Title: Honor Bound 10/16
Author: Elandae (j_3101@yahoo.ca)
Beta: The lovely and charming Daea
Pairing: Craig/Karl, Craig/Dave, Karl/Dave (implied)
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Don’t know them; make no claims of any sort. This is nothing but fiction.
Warning: violence
Feedback: Love it
Dedication: Especially for my darling woife here. She knows why.
Website: https://www.angelfire.com/hero/worship0/homepage.htm
Chapter 10:Power Play:
Karl’s chest rose and fell slowly as he slept. His sleeping visage seemed more at peace, a calm coming over him as he slept, making no real change to his appearance but offering a softness to his features that made him seem another man altogether.
Craig rolled over onto his back, staring up at the blank ceiling of the room, memorizing every line as he laid there, waiting for sleep to come. His eyes did not feel heavy. With a sigh he slipped carefully from the bed, taking care not to wake the man still peacefully sleeping there. He wandered across the room, the floor cool against his bare feet. A small gleam of metal caught his eye in the light of the single candle. Moving closer he realized it was the sheath for Karl’s dagger that had caught his eye. Craig felt a vague sense of surprise, belatedly realizing that this man must always carry at least one blade upon himself.
It was decorated with the symbol of his house, the head of a horse, the mane blown back in an unseen wind, its teeth bared fiercely. The rich adornment gleamed in the muted light of the bedchamber. Craig trailed his fingers over the sheath, feeling the smoothly formed lines, before he found his fingers slipping around the handle, finding it fit perfectly into his hand. He pulled the dagger easily from the sheath; the soft sound it made was one he had not heard for too long. The knife was heavier than he had expected, a cold weight in the live warmth of his palm.
The hilt was gilded in leather, smooth and familiar beneath Craig’s touch. He adjusted his grip on it, until the hard lines conformed just right to the smoothness of his hand. The finely carved blade gleamed sharply, the edges of the blade honed to a tip so fine it was almost invisible. Craig ran a finger along the edge, so softly he wasn’t even sure that he was touching it. His finger came away wet with his own blood. He stared at his finger for a moment, the blood black in the almost nonexistent light. He put his finger in his mouth, sucking gently.
“Careful, it’s sharp.”
The sudden sound of Karl’s voice startled Craig, even though he had spoken softly.
“I noticed.”
The flow of blood had slowed a little, though Craig could still see the blackened shade of red on his skin as he moved across the room, each step slow and sure until he was standing next to Karl.
“I am sure you realize that you shouldn’t leave these lying around,” Craig said softly, running his finger once more over the blade, this time over the flat surface, leaving a streak of his own blood, brilliant red against colorless steel. His thumb moved in slow circles over the leather, caressing it the way one would a lover’s body.
Karl did not speak, just watched intently as Craig’s hands moved over the deathly lines of the dagger, his hands so familiar with it, it was as though he had always held this knife. The dagger knew him, belonged to him, as though this had always been the way its master’s hand felt upon its hilt. Almost as though many deeds, both great and insignificant have been done by that hand holding tightly to the hilt of that dagger.
“You shouldn’t leave these lying around where anyone could get them,” Craig said again, his voice low and intent. He wasn’t quite sure where this comes, has only a vague remembrance of his sister’s face alive with joy as she showed him the first flower of the season, the pleasure quickly fading to the look of terror he had last seen upon her face.
“I don’t,” Karl replied, his hazel eyes fixed on Craig. There was no fear in them, only interest. It seemed that he was curious more than anything, to see what Craig would do next, the realization seemed to take several moments to sink into Craig’s mind. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was that he expected, didn’t even know why he was doing this, just knew that this mild curiosity was a surprise to him as well.
Craig set the dagger between his teeth then, the soft smell of the leather tickling his nostrils, moving easily onto the bed so that he was straddling Karl, one leg on either side of his body, neatly imprisoning the other man. He took the dagger into his hand once more, his eyes fixed on Karl’s.
The blade seemed to find its own way to lie against the smooth skin of the Prince’s throat. It looked beautiful there, the sheen of cold metal against the tanned warmth of perfect skin. The edge bit just slightly into Karl’s skin until a thin rivulet of blood slid over the blade, mixing with the stain of Craig’s own blood. He watched in fascination as they mixed together, making it impossible to tell which blood was his own and which is foreign.
