanket, sitting up to let some of his sweat dry.
Weird dreams and sometimes nightmares came with the territory. He was very lucky to have survived the war, but not all of him was left intact when it ended. What good was victory when measured against the regrets they caused?
Duncan slowly got out of bed, going outside for a night walk, knowing that sleep was no longer an option anyways.
The wilderness was surprisingly tame around night time. The air was crisp and fresh, yet the veteran couldn’t help but miss the saltiness of the ocean breeze. He slowly strolled along the river bank, memories flashing past his mind like a bullet.
He had a family once. Fate must truly favour irony, because the person closest to the war was somehow the only one that survived. He truly believed that they were watching over him, helping him through every sleepless and frightful night. Still, that didn’t mean that he wanted anything else other than to be able to see them again, even just in his dreams.
Perhaps that’s why he and Igor understood each other so well. They both know what it’s like to love, to lose, and to be lost. Maybe in a different timeline, they could have spent the rest of their years together, peacefully in each other’s embrace.
As he walked, the man spotted a light at the forest’s entrance. Curiosity temporarily trumped, and he took a few steps closer to investigate. Behind the shrubs was the young arcanist who destroyed the door that morning, happily humming while grilling his boar meat.
“Ah, Mister Duncan! Come, have a seat!” Shamane seemed to notice the veteran almost immediately, draping a piece of cloth on the log, directly next to where he was sitting.
“Sharp senses, young man. As expected of a hunter such as yourself!” The veteran quickly hid his somber facade, happily taking up the offer, sharing the space and warmth with the arcanist.
Shamane quickly fixed him a plate with some freshly grilled meat with dipping sauce and greens as accompaniment, and handed it over alongside a cup with an unknown opaque yellow liquid. Duncan caught a whiff of the horrid smell coming out from it, and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Ah, sorry, I should have told you to taste it before smelling it,” the young man smiled apologetically, taking a sip from his own mug. “Yak butter tea. Trust me, you’ll love it once you’ve tried it.”
It genuinely smelled like someone wrung a wet animal into a cup and boiled it. The old man, suspicious as he was, held his breath and took a sip regardless, choosing to trust this man he met just today. And to his surprise, it tasted smooth and rich, with a hint of sweetness to cut through the tartness of the sauce.
“It’s delicious, meu amigo. Thank you,” The veteran’s mood improved somewhat from this hearty meal, and he gazed at Shamane in appreciation. “Do you usually stay up this late every night?”
“Only on sleepless ones like these,” the young hunter spoke, a hint of sadness briefly flashed across his eyes before he picked up his usual cheerful demeanor, picking up a piece of pork and tossing it upwards, catching it with his mouth. "I don’t mind it too much. The wilderness here makes me feel closer to home anyways.”
“You too, huh…” Duncan smiled sadly, holding the warm cup in his hand, staring at the flickering flames and ember. He understood that everyone in this suitcase had a past, he just didn’t know how many wanted to forget it.
“What’s on your mind, my melancholic friend?” Shamane put down his plate, and inched just a bit closer to the veteran, offering a warm, thoughtful look.
“I… “ Duncan gripped his cup just a bit tighter, his voice threatening to crack under the strain of his emotions. “Sometimes, I wonder why the world chose me to live on. I was just an instrument of war, like any other soldier. And yet…”
And yet his innocent wife, and the child his comrade entrusted to him, why were their stories cut short? What made his life more worth than theirs?
He took in a shaky breath, a single tear rolling down his cheek. The young man placed a calloused hand on his, and their eyes met, the same sadness and loss reflected in each other’s gaze.
“I guess it would just be nice to not be so alone.” The veteran sighed, forcing a smile past his hips, holding the offered hand and putting his cup down.
They spent the entire night talking about their past, trading stories of wars forgotten, disasters averted, and friends lost. Duncan gained a lot of understanding and empathy for the arcanist, as they seemed to have a lot more in common than expected.
“For the longest time, I believed that it was my fault that my entire family died,” Shamane spoke softly, caressing his mechanical arm. “I thought our guardian god was punishing me, and I ran away, unable to face my sins.”
