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Rocky Road #11; Quince #12; Chopped Nuts

Author: Regret
Rating: 18
Story: Radial: Unravel AU
Challenge: Rocky Road #11 - Inn/hotel; Quince #12 - What Part Of "No" Don't You Understand?
Topping: Chopped Nuts
Word Count: 2,388
Summary: Alex is still frustrated and desperate, and Milos is his only available outlet. Shame Alex hasn't ever done this before...

The inn was busier when they arrived than when they’d left. People sat arranged haphazardly at tables, the babble of voices filling the low-ceilinged dining area and drowning out the words and occasional sharp insults of the landlady as she served food, drinks and now and again slapped away a roving hand. When her gaze landed on Alex she simply nodded and smiled, gesturing with one finger pointed upwards to ask if he’d like his meal served in his room.

It came as no surprise that he nodded. The idea of Alex agreeing to sit in such social surroundings, tolerating the noise, was unbelievable. With a wave of his hand to the landlady he immediately headed for the stairs, Milos obediently following him. Even if he thought he could get away with staying downstairs, why would he? The stares and comments he’d get weren’t worth spiting Alex over.

The room was exactly as they’d left it with no evidence that anyone had felt the need to attend to housekeeping. Milos moved over to the table and finished tidying the sundries, keeping half an eye on Alex as he did so. The knight had flopped back onto the bed, still wearing his light armour, and was keeping just as watchful an eye on Milos. “Your neck needs looking at.”

His hand moved involuntarily to cover the two cuts. “It’s fine.”

“You can’t escape by developing blood poisoning. I won’t let you.” Alex flicked his legs up and forward, using the momentum to rock him into a sitting position and, from there, to his feet. Sometimes, for a grown man, he acted just like a child. “Come here and take your collar off.”

In this he could tell there was no use in arguing. Fiddling with the catches at the back, he tried to take as long as he possibly could to reach the knight who, judging from the smirk, knew exactly what Milos was doing. Only when he stood in front of him did he undo the last part and let the leather fall into his hands, exposing his neck fully for the first time since Alex had bought him.

The knight immediately took it and threw it onto the bed, resting one hand around the bottom of Milos’s neck, palm against his collarbone, to use the other to hold his chin and move it this way and that. For someone supposed to be examining two shallow wounds, he seemed to be taking a great interest in his body in general. “Do they hurt?” He ran a thumb over one of the cuts.

Milos shook his head.

“Because you wouldn’t tell me if they did.” He dug his thumbnail into the upper scratch.

Milos winced and didn’t make a sound.

Alex sighed, pushing past him to retrieve the medical supplies from the bag hanging from the wardrobe door handle, as well as a small bottle of spirits left on the nightstand. He couldn’t decide if they expected the customers to be drunkards or prone to injury, or possibly both. “Sit on the bed.”

Hesitantly he did as ordered, not quite sure how to tell Alex he was doing it all wrong: if a slave passed out they should be left there, or kicked them until they got up again; if they got hurt it was ignored. Tending to wounds was the last thing an owner should do. He bit his lip and angled his head up as Alex sloshed some of the alcohol onto a cloth and wiped at the encrusted blood around the marks. That did hurt. And he had no intention of letting the bastard know it.

Once the scratches were clean he’d expected him to finish. The hand that seized his jaw again, turning his head, was an unwelcome surprise. “Your collar rubs, doesn’t it?”

He tried to shake his head.

The hand wouldn’t let him. “Liar. I can see it’s sore.” The cloth pressed against his skin again and stung at the raw patches. “Leave it off for tonight.

Milos jerked his head free to shake it vigorously. “No, I can’t—”

“I’m telling you as your owner, and you’re disagreeing?” Alex’s mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“Yes, I am.” He snapped back. “I’m not going to stop wearing it just because you—” The words were cut off as the hand once holding his chin wrapped around his throat and squeezed.

“Do as I say or I’ll make you regret it.” The words were soft, the knight’s eyes full of promise.

Milos froze, then nodded gently.

“Good.” He rose again, leaving both the bottle and the bloodied cloth beside the washing bowl, and moved to stand in front of the window.

He looked from his collar to the knight’s back, debating whether it’d be worth the pain, then sighed. It wouldn’t be. When it came to Alex it never was.

A knock at the door and the scent of food drove thoughts of disobedience from his head; minutes later the landlady had laid out simple but entirely welcome bowls of stew with fresh bread and, with a smile, left both men to eat. While he’d never get used to sharing a table with his owner—the word master, in relation to Alex, never seemed willing to spring to mind—he could easily get used to regular meals again. Foolish. Getting used to anything was a bad idea, but this— He bit enthusiastically into the soft bread and smiled.

The only downside to the meal was that he could see Alex squirming slightly in his seat again, clearly still suffering with the result of his self-imposed three-day moratorium, and more than once he saw the knight’s gaze flick over to him in something between irritation and... something else, that Milos wasn’t sure he wanted to analyse fully. When they’d finished and the bowls were piled in the middle of the table his dark eyes returned to him. “We’re going to bed. Help me with this, then take off your clothes.”

Milos swallowed and rose to assist Alex with the straps to his armour, stripping away the protective gear until he was left in trousers and shirt, the latter he wasted no time in removing himself. Doing the same with his own, he moved over to the cupboard he’d laid out their nightclothes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He froze with one hand hovering over the shirts. “I’m getting ready for—

“Get in bed.”

“But—” He stared in wide-eyed horror as Alex shoved his trousers down and kicked them across the floor, realisation dawning. “No.”

Alex glared at him and, when Milos refused to move, stalked across the floor to grab a handful of his hair. “I said get into bed. Do what you’re told.”

