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Sadeas could see the tension in Gavilar’s posture; the fingers holding his wine glass twitching as though he were aching to summon his Shardblade.
He traced Gavilar’s line of sight, though he knew what he would find—Dalinar was at it again.
Or into it, perhaps.
Dalinar was half-finished a bottle of violet, while it seemed the other half had spilled over his body, which was now glistening in the spherelight. Ignoring, or more likely inattentive to the shocked whispers of the brightlords around him, he was sprawled across a low couch, one foot up and over the armrest, his takama fighting a losing battle against indignity. Should one choose to glance in that direction, one could not help but view a vast landscape of chest and belly and thigh, covered in dense thickets of hair like the Unclaimed Hills themselves.
Sadeas stopped to admire it for a moment. There was a certain charm to Dalinar’s contradictions. On the field of battle, he was powerful, decisive, and intimidating. Yet here at a feast, he was limp as a wet mink. Sadeas stood, straightening his own takama, then nodded at Ialai across the room. She winked back.
Pleased by the fact that simply standing drew Dalinar’s attention, Sadeas made a show of finishing his wine and announcing his departure for the evening. A spark lit in his body, deep and low. For all Dalinar was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, Sadeas was a force of his own on nights like this.
He didn’t even need to make eye contact. “Come, Dalinar,” he said brusquely, and Dalinar came, trotting behind him like a pet axehound.
Sadeas smiled as he led Dalinar and his guards through the corridors to Dalinar’s own rooms. He’d caught the man drunk enough to be making a fool of himself, drunk enough that removing him from the room would bring a collective sigh of relief and Gavilar’s own gratitude, but not so drunk that Sadeas couldn’t have a little fun first.
Not that he wouldn’t if he could; rather, once Dalinar was passed out it would take five men to get him into position, and that level of risk wasn’t worth it.
Leaving behind the guards outside, and leading Dalinar into his bedroom, a thrill shivered through Sadeas. Not the Thrill of battle; that was a guiding force, a need. Killing with the Thrill was like gasping for air. No, this was the thrill of power, the thrill of knowing Sadeas was utterly in control, and that Dalinar was at his mercy.
The bedroom door clicked shut, and Sadeas began the ritual.
“How drunk are you tonight, Dalinar? Drunk enough to make a fool of yourself, clearly.” He brushed a finger over Dalinar’s wet takama, soddened and stained by violet wine.
Dalinar looked down, then felt at his own chest, his fingers catching in sticky curls of hair where the wine was drying. “Aw. Fuck,” he muttered. “Did Gavilar see?”
That was Sadeas’ cue. Dalinar always asked, and Sadeas always made sure he knew. It was the honest thing to say, after all. “He did. He saw everything. Every spill…” He walked forward, an accusatory finger touching his chest, forcing Dalinar to walk backward.
“Every fashion slip-up…” He flipped Dalinar’s takama over his thigh, uncovering his unruly bush and eager, twitching cock, looking like a hopeful drop-dead tree after a storm.
Dalinar’s calves hit the edge of a large chair, and he fell back into it. The poor chair groaned as it tipped back. Sadeas grabbed the arms, righting it again, and leaned forward with cruel anticipation. “Every stupid thing you do, Dalinar, your brother sees, and it’s up to me to remove you from his sight before you cause another incident.”
Bleary, unfocused eyes tried to meet Sadeas’. Dalinar’s face was flush with wine and embarrassment, sweating despite the cool air of the room. “Great. Thanks,” he blurted, followed by a rush of shamespren. “I need…” He swallowed thickly. “Don’t wanna make Gavilar mad. Yer a good friend. Teach me a lesson…” He reached between his legs, tugging at himself. “I’ll be good. ‘Swear.”
He’d gotten ahead of the script. Sadeas stood over him, smiling with a smug satisfaction. Oh, yes, Dalinar liked being taught a lesson. And Sadeas liked teaching him.
“Legs open, slut,” he said, his hands still gripping the arms of the chair. “And give me your Blade.”
With a shuddering breath, Dalinar complied.
Sadeas lifted Oathbringer, a venomous envy coursing through him. He didn’t have his own Blade, at least not yet, but even if he did, this one had belonged to Sadees himself. It was sacrilege to do what he was about to do to it, but it was a way he could make Oathbringer partly his, in a way Dalinar would always remember, no matter how drunk he was.
Reaching over to a nearby drawer, Sadeas pulled out a blade cover, which would dull it—one could never be too careful, after all—and his adapted harness, made for this specific strap. With the blade behind him, he straddled Oathbringer’s hilt, which was long enough to straddle and fuck with, and nestled his ass crack against the crossguard, securing it to the harness with deft, sure fingers.
He could feel his own slick coating the hilt where his lips straddled it, and took a moment to enjoy the feeling of a hard, legendary cock between his legs, sliding his hand up and down as he watched Dalinar lift his legs in the air, presenting his cock and ass for Sadeas’ use.
“You’re so good tonight, maybe I’ll use oil this time,” Sadeas said indulgently. He dripped the oil along his metal shaft, then pumped it a few more times, sliding his thumb over the glowing heliodor tip. All the while, Dalinar stared, breathing shallowly out of his mouth, his face and chest sweating.