“Yet, in time, I understood the world’s true cruelty: it’s fairness.” The arcanist smiled bitterly, his eyes fixed on the campfire. “It is the inhabitants who try to disrupt the balance, but no matter who you are, death comes to you all the same. It does not discriminate, nor does it reward your good deeds. All you can do is try to make peace with it, and carry on the memories of those who are no longer there.”
“Yet sometimes, all you want to do is forget…” the veteran finished the young man’s sentence for him, for it is the same train of thoughts that haunt him daily.
The silence that followed was deafening. Shamane was the first to break the tension, running his hand up the old man’s arm. They slowly looked up at one another, and before either realized, their lips were touching.
Duncan wasn’t really sure who started it, or why. Perhaps his breakup with Igor did more damage than he thought, or maybe it was just a particularly vulnerable night for him. But for just a moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The young man was the gentlest kisser he's ever had, holding the veteran with both arms, fingers splayed over his sides. Duncan sighed into the warmth, reaching out with both of his arms as well, diving into the arcanist’s embrace.
When the old man opened his eyes, he veteran found himself on the grass, lying on the young man’s chest, feeling the pounding beat of both hearts.
“Shamane…” he whispered, as if this was just a beautiful dream, and saying the name any louder would wake him up.
“Let us forget for a bit longer, my friend…” the arcanist murmured back, pulling the boar fur over to keep both of them warm. Duncan smiled contently, basking in the gentle glow of the campfire as they both embraced each other once more, slowly falling into dreamless slumber.
———————————————————
The sunlight in here feels so real! How does it work? Special light bulbs or something?
Duncan yawned and rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light above him. His movements stirred the arcanist under him awake as well, prompting both to peel off of one another and stretch.
“Argh, this back of mine…” the veteran winced, a little disappointed that he can no longer stay outdoors as much as he used to.
“Ah, sorry. I know I’m not the most comfortable pillow,” the warmth behind him echoed, accompanied by a pair of hands on his shoulders, easing some tension away.
“Oh no no, it’s not your fault…” the old man chuckled, but his voice soon trailed off, distracted by the soothing sensation from the fingers. He let out a soft groan, leaning back against the young man’s body.
Duncan’s remaining morning complaints were swiftly taken care of as the arcanist softened the stiffness on his shoulders and arms with tender, circular motions. The diligent pair of hands soon finished their duties, and the arms wrapped themselves around the old man, bringing the two pairs of lips together once more.
“Better?” Shamane asked once they seperated, still tenderly caressing Duncan’s visage with his hands.
“Mm-hmm…” the content old man hums contently, almost melting in the young man’s arms.
“Why don’t we go inside for a bit then? There’s a few more… knots of yours I’d like to work over…” the arcanist murmured whilst kissing the back of his neck, making the veteran gasp softly. How on earth is he supposed to say no to that?
Slowly, Duncan nodded, and followed Shamane to his room. Thankfully, the suitcase was not too crowded that morning. The residing arcanists weren't nosy or judgemental, he’d just rather not have to explain this situation to anyone at this time. Especially not when Shamane hungrily kissed him again, unable to keep his hands off the veteran once the door closed.
“I’m sorry, my friend. You’re just too irresistible”, the arcanist murmured once their lips parted, leaving both men dazed and slightly out of breath. There was a glint in his eyes, almost a golden hue, and the way he was looking at Duncan made the veteran shiver. “I did promise you another massage, though, didn’t I?”
The young man seemed very reluctant as he pulled away, setting up a makeshift massage table with some cushions and a tablecloth. Duncan watched with curiosity as the room slowly filled with candles and incense, the scent and aroma creating an already very relaxing environment.
“I would suggest you leave your clothes to the side,” Shamane handed him a towel before pulling out a few bottles, placing them neatly next to the table. “These are massage oils, and they don’t wash off easily.”
“You just want to see me naked, don’t you?” Duncan winked at the young man, who averted his gaze, but the blush on his cheek and the slight curl of his lips told all. The emboldened veteran took his time to unbutton his shirt, then leisurely reached down to pull the white tank over his head, intentionally stretching out his upper body for the arcanist to see.
He could feel Shamane’s hungry gaze, like a wolf praying on its next meal. The veteran meets it head on, putting on a little show as he unbuttons his pants, sliding the elastics of his boxers down one side at a time, before wrapping the towel around his waist. The arcanist’s patience seemed to have been abruptly cut short by this, Duncan being pulled in for a quick kiss before lying face down on the table.
