Rexi and Talon

By Onyx Tao

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17. Talon

It took Talon some time to fall back asleep after - after - Talon wasn't entirely sure what; he'd been deep asleep, and then he'd been - tossed? Thrown? Something, and apparently by Master Zackton. Over Rexi? The halfling must have surprised Master Zackton, for him to react so. Ordinarily, Talon would have been upset about being tossed like that.

Because, ordinarily, he'd have ghastly red-purple from slamming into the bedposts that way. And he'd ache for the next two or three days as the bruises turned to blue, and black-green before they finally faded. Talon was well accustomed to the general course of being bruised.

This time, he hadn't.

Before this, he'd wondered if the necklace was really doing something, or if he wasn't just being more careful - because he knew he was being more careful. Being healed was one thing, but ... a magic necklace that toughened the skin? Was he really supposed to believe that? Talon could admit that such things might exist, but ... to imagine such a thing would really find its way to him seemed ... impossible. Magic was something that happened to someone else; someone richer, stronger, luckier, someone ... not him.

Not Talon. So he'd expected, once the shock of being thrown was over, to hurt. To bruise. To start another four or five days of aching soreness. Talon didn't even mind; that's just what happened. He was almost always bruised somewhere, almost always hurting somehow, almost always recovering. There were a few glorious days when he wasn't, but those were the exception.

Until Master Zack had noticed him. Until Master Zack had cured him. Everything. Like magic. With magic. His magic, Master Zack's magic, spent it, used it, and Talon couldn't imagine what using it cost Master Zack, but his protest had been met with the simple declaration that it was Zackton's magic and Zackton would determine how to use it. It wasn't up to Talon.

And ... since he was property, Talon supposed that he, Talon, was Master Zackton's, and Zackton could determine how to use him. Fortunately, so far, Master Zackton had used him with amazing consideration. Talon had never heard of a slave being treated ... like Master Zackton was treating him. He'd heard of fuck-slaves, of course, who hadn't? And even that some of them were - well, pampered. Talon had to admit that he felt pampered that way. Just ... what Master Zackton had done when the half-orc got him out of that horrible cage. He still didn't entirely know what Master Zackton wanted from him, though. That ... worried him. If Master Zackton had just wanted sex, well ... Talon might not like that, but he would have understood it.

But although Master Zackton apparently did want that - he only wanted it if Talon wanted it, too.

Which Talon hadn't. At least not at first ... and Master Zackton hadn't pressed the issue. If anything, he'd been ... amazingly accommodating.

Well, almost. There was that so-called kiss that had been ... Talon squirmed at the memory, both from the embarassment of the memory, and because it had ... had ...

It had felt so good. Thinking about it now ... made him hard. And ... Talon was having other thoughts. Having someone take your cock into their mouth, to use their - his - tongue like that, it had been ... nothing like Talon had imagined it might be, and a hundred times better. And ... Master Zackton had acted like - no, not acted like. Master Zackton had clearly enjoyed doing it. Enjoyed ... what? Talon had always imagined a slave would be forced to do that, forced to be fucked, forced to suck off her - his, his Master. That the only point was the Master's pleasure.

But then ... why had Master Zackton enjoyed it so much? What else was Talon wrong about? Because Master Zackton hadn't forced him to do anything. He'd even asked Talon ... if maybe he'd gone a little further than Talon really thought he'd given permission for. But Talon hadn't stopped him - Talon hadn't wanted to stop him.

Talon realized that, deep in the back of his mind, he had been hoping, just a little, that Master Zackton would do it again. He reached down to touch himself, and quickly went from half-hard to hard, and then reluctantly pulled his hand away with a glance at the mirror. The thought that a dragon might be watching him, that a dragon might be interested in him or watching him ...

That had to be the wierdest thing that had ever happened to him, and Talon really wished it hadn't, and Talon gave the mirror an uneasy stare. Nothing happened, though. No sense of anything different; it just looked like a big, round mirror, that was innocently reflecting nothing more suspicious than the room. There was no hint of any huge, scaled eyes looking directly at him - but he couldn't purge the memory of that momentary glimpse.

With a shudder, he pulled the sheet and covers over his head, and did his best to stop trembling; his length gone flaccid. If Master Zackton made him so uncomfortable - why did Talon so desperately want him back so very badly? Why was he so aware of the faint musky scent that clung to the sheets?

Why was it so relaxing?

