Memories | By : Lauand Category: +G to L > Heroic Legend of Arislan Views: 1475 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroic Legend of Arislan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
“Please, remind me again why, in
Misra’s name, did I let you talk me into
this.” Narsus smiled at the resigned tone in Darun’s baritone voice.
“Well, that could be for my
proverbial diplomat skills…”
“In other words, because you’re a
manipulative bastard.”
“…or maybe because I will let you
fuck me senseless afterwards.”
Darun suffered a sudden fit of
coughing at his lover’s harsh words. As cultured and refined as Narsus was, he
never held his tongue, especially when speaking with his lover. Sometimes, the
sombre general suspected that Narsus did it just to provoke him. And it worked.
“Narsus!” the warrior chided him
once he had recovered.
“Darun!” was the mockingly mimicked
reply. “And now will you be a good boy and stay put for once? Just… imagine a
superior or someone is reviewing you. Please, you’re a soldier, it shouldn’t be
too difficult for you to keep still, should it?”
Now Darun was sure. The normally
calm and cynical artist was trying deliberately to irritate him. So many years
together and the warrior still didn’t understand what joy the infuriating
strategist found in bringing out the worst of him. Normal people feared him
when he was angry. Narsus just found him amusing. Once, he had even defined
Darun as ‘cute’ in one of the general’s worst outbursts. But Narsus had always
been a damned mystery. Proof of that was that he had effortlessly convinced
Darun to accede to this, and the general didn’t know how.
Ignoring the warrior’s scowl, Narsus
continued blending colours on his palette. And when he thought the time was
right, he began to hum.
“Oh, Narsus, please!” growled
Darun.
The strategist just cast him one of
his secretive smiles, ignoring Darun’s protests against his humming, and once
obtained the hue he was searching for, he kept on applying the paint on the
warrior’s bare torso. Of course, he didn’t stop humming. From time to time, he
looked Darun in the eye, maybe measuring how far he was treading in the
dangerous game of provoking the dark haired general, but as it seemed that
Darun was not as annoyed as he liked to pretend, he once again immersed himself
in the task at hand: painting on the living canvas of his lover’s body.
He didn’t really remember where this
idea had come from. It was suddenly there, nagging at the back of his mind.
Narsus justified himself arguing that he was just acculturating Darun so that
he would understand the importance of art, and stop despising his pictures, but
Narsus suspected that the real reason for doing this was to join his most loved
hobbies in the world: painting and Darun.
Stroke by stroke, the artist got
more and more carried away and focused in what he was doing. Beautiful. Darun’s
body was beautiful. And painting on it was a pleasure in itself.
Concentrating on his task, Narsus
stopped paying attention to Darun himself. Which was somewhat of a relief for
the sombre general, for he was being affected by the sensations the brush
awakened in him.
At first, it was strange, that soft
wetness on his skin. He had almost backed off from this silliness at the first
touch, but of course, Narsus would hear none of it. The strategist wouldn’t
force him to stay, of course, but he manipulated the warrior to comply
answering one by one all of Darun’s complaints, making him look like a child
having a tantrum.
Normally, he wasn’t such a bad
adversary to Narsus’ rhetoric. What the general lacked in eloquence, he
possessed in stubbornness and even if he was not as good with words as Narsus,
he still was an intelligent man. So there was not really a good reason to be
beaten by him so soon about this. Maybe, just maybe, the truth was that he had
wanted to be convinced.
And there he was, a Lord General of
Palse, and Paladin of the New King Arislan, being painted as though he was a
bloody wall.
He suddenly drew breath and was
taken out of his musings when the brush grazed one of his nipples. He looked at
Narsus, but the strategist was so immersed in what he was doing that he didn’t
notice his gasp, but kept on going at his work as if transfixed.
Darun observed as Narsus came a
little closer, and the dark haired warrior couldn’t help a smile, when seeing
the tip of Narsus tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
The general closed his eyes. He
could perceive Narsus scent over the acrid smell of the paint. Feeling a new
stroke of the brush caressing his skin, he suddenly remembered the first time
they shared a bed.
--------------------
It was raining. It made one think of
all the oldwives tales about the Gods in the skies shedding their tears for the
mortal’s deeds. It made one think they were true. If there was a night a God
should cry over, it was definitely tonight.
Darun forced himself to clean his
gear for a second time. He knew it was useless to try and sleep after today’s
battle. Battle… what a beautiful word to disguise what it really had been:
carnage.
Of course, they had won. If victory
meant that the higher amount of dead men weren’t wearing one’s colours, that
is.
Darun sighed and refusing to keep on
thinking about it, forced himself to pay attention to what he was doing. Pour
the oil, spread the oil, clean with a rag, pour the oils, spread the oil, clean
with a rag, pour the oil… He was nearly achieving it when the sound of a rap on
his tent’s flap made him raise his head.
