~To the Victor Goes the Spoils - (missedstations x Fading_Cards)

[Fading_Cards]

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Fading_Cards​

Curio was silently furious.

They had known the battle would happen for weeks. They’d also known it would be futile, their thick walls could handle a siege, but the Northerners were not known for their fairness and patience for such things. Lobs of fire had been thrown over the walls and their small band of soldiers…meer days before just farmers and villagers… were burned out towards the advancing army like rabbits into the mouths of wolves.

Curio himself had already been busy running around inside of the inner village walls to aid those burned by the rapidly growing fires. Skin sleuthing off, black and crisp… dead bodies already being hauled away and covered in worn brown blankets….

The sound of the walls doors being shoved open were like hearing the executioners sentence. They didn’t stand a chance…. But it was either go out and fight, lose, and some would live, or they all burn or starve to death inside. All for their noblemans worthless PRIDE….

Everyone ran and hid, not that it helped any of them. He couldn’t even tell if his wife, dear Ilya, was safe or if she was one of the women screaming… SCREAMING until there was suddenly NOTHING….

He ran.

There was no use in treating the limp hand beneath his. The child might have lived if this had just been a single house fire and he had the time to treat her…. But now…

Now he had to ensure he saw another day.

Not cowardice. His gut clenched and he hated himself as his legs flew under him. Not cowardice when all he had were his surgeons knives and they had been hoping… HOPING their lord would see SENSE before it came to this…

It was not cowardice that had him hiding in a neighbours empty home, pressed deep to the floor to hide behind a counter with two children mashed into his side. All the candles and fire out, the windows shuttered, stifling his own breath like as if it was louder then all of the chaos outside and it would lead the men TO him, trying to hush the small boys whimpers…

It was simply survival.

After all, if he did not have the gift of healing as the sages said and he later proved he did, he was a perfectly healthy, strong young man. In any other situation he would have been out on the front line, sword or bow in hand…. And already be nothing but slaughtered meat on the ground. Any other situation and he would have been other there, dragging those hurt to the side to fix them, improve their chances of survival… and perhaps again, already be nothing but red paint on the ground. That was his DUTY….
…. But they had all knew this was coming… hoping it would not, but knowing it would. His eldest brother, Dionatchy, had invited him to his home several nights previous. Dio was a leader, a great man, wide and tall and strong, perfect for his state as their nobels guide for warfare and defence. Curio himself had broad shoulders, but was not built as their father, resembling more their more wiry fair haired grandfather that had come over the mountains in his youth to find a bride here. Built to climb, to swim, to run and cut through the air, with shit for holding his liquor and hair that could never stay entirely back in leather ties no matter how tight they were pulled. Almost opposites. They had barely spoken in years, and Curio had not been invited to his home since he had decided to marry and keep following his path as healer. They had not seen eye to eye on it, despite their fathers joy in now having a son in near each avenue of some kind of power in their town. So he had been surprised by the invite, and even more so by what he was made to promise.

“You are to survive Curio.”

“Our leader has gone stupid and mad, he will not surrender to the Northerners. I have tried and tried, but he has brought in some troupes from the lands and somehow thinks that this is ENOUGH. It is not. Our lord is allowing some to leave, to go to the other villages for awhile, but he has decreed most of us must stay… including you. He wants you up front with us, as normally I would agree you should be…. But I must break with this. A healer is of no use in a slaughter accept as another body. Our lord will not survive this, or he will at least be taken and ransomed to his family. He does not need to know you are not there. I cannot save Jordain or Marks, they are stubborn, our brothers, and they believe their sheer will can protect them. I know you are smarter then that brother. We were both blessed with our mothers cunning mind. I may survive as ransom fodder, but that cannot be assured. I can at least assure YOU survive.”

And so despite knowing where he SHOULD be, what he SHOULD be doing… despite the agony in his gut that he was hiding like a woman shielding children not even his own… he had promised on both their honour to live through this.

Curio just hoped the fates were not angered by their choice.

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missedstations​

There was something to be said for making a living by the edge of the blade. Vitor had seen and gambled away more wealth than most people saw in lifetimes... A tall man with muscles formed from years of combat, a fine sword and fine leather armour, even if it was somewhat piecemeal. The only things that really had value for him were those he could carry on his back. He had lost a horse this little war, so he would need to, at least, recoup that loss.

He had been a mercenary ever since he had been able to hold a sword. His first battle had been a mess of fear and screaming... It awoke something primal in his blood. An instant success. He'd known from then on that he had been made for this. A sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He was not for hearth fires and a smiling wife. A mercenary through and through, selling his sword for coin. Maybe these people had even seen him before: he and his band had been paid by this lord a few years back, for a minor border conflict.

