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Rocky Road #14; Quince #19; Chopped Nuts

Author: Regret
Rating: 18
Story: Radial: Unravel AU
Challenge: Rocky Road #14 - On The Road; Quince #19 - And Where Do You Think You're Going?
Topping: Chopped Nuts
Word Count: 2093
Summary: Alex keeps vanishing into the woods with the flimsiest of excuses; if only Milos didn't know exactly why he was going. If only he didn't get roped into helping deal with the issue...

Milos finished strapping the bedrolls to the back of the saddles, moving carefully around the horses to avoid startling them. The last thing he wanted was to start this journey having been kicked or stamped on and having to travel in pain. Bad enough that Alex had insisted on him wearing parts of an old armour set that dug into his muscles and twinged whenever he moved too fast.

“We’re ready?” Alex finished attaching his saddlebags, peering over the horse’s back at his slave. “And by that I mean, are you ready?”

He gave the saddle a foul look, then swung himself up into it. Pushing the arrogant bastard off his horse once they left was looking more and more appealing.

“The paperwork?” This time his words were low, quiet enough only for the two of them to hear.

Milos just stared at him and slid his hand over the bag slung over his shoulder, fingers lingering over the flap. “You keep assuming I’m stupid.” It was the first thing he’d done, laying the letters at the bottom and covering them with bandages and medical supplies until no sign of then could be seen. In light of what had happened after Alex had left he was glad he hadn’t waited.

Once they’d finished and in the few minutes before he scooped up the bags and followed the knight from the room, he’d taken great pleasure in dropping Hal’s belt out of the window, where a passing soldier happened to see it and, having furtively checked to ensure that no one else saw, grabbed it and strode away. It wasn’t much of a victory, but he’d felt a savage stab of pleasure nonetheless.

Alex shook his head with a faint smile and, without another word to Milos, nudged his horse into a walk. Roped to the pommel of Alex’s, Milos’s horse set off without warning; the elf swore, clinging to the creature’s mane, and gave him another furious glare that went ignored. Bastard. If this was his idea of fun, the trip to Ginebourne was going to be a bloody nightmare.

* * *

This trip was worse than a nightmare. There’d been three inns, all within the first day but further and further apart. When night fell, there was none to be seen. They bedded down in a clearing in the woods beside the path and while Milos arranged the fire Alex vanished into the woods to, he said, catch dinner.

To Milos’s complete and utter lack of surprise, he returned empty-handed. He didn’t know why he’d gone in the first place. A small amount of the dry food they’d bought with them was more than enough to suffice and Alex ate it without complaint before dragging Milos under the covers beneath their lean-to, no matter how much he protested that someone should keep watch, instead staring at the remains of the damped-down fire, unable to sleep, as Alex’s warm breath tickled his neck. In the morning he vanished into the trees again, leaving Milos to pack up alone.

At around midday they passed another inn; Milos gave it a resentful stare. Their timing was clearly off, but a glance at Alex’s face told him that neither stopping and waiting nor picking up the pace was likely to happen. Especially not when Alex stopped his horse and smartly dismounted, telling Milos in no uncertain terms to wait without moving a step before heading into the woods yet again.

He slumped forward in his saddle, burying his face in the horse’s neck. This was ridiculous. He clearly wasn’t looking for food and their route very clearly followed the road. He wasn’t looking for ambushers, he wasn’t taking enough weaponry for that. Hells, for all Milos knew, he was heading off into the woods for—

He froze, fingers digging into the mare’s thick mane. No... That couldn’t be it. But after that first night nothing of the sort had happened again, and sometimes, over the last week, Alex had absented himself from the room without giving a reason. Milos knew better than to question his owner and had just put it down to needing to talk to someone, but...

He groaned. The idiot really was going off into the woods for ten minutes at a time just to get himself off.

“You’re bored already?” Alex’s amused voice pulled him from his thoughts, disrupting the disturbing mental images he couldn’t stop himself from seeing. “There are better places to sleep.”

“Like on the floor with your massive great weight stopping my breathing?” He snapped back, trying to ignore the way Alex was flexing his right hand.

Alex shrugged and swung himself back into the saddle, graceful for once in his life. “It’s hardly my fault you’re warm and comfortable, is it?”

Before he could speak the first insult that came to mind, or even sit up, Alex nudged his horse into a trot and almost dislodged Milos from the saddle. Gritting his teeth he clung to the horse’s neck until he could push himself into a sitting position again, and tried not to think about what he’d just realised. That was the last thing he wanted to consider.

He almost managed it too. He successfully blanked it from his mind, focusing on the path, the scenery, anything rather than the man beside him, until they stopped that evening, miles away from any inn yet again and Alex turned to head into a dense part of the woodland. “Shouldn’t you take something to make it easier?” Milos muttered without looking up from the fire he was tending.

Alex turned, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve got a knife,” he said calmly, “and some string, that’s enough to set a trap.”

Milos’s snort of dark laughter almost put out the fledgling flame. “You know what I mean. It’s not a rabbit you’ll be skinning if you do that three times in a day.”

Realisation dawned across Alex’s face and with it came not a look of shame but instead a broad smile. “You catch on fast.”