“Yes?”
There was a moment of silence, then a voice nearly unrecognizable
by the heavy raining sound.
“Darun?”
The warrior didn’t even pause to
wonder what the cold strategist could want of him at this hour of the night.
The only thing he could think of was the rain.
“Enter, please.”
He let down his gear and stood up as
a wet figure approached him, crossing the poorly lit tent.
The warrior frowned at seeing the
soaked state of the other man. It was not only the dampness… there was
something out of order in the normally self-confident strategist. Not willing
to draw conclusions, not to even ask about it, Darun decided against voicing
any question the actual state of his old colleague led to, and instead,
searched for a towel and handed it to the other man. “Here.”
Narsus ignored the cloth offered and
stated, “I didn’t come for that.”
The obvious question arose, and
almost reluctantly, Darun asked with a low voice, “Then, what did you come
for?”
Narsus exhaled and ran a hand
through his wet hair. He then looked directly at Darun and the warrior could
see a strange light in the green-hazel eyes…
“I’ve run out of wine.”
…the twinkle of desperation.
“Sorry, I don’t have liquor amongst
my things.” Darun calmly replied, nearly feeling more sorry than surprised by
the strange behaviour of the normally unperturbed strategist.
Narsus snorted then. “You don’t
understand, I need to not think about it, I need to forget…!” he murmured while
averting his eyes again, “I thought you would… you’re the same as me.”
“Narsus…”
The words died on Darun’s lips. What
could he say to the other man? The elegant looking strategist was right, they
were the same… they both drove men to their deaths. Today’s victory had been
carefully planned by Narsus and effectively carried out by Darun. It has been
just so easy… the levelling of the land and the rain perfect tools for the
strategist’s mind and the general’s orders… Yes, they were the same.
“Do you… ahem…” Darun began, not
used to offering comfort. “Do you want to talk about it?”
That made Narsus react. Ridiculous
as it might have seemed to him in any other occasion, he just pondered the
offer even knowing what his answer would be.
“No.”
The only warning Darun obtained
before everything went upside down was the air of decision Narsus’ face took,
just before the strategist walked the few steps that separated them and twining
his arms around Darun’s neck, he kissed him.
So many things crossing his mind, so
many sensations running through his nerves… the general, not sure about
anything anymore, pushed apart gently the hard but pliant body and let out the
first words that came to his lips.
“You’re cold.”
Narsus never doubted. He embraced
the dark haired warrior again and whispered against his lips, “Then warm me…”
And Darun surrendered. To the hot
mouth languidly devouring his, to the supple body clinging to his shoulders, to
the hopeless desperation of that man with strange eyes and cynical smile that
for a moment allowed Darun to see how vulnerable he really was under his mask
of aloofness and indifference. How utterly cornered and desperate he felt. How
lonely.
Even as clothes were discarded and
trembling hands explored warm flesh, neither of them deluded themselves for a
moment. This wasn’t an act of love. They were just trying to keep the madness
at bay for one more day, sharing a comfort that reached their bodies and
soothed, if only for a little while their spirits, but that wouldn’t touch
their hearts. Or so they thought.
They didn’t talk as they rocked
harshly into the night. Only strangled moans and quiet pants betrayed their
actions in the soft darkness of the tent while both men chased away their
demons together. Not even in their climax, did they utter more than a muffled
groan and a sigh. Then as they lay there panting, trying to catch their breath,
Narsus sat up slowly and looking him in the eye, he begged: “Promise me that
tomorrow you’ll forget everything that has transpired here. No different
treatment, no emotional attachment, no sweet words, no nothing. Tonight we have
just been two bodies fucking.”
Deadly serious, as he always was at
matters of importance, Darun conceded.
“Okay,” he uttered and not even for
a moment did he avert his gaze from Narsus’ weird coloured eyes, “tomorrow we
both will forget that we know the other has a heart. But until the sun rises,
just for tonight, stay.”
In spite of the words, the deep
voice of the warrior led to no mistakes. That hasn’t been a plea. It has been
an offer.
Narsus didn’t reply. He just stared
at him with an unreadable expression on his unusually solemn face and then
slowly, he lowered himself towards Darun’s lying form and kissed him on the
lips.
That was the first real kiss they
shared.
When Narsus drew back, the
strategist looked him again in the eye while the loose tresses of his still
damp hair caressed Darun’s bared chest.
At a loss of what the self
proclaimed artist would be expecting to hear, he just let out the first stupid
thought that came to his mind.
“You’re still wet.”
Surprisingly enough, Narsus snorted.
“Don’t think so high of yourself!
Besides, I’m not a woman!”
Initially puzzled by a comment that
made no sense to him, Darun just smiled and shook his head in disbelief when he
understood the double meaning of what he had said and Narsus’ interpretation.