It wasn't as if a man of his heritage had many other career choices. The northeners might spit at his gypsy skin, and say that with his black hair he was just like a thrall – how could the gods do something like that? Had to be to mock them all... Such fighting talent in such an unworthy specimen.

Now that the battle was over, he sheathed his dagger and slung his sword across his back, searching houses for coins and small valuables he could just pick up. He kicked doors in, sometimes finding girls and women, none quite to his taste though. He was not too selfish though, dragging them out for his comrades to enjoy. It was a constant butt of jokes, how picky the captain was with both his whores and his slaves. But those that served under him were kept happy that way – while he took only maybe one woman and kept her for weeks, until he was bored, they got to enjoy and sell everything else. Like all captains he just asked for a little cut of the profits.

He found Curio's door. It was a simple matter to break the fragile barricade. Hearing the whimpers of children, he bared his surprisingly white teeth. Probably nothing interesting here either.

“I can hear you, useless little shits...” he almost purred. How many people could say that they enjoyed the lot the gods divined for them? Vitor was lucky enough to be one of them. “You don't want me to come looking...” His dagger sang as he pulled it from his sheath again.

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Fading_Cards​

Curio pressed his head back fiercely into the wall until it ached, stifling a hissing curse with his tongue. The children… both boys, both barely old enough to not be attached to their mothers side…. He recognised one…. Had helped deliver the brown haired curls to a woman barely old enough to marry. First child. First SON. She’d barely survived the birth. He’d delivered two girls from her since, one would only be perhaps two months old….

His arm unwrapped from around the boys shaking shoulders as he began to openly wail. They’d been found, and boys were only of use as slaves and only if enough hadn’t already been taken….and if the blood lust of who had found them had been sated.

By the sounds of it, it hadn’t been.

Curio’s fingers silently reached into his satchel and grasped the handles of the tools of his trade. They were not sturdy like the dagger on his hip, more delicate, sharp jewellery almost with their razor tips an light. His other hand pushed at the floor, raising himself up slowly, unthreatening as his hand slipped out with three slivered tools between his clenched fingers and obscured by his body. They could be easily thrown as a surprise attack, a stun…. Give the boys an opening to flee out the back to…. To hopefully better chances to live.

Rising up to his feet he trained his eyes on the dark skinned barbarian, holding up his free arm, not in a sign of surrender, but to make his sleeve drop down. The intricate scars on his arm, tattoo’s more permanent in flesh then ink, marked him as a healer. He did not know where the man came from… he did not carry the insignia of the northerners on his armour, but most towns in this land did something similar, so it would stand to reason if he had been around he would know what it was. In the heat of battle sometimes healers were killed, but outside of it, it was considered treason to the gods…. Not that it still didn’t happen. But if it at least made him pause….

He was to try to survive. He promised his brother, his BLOOD… family above all.

“They are nothing but babes, they are of no use to you.” Forced himself to breath, to speak evenly. Part of his training to separate himself from the suffering of the patient in order to treat them rather then PANIC… kept his pale aqua eyes steady, but allowed himself to blink, to try and not challenge the man with a full on stare down, but yet not to afraid to look him in the face… hiding had been enough against his honour, even if it had been done to protect his families… he would not bend like some weak willed man of money and nothing else. “Take from the house what you will… we will not stop you. Just we ask of you to leave us be.”

He understood now. Understood for a sheer moment why his brother had asked him to hide. It wasn’t simply just to continue the family line… his brother would not be that selfish. It was for the whole town. Magda was his teacher, but she was reaching the end of her life, her concentration frail to the point of almost being a danger to the sick. Anila was older, and while had practiced longer, but had a heart of vicious fire, choosy and vindictive from town gossip and not everyone TRUSTED her… the others were young and just training themselves. The town would need a healer like him to rebuild. There were people already outside the gates and hidden away, others that would survive this and not be dragged off into the night… and he would need to be there and help either rebuild, or at least fix them up enough to travel to a new home. Increase the chances of survival for all of them… not just him.

The boys would have to live. As would he. Curio just had to figure out HOW….
“We are nothing of interest for you.”

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missedstations​

Vitor had never been particularly into killing children – not unless he was particularly paid to leave nothing living. There was no satisfaction in murdering someone defenceless. He had some sense of honour, at least... Children were easy to sell. There were plenty willing to buy a drudge that age, to grow up in a household without remembering their past, having only their master to rely on for their life.

A healer? A healer could be sold for more... Or their band could use one, for that matter.

“Really.” Wealth that could walk was always more useful than that you had to drag around yourself. He studied Curio with a calculating eye, wondering. He could just ignore Curio's words, and take them all. But that would be effort.

“The children can go,” he said eventually. “But you... can be a prize.”

The northern gods were not his gods. When he thought no one was looking, he would still burn an offering to his people's gods... The gods of the road. His holy places were every crossroad. If this healer though his status would protect him, he was very much mistaken. Everyone should know barbarians could not exactly be trusted with their blades... It wasn't as if anyone could blame him either if the healer attacked him and Vitor defended himself.

Most healers were also soft, weak. He doubted this... unarmed boy was much of a match for him. He saw no need to even draw his sword, keeping his long dagger raised. There was more than one splatter of blood on his armour, and he probably stank of it. None of it was his own though. Not this battle – not a single scar he would have to remember this fight. Almost a shame.

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Fading_Cards​

Curio pursed his lips tight for a moment. That was not an ideal. Not an ideal… but for now… it would work. He could not risk throwing his blades, attacking, or fleeing himself without endangering the children… endangering what was left of the TOWN…

“Go.” He’d turned his head just enough to look at the boys, but still kept the soldier in the corner of his eye, suspicious, watchful. Kept his arm up, because it was both a sign of status and STRENGTH. The scars were not aided by herbs or liquid spirits. He had not even been allowed a strath of wood to hold on to and grip s his skin was cut into over and over again. It was one of the reasons why his eldest brother did not like that he was a healer. While he learned things that were beyond most townsfolk, the art still had much that was as or more barbaric then the men from the North or the savage folks of the isles so far away. He’d had to simply bare the pain and not scream, not FLINCH, as Magda wrote stories in red on his pale skin and collected the coppery smelling Ink in a bowl beneath them. The moment a healer took their arm away or finally gave in to a scream or a faint the ritual would end and that would be their status in the fold.

He was proud of the story scrawled up his entire right arm to his shoulder. Just like Magda. HEALED properly, by himself, as the second part of his test, like Magda. Had the bowl of blood mixed with fervent herbs and burned to the spirits around them that many did not want to acknowledge accept as nuances or enemies in godtales.

Other men of the towns and villages and larger ruling classes had their coats of armour. Their signet rings. Their weapons or steeds or wives or money to signify who they were, what they ARE. All of which could be taken away. His arm…. The loss of it would more then likely also be the loss of his life, and so with him wherever he went was what he WAS. No one could take that, take his STRENGTH in that way, away from him.

Not that a savage would have any clue, but perhaps the boys did.

“Go. Out back. I know you drive your mother mad Banner with your hiding games. Do that. This is the master hiding game. Take your friend and go. Hide in the best spots you know.”

The children didn’t need to be told twice, shutting their cries for long enough to gather themselves up on tiny feet and rush behind him, back door creaking noisily at their departure, but like as if that would matter with all the chaos outside.

Curio though… did not verbally agree to the terms. A mans word was everything to his people…. But as a healer he had learned the tricksters truth to sooth families and patients alike…and in this case…. Convince a man of agreement when he was only borrowing time.

The children gone, he finally put down his arm, hand resting on top of the counter, leaning a little as if he were tired. Bowed his head slightly, looking down… as if giving in, when really he was taking stock of the mans weapons and readiness to attack.

“I am of no use to my people if I am a Northerners…. ‘prize’.” He did not understand the use of that word instead of simply ‘slave’, but no matter. “… I can heal your men… but I am tied by blood honour to stay here…” savage probably didn’t understand honour if it plunged it’s vicious blade into his gullet. Curio had no clue if bartering would work in this situation, but as no one had yet to swing a blade, he may as well TRY…

In case that didn’t work though, his eyes focused back up and his fingers tightened on his blades.

Even the largest men could fall from the smallest wound if it was in the right place.

There after all was a reason why the goddess of healing was courted by the god of trickery as his true love. They both understood the weaknesses of man that they tried so hard to ignore.

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missedstations​

One on one. Perhaps this was suitable. His smile was a a little feral – no, he did not seek a kill now. That would be no fun at all. And no use to anyone. He was in this business for both personal pleasure and for money. And the long list of the dead that he had left in his wake... Perhaps it would go somewhat to balance his accounts.

“Your people are not your business anymore,” Vitor stated, quite simply. The ties of blood and place – they were not his ties. He understood that other people liked to hold onto them, that sometimes they burned like fire, like poisoned wounds... But a slave did not have that honour. And all the better to teach this one that soon.

He did not intend to give this one the time to think very far though. He moved immediately after the boys were gone and their words said, closing the distance between them in a moment. He moved fast even when constrained by armour. With his free hand, he aimed to slam Curio into the counter.