“Hard not to when you’re so incredibly subtle,” he snarled, prodding the fire with a stick like he was stabbing Alex, and tried to ignore the man’s irritating laugh. “If you’re going to go, then go. Just don’t lie about it.”

“I don’t need to go now you know.” Dropping the makeshift tools he’d been using as a cover on the ground—Milos was increasingly sure the damned knight had no idea how to clean up after himself—Alex sauntered back across to the lean-to and settled with his back against one of the trees Milos had used as a support. “In fact,” he turned a smile up at the elf that made his blood run cold, “you can come and help me.”

No. Oh no, no, no. He almost swallowed his tongue, standing hurriedly and striding over to busy himself with the packs. “I need to prepare the—”

“It’s dried food.” Alex’s voice was laden with amusement. “It can wait.”

Milos glanced over his shoulder at the knight, then immediately wished he hadn’t. Shed of his armour, Alex was slowly unbuttoning the front of his trousers, the outline of his erection clear against the fabric. He swallowed and turned back to the pack, pulling out a handful of the grain they’d bought to supplement the horse’s food. At least the horses, both docile if slightly tetchy mares, were far less likely to make his life difficult.

He scattered the food in front of them both, watching as they ate it before turning their attentions back to the grass with a kind of apathetic tolerance, and winced as Alex’s voice filled the clearing. “Come here now, before I make you.”

Swallowing again, his throat suddenly close and dry and his heart pounding painfully, he turned around. Keeping his eyes on Alex’s rather than letting them drop to the gently moving hand was more difficult than he’d expected, and from the way Alex was looking at him it hadn’t gone unnoticed either. With his free hand he patted the blanket beside him.

“Why do you want me here?” Milos muttered, sitting as instructed while keeping his gaze locked firmly ahead. It didn’t help: he could see the movement of Alex’s right hand from the corner of his eye. “You’ve been getting by just fine without me.”

His only answer was the knight leaning across to take hold of Milos’s right hand with his left, lifting it over to press it against the silky flesh, folding his fingers around it.

Milos froze.

“What’s wrong? You’ve surely done this before for one of your owners.” When Milos shook his head slightly, he raised both eyebrows. “You’re telling me you don’t even do this to yourself?”

He shook his head again, biting his lower lip as Alex put his hand over Milos’s and began moving it for him. “Other owners had,” he hesitated, swallowed again, “other ways of using me. And I’m not interested in... this.” The knight’s cock was warm and flushed pink; he didn’t want to look.

“Really?” Milos tore his gaze away to realise Alex’s dark eyes were focused intently on his mouth. Looked like he wasn’t the only one who caught on quickly. “Would you prefer to try that instead?”

What could he say? No? That word he wasn’t allowed to use. Frowning, he gnawed on his bottom lip again. He’d been right about the arrogant bastard after all. And there wasn’t even anything nearby he could use to try to kill him; he wouldn’t succeed, but it’d save him from this. He looked down at Alex’s cock again, at the way he moved Milos’s hand up and down the shaft, the micro-movements of his hips, then closed his eyes and ducked his head to wrap his lips around it.

Above him, Alex let out a surprised exhalation, his hand falling away from Milos’s as the elf lowered his head, taking as much of him into his mouth as he could.

Hot and dry, and that was just his throat; he tried to summon some saliva as he bobbed his head along the length, ignoring the way the subtle shifts of Alex’s body seem magnified at this proximity. Alex’s hand settled on his head and Milos flinched, almost choking at the expected pain. Instead fingers slid though his hair, teasing at the tangles, surprisingly gentle considering the way the knight usually treated him. It might almost feel nice, if it was anyone but an owner. Anyone but Alex.

The only warning that he got that Alex was about to come was the tensing of the knight’s stomach, the quickening of his breath. Not enough of a warning. He grunted, his grip tightening in Milos’s hair, and the elf’s mouth was suddenly full of hot, thick fluid that he tried desperately to swallow, eliciting a deep groan from his owner, the fingers twisting hard and pulling at his scalp.

Carefully, so as not to make the hold of his hair worse, Milos raised his head again, lapping the last of Alex’s seed from the shaft, to see the knight, rosy-cheeked, grinning down at him. As expressions went it almost suited him. “That was worth it.”

Milos grunted and looked away, then yelped as an arm looped around his neck and dragged him down. “Let go!”

“Shush.” Alex tucked himself away, sliding his back down the tree until they were both laying on the blanket. Despite Milos’s struggles and loud protestations he easily kept his grip on him, holding him against his body. “Five minutes.”

“But— The fire—”

“Five minutes.” His grip tightened then loosened again, but his arm remained pressed to the back of his neck almost as a warning.

He groaned and subsided, not even trying to drive an elbow into the knight’s ribs as Alex settled his head on Milos’s shoulder and Milos rested his in the crook of Alex’s arm. The least he could do was make the bastard’s limb go numb while he slept. Even if Alex didn’t taste as bad as he’d feared, gods he wanted a drink.

He shot a glare at the thatch of dark hair as Alex’s breathing evened out and he began to snore. Three times in one gods-damned day—never mind the journey, it’d be Alex’s overactive sex drive that’d be the death of him.

Sighing, he let his eyes dip closed. It could be worse. It could always be worse. At least he’d been satisfied with that. He just didn’t expect that he’d remain satisfied for long.


Runaway Tales



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