The young man began by warming up some oil in his hand, then gently spread the liquid across the veteran’s back, making sure every inch of skin was covered. Duncan felt every touch as the oil spread from the back of his neck to the small of his waist, stopping just above the towel line. The almost sweet, floral and earthy scent mixed with the room’s citrus and grassy aroma, making the veteran even more relaxed than he already was.
Shamane then pressed with a bit more force, kneading the muscles on the veteran’s neck, continuing their session from earlier. The old man couldn’t help but let out a satisfied sigh as the knot between his shoulder blades loosened, one that he once thought impossible to get rid of.
This is better than any incantation in the world, Duncan mused to himself. He let out small grunts of approval every time the arcanist worked his magic, easing every muscle on the man’s weathered back before moving to his legs.
The old man also became a bit more conscious of his body as Shamane moved down. Suddenly he was very aware of every muscle he’d built over his long life. And the way the arcanist was looking at him while he stripped. And the hands being so close to his crotch, still working away with seemingly no other intention in mind.
Duncan’s face flushed a slight pink as he realizes just how exposed he is. His guard was completely down. And yet…
He hadn’t felt this safe in a while, just being allowed to float mindlessly with his troubles slowly moving out of sight. The young man showered him with affection and care, making him feel wanted. Needed, even.
At some point, the veteran actually fell asleep. Shamane gently woke him up by massaging his scalp, the sensation lightly stirring the drowsy man.
“Mmm… sorry…” Duncan yawned as he was instructed to turn around, his limbs feeling almost mushy.
“Oh, no worries at all, my friend!” the young man steals a quick kiss before spreading more oil over his torso. “I consider it a compliment.”
The hands felt ten times more sensual once they were on the veteran’s chest, kneading his pecs like dough. Shamane moved to his shoulders and arms next, massaging circles into his biceps and forearms. His sides and abdomen then received the same treatment, the arcanist pressing down with gentle and slick hands, eliciting a soft gasp out of the old man.
“I do offer ‘special services’ as well, you know,” the young man murmured, his hands mere millimeters above the towel as he moved down to the thighs and calves, intentionally tugging on the fabric as he did so.
“Oh? What makes it special?” Duncan opened one eye in interest, a throb indicating that he was very interested in the prospect.
“That’s a se-cret!” Shamane playfully winked, dipping just an inch down the veteran’s inner thigh with his fingers, the sensation causing a much more noticable twitch this time. “You’ll just have to wait and see~”
Duncan had to bite down to prevent any embarrassing noises from escaping his throat. The young man made his intentions very clear, and yet his hands moved on, as if they weren’t ready to tear off the veteran's towel moments ago. The arousal fades, and the old man eased back onto the soft surface, his consciousness slowly floating away once more.
———————————————————
“Mmm, that’s nice…” Mr. Duncan murmured, still a bit drowsy from the massage-induced nap. He could still feel the smooth hands of Shamane on his body, still diligently working the knots away.
Something seems a bit strange this time, though. Why is everything so dark? The veteran tried opening his eyes, discovering some sort of silk covering them, obstructing his vision. He tried to bring his arm up to remove it, but something around his wrists held him back.
“Wait, what the…” one discovery led to another, and the old man found himself completely strapped down to the massage table, unable to move any limbs. “Shamane? What is this…?”
“Oh, you’re awake!” Came the voice from somewhere next to him, the hands slowly moving towards his upper torso. “This is the special service I promised you, see?”
“Special service? What…” Mr. Duncan’s brain fog slowly cleared, allowing him to fully assess the situation. “...you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The veteran’s wrists and ankles have been secured to the table, keeping them firmly out of commission. More rope snaked around his upper thighs and biceps, pinning the rest of the man’s muscles to the soft surface, rendering them useless in the process. Even moving his head proved to be a difficult task, thanks to the same restraints around his neck, essentially gluing the poor old man down to the table.