It didn’t matter how much he struggled, all he achieved was pain as he was dragged inexorably across the floor and thrown onto the mattress. His attempt to scramble away again met with a hard shove to the chest that knocked him back onto the bed, winded and only able to watch as Alex moved around the room, dousing all lights aside from the one beside the bed, one hand idly stroking his erection all the while.

When he returned to the bed Milos didn’t need to be told what to do, rolling over to drag his tongue the length of the shaft before taking the full length into his mouth. Alex’s fingers moved through his hair the way they had in camp, until another searing flash of pain found his head being yanked up again. “It’s not enough,” he muttered, “and I told you to get undressed. Take off your trousers.”

Milos shook his head, and hoped his hands weren’t trembling as he sank his fingers into the sheets. “Find yourself a whore.”

Alex shook his head and smiled gently. The expression was pretty in the candlelight; Milos wasn’t fooled for an instant. “I can’t afford a whore. Buying you has wiped out my savings entirely.”

“Horseshit!” The curse came out more loudly than expected. “I was the cheapest one there!”

This time he laughed. Milos flinched as Alex pressed one finger to his forehead. “And you were still more expensive than I’d like. You think we’re paying to stay here? You’re going to be doing all their washing up tomorrow, before we leave for the castle.”

He glared furiously at him. “I’ll drop all their plates.”

Alex smirked. “Try it. They’re wooden.”

“If you’re so poor, how did you pay for those clothes?!”

He shrugged and his smile widened. “It’s not just my rank that carries weight. The bill’s being sent to my father.”

“Then use your rank or name or whatever to find a woman!” The inn downstairs had to be full of them, stable girls looking for a good-looking man for a little fun, or ladies bored of their husbands, or... In truth he had no idea how it worked, but considering all Alex’s arrogant, handsome looks it wouldn’t be difficult for him.

“With this?” He pointed down at his hard cock. Milos swallowed again and tried to avoid following the line of his finger. “Three days, your fault.”

“You didn’t have to listen to me!”

“But I did,” he said softly, “and now you have to take responsibility. Take off your trousers.”

He wanted to be sick, or scream and run away—not that he expected that to go well—and all he could think as he slowly complied, teeth gritted, was that at least he’d kept his word and given him some warning.

It didn’t make him feel better.

Alex pushed him back against the mattress with less force than he’d anticipated, pressing his hands to his thighs to raise his legs and let him take a better look at his slave. From the faint frown of concentration as he examined Milos, he didn’t think he’d ever done this before. Fear clawed at his gut as he stared up at his owner, almost beautiful in the flickering candlelight and every bit as terrifying. He closed his eyes, biting hard on his lip.

Pain lanced through him as Alex pressed the tip of his cock against his hole and pushed, hard. It hurt, dear gods it hurt; Alex had really never done this before; he tried to withstand it, there’d been worse, but it hurt and he’d only got the head in and no matter how much he whimpered Alex didn’t seem like he was going to listen, and—

“No!” He slammed his foot into Alex’s stomach and scrambled to the end of the bed before the knight do anything but groan, grabbing a pillow and pressing it against his crotch like a barrier between him and the idiot. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Alex stared at him with one hand pressed to his torso, not in anger like he’d feared, but instead in plain surprise. “That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

“No! I mean, yes, but—” Was he really that dense? It still hurt, enough to make him gasp when he moved and judging from the knight’s uncomprehending expression he wasn’t making it any clearer.

“Well, with women it’s easy.” He shrugged. “You just slide—”

“I’m not a woman!” Milos shouted back. “You can’t just force it! Gods, even your insane brother had the right idea!” He’d known well enough what that liquid was for once realisation kicked in, did he think that was just for fun? Pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead to quell the impending headache, he stared at his idiot owner and wondered just what he’d done to deserve this.

For his part, Alex tilted his head to one side as he examined Milos, one hand dropping to grip his still improbably hard dick. “So, what is it you’d do without that bottle?”

“You still want to...?” His voice trailed off; of course he did. It wasn’t him that had to suffer through it. He could say no. He could try. But he already knew how inclined to listen to him Alex would be—not at all. Discarding the pillow again, he crawled forward and slipped the knight’s erection into his mouth again. Crushing terror in his chest made it hard to summon the saliva he’d need, but at least Alex’s hand remained at his sides this time while his own moved to press one finger into himself. Gods, he was going to be so bruised tomorrow.

When he lifted his head again, the silky flesh was glossy and wet. Imperfect, still likely to hurt, moreso now he was twice as scared as he’d been to start with. “Ready?” Alex asked, staring at Milos with unusual seriousness.

Throat suddenly dry again, he nodded and lay back down, watching nervously as the knight ran one finger over the tip of his cock, then held the base and began to push it into him again.

It definitely hurt, a burst of pain that had him gritting his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets, but it was still preferable to Alex’s first awful attempt. He’d barely got it all in before he started moving, giving Milos no time to adjust to the sensation, but that didn’t come as a surprise either.

After the first couple of thrusts Alex leaned forward, pressing his face into the crook of Milos’s neck and shoulder, his body hot and heavy against his chest. Each soft breath tickled his skin as the knight pounded roughly into him, jolting out the occasional gasp of pain.

He stared at the candle, listened to each of Alex’s ragged exhalations, and prayed for it to be over.

Alex finished faster than he’d anticipated, the searing breaths turning into muffled moans as the stabbing thrusts became long, slow strokes. He felt it, so tight with nerves and exhaustion, wanting to crawl away and sleep far, far from this awful man as Alex made soft, wordless noises of appreciation and withdrew without raising himself from Milos’s body.

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, trapping his slave beneath him exactly as he had that first night they’d been together.

Milos stared blankly at the candle, forcing himself to blank out the throbbing pain between his buttocks. There was only an inch of dripping wax left when sleep finally claimed him.


Runaway Tales



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