And in a way, he felt relieved. Narsus was again himself. The haunted look had
vanished from his eyes.
“Silly wall-painter…”
While murmuring so, he just took
Narsus by his waist and manoeuvred both their bodies until they were lying on
their sides; Darun spooned against the strategist’s back. To be honest, it was
rather awkward to be lying in such an intimate position after having
intercourse with someone that less than an hour before wasn’t more than a
friend and an ally.
But life was strange, and war
threatened it with the taking of your sanity and the leaving of a void in your
soul. To hold another’s warm body in a lonely night could give you back a
little piece of humanity.
Knowing what would happen tomorrow,
remembering the promise they had made, Darun just indulged himself for the last
time and kissed Narsus on the shoulder. Then, they fell asleep.
--------------------
Yes, Darun could never forget that
night. The next morning, he had awoke alone, not even able to tell if Narsus
had fancied to kiss him goodbye or not before leaving.
And the next days had been just as
the strategist had asked. No touching glances, no talking about ‘us’… nothing.
Just the frail friendship two men shared when they were kindred spirits in a
world in war.
It was the stroke of the brush on
his side what made him start out of his reverie.
“Hey!” the artist protested, “Could
you please refrain yourself from jumping when I’m painting on you?”
“Dammit, Narsus, you tickled me!”
Narsus snorted.
“What a brave warrior you are,
ticklish as a child. And with the same discipline! Will you please stay
put for once?”
The warrior rolled his eyes and
growled under his breath.
“Remind me again why I let myself
get into this crazy idea…”
Kneeling on the floor in front of a
seated Darun, Narsus smiled at him with a naughty gleam in his eyes.
“You don’t need a reminder, you
brute.” He softly murmured, getting his face closer to that of the warrior.
“You know perfectly well what will come after I’m finished…” then, as an
afterthought, he added, “…or should I say “whom”?
Refusing to get himself flushed by
his lover’s brazenness, the serious general replied, “I demand an increase in
my payment. To make up for this torture, you’ll let me have at you twice,
without any rest.”
The Imperial Artist affectedly
snorted again and tried to pique the sombre warrior. “As if you were able to
perform two in a row…”
“Is that a dare?”
“A wish.”
“You imp…”
And without more warning, Darun set
into motion and jumped the strategist. Narsus rolled on his side and managed to
duck the attack.
“No! Darun! Please!” half-alarmed,
half-laughing, the artist pleaded. “The painting! You’ll ruin it before it
dries!”
The warrior’s only response was a
low growl.
“Darun…!”
“Narsus…”
“Thrice! But please, let me finish
the painting before!”
Darun considered himself an
intelligent man, but he would never understand why a bunch of colours were so
important to the strategist. It was just a silly hobby, and in Darun’s opinion,
there were a lot more relevant things to do with one’s free time. In fact, all
the other things had a higher importance to him than painting. Except for a
manicure, of course. But the art was not far before.
However, he knew that for Narsus, it
was life. And an upset Narsus meant a lousy Darun, so the warrior gave in and
sat down again on the chair.
“Okay, okay…” he grunted, “but I
want some payment in advance.”
Smiling at the playful demand,
Narsus got near his lover again and gingerly kissed him without smearing the
paint on his body.
Even without more contact than their
mouths, the kiss was good. Narsus was an excellent kisser and always seemed to
know which pace adjusted best to Darun’s current mood. This time he started
slow, parting his lips gently and coaxing Darun’s to open as well. Then, he
brushed his lover’s tongue with his own, and finally gave himself in his kiss,
making it hot and passionate, driving the warrior insane with lust; and just as
he knew Darun was about to send his promise to hell and reach for him, he
pulled suddenly apart, leaving Darun hot and needy.
“Dirty little piece of…”
“Shhh…”
Narsus gently put a warm finger on
Darun’s lips. The damned teaser kept himself cool and collected, like some god
in perfect control of himself.
It had always been like that.
Externally, people could think that Darun had the power to make Narsus submit,
but they couldn’t be more wrong. It was Narsus who made the warrior take him as
the strategist pleased. If ever their relationship somehow lost his balance, it
was always in Narsus’ favour.
As if sensing his lover’s trail of
thoughts, Narsus chose not to act as a spoiled brat and decided to calmly beg,
giving Darun the power to decide and thus, restablishing the equilibrium
between them.
“Please, let me continue my
painting?”
Sometimes,
not even Darun was able to tell apart the true vulnerability in Narsus’ eyes
from the false pretence of it. Not that it mattered. He had already chosen to
do as the other man wished.
Silently,
he adopted again the pose that allowed his partner to have access to the
greatest surface of skin to paint and endured the painstakingly soft strokes in
his toned body.
His mind though wandered… to the
second encounter of theirs, right before the final battle.
--------------------
The nerves of everyone in the camp
were frayed. Darun’s weren’t an exception. His military career and experience
in battle didn’t make him stop being capable of feeling this anxiety, only to
hide it. War was a strange thing. It hardened one’s heart, but not enough.
Never enough.
Alone in his tent, Darun glimpsed by
chance a bottle of wine standing on the camp table. He didn’t have the need to
drown his nerves in alcohol; he was a warrior after all, and a good one at
that. But the image of the bottle made him think of how Narsus had to be doing.
After so many years of acquaintance,
Darun couldn’t state that he knew the real Narsus. Besides, he had changed so
much since the time he was the Royal Historian in Andragoras Court… or maybe
not so much, Darun couldn’t be sure. Narsus chose to show a different face to
every person and in every situation. The dark haired warrior just couldn’t be
sure who was the real thing. Maybe all were.
But it didn’t matter; even if he
tried to appear as a cold strategist, a hopeless drunkard, a (poorly) talented
artist, a hardened warrior or a sissy courtier, Narsus train of thought was
always compatible with Darun’s. Even with all the differences between them, the
quarrels, the disagreements and the whole damn mystery that was the
sharp-minded strategist, the warrior still felt a strange affinity with Narsus.
In a way, they were equals. Damn different, but equals.
Shaking his head at realizing what
little sense his thoughts made, Darun took the bottle and placed it in a bag
out of sight. Tonight, drinking was not allowed. At dawn they all had to be
ready and in shape for battle.
Then, someone rapped at his tent
flap and Darun bid entrance. He wasn’t too surprised at seeing it was Narsus.
The priestess used to say that thinking was a meaning of summoning, although he
hadn’t paid much attention to all that superstitious stuff. However, for some
strange reason, he wasn’t shocked to see the strategist calmly walking towards
him. Maybe it was the tension. In moments of crisis everybody tended to seek
out something.
“Yes, I’ve recently discovered that
I do have wine but no, I’m not going to share it with you.” Darun said,
anticipating Narsus request.
“Greedy, are we not?” was Narsus
mocking reply.
Darun frowned at that.
“I’m not going to consume it either.
We have but hours until the battle begins and we cannot afford to confront it
drunk.”
Narsus had to suppress the urge to
roll his eyes and resignedly sighed.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or
not.” he began, “In fact, I never know. You’re so sombre and serious that even
the funniest of your comments are uttered in that grave tone of yours.”
Then, he changed his attitude
slightly and seemed somewhat amused as he resumed his speech.
“And about the clearness of thought
in battle… well, as strategist I’ve already fulfilled that function. I’ve laid
out the best course of action possible and it’s now your responsibility to see
it carried out. I’ve earned my right to confront the battle as drunk as I wish…
and no,” he quickly added before Darun could retort, “it’s not that important
my lucidness in battle for the resolving of unexpected turns, since once the
party begins, it’s bloody difficult to change orders without Chaos ensuing;
and, after all, you’ll be there for that. I may be Arislan’s strategist, but
you sure are not his errand boy. Anyway,” he finished with a feline smile, “I’m
not here for the wine.”
Darun was momentarily stunned. Then,
what had that pompous speech been for? Sometimes he suspected that Narsus just
liked the sound of his own voice.
“Then, why are you here?” he finally
asked.
“Because you wouldn’t come.”
Darun blinked. Damned be all the
mysterious strategists and their cryptic answers.
“Excuse me?”
“Of course, you’re excused.”
After the flippant reply, Narsus
walked slowly towards him.
“Narsus…”
Ignoring the warningly tone, Narsus
kept on advancing until they were nearly touching. Where another person perhaps
would have backed away from Narsus’ approach, Darun just stood his ground with
a slight frown marring his features, as a child fighting for understanding of a
difficult exercise.
“Darun,” the strategist was so close
to him, that the warrior could easily hear a mere whisper.
Without further warning, as
naturally as if it was common occurrence between them, Narsus put his slim arms
around Darun’s neck.
Banishing from his mind the
bittersweet memories of their previous encounter, that night that had seemed to
be so far away in their past until now, Darun disengaged the arms from his
shoulders and whispered back, “Narsus, don’t…” he closed his eyes and swallowed
before insisting, “we mustn’t, you said so yourself…”
“Darun, you square-headed soldier…”
only the strange artist could utter such uncaring words with the most sensual
of voices, “you’re not making me resort to old topics as ‘tomorrow we could all
be dead’ or some cheapness of the like, are you?”
The warrior half snorted, half
sighed. Trust Narsus to attempt seduction with the use of bad jokes. But it
should have worked, since the next time the strategist circled Darun’s strong
neck, the general didn’t resist, but gripped loosely Narsus waist with his
calloused hands.
“Cheap but true. I had expected a
more elaborate lie, coming from you, the Devil’s Strategist.”