Still Karl did not move. He lay in the bed, his features perfectly composed. He did not shy away from the cruel edge of the knife at his throat and he did not wince. His eyes betrayed absolutely nothing, simply staring steadily back into Craig’s, a silent dare in them.
“I could end your life right this moment,” Craig said, the words slow and exciting. He didn’t care about the meaning, just liked the way they felt on his tongue, the way the words tasted, reminding him of things he’d long forgotten. Reminded him of the way it felt to be at no one’s beck and call, when he was still his own man.
“You wouldn’t,” Karl returned, still perfectly composed.
“How do you know that I would not?”
“I know you. I know the type of man you are.”
Now it was Craig’s turn to say nothing, though one eyebrow arched in interest as he waited for the Prince to continue.
“You could easily slit my throat this very moment.” Karl seemed to like the taste of these words too; Craig can hear it in his voice. “You could press that blade into my skin until your hands were covered with my blood, until my life runs over the blade of my own dagger. But you won’t.” The last three words are simple, clean. Easy. Craig wondered vaguely if Karl really felt the sense of assurance he can hear so blatantly in the man’s voice or if this is just all just an elaborate act.
“What is it that makes you so sure?” Craig asked, his eyes flickering back and forth between the thin trail of blood that is still connected to the blade at Karl’s throat and steady hazel eyes that hold a message that captured some part of him that Craig could not define and wasn’t sure that he wanted to.
“I know you,” Karl repeated simply. “You would not kill me as I lay here, no weapons by my side. Where is the honor in that?”
“Do you trust me not to end your life?” Craig asked suddenly and his voice surprised even himself with its own roughness.
“No.”
“And yet you say that you know I will not do this.”
“I do.”
“You are sure I will not kill you and yet you do not trust me.”
“True. It is only a fool who trusts a man with a blade to his throat, no matter who it is. I am not a fool.” One corner of Karl’s mouth lifted then in a smile and Craig knew then that this was no act.
“Then what makes you so sure?”
“I know you. I can read in your eyes that you have not the will to end my life. Not like this. It is not in your nature.”
Craig didn’t like Karl’s words, he did not want them to be as true as he knew them to be. For one quick moment he wished that he did have the strength to end this here and now. For no reason other than to know that he could. “Even a man you think you know beyond any other could surprise you.”
“True. That is why trust is not a thing to be given easily, if ever at all.”
“You hold yourself back from all who would love you.” The words that come forth are not the ones that were on the tip of Craig’s tongue. Where these phrases came from is a mystery even to him though he finds them spilling from his lips all the same.
“You know not of what you speak,” the tone is soft but there’s an underlying strength to the words. “Trust is easily lent when one has no reason to misbelieve another’s intentions.”
Craig didn’t know what it was that Karl was speaking of, but sensed that in his own way the Prince was being more open with him than he had ever been.
“It is only a fool who trusts without forethought,” and before Craig even realized it, Karl had struck. One hand moved up, clasping Craig’s wrist tightly in its steely grasp. Without even realizing how he did it, the deceitful blade found its way into the Prince’s hand, found its way back to its true master.
“Any man’s fortune can change,” Karl said then, his voice low and silky, once more in control. Craig realized with a jolt that he had never lost it. He could not push aside the wave of grudging respect for a man who could lay with the steel of his own blade pressing into his throat and still turn the situation so effortlessly to his own advantage.
Karl took Craig’s hand in his own, his eyes never leaving Craig’s face as he raised it to his lips, sucking the index finger into his mouth, tasting the metallic tang of Craig’s blood on his tongue.
“It is now you whose life could be ended with a single stroke,” Karl said, his words dark velvet in the air. Craig looked back at him for a moment before raising his head the slightest bit, exposing his throat, the skin flawless in the candlelight. His eyes slid shut as he did this, half expecting the cruel bite of metal into fragile flesh.
“Does this excite you?”
The sound of Karl’s words were not at all what he had expected. Silk rather than metal against him. He opened his eyes to find Karl’s eyes fixed steadily on his own. The tips of Karl’s fingers trailed up the length of Craig’s throat, holding steady under the curve of his jaw, so Craig could not have looked away had he wished it.
