Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Author: Regret
Rating: 15
Story: Radial: Unravel AU
Challenge: Blueberry Yoghurt #17 - Uncomfortable Silence; Blue Raspberry #10 - In Bad Taste
Topping: Chopped Nuts
Word Count: 1,597
Summary: Even waking up is a pain for Milos, and he gets to meet—far better than he expected or wanted—another of Alex's siblings.

Early morning sunlight blazed golden through the windows as Alex stirred, mumbling incomprehensibilities into Milos’s clothing along with a healthy helping of night-time drool. Milos didn’t turn to look at him. Why should he? The man had snored throughout the night inches from his ear and even in sleep his grip on his wrists had been unwavering. He’d lost all sense of feeling in his fingers ten minutes after Alex had passed out. He still couldn’t feel them; he’d been forced to visually check several times that they were, in fact, still attached.

One thing was for sure: he’d learned his lesson, in this regard at least. The next time the bastard told him to warm his bed he’d comply without complaint. No matter how cold or hard, the floor was a vast improvement over a far-too-heavy, oversexed knight.

Alex stretched, almost hitting Milos in the face with the heel of his hand. He’d not even realised his wrists had been released, such was the numbness. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.” He turned a beautiful smile up at him and scrubbed a hand through Milos’s messy hair like he was a cherished pet. “You’ll have to stay in my bed every night.”

Milos jerked his head away and redirected his gaze to the wall, ignoring the way Alex’s laugh rumbled through his body.

The pressure on his body vanished as the knight pushed himself up and off his new slave and for the first time in what had to be six hours Milos could breathe freely again. He pushed himself into a sitting position, attempting to massage feeling into one hand, then the other, without being able to feel anything in either, and glared at Alex’s back as the man moved across the room. Bastard. Bastard. He tried to flex his fingers: they moved, but he couldn’t feel it. That ruled out making another grab for the knife, but at least if he just punched him he wouldn’t feel it until later.

He wouldn’t. He was too exhausted, for a start, and he didn’t feel inclined to hit the floor yet again. He’d been able to feel bruises forming all night.

“Are you listening to me?”

Milos looked up from his examination of his fingers at the knight, standing in front of the wardrobe wearing an irritable expression and little else, and remembered what happened after Alex had fallen asleep. His gaze slid away to his thigh and the stain on his trouser leg. Why would he listen to someone who lied so well?

Alex made a soft tch noise and a soft pile of cloth caught Milos in the face. “Put those on. They’ll have to do until I can sort something out.”

Pulling the fabric down onto his lap, he stared at the silky high-collared shirt and dark trousers in surprise. A sharp rap at the door saved him from having to swallow his hatred enough to thank him, to his intense relief.

Alex turned to give the woodwork an irritable look. “Come in.”

“Why, brother dearest, you could make more of an effort to sound pleased to see me.”

Milos’s head snapped up and round at the voice, in time to see Alex’s eyes narrow at the unfamiliar figure making his way into the room. It wasn’t the one they’d seen yesterday. This one was shorter, dark brown hair at odds with the jet black of the man in the room but with the same unnerving eyes, so brown as to be black and an easy smile that held no spark of love for his sibling.

“What do you want?” Alex snapped, returning his attention to the wardrobe without any apparent concern about his nakedness.

“Sura said you’d gone mad.” The stranger leaned against the wall beside the door with his arms folded and stared directly at Milos. He felt his flesh creep under the gaze, which contained all the heat Alex’s lacked and a glint of something that made his stomach flip in fear. “I didn’t believe him, so I thought I’d come and look for myself.”

“And now you’ve seen, so you can leave.”

The other man uncoiled like a cat and crossed the short distance between the wall and Milos in two long strides, grabbing the elf’s chin and tilting his head this way and that; Milos tensed, hands balling into fists beside his thighs. “He’s not bad looking at all. Something you want to tell me, little brother?” He smirked down at Milos as Alex swore, the sound muffled by his cupboard, then grabbed his upper arm and dragged him to his feet. His eyes moved the length of Milos’s body and did nothing for his sense of nausea. “Bought yourself a little dancer, I see.”