Inching even nearer, Narsus replied,
“I don’t lie…”
Maybe it was true. Darun could feel
Narsus breath on his mouth, and as the painter had said, it didn’t smell like
alcohol. But as the strategist had just pointed out, he was a square-headed
soldier. Stubbornness just came with the pack.
“Of course you do.” Darun observed
as Narsus closed his eyes at what the warrior supposed was the feeling of
breath against his lips. “You used to be part of the Court…”
The tiniest smile curved Narsus
sensual lips at that, lips that neared more and more. So much so that they
lightly brushed Darun’s as the strategist next talked.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk… I deceive, but I
don’t lie…” the closeness was driving them both insane, but Darun was too
obstinate to give in to his desire and Narsus too twisted not to enjoy the
torture of anticipation. “…There’s an important nuance there. I could well
explain it to you next week if we’re both alive by then…”
Their lips kept on grazing slightly
without consuming a proper kiss, balancing each pressing together of one with
the pulling away of the other, in a painful game of holding back the longing
for more... the need for more.
Then Narsus’ fingers crept along the
warrior’s nape to get tangled in the soft hair there, and responding to the
action, Darun let his hands slide down towards the other’s backside, gently
caressing on their way south until he finally cupped the buttocks to press
their hips together.
“Cheater…” breathed Narsus, feeling
their hardness grinding against each other.
“You started it.”
“And I shall finish it.”
And with that, Narsus finally lunged
forward and kissed the warrior hungrily, rocking gently his hips between
Darun’s hands and groin while the general accepted the rhythm and adapted his
own to create the greatest friction.
As always, Narsus was right, the
warrior hopelessly thought; tomorrow they could be all be dead.
--------------------
That morning they had awakened
together on the same pallet; Darun remembered it well. As awkward as that could
have been, the more important circumstances lessened the weight of their
actions. Their conversation had been even friendly as they dressed. When Darun
had asked Narsus though, if he could help him put his armour on, the strategist
had just laughed and stated that he may have been his occasional lover, but
that didn’t make him his occasional servant. Darun then had kicked him
playfully out of his tent. It wasn’t dawn yet. The warrior suspected that that
had been the day he had fallen for the old fool. Although at that time, he
hadn’t realized it yet.
“Stand up, please.”
Narsus words took him out of his
reverie. The artist sounded distracted, probably focusing on his painting and
not on his words.
Rolling his eyes, Darun obliged, and
the strategist resumed his task.
“Hey,” began the warrior, “that
stuff is not toxic, is it? I don’t want to end up like you. Look what you’ve
become after sniffing too much dissolvent…”
This earned him a glare. Narsus was
always at his most beautiful when furious.
“These are water-based pigments, you
ignorant. And to think that I’m doing my best to enlighten you…”
Darun laughed at that.
“You’re doing this for you, not for
me!”
“Stop laughing, your rippling
abdomen is messing the painting there!”
“Hey,” said the warrior, all the
mirth suddenly turned to worry in his voice, “you’re not planning on colouring
‘all’ of my body, are you? I mean, not ‘there’, too!”
From his position crouched on the
floor, Narsus was the one to chuckle this time.
“Oh, my…” the artist mischievously
commented, “Your modesty is most endearing. Don’t tell me that the Paladin of
King Arislan, General of the Royal Army of Palse and lover of the (most
talented, I have to say) Imperial Artist is too shy to say the word ‘cock’!”
Darun looked up at the ceiling and
asked the gods resignedly,
“Why me? WHY ME?”
At that, Narsus stood up in front of
the warrior and nearing without establishing direct contact, he whispered
against the general’s lips,
“…Because I would only stand for the
best.”
And with a sweet peck at his lover’s
lips, he crouched again to continue his painting.
Incredulous still at Narsus’ ways,
Darun shook his head and wondered,
“How come you’re only so vulgar when
you’re alone with me? Shouldn’t you try to impress your lover with your
finesse?”
From his knee level came a snort and
Narsus’ reply.
“Being refined all the time is a
bore. And I can’t afford being vulgar when I’m working as a diplomat for
Arislan, so I prefer to share that part of my character exclusively with you.”
He lay on the floor to have a better access to the inner side of Darun’s calves
and talked on. “Anyway, I don’t deem you so easy to impress. I’ve never caught
you swooning at the courtier’s shows of finesse and wordy knacks, so I thought,
why would you do so with mine.”
“Maybe precisely because they would
be yours.”
Narsus raised his head at that. As with everything that Darun said,
it was his true opinion stated with that sexy, grave voice of his. Narsus
couldn’t help it; he smiled at his lover. The kind of honest, bright smile that
one didn’t usually see on the strategist’s lips, lips that were always busied
with some smirk or another. With his eyes fixed on those of his lover, Darun
smiled too… nearly shyly. But it was enough. Narsus took mental note to kiss
the warrior as soon as he was up again. But then, after that never ending
moment of gazing at each other in silence, the artist started painting again
and Darun returned to his memories. This time of the night they officially had
gotten together.
--------------------
It was the night of the Ball. After
winning the war, Arislan let things settle and waited a week until some
resemblance of equilibrium was restored. Then he ordered celebrations to be
held in both the town and Palace, giving a banquet to thank the Gods for the
return of their peace. His advisors had to agree with it, knowing that even in
hard times, such as in the aftermath of a war, people needed to make merry and
celebrate. As Narsus said, only bread didn’t feed a man’s spirit. Arislan
philosophically agreed, thinking his strategist talked about mystical goodness
as dreams, hopes or happiness, but Darun suspected that he was referring to
wine. One never knew when talking to Narsus. Everything he said tended to have more
than one meaning.
Darun was not a man that enjoyed
giving himself to any vice, so he stayed quite sober at a corner of the Great
Hall as the rest of the Court got royally smashed. All except Pharanguese, who
didn’t commit to excess of any kind, and Arislan, who as monarch, wasn’t
supposed to be seen throwing his guts up, and contented himself with a bit of
dizziness. But Guieve was making quite a show and although the signals were
subtle, he would bet that Narsus was quite far into his cups as well. That
half-hooded gaze and sarcastic smirk on his face were not entirely out of place
in a sober Narsus, but the eyes were slightly vitreous and he seemed to need
the constant support of walls and columns to maintain his balance.
Darun realized he had been staring
at the strategist when Narsus suddenly propelled himself from the wall and
walked somehow predatorily towards him. Damn.
“Good evening, Lord Darun.”
The warrior laughed at that.
“Oh, my… you calling me ‘Lord’. You
must be drunk indeed.”
A feline smile curved Narsus’ thin
lips.
“Then, you surely will be so kind as
to accompany me outside, so that the fresh air can palliate my inebriated
state…”
Limited as his expressivity was,
Darun couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in surprise at the blatantness of
Narsus’ suggestion.
“Narsus, if I didn’t know you so
well I would say you’re flirting with me…”
The strategist made a non-committal
gesture.
“And if that were the case, would
you be pleased or aghast?”
“I had never expected to see you
behave as the Court tarts that you despise so much in their obvious attempts to
get Arislan’s attention…”
“You’re the ‘honest soldier’ sort of
man, Darun; elaborate subtlety is ineffective against the lot of you. And you
didn’t answer my question (which I must say, was rather rude of you), don’t
think I didn’t notice…”
The dark haired general sighed.
“You’re a difficult man when drunk…”
“And you’re a stubborn mule when
sober, so do you take me outside or not?”
Darun rolled his eyes and made a
gallant gesture with his arm, giving Narsus the honour to start walking first.
“You have the weirdest methods of
seduction, my friend.” The warrior said once they had taken a few steps towards
the exit.
“I told you. A subtle approach is
useless with you.”
Darun couldn’t help but admire
Narsus’ nerve and flippant attitude. He shook his head. The strategist was
simply incredible.
Once outside, they headed for the
gardens. They were not the only ones to stroll in the open under the moonlight
on such a beautiful night, but as always, Narsus didn’t give a damn about what
people thought and laced an arm around Darun’s.
“Narsus… your arm.”
The newly designated Imperial Artist
narrowed his eyes at the general’s annoyed remark.
“What’s wrong with my arm?”
“It’s entwined with mine.”
“Of course it is. I should know. I
put it there.”
Darun sighed. Today Narsus was
testy.
“I mean, you don’t have to take my
arm to take a walk, do you? It’s not necessary.”
“Darun, wine is not necessary for
life either, but I think it’s nice to have a glass from time to time.”
“That’s obvious.”
Ok, Narsus had had enough. Damned be
the dark haired man and his cursed stubbornness.
“Fuck off!”
The strategist irately released the
warrior’s arm and began stalking away from the insufferable general. But before
he could get away, Darun grabbed him by the arm, turned him towards him and
kissed him hard.
After the initial shock, Narsus’
body relaxed against Darun’s and his arms laced around the warrior’s strong
neck, giving himself completely to the kiss, enjoying the firm embrace of
Darun’s hands around his middle and the heat of the general’s tongue in his
mouth.
As suddenly as he had started it,
Darun brusquely pulled away. Still dazed in the aftermath of the kiss, Narsus
just stared at him with confused eyes as Darun kept him at arms distance.
“Narsus, we mustn’t… I mean… you’re
drunk…”
Damned mood-killer.
“And?” the words were uttered in a
deceptively sweet tone, breathy and mocking… and sensual. The very way he spoke
conveyed the true nature of the strategist. “Do you think that because of that
you would be taking advantage of me?”
“Narsus…”
“It’s the other way around, Darun.
