Don't Wake Up


Soft, the passage of his fingers along the sheets. They were white as the snow in which he'd found the other elf, though there were drops of rust-colored stains here and there. Streaks of old blood that had been scrubbed at and then left to dry in the sun. His fingertips trickled over the thin, loose weave and toward the warmth of the body beyond.

Mordenkaihen. He looked part jigsaw puzzle with the nature of his scars, as though someone had assembled the elf piece by piece. Solandris' fingertips trickled from one flat patch to the next, dipping into the little wells of soft, smooth skin. He fluttered his fingers past the rich texture of tissue, and then pressed a little harder. Firmer. Digging into the muscles there, feeling the pulse thrumming rich and full beyond.

Mordenkaihen would be alright. Solandris smiled as he wormed his way beneath the sheet. The long, supple lines of his body nudged up against the firm flex of musculature that formed the other elf's limbs. Brown hair mixed with the bright orange splash of his own, and he watched as Mordenkaihen stirred in his sleep. Watched the way he turned his head against the lightly stuffed pillow.

How long had he been watching the man? A year at least, maybe two. Solandris was always there at the outskirts of battle, casting the warmth of his healing spells frantically at those who needed it. Running and ducking back whenever the enemy saw fit to spot him. Mordenkaihen had saved him once on such an occasion, though the young priest doubted he remembered.

Soft and sweet, he smeared his mouth along the slumbering elf's ribs. He should be mostly recovered by now, should be awake. Perhaps he was drugged. Solandris had been there when he'd opened his eyes for the first time after the accident with the mana bomb. He'd heard of them opening a few more times, though Mordenkaihen never said anything. He only went back to sleep, occasionally giving a restless stirring or twitch without ever remaining conscious for a prolonged period.

“Wake up. Wake up whole and yourself, Mordenkaihen.” Solandris' words bathed themselves along the length of the paladin's ear.

It was a whispered wish, though he hoped as well that the other elf would hear. That he would understand. His fingers curled over the man's shoulder, and he flashed for a moment to another time. The sweet smell of grass teased at his nostrils, and he remembered the velvety heat of the war stallion's nose beneath the palm of his hand. He remembered feeding the thing a few slices of mealy apple as Mordenkaihen shed his somber expression and laughed in the distance, speaking lightly with his troll companion. Solandris had loved the sound of that laughter, and wished that it was he who eased the dour setting of the elf's mouth. Alas, he had simply ducked back and run to the conglomeration of tents some yards off, watching from behind a barracks of purple and red oilcloth.

Here and now, there was a vague stirring of the nude figure against his. A texturized brush of scarred skin along the smooth, unmarred reaches of Solandris' body. The youthful priest licked at his lips, his green gaze lingering on Mordenkaihen's face in quiet adoration. Wake up. He willed it, letting his fingers brush over the darker pigment of the man's nipples. Wake up, he wished in his head as his touch trailed over the edges of the muscles that defined themselves along his belly. He smeared his palm along the sharp angle of the man's hip, touched the top of the broad, flat toning at the juncture of his thigh. Wake up, whispered his breath along Mordenkaihen's throat as his fingers trailed inward to grasp at the heavy hang of the other man's balls.

Mordenkaihen did not wake up. His eyelashes trembled faintly, drawing up a peak in Solandris' hopes, but he did not open his eyes. He did not stir, save for the sluggish stiffening of his cock where it lay between his legs. Solandris' lips pursed. He twisted his grasp about, tugged and pulled gently, stressing the skin around the firm globes within that sack. He was rewarded only with the thickening of the other elf's member. It grew wide and long, pushing up from its resting spot and curving like a horn to form a smooth tenting of the loose white sheet. Still, Mordenkaihen did not wake up.

Solandris let his hand pass once along the other elf's shaft, a vague sense of guilt teasing at the edges of his awareness. It ate at his thoughts for a moment, but then he was shoving it aside. Closer he eased, so that the growing arousal between his own legs pressed up against the other man's thigh. He nudged forward with his hips in a timid rock, bumping the flared head of his cock along the skin that dipped at the side of his leg. Grinding, shifting. He let out a startled little breath for the touch. The contact.