The panic set in almost immediately as he realized the situation. Porra, how did he let this happen? Why do all the hot arcanists have to be crazy as well? What is Shamane going to do to him? His body was completely exposed, except for the towel on his dick, barely preserving his dignity. He had to find a way to escape, before it’s too-
“Shhhh, trust me on this,” Shamane cooed, massaging his tensing chest. “All of my surprises have been good so far, haven’t they?”
The confused man attempted to rationalize the situation in his head, but the hands on his body and the young man’s soothing voice was making a very convincing case. Slowly but surely, his judgement faltered, and he acquiesced, relaxing back down onto the cushions with a deep sigh.
“...Alright. Just… be gentle, okay?”
He could feel Shamane’s warmth of approval inching closer to his face, before a tender kiss on the neck electrified his senses, making his breath stutter. The young man gently pinched both of his nipples as a follow up, then played with the tender nubs, completely disarming the veteran, earning himself a soft “ah!” accompanied by the sounds of gasps and the bound man’s heaving chest.
“There we go, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” the arcanist hum amusedly, softly kissing his neck and jawline.
“You are… way too good at this, meu amigo…” the helpless man finally managed to get a word out, his body involuntarily arching up into every touch. “Did… ah~all of your guests end up like this?”
“Only the ones that would enjoy it, of course,” Shamane whispered into his ear, fingertips traversing his exposed torso, making the poor old man squirm. “Looks like I was right again.”
Duncan strained against the ropes that bound him as the young man continued his exploration down his legs, massaging them slowly, easing all the tension away from the muscles. He couldn’t help but let out a soft groan as the hands retraced their steps, making him melt back into the massage table with minimal effort.
“You know, if you wanted to have your way with me, you could have just asked,” the veteran let out a nervous chuckle, trying to quiet the pounding pulse in his ear, and stop himself from getting hard this quickly. The arcanist didn’t reply, opting to lean down and take the open left nipple into his mouth, making the old man moan out loudly, before snapping his own mouth shut, just then remembering that they had neighbors.
“I could, but this wouldn’t be nearly as fun, would it?” Shamane replied with a hint of mischief, touching the veteran's lips with a piece of cloth. “Here, something to keep your lips busy.”
The old man opened, or rather didn’t close his lips when the arcanist pushed the ball of fabric in, tightening it around the back of his head. He only realized the grave mistake he made when the young man circled both nipples with his thumbs, eliciting a muffled and dulled sound out of him. Seemingly satisfied, the happy man resumed his oral appointment with the veteran’s pecs, having successfully reduced any response to a minimum.
Mr. Duncan had never felt so… trapped before. None of his muscles were allowed to move more than an inch, his eyesight was completely stripped away, and he couldn’t even utter a single word to save his life. Unable to defend himself in any way, every flick of the young man’s tongue on his chest made him gasp and groan, quivering under the arcanist’s touch. He tried to raise his hips, but the restraints held him tight to the frame, leaving him only barely able to lift them. Thankfully, his efforts were noticed, and Shamane snaked a hand under the towel, giving the old man’s hardening member a few cursory strokes.
“Mmmrph…” He almost whined when the hands left his dick, returning to their place to continue teasing his sensitive nipples. The old man was throbbing hard then, arching his lower body in any way he could to get the hands back on his needy cock, almost successfully slipping the towel off. Of course, he was ignored, the hands still busy with examining the veteran’s muscular pecs. The arcanist really planned for everything, it seemed. He softly moaned into the gag again, wordlessly begging for Shamane’s attention.
“Take your time, my friend. There’s no need to race against the clock,” the young man chuckled, sliding a hand down his abdomen, making him shiver. “Everything happens in its own time.”
The adventurous hand finally reached Mr. Duncan’s rock hard member, giving it exactly one promissory stroke through the fabric before continuing its journey down the rest of the body. The veteran groaned and huffed at the neglect, his patience running unusually thin.
“Ay, that’s not very nice,” Shamane jokingly chided, joining his hand at the end of the table. “If you like, we could increase the intensity…” he smirked, massaging the old man’s exposed soles.
“Mphmm!! Mmm-mmm!” Duncan yelped and shook his head as the slick fingers seemed to activate every nerve receptor in his feet, making his entire body tremble. A slight curl of the arcanist’s fingers was all it took to turn those shivers into tensing muscles and stuttered breaths, leaving the already immobilized man even more defenseless. Thankfully, the merciful young man relented, withdrawing his hand, leaving exactly one finger to draw vertical lines on one foot, keeping the veteran on high alert. His free hand came back to visit the old man’s neglected cock, freeing it from its cloth prison, stroking it at the same tempo as the finger’s movement.