Because I’m drunk, I’m taking advantage of you…”
“Narsus…”
but the tone was different this time. It was huskier, it didn’t convey protest
but longing, and not one to miss his chances, Narsus overcame Darun’s defences
and kissed him again… firmly but slowly. Melting into the warrior’s arms,
circling those muscled shoulders of his and clinging to his frame with abandon,
never rushing, but not without passion.
The moment Narsus’ warm body pressed
against him again, Darun was lost. And he knew it.
After some heavy kissing and heated
touches, they moved to Narsus’ quarters by Darun’s request. The Imperial Artist
couldn’t care less who saw him doing what in the Royal Gardens, but the general
was not so eager to be seen in an intimate position in the open air. The gossip
tomorrow would already be bad enough without adding more fuel to the fire.
They made love all night long. Which
was quite a feat to someone as drunk as Narsus was supposed to be. It wasn’t
until much later that Darun wondered if the Devil’s strategist hadn’t been
pretending that night. It didn’t sound so far fetched for the old rascal.
The next morning was a little
awkward for the dark haired general. In their first tryst, there had been
bodily comfort in the midst of war. The second time was a possible farewell
from life… but now? Where did this leave them? Darun reflected about it even as
he idly caressed Narsus’ honey coloured hair while the strategist peacefully
slept with his head on the warrior’s broad chest. At least Narsus had been
drunk, but he… what was his excuse?
Some time later, when the sun was
already high in the sky, Narsus began to stir. After giving it some thought,
Darun decided not to interrupt his caresses. After all, he enjoyed touching
that strange, devious man. And he believed it was already a bit late to try and
deny it.
“Narsus…”
“Mmm…?
“I’ve been thinking…”
“Impressive.”
“…Will you just shut up for once and
let me speak?”
Narsus’ answer was a loud yawn and a
sleepy ‘whatever’.
“I’ve been thinking… I mean, while
you were asleep and all that. Well, I…” after a little hesitation, Darun
finally resumed his talking, “I have been thinking…”
The warrior could both hear and feel
against his chest the strategist’s sigh.
“Okay, okay…” Narsus playfully
patted Darun’s pectorals, as if he was a good horse and deserved the petting;
“I’m veeeeery proud of you and your ability to think. Really. I’m impressed.
You shouldn’t have done it just for me, you know, but I appreciate your effort
and…”
“Narsus, shut the fuck up, will
you!?” sometimes the painter was just unbearable. Taking in a deep breath, he
started again, “What I’m trying to say is… you know, that maybe we should…
well, become… something or… something. I mean… we always end up so anyway, so
we could at least… well… whatever…”
“Darun,” the amused tone of Narsus’ voice was unmistakable. The
strategist raised his head to look at Darun, one arm still draped around the
warrior’s muscular torso, “are you asking me out?”
“No! Naturally not! …Well, not
really” Darun began to stutter again, “I mean… mostly not. Or maybe I might. A
little. Who knows?”
It was incongruous, the contrast
between Narsus’ bright smile and gleaming eyes and Darun’s accustomed serious
expression.
The general kept on staring gravely
at Narsus as the strategist slowly crept up the warrior’s pectorals till they
were face to face. Then, Narsus giggled like an idiot.
“Oh! I can’t wait to see the faces
of all the courtiers when they know! I’m already imagining my counter-puns!
This is going to be fun!”
Darun brushed tenderly one of the
artist’s stray locks out of the way and tucked it behind Narsus’ ear.
“Is that a yes?”
The strategist affectedly rolled his
eyes.
“Of course not!” he waited to see
how Darun’s body tensed under his and with half-hooded eyes, he added, “this
is!”
He then
dipped his head and kissed the warrior deeply while burying his hands in the
lush dark mane of the general.
Darun held him against him, and
eventually, let his hands roam freely over the strategist’s body, ending their
leisurely stroll by wandering to the artist’s backside. He loved Narsus’
backside. He could grope it all day.
After some moaning and not a little
squirming and rubbing of naked bodies, they finally broke their kiss.
“I like you.”
Narsus froze at the sudden
declaration. That deep, deadly serious voice of Darun was always his undoing.
It was not a promise of undying love, just a simple, nearly childish remark,
but it touched him more deeply than all the endearments in the world would
have.
Solemn for once, Narsus repeated the
words without taking his eyes from Darun’s, his hands still tangled in the
other’s hair and his backside still cupped by the rough, soldier’s hands.
“I like you, too.”
The time for words was over. Narsus
put his head down again and kissed the general slowly, savouring him, as he
liked to do. Darun just loved Narsus’ languid kisses. The warrior set his hands
into motion and their bodies began to dance again in wanton harmony.
--------------------
“Finished!” Narsus exclaimed after
giving the last stroke. His work was completed. He laid the brush and palette
carelessly on the floor and guided his lover to the mirror, “What do you
think?”