Talon must have drifted off to sleep in the warm quiet of the room, because he was aware of a light caress, and then Master Zackton's deep voice saying, very quietly, "I'm sorry to disturb you." But it wasn't a disturbance at all. Talon moved his body up against the oddly reassuring warmth of the half-orc, too drowsy to even say hello, or really do anything but drift - much more easily this time - back down into sleep.

Talon woke slowly to a hand running down his side, a light touch, but not tentative, just enough strength so that he knew that it was real. Zack's hand - Master Zackton's hand, Talon corrected himself, and that was enough to jolt him from disconnected drowse to mostly awake. He was lying on his side, his back to the huge half-orc, and he could feel Master Zackton's maleness pressing against him. Talon was fully hard, too. Now that he was awake, each stroke sent a tingle through him, and he could feel his length twitch in response. How long had it been since Master Zackton had provided that wonderful kiss?

Too long, his body was saying, and from the stiffness at his back, he thought Master Zackton might well be thinking the same thing.

Zackton breathed softly, "Awake?"

Talon nodded, and then, recollecting himself, forced himself through the final veils of sleep to say "Yes, Master Zackton."

"Mmmm," the half-orc said softly. "I didn't wish to wake you ... but there are appointments tonight. A fitting, and a salon. The first an hour."

"Oh," sighed Talon, letting a little of his very real disappointment leak into his voice. "Then we'd better get ready."

"Mmmmm," the half-orc murmured again. "Master Threadmaker delivered a set of tailored clothes for you - a bit overmodest, but flattering enough for tonight. The same cantrip that cleans the sheets will suffice for us. We would simply trade the pleasure of a bath for ... something else." Zackton paused for a moment. "Unless I have again misread you ... it's very easy to read someone wrong through the blinders of your own desire, and ... I want you to want me, very much." He frowned, a ferocious expression of teeth and tusk. "And my previous attempts at reading you have been remarkable failures."

"No," said Talon. "You're ... I do. I think." He held out a hand. "But ... it won't hurt? I mean, it feels good but ..."

"Much as I want to fuck you, I think it would damage you, even if it didn't hurt," sighed Zackton. "Done properly, it won't, I assure you, and you will find it can feel amazingly good. But the amulet you're wearing protects your skin from damage; it does nothing about bleeding, which is the problem. I will not risk you."

"Thank you," said Talon, trying not to cheer. It wasn't that he was afraid, but ... yes, actually, he was. He'd heard stories about that, and what he'd heard was outright frightening if even a fraction of it were true. And Zack's offhand comment about bleeding ... No. He really didn't want to do that.

"Hmm," said Zackton, and Talon froze. Master Zackton might have gone on about how he couldn't read him, but the half-orc certainly noticed when he was worried, or even just a little upset. He might guess the cause wrong, but Zackton read him with an uncanny accuracy. "I've upset you again ..."

Sure enough. Talon nodded.

Zackton took a deep breath, let it out, and then another. "Good," he said, finally, nodding. "Good. Better that I should unsettle you with a few words, than I should do something that alarms you more. Do you still fear me?"

Talon shook his head. "No, Master Zacton."

"Then ..." and Zackton thought for a moment. "You fear something I might do? Now?"

"No," Talon said again.

"Talon," said Zackton softly, "I would like it if you could face your fear of ... whatever this is, overcome your embarassment, and tell me. Please?" The half-orc studied his face for a moment longer. "I promise not to laugh at you," he said finally.

Talon tried to keep himself still. How did Zacton do that? How! "I've ... I'm ..." How could he even say it? "I don't know if I want ..." and then he took a deep breath. "I don't know if I want to be fucked," he said, and then he looked up at Master Zacton. The half-orc simply watched him, quietly, his face schooled to an expression of attention, nothing more. But still, having said that much, "I mean, I want to ... to ... do other things. I think I do. I mean, I ... I want to try. But I'm ... I've heard ... "

"I understand," said Zackton. "You've heard stories about getting raped. Being forced. Broken."

Talon nodded.

"Well," said Zackton. "From personal experience, I can tell you that hurts a lot."

You ... but Talon didn't say anything, just swallowed.

"Worse than the physical pain, though, is the damage to ... oneself. It is a wound to your inmost self. That damage can kill, or worse." Zackton's face went completely, almost terrifyingly, blank for a moment. "And there are some who hold that, because being forced is so destructive, that being fucked is destructive. And there are others who believe that, because their imagination can only hold the image of being fucked as violence.