“Yes.”
The single word was so soft Craig almost didn’t realize he had whispered it, the three letters slipping effortlessly from his lips, the only sound save his own blood pounding in his ears.
With a flick of his wrist, Karl sent the knife flying across the room, the polished steel catching the light as it tumbled over and over in a graceful arc. The sound echoed in the room as it embedded itself in the wood surrounding the doorway, the knife standing straight up, its dark hilt almost invisible.
Craig put his hand up to his ear, still feeling the push of air as the knife flew past his head so lose he was surprised his fingers didn’t find the wetness of his own blood.
“Don’t play with me.” Every word from Karl’s mouth was hard, carefully enunciated.
The next thing Craig knew, Karl had him flat on his back across the bed, the other man straddling his waist, their positions reversed. Karl’s hands slid down his arms, grasping each wrist in his hand and pinning them above Craig’s head. He did not fight against the restraint but merely looked up at the Prince, his eyes dark with lust.
“Make me yours,” Craig whispered, surprising even himself.
The words were barely past his lips before Karl’s mouth was on his, rough and bruising. Craig responded instantly, his body pressing up into the other man’s, tasting the linger hint of his blood on Karl’s tongue.
Karl ground his hips into Craig’s body, the hard bulge of his erection making Craig gasp. He trailed his free hand down the side of Craig’s body, making him shiver as his hand slipped between their bodies, wrapping firmly around Craig’s erection.
Karl pulled back, making Craig groan. He pressed several hot kisses along Craig’s throat. Craig watched as Karl pulled the drawer of the stand next to the bed open, extracting a small bottle before he turned back to Craig. He stood still for a moment, eyeing the planes of Craig’s naked body in the muted light. His chest, lean and muscled, the smooth skin tanned a rich golden shade. The strong muscles of his thighs, lightly speckled with dark hair, the proud form of his erection, the head glistening with moisture.
Karl watched the heavy way Craig breathed as he eyed him, his eyes beckoning him forward with the promise of what was to come. The bed dipped once more as Karl settled himself on the bed, between Craig’s legs. He leaned over to kiss Craig once more, his fingers tangling roughly in Craig’s hair and he pressed his mouth hard against the other man’s, his tongue exploring the inside of Craig’s mouth. His teeth pulled roughly at the fullness of Craig’s bottom lip, reveling in the small moan this got from the other man.
He shifted his hips a little, rubbing his own erection against Craig’s, making his own breath catch in his throat at the feel of the light friction against his aching cock. Impatiently he moved back once more, pouring a generous amount of oil from the bottle into his hand, Craig watching with hooded eyes as Karl’s stroked himself, the oiled skin glistening and making him ache with need.
Karl shifted, positioning himself so the head of his cock was pressed up against Craig’s body.
“Now,” Craig gasped, pushing towards the other man.
Karl pressed slowly forward until he was fully sheathed within the other man, Craig gasping at the pain of the entry, completely unprepared, but already moving against Karl, desperate for more.
The Prince paused in his motions for a moment, before picking up Craig’s legs, and setting them against his shoulders. He pulled out almost to the tip before pushing forward into Craig, sweat beading along his hairline. Craig reached down, wrapping his hand around his own cock, stroking in time with Karl’s thrusts, his hips pushing onto the other man, unable to get enough.
Karl began moving faster, his strokes becoming shallower and more erratic. Craig’s body jerked, crying out hoarsely as he came, the warmth spilling across his hand as the spasms ran through his body. Karl gritted his teeth as Craig’s body contracted around him, the tightness almost making him come right then. He pushed deeper into Craig’s body, feeling the tension building almost beyond bearing in his groin. He pulled out almost all the way once more before thrusting hard back into Craig. A wave of pleasure crashed over him, a low groan tearing out of his throat, the cords in his neck standing out as he came, his body falling limply forward onto Craig, their skin slick with sweat, each breathing heavily, Karl still inside of Craig.
Craig’s head spun, unable to comprehend all that had just happened. His hand came up, once more seemingly out of its own volition. Craig wondered where all this had come from. His fingers traced lazy circles against Karl’s neck and Craig wondered hazily just how it was that he had come to be here, and then sleep claimed him once more.
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