“Mmmmmmppphhhhhr~...” Duncan’s moans went up a few notes, his mind almost blanking with every stroke. He clenched and unclenched his fist in a futile attempt to retain any semblance of decency, to no avail. This man had him well and truly caught, leaving him exposed in a way he’d never felt before.
“Better?” Shamane asked jokingly, peppering kisses on his thigh.
“Mhmm-hmmphmm…” the old man nodded, his hips moving like it had a mind of its own, controlled by what felt like the smoothest, silkiest sensation that had ever graced his dick. He arched his body to try to fight back against those devious hands, nearly slamming his head back against the pillow when a second finger was introduced, joining its friend in mapping out the intricacies of his sole. Every miniscule movement sent waves of pleasure through his entire body, eliciting muffled moans after muffled moans from him. He could feel all the heat pooling at his throbbing member, bringing him closer and closer to release.
Unfortunately, the arcanist seemed to have different plans, abandoning both his foot and his dick at the same time, leaving poor old Duncan right on the edge. The veteran let out a pained groan at the sudden denial, his entire body curling up against the rope, trying to achieve any form of skin contact. He heard a faint chuckle coming from the young man, followed by hands massaging his trembling chest, trying to calm him down.
“Mpppphhm! Prhmm kmmm!!” the old man continued his protest, absolutely furious. The devious young man had tied his arms far away enough so that he couldn’t touch himself, no matter how hard he tried. The hands on his pecs were also definitely not helping, sending waves of pleasure to his dick, making it dance above his abdomen. He wanted release right there and then, sexual or otherwise.
Preferably sexual, though. God, Shamane’s hands felt incredible on his naked skin, gliding across it effortlessly with the added perspiration. He tried his best to make his frustrations known before slowly - and reluctantly - return to his position, unable to truly resist this man’s charm.
“Preserve your spirit, my friend,” the arcanist murmured in his ear, rewarding his cooperation by circling his nipples, softening the veteran’s voice almost immediately. “We have an exciting journey ahead of us.”
The old veteran, still slowly being tamed by the fingers dancing on his chest, did not notice the young man’s movement, until one hand was replaced by a pair of lips, and started wandering off on its own. The sudden warm sensation stopped any further complaints, leaving the old man flat on the table, making sounds he’d never thought he would make in his lifetime.
“Aamp mmph dmmmf…” Duncan’s last shred of shame disappeared as Shamane’s hand wrapped around his cock, slowly and leisurely stroking it whilst still paying close attention to his chest. The bound man fully arched his body upwards, as far as the rope allowed him, just trying to get even more of the arcanist’s hands and mouth on him. Of course, he was denied, the mischievous young man intentionally keeping every touch light and gentle, nowhere near enough for him to get off.
The poor old man had to stay there for what felt like an eternity, helpless against the shaman’s tricks. His desperation and frustration only grew by the seconds, turning annoyed huffs and angry grunts into pliant moans and needy whines. Any attempts to form a thought was effectively interrupted by the young man’s touch, leaving him an incoherent mess on the massage table.
“Pleaphm…” the veteran pleaded through the thick cloth, wordlessly begging for anything that can improve his chance at an immediate orgasm.
“Tut-tut, so impatient,” Shamane jokingly chided, retracting his touch, making the old man’s whine go up a few decibels.
“Mmmph!!! Prmm faphmvmm!!” Mr. Duncan cried out at the sudden loss of friction, bucking his hip up wildly, trying to find any kind of contact. Suddenly, he felt something cold being applied to his nipples, solidifying into a gelatinous, slightly ticklish sensation. The effect that had was evident, providing constant stimulation, making the veteran’s already rock hard dick twitch in the air. The arcanist’s hands made a reappearance as well, massaging the underside of the naked man’s throbbing member with his thumbs. The combined stimulation instantly took away any strength the old man had left, making him squirm and writhe in pleasure, almost dancing under the young man’s touch.