Darun didn’t seem too thrilled.
“Narsus, please, you’re wiser than
that. No matter that it’s me reflected in the mirror, if you want my opinion, I
still think your painting is crap.”
The artist narrowed his eyes and glared
at his lover through the mirror’s reflection.
“And I still think you’re an
asshole.”
Darun shrugged.
“Maybe, but I didn’t ask.”
“You’re an ignorant and a brute.
Barbarian. Beast.”
“Narsus…”
“You can’t understand it. You can’t
see what I see, that Art is eternal. Empires and Kings are born and killed,
they come and go, they mean nothing…” the anger had disappeared from the
painter’s voice, its tone becoming somewhat wistful, “only Art prevails.”
Darun turned around to look directly
at his lover’s face and not through the mirror.
“But the pictures can be destroyed,
the sculptures broken and once I take a bath, your painting will be gone as
well.” he tried to reason with the strategist.
“Maybe you can destroy a piece, but
not Art itself! And even if you wash away the paint, the feeling, the spirit
and the memory of it will never die.”
The dark haired warrior raised a
colourful hand to brush delicately the other’s cheek, leaving a trace of colour
in his caress.
“Narsus, I respect the faith you
have in Art. I know how you feel about it and I understand its importance to
you. But I just can’t share it. I’m not that way. Sorry.”
The shadow of a lop-sided smile
touched for a moment the strategist’s lips.
“Well, don’t be.” He finally said,
“If you were like me, life with you would be a bore.” After a pause, he looked
again at Darun, who still stood calmly (and naked) in front of him. “If you
don’t give a damn about my artistic obsession, why do you put up with me?”
Darun frown slightly at that and
slowly replied.
“You already know why.”
“Maybe, but I want you to say it
aloud.”
“No way.” And with that, the serious
general planted his open palm on Narsus’ whole face and pushed him playfully
backwards.
The artist didn’t let himself be
bullied and got near the warrior again, circling the strong waist with his arms
before Darun could push him apart again.
“Tell meeeeeeeeee…”
Immune to Narsus’ childish, sweet
tone, Darun stood firm.
“No.”
Narsus fell back on dirty tricks and
kissed Darun’s jaw.
“Tell me…”
“No.”
The painter then raised himself on
his toes and nibbled Darun’s earlobe before whispering in his ear…
“Tell me.”
“No.”
Hot breath caressed painted skin as
Narsus lips slid to Darun’s to plea before them.
“Tell me…”
“No.”
Loosing his tight embrace on the
warrior’s waist, the strategist put his open hands on Darun’s chest and kissed
him softly, nuzzling afterwards his way up to the general’s other ear and
pinching both of his nipples while begging breathily once again.
“Tell me…”
Trying to suppress his gasp, Darun
finally lost patience (and control) and took the infuriating strategist in his
arms, kissing him as if there was no tomorrow, grinding his unclad hips against
the soft pants of his lover, feeling the arousal that the fabric hid, cupping
as was his custom, that lovely ass that he… oh, so loved to fondle.
Breaking the kiss as abruptly as he
had started it, he finally admitted:
“Because I love you, that’s why!
Satisfied?”
Chuckling against the warrior’s
painted neck, Narsus nuzzled the area under Darun’s ear and breathed, “Not yet.
I believe you still own me some incredibly awesome fucking…”
“Shameless bastard…”
And with that, he picked the painter
up and carried him effortlessly to the bed. Darun wished all his debts were so
pleasant to pay.
“Oh, my fucking GODS!! Look
at the sheets!!”
The whole bed was dyed in several
colours of variable intensity depending on which part were you looking at.
Sheets, coverlets, and pillows… even the mattress was painted.
Darun let himself fall back to the
bed with a groan after fully appreciating the mess they had made.
“Narsus, you and your accursed
ideas…”
“Don’t tell me. I didn’t want to
break the mood at the moment, but the paint really really tastes like crap!”
The warrior couldn’t help it; he
burst out laughing.
“Oh, Narsus!”
The strategist grinned and shook his
head. Well, it had been worth it. Maybe it still was…
“Darun…”
The sensual quality of his lover’s
voice made the warrior finally stop his laughing and the general eyed warily
the painter.
“What.”
Crawling elegantly on all fours, as
a big panther, over the warrior’s body, Narsus finally straddled Darun’s hips
and leaned down to kiss the dark haired man’s lips.
“I remind you… you still have to
perform once more… three was the final number we agreed to… you know…”
Darun’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“You doubt me?”
“Well…”
Not giving him time to utter a
single word more, Darun rolled his lover on his back and changed positions,
ready to prove Narsus that he indeed hadn’t forgotten their pact.
In the view of such solid arguments,
Narsus couldn’t be anything but truly convinced.
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