Anticipationspren rose between them.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Sadeas asked.
“Dont…don’t wanna ruin it,” Dalinar panted. “You’re so hot right now…Look so good…Wanyou to fuck me.”
Sadeas’ lip curled in disgust. “Storms, you’re so earnest when you’re drunk. It’s disgusting. Good thing I know how to shut you up.”
The room darkened slightly as Sadeas pressed the glowing tip into Dalinar’s ass, bit by bit. Dalinar gasped, then moaned.
Loudly.
“Shut up, you lout,” Sadeas hissed. He whipped the belt out of his own takama and stuffed as much of it as he could into Dalinar’s stupid mouth.
He liked how that looked. Grabbing Dalinar’s ankles, he lifted them, then sunk deeper into his ass. The cold metal against his own clit was starting to warm up, and he wanted it hot. He pulled out slowly, then thrust in again, letting Dalinar moan sluttily into the belt.
Sadeas smiled. There was nothing he liked more than the heat of victory, and every time he conquered Dalinar, the temperature rose. He slid in and out slowly at first, then harder and faster as Dalinar’s moans turned into staccato whimpers. Every silly little noise drove Sadeas forward, higher, hotter, gripping Dalinar’s ankles and thrusting into his ass with heavy determination, driven by the weight of the sword strapped to him. With every thrust, Sadeas’ clit brushed against the texture of the hilt, warmed by both their bodies, which just made him want to fuck faster, harder. He felt driven to sexual madness as he thrust his sword into Dalinar, and shoved Dalinar and the chair backwards bit by bit.
Dalinar was losing purchase; sweat, being folded in half, and his general largeness together making it impossible to adjust himself. His head slid lower in the chair, chin touching his chest, and his hips slid forward as Sadeas pressed Dalinar’s ankles up and back for a better angle. He was utterly debauched, utterly soaked in sweat, and utterly under Sadeas’ control.
His eyes opened wide suddenly, his cock starting to leak onto his hairy belly. He mumbled something unrecognizable into the belt, and as if he had just remembered his arms, he reached down to touch himself.
Sadeas slapped his hand away. “You don’t need to touch. You don’t need to talk,” he growled, thrusting harder, heat blooming between his legs as if the sword were glowing hot as midday. “You’re a filthy hole. You’re nothing. You’re here to be used. You don’t need anything unless I tell you.”
Dalinar whimpered again, closing his eyes tight, his face a paroxysm of pain or pleasure. He threw his hands up behind his head and his whole body shook and twitched. His cock throbbed and leaked white, dripping down into his body hair, mixing with sweat to turn it into a wet mat.
But Sadeas wasn’t ready to stop yet. He made Dalinar hold his own ankles, then grabbed the front of his thighs and slammed into him, hips to ass, then hammered him with all he had, making disgusting wet slaps as Sadeas chased his own release.
He felt it rolling in like a thunderhead, down his spine and into his ass, and he clenched hard, gripping Dalinar’s hairy tree-trunk thighs as he came like lightning. White flashed across his vision, and for a moment he imagined he was being split in half by Oathbringer. Not a bad way to die, he thought aimlessly.
He found himself leaning forward over a very cramped-looking Dalinar, knees up by his ears, belly bulging between them like a conquered hill, covered in cum and sweat and partially-matted body hair.
Blessedly, Sadeas didn’t succumb to post-coital weakness, so he simply braced a hand on Dalinar’s belly and slowly pulled out. “Good boy. You may dismiss your Blade,” he said, and Dalinar obeyed with a glassy smile.
Sadeas had put away the harness and cleaned himself up before he realized that Dalinar hadn’t removed the belt from his mouth yet. He chuckled to himself as he reached over the man to remove it. “You may speak, you may move,” he said, feeling indulgent, and Dalinar collapsed onto the floor, heaving great, shuddering breaths.
Sadeas watched Dalinar recover himself as he re-wrapped his takama, and his hands came back wet after putting the belt back on. Storms, Dalinar had drooled right through it.
He then stepped back, tilting his head to admire his handiwork. Dalinar sat slumped on the wet spot on the carpet, completely debauched and spent, one leg splayed out with a heel on the ground, and one leg tucked underneath him. His cock was still dribbling, leaving a little glistening trail across his thigh to match the mess on his belly. The takama was basically a tangled cape by this point. Dalinar started wiggling, weakly reaching up and back for the arms of the chair, struggling to get enough purchase to sit up again. The chair was creaking its own battle cry.
“Have you learned your lesson, Dalinar?” Sadeas asked sardonically. He doubted that Dalinar would remember much of what happened tonight, but he’d remember the shame. That was part of the fun—to see how long Dalinar would go before being able to make eye contact with Sadeas in the days to come. It was one of Ialai’s favourite games.
With a long groan that might’ve come from the man or the chair, Dalinar slung himself up to sit again. “Huh. Yeah.”
“I’m sure you did.” Sadeas left with a casual wave, secure in the knowledge that Dalinar would need many such lessons in the future, and even better, Gavilar would thank him for it.