Damn it, how many more ways did Shamane have to make a complete fool out of him? Duncan tossed his head back in exasperation, desperately trying to regain control of his own body. It didn’t work, of course, and the already tortured veteran was once again reduced to an absolute mess, completely lost within the lust fog in his mind. It didn’t take long for the horned up old man to get close again, and he knew that the young man understood the same. He desperately tried to hide it, but the eventual loud moans and heaving breaths foiled his plan.
And once again, right at the edge, the veteran was held back again, literally and figuratively.
“MMMRRAAAAAHGG!!!!!” the old man roared out in frustration, his body trembling with anger, thrashing fruitlessly on the massage table. He struggled with all his might to free any limbs from Shamane’s restraints, but the rope did not give, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually, the struggle ended with him crashing back onto the massage table, drenched in sweat, chest heaving for air.
“Awww. My sincere apologies, my desperate-looking friend,” another amused hum came from above, only adding fuel to the fire. Duncan was about to resume his struggle in frustration, but suddenly he felt the soft cushions sink down, followed by the arcanist straddling his hips, grinding the smooth fabric against his solid dick. All of his muscles seized for a second, temporarily stopping any further complaints.
“Hmph! Mmmngh…” the frustrated old man slammed his fist on the table, feeling utterly helpless yet so turned on against the arcanist’s torment. All of his resolve was gone, and all it took was the warmth of the young man’s lips against his neck to subdue him completely.
Mierda, he was so, so close. Yet Shamane seemed to know every limit, never crossing them, leaving the poor man riding the edge over and over again. And to make things worse, it was so, so incredibly hot. At this point, Duncan wasn’t even sure if he wanted to escape anymore. He was willing to be sealed to this bed if that was what it took to blow his load. But there was no way in hell he could let Shamane know that.
…He actually would, if being allowed to speak was still an option.
The desperate man couldn’t help but squirm and writhe underneath the added weight, his hips moving in double time to try and get more friction against the arcanist’s slacks. The young man, being a tease all the while, was fervently kissing his collarbone, only adding to his arousal. The lips then continued to trail down the veteran’s naked body, putting a stop to any further movement, and once again removing his ability to breathe properly.
“Hnng~... Mmm-ammh… Phmmm…” at this point, Duncan wasn’t even sure he was even trying to say words anymore. The soft, warm lips felt like heaven’s touch, caressing every inch of skin with an intense tenderness. Shamane continued his treacherous journey, trailing closer and closer to the old man’s stiff rod.
“Ready?” The arcanist murmured, the vibrations of his voice soft and soothing on the bound man’s abdomen.
“Mmm-hmm…” Duncan nodded eagerly, bucking his hips up, shivering when his dick brushes against Shamane’s bare skin. The shivers turned to full body spasms as the young man found his needy member, giving it a thorough inspection with his tongue.
The veteran was sure he blanked out for a few minutes, completely overwhelmed by the warmth of the young man’s lips as they wrapped around his cock, slowly bobbing up and down the twitching veins. He felt the swirl of the arcanist’s devious tongue on his cock head, the intensity pushing an absolutely pathetic and high-pitched sound past the cloth gag. His hips moved with reckless abandon, straining against the rope to try and thrust up into the warm and velvety sensation of Shamane’s mouth. To his frustration, however, all of his effort only amounted to a slight raise of his lower body. And to add to it, the young man was taking an agonizingly slow pace, making the poor bound man tremble with every miniscule motion.
How on earth was the young man able to make it so much better and so much worse at the same time? Duncan gasped for air, his body too paralyzed by the stimulation to even attempt movement. Shamane ran his fingers down the insides of the bound man’s thighs, making the gagged breaths stutter even more. The pleasure built up fast, and despite the tempo, the veteran’s staved off orgasm was once again approaching.
Suddenly, the arcanist takes Duncan’s sword all the way to the hilt, making the unsuspecting man lurch forward in pure shock. His entire body seized up, every muscle tensed, straining against the rope holding him back. Shamane had him stuck in that position for just a brief moment before pulling back, letting the veteran’s cock spring free into the air, and letting the breathless man crash back onto the cushions.
There weren't any complaints from Duncan this time. Or to be more precise, Duncan was no longer able to voice any of them. The arcanist has drained him of all possible energy from keeping him so impossibly horny for such an agonizingly long time. The veteran quietly whined, unable to even lift a finger, no longer able to communicate in any way.