“Wake up.”

This time the whisper was almost a plea. Please. Please. Wake up and see. Wake up and smell. Silverleaf and peacebloom in vases all about. Wake up and feel. Rocking hips, grinding and urging. Fingers across chest, palm along belly. Petting. Solandris sighed heavily as Mordenkaihen did little more than shift beneath his expectant regard.

The priest gave a sigh, casting a look about the dimly lit room. It was small, modest with one window set high in the wall. A sliver of light spilled past the drawn curtain. Solandris swung his leg across Mordenkaihen's thighs, pivoted his hips about and pushed himself atop the man. Grinding, rubbing, skin to skin and bright green eyes fixed on the shadows of the other's eyelids.

“Wake up.”

He rocked with growing fervor, locking hip to hip. Solandris' lips hovered just above Mordenkaihen's, brushed and stroked. Dipped to crush warm and soft and with just a hint of moisture. Just a little slip of tongue along the smooth pink skin. Mordenkaihen did not awaken. His cock pulsed against Soladris', and the priest whimpered and cooed affectionately as he ground into the jutting hard flesh.

Rocking, whispering, his pulse grew quicker. Fast and fluttery. He was somewhat short of breath now, drugged on the sensation of the paladin's body. Mordenkaihen. He wanted to make him smile. Wanted him to know how he'd been watching, following, trying to keep an eye out for the elf. Trying to keep him safe. Wanted the paladin to wake up and embrace him in a tight wrap of arms. He ached for the touch of the other elf's fingers, yearned for the sound of his voice tucked into his ear on the breath of a husky whisper. He wanted, and wanted, and wanted.

Faster now, he ground against Mordenkaihen with increased vigor. Hard and jerking. The bed creaked lightly, the joints protesting as the padding in the mattress shifted beneath his bracing palms. The sheet whuffled about them, the air wisping along the heat of their joints to trickle cool and tingling. The pale, stained material slid down the elegant sway of Solandris' spine, bunched about his hips as he pushed his chest up. Arching, straining.

“Wake up.”

Breathy demand, as though the hard press of their cocks and the smooth slip-shod crushing of their balls against one another would draw the man to consciousness. Eyelashes fluttered, and Solandris quickened his pace. Held his breath. Willing. Willing. Wanting. Mordenkaihen's eyelids settled, and the priest gave a muted groan of frustration. Why wouldn't he wake up?

Sliding, panting, the grinding of his cock grew to a slick smooth glide as his excitement built. Driven onward with the growing friction. The pink tip of Solandris' tongue poked between his lips, rolling the lower one outward. He bent forward, stole a kiss from the slumbering figure's lips, and then stiffened as his hips gave a forceful jerk. Another. He came hard for the renewed contact, forbidden as it was. A pool of sticky white cum spilled between the smooth incline of his belly and the uneven terrain of Mordenkaihen's abdomen. It gathered between the tough ridges of the other elf's scars, hot and sticky and filling in the spaces as though it could somehow remove the rough edges of the puzzle-pieced elf.

Mordenkaihen gave a muffled groan and began to stir. Solandris, whose eyes had squeezed shut, jerked in surprise. He lifted his head, his hair a brilliant orange halo about his pale features, and blinked his wide eyes downward. Oh, nono, don't wake up -now-. The priest shivered and fell from the bed, scrambling from atop the other elf in a frantic twist of sheet about his legs. He made a swift bolt for the door, nearly stumbling and hopping half of the way there. Solandris barely caught the hem of his robes before he went slipping out into the corridor. He left the half-asleep paladin hard and sticky, the recovery room thick with the smell of sex and well-wishes expressed by more than just the heavy heads of sleepy flowers.

All stories are Copyright to Marcus Avenier. 2008-2010