"But that's not true. Here, too, from personal experience, I can assure you that when you're with someone whose goal is to bring you as much pleasure as he derives, when the goal is to share intimacy rather than commit violence, being fucked is a very good experience. And it need not hurt, on the way to pleasure. I had ..." and Zackton paused, his face taking on that same frightening blankness for a moment, "a great number of violences committed on me before I met someone who explained - and demonstrated - the very great difference between violence and intimacy." The usual hint of genial amusement returned to the half-orc's face, and then a flash of tension. "I had not thought ... Talon, have you had this violence committed against you? I will not think less of you; but ... if you have, I must know, or I could harm you inadvertently."

Talon shook his head, looking down.

"I need you to say it, and I need you to look in my eyes," Zackton said firmly. "It is important to me that I not hurt you, and I must ... be certain I will not."

"Nobody has raped me." Talon swallowed convulsively. "Nobody's ... touched me that way, ever. Except you." After a moment, he blurted out, "Nobody wanted to."

Zackton's sigh of "Ah," was surprisingly calming. "Nobody wanted to touch the hybrid freak?"

Talon flinched at the words, before he remembered that Master Zackton, too, could be called a hybrid freak.

"Well," said Zackton. "I want to touch you." A brief, hidden smile this time. "One hybrid freak to another."

Talon smiled back at Zackton. "Do ... do we still have time?"

"Enough," said Zackton, twitching back the covers so that Talon could see him - all of him. "When you first saw me, you thought I was a monster, didn't you?" Zackton gave a toothy grin. "Do I look the same now? Am I terrible? Monstrous? Ugly?"

"I ..." Talon paused. "No. Although ... the tusks ..." he reached out, and then yanked his hand back.

"Go ahead," Master Zackton said. "Touch them." His face twisted - improbably, Talon thought - into a moue. "Although there are other parts of me I'd like you to touch by preference ..."

Talon blushed, but laid a finger on one of the yellowish tusks. It was smooth, almost glassy but with an irregular surface, and the warmth surprised him for a moment; he realized he'd expected it to be cold and then he realized how silly that would have been. It was just a big tooth, really, and it would be just as warm as Master Zackton. "Sorry," he said. "Master."

"Sorry? For taking me up on my invitation?"

"No, that's not what I meant ..."

Zack paused and then glanced over at a trunk near the bed. "Time ..." and he swung off the bed, unconcernedly naked, as he took a few steps to the trunk, and opened it. All Talon could think about was that Zackton was as muscled from behind as he was in front, the lines of his back flowing down to a firm, strong ass that ...

Talon blinked, not believing what he was seeing. Zackton had a pair of dimples on his ass? Really? He blinked, but they were still there, at least until Zackton squatted down to the trunk. "I had a white one, I know, but I don't know if I brought it ..."

Talon snorted. "What, you don't have a magic trunk that holds all your stuff?" he said jokingly.

"Yes, of course," said Zackton absently, searching through trunk. "But I didn't want to bring anything I didn't want to lose, so I left it and the majority of its contents, ah, somewhere safe."

Oh. Well, of course he does, Talon thought. Doesn't everybody?

"Well," Zackton continued, "safer, at least. Yes, here it is," Zackton said, sounding pleased. "You will ..." and then his voice stopped. "Something is funny?"

"Well," said Talon, trying to keep a straight face, "I suppose I'm just surprised you, uh, didn't bring one of your many spare magic trunks that hold everything."

There wasn't so much as a twitch that telegraphed the broad grin on Zack's face; it just arrived, unheralded, like a midnight dawn. "I can't imagine why I didn't, either," Zackton said, the serious tone of his voice belied by that grin. "Silly of me, really. If only I'd had you with me to offer helpful advice."

But Talon's eye was for what the half-orc had dangling from his hand - an inch-wide strap of pale green leather decorated with three gleaming silver rings and an elaborate buckle-and-closure at the two ends. "What's that ..."

"A collar," said Zackton, calmly. "You'll be wearing it tonight, and I want you to get used to it before you're in public." He paused. "Well. Hardly public, call it ... less private. But not public."

"I ..." Talon paused. Master Zackton was, after all, Master Zackton. "If you want," he said, having suddenly lost his enthusiam.

"Oh, I want," said Zackton, with a sigh. "I want you, very much." The half-orc stepped forward, still naked - almost naked, Talon corrected himself. He'd never seen Zackton without the heavy necklace, or his rings, or the headband half-hidden in his hair. Odd ...

Odd place for a tattoo, he thought.