Thankfully, the young man then loosened the knot behind his back, and removed the spit-soaked cloth from his mouth. Duncan’s lips stayed apart even after the fabric left, so Shamane covered them with his, bringing the dazed man back down to reality.
“Por favor, meu amor… não aguento mais isso…” the veteran begged as soon as their lips parted, his voice raspy and breathless, his brain too scrambled to even think properly.
“That far gone, huh?” the arcanist chuckled, gently kissing the stubble on Duncan’s face as the exasperated man shivered underneath him. “I haven’t even brought out the good stuff yet, you know.”
“Please… meu amor… have some mercy on this old man… please…”
Duncan almost whimpered at the possibility of experiencing even more of this agonizing pleasure, shuddering from just the thought of it alone. It was good, yes, but it was also wearing him out fast. The veteran’s stamina simply wasn’t what it used to be. Thankfully, the young man then removed the blindfold, wiping away any hair on Duncan’s face, letting the old man slowly blink and adjust to the light. He took a sip of water before their lips connected once more, and the veteran all too eagerly accepted this form of rehydration.
“Some other time, then.”
Shamane smiled warmly, wiping the liquid off the corner of his lips before doing the same for Duncan. The old man’s eyes were still glazed over, but his breathing had steadied, allowing him to regain some composure. Of course, the arcanist interrupted his respite, licking the raised pulse on his neck, jolting him awake. The worn out old man couldn’t help but groan out loudly, realizing that his newly restored sight and voice did nothing to alleviate his current situation, or even soften the intense pleasure rapidly spreading over his body.
“Ah! Nghh~… Shamane, please!” Duncan pleaded again, thankfully having recovered some energy to make it louder than a whisper, even if just barely. The young man chuckled, reaching down to take the veteran’s stiff member in his hand, slowly stroking it up and down in tandem with the soft kisses.
The old man really hoped there was at least some soundproofing in the arcanist room. Because if not, he was sure the entire suitcase just heard the most embarrassing moan that had ever left his lips. His muscles gave out immediately, save for the hips frantically trying to thrust up into Shamane’s hand. His eyes slammed shut as he tilted his head up, giving the young man free range on his neck. The gel on his chest made him quiver, the sensation only magnifying as the arcanist circled one nipple with his free hand.
The tired veteran expected his orgasm to be much more dramatic after that intense session. Instead, the pleasure just gently tipped over, and his body trembled as his load dribbled down onto his stomach. The old man couldn’t help but let out an endless stream of gasps, contorted in pure bliss, muscles spasming as more white covered his abs.
Slowly, Duncan’s breathing steadied, and he laid motionless on the table, still bound, but too spent to care. A soft kiss from Shamane finally got him to open his eyes, and the old man chose to use the last of his energy to look mildly annoyed.
“Aw… too much?”
The young man had the audacity to present an apologetic face whilst his hands were still on the veteran’s roped chest, squeezing and massaging his pecs like the gel wasn’t still on them.
“Mmngh! Is this how you treat your elders!?” Duncan groaned, exasperated and way too sensitive to still be touched like that.
Thankfully, that was the last of Shamane’s teasing, as the arcanist quickly cleaned up the mess with the previously discarded crotch towel before releasing the veteran from his predicament. Duncan sighed, letting himself be carried to bed after he was fully untied. The young man held him in his arms, pulling the soft fur blanket over the both of them.
“Where on earth did you learn something like that, my friend?” the old man murmured once more strength returned to him, his face slightly buried in Shamane’s chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that loud with anyone before.”
“The suitcase truly is a great place to stay and learn new things,” the young man hummed back, and Duncan pushed his own face in just a bit deeper, slightly flushed as he was then recalling more of the noises he was making. “It was that good, huh?”
“Just… give me some sort of warning next time, okay?”
The arcanist chuckled, holding Duncan just a bit closer to him, gently combing the man’s hair with his hand. The veteran’s remaining reservations melted away under such loving tenderness, and he closed his eyes, feeling spent and satisfied, the warmth and touch of Shamane’s body guiding him into a deep, peaceful afternoon nap.