“Nothing of the sort, Hal. He just needs feeding.” Alex yanked his trousers on like he had a grudge against them, fixing his brother with a glare as he fiddled with the buttons.

The other man snorted, the sound so uncannily similar in tone and force to Alex that Milos swallowed nervously. “If you think he’s going to be strong enough to carry even half your crap, you’re mistaken. But with a body like that, there are plenty of other uses he could be put to.” Hal smirked, sliding one hand under Milos’s shirt and raising it, grazing his thumb over his nipple.

He leapt backwards with a yelp, stumbling over his own feet to come crashing painfully down onto the floor. The sound of china shattering over stone and a shouted curse made him flinch away, raising one arm to protect his face.

“Get the fuck out of my room.” Alex’s voice was deafening.

Milos was already pushing himself to his feet before he realised that it wasn’t directed at him: Hal stared at Alex with an expression of deep disgust. “Three inches to the left and that would have been my head.”

“Then I clearly need to get back on the target range.” The knight snarled, grabbing another plate and pitching it at his brother. It exploded into a thousand shards that rained down on the bed. “I said get out!

“I understand,” Hal said, raising both hands and backing away from Alex’s sudden fury. “You haven’t broken him in yet and want to be the first to do so. But if you get bored with him,” he grinned at his sibling, “just pass him along to me.” He ducked back through the door as a heavy metal tankard crashed into the frame.

“If you ever dare grope my servants again, plates will be the least of your problems, you bastard!” Alex bellowed down the hallway after him.

Only laughter echoed back.

Alex slammed the door closed again with a crash that made the remaining crockery rattle on the table and stomped back over to the wardrobe, yanking clothing this way and that without any apparent sense of purpose. “Filthy lecherous shithead,” he growled at a jerkin that looked as though it cost more than Milos did.

He bit his lip and turned away, busying himself with picking up the shattered pieces scattered around the room instead. His heart hammered painfully in his chest and it took two or three attempts to pick up the smaller pieces, his hands were shaking so badly.

“Leave that, get dressed.” The snapped words made him jump again, snagging his finger on one of the jagged shards. “If he ever touches you again, you have permission to hit him. Hells, you could kill him for all I care, but I don’t think it’d go down well.”

Milos trickled the cupped fragments into a small pile on the bedside table, even that sound suddenly far too loud. The clothes were still on the bed, untouched by pieces of earthenware. He reached out to take the shirt and hesitated at the sight of the spreading redness over his finger. If he got blood on Alex’s clothing, based on the man’s temper and current mood, he suspected that he’d regret it; he tucked the digit into his mouth instead, frowning as he lapped at the bitter fluid with his tongue. It hurt more than he thought it should.

A soft noise behind him made him twitch around, suddenly hyper-aware, only to see Alex watching him with an odd expression. “Take your finger out your mouth.” Milos obeyed instantly, not wanting another slap now, after everything, and flinched back as Alex stepped towards him to take his hand and bind a strip of material around the wound. “The next time you cut yourself, ask for a cloth or something. Don’t do that.”

He nodded, heart in his throat, and lowered his eyes from Alex and the wound. Immediately he wished he hadn’t. No wonder he didn’t want him sucking on his finger; no matter what he said about his brother, some habits they seemed to share. His stomach twisted painfully and he stared down at the floor instead.

“Now get dressed, quickly. I want to get to one of the sparring arenas before everyone else.” When he stepped back, all traces of his previous strange demeanour had vanished, leaving only a critical appraisal in its wake. “I want to see if you actually know how to fight, or if you’re just an idiot.”

Turning back to his clothes, he hoped the knight couldn’t see how his heart sank at those words. If he thought yesterday was an exercise in frustration, today looked as though it was going to make it seem like a picnic.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Jun. 14th, 2013 12:36 am (UTC)
Aww, poor Milos :( Are all of Alex's family complete jerks? Or is there a good one lurking somewhere?
Jun. 23rd, 2013 08:42 am (UTC)
There are a couple of good ones, I've just not had the chance to introduce them yet. So it's not all bad for Milos... he's just got to wait a little first. :3
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


Runaway Tales



Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow