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“Bread?” Salas wondered, both disappointed and ravenous. Contradictory desires. He looked back to the guard, who had taken more steps to Salas. He swallowed. “And what do I give for bread?”
The guard was in front of him, now, their chests nearly brushing. He could feel the condensation against his forehead from the breath above him. The smell of wine and rot.
And then a hand was on the back of his neck, the foul breath all too close as the guard grabbed him by the nape and crushed their lips together. With the man’s chapped lips and stubble, it was like sandstone scraping away at Salas’ face. The kiss was vicious and brutal, and it scared him.
He heard himself make a noise, his hands moving, seemingly of their own accord, to push the man away. Yet the moment his hands found purchase, he realized that pushing against the cell wall would have provided more results. The man was immobile.
Defending himself only achieved negative results. The roughness turned rougher, the guard’s thick hands constricted him in a vice-like grip. The guard was not dismayed by Salas’ resistance, but thrilled by the prospect of a grapple. An arm wrapped around him punishingly. He was thrown against the wall.
Salas yelped when his back met the stone, managing to free himself briefly.
It didn't matter. With the hungry eyes upon him and with the lack of options for escape, he realized he was at the guard’s mercy.
Pressed against the stone, a daunting confusion rolled through Salas. He spoke the language of the body like it was his second tongue, yet never before had the dark stir in him expressed such doubt towards what he knew would happen next. And why? Why was he hesitant to give the guard what he so clearly wanted, when he had never been so hesitant before? Why was he forgetting Eldron’s teachings?
But when the guard pressed up to him once more, grinding their groins together to create nauseating friction, all Salas wanted to do was to end the contact. Was it because the bread was insufficient? Was it his surroundings? Was it the fact that he was helplessly unsure of what the next day would bring?
The sour lips pressed against his once more and Salas yielded, allowing the force to plunder his mouth, the guard’s tongue sliding inside greedily.
Salas’ hands shook with his resilient unsurety. He still could not decide whether to push the guard away or pull him forward, obediently giving the guard what he sought.
The man decided for him. A hand reached out to latch around Salas’ wrist and pull it forwards and down, down, down until Salas’ fingers were fumbling over the bulge in the guard’s trousers. Using Salas’ hands to create friction, the guard began rubbing himself against Salas’ palm, moaning into Salas’ mouth as the guard’s pleasure ignited.
Salas felt teeth at his neck as the guard worked lower, the tied knot at his hip pried open and the tattered skirt-wrap pulled away.
His breath hitched and abruptly, he pushed away with all of his might. The contact broke.
Control, he thought. I need control.
Logic reminded him that what would happen was inevitable. He would give himself to the guard, whether it was something that was willing or not.
But perhaps he could trick his own mind into believing that what he was gaining from it was overall beneficial. That what he was giving was worth what was offered in return. Maybe that is what was missing.
“I want something else,” Salas found his voice, albeit shaky and raw, he spoke sternly, stopping the guard from further advancement.
Leaning against the wall, the guard sneered to hide his annoyance at the halt of the transgression. He said nothing, perhaps not even understanding the foreign language.
Salas’ mind spun as he thought of what to ask for.Out, I want out.
“Water,” he croaked instead, in Diagorian. His heart sank, even as he tried to convince himself that his new terms made the arrangement worth his performance.
He attempted to pull from his own memories, to make the ‘dark feeling,’ the one that he was normally so good at suppressing, sink away. Allow the steps of the ritual to take over.
He recalled being in Suscon, his eyes roaming the muscles of a bird at a banquet.He is lovely, Salas had thought. Strong like a warrior, with a secret, boyish smile that he’d slipped to Salas. Salas had given one back.
He thought it might be okay to approach the strong bird, but Emperor Eldron had caught his wrist when he’d made to leave.
“Where are you going?” he’d asked Salas.
“To that bird over there! Isn’t he nice-looking?”
“Sit back down.”
Salas had sat.
“Tonight you will be entertaining one of our northern border lords. He has some peculiar...perversions, I might add. Just to warn you.”
Salas had shaken his head, looking back at the bird. “May I entertain the handsome bird instead?”