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Fading_Cards​

Instinct threw him back into the wall, nearly tripping over his own feet to avoid being cornered… TRAPPED. If he was trapped this was all over and NO amount of anything would get him out of this.

Curio snarled, canines flashing. Diplomacy wasn’t going to work on a man who had a mind like a wild cat. Single minded and no need for pack. Curio was Wolf. Pack was all, honour was all. Pack was strength…

.. and here his pack were his knives.

His left arm swung out like released taught whipcord, singing small blades swiping for flesh like claws. Going for the face… the EyesNoseMouthBrainNeckJugular THICK with blood. A lucky kill or a good distraction or disbarment of the senses… buy him TIME, buy him his LIFE.

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missedstations​

Curio managed to get the side of Vitor's face. Long narrow slashes that didn't even make him wince. Either he was insane or used to it. Maybe both. When the blood dripped down to his lips, he licked at it – how very... Arousing to have his blood spilled. He did like the feisty ones.

“Good...” he purred. “You aren't boring.”

He shifted on his feet, keeping himself in between his prey and the door. A slow step closer, aiming his dagger for nothing lethal – maybe the muscles of the shoulder – and a knee aimed at the healer's crotch. A man who had survived decades on the battlefield was adept at fighting in close quarters, and this house was small. There wasn't really anywhere to run. Curio would never make it to the door, in Vitor's opinion.

Even amongst mercenaries and barbarians, when his name was mentioned, there was a little hush: a man who just liked to hurt his prey was always a strange thing. Whose blood lust wasn't entirely aimed at killing... Who needed to be bribed and assuaged to not cripple or maim his captives, let alone let them live.

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Fading_Cards​

The blond man scrambled back, cursing in a hiss that he hadn’t scored a bigger mark, stomach sinking quickly in his gut. He twisted violently to avoid the dagger, hearing it thunk solidly into the wood where he used to be, but that did not save him. The distraction may have twisted him, but the mercenaries kick still hit his inner thigh violently, knocked him off his feet. Sent him down to the floor on his ass, hands, one still holding his knives in a death grip, scrabling at the walls to stay UP. His free arm slung over the counter in a death grab, keeping the healer from fully tumbling onto the floor. If he went down that was it. Like a fish, white soft belly to the sun, flipping on the rocks in front of a hungry bear. DEAD.

“RRAAH!” frustration, anger, and dread made him wild, swinging out his claws wildly, not caring what he hit as long as it kept the madman BACK. Cornered. He was CORNERED. He was…

Gripping onto the counter with all his might and flinging himself over the stationary piece of furniture with only the strength a desperate man knows. Landing wrong and catching himself with his hands on the floor, blades clattering away as he scrambled to get UP and AWAY. His left hand was cut, fingers lined with red from the odd way he landed with his tools. Stung. His ankle and a few other places may hurt later but for now it was staved off by adrenaline as his right hand finally took his knife, a more solid grip, a better USE as he stood up and backed away towards the front door instead of the back. The front door leading into the screaming and laughter and shouts of the street but he’d take his chances out running like a madman in the open air then trapped in here with this ANIMAL.

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missedstatioins​

The healer was desperate, while Vitor was still mostly cold to the entire thing. He'd missed, but that did not matter – he was already pulling the blade out of the wood and following with a far more graceful swing over the counter. At times like this, he was really glad that he didn't wear much chainmail. It made him far too slow.

“I might let you live, if you drop your little claws. They won't,” he told Curio. “After all, you attacked their captain...”

Some people even fell for it. He could look perfectly honest when he spoke like that, even as he was slowly stalking closer, ready to sprint should his prey choose to attempt flight. Fighting would be stupid – knife against dagger? The knife probably wouldn't even make it through his armour, and his own blade had more reach. He was playing here still: should he really want to, all he needed to do was draw his sword, and then this fight would be really short. But then he couldn't guarantee not killing this one. He would prefer not to, considering the swelling flesh under his armour. Necrophilia just wasn't his thing.

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Fading_Cards​

Curio kept moving back until he felt the wood of the door beneath his bloody hand, his other held in front of him with his remaining blade. Brows turned in anger but eyes wild… but he listened. He was not lost to fears madness yet. The tremors were in his chest, yes, but it had not taken over his blood like a young fool. He was still a man, and Dionatchy was right in saying he had inherited his mothers mind as he could still THINK.

Outside was chaos. Random. Out there he was one man amongst many, amongst fire and terror and soldiers still looking for sport. He did not believe barely scratching the beast before him would change their attitude at all…. Indeed amongst the men of his own town complaining about something that hadn’t maimed them in some way was considered WEAK….

But again, out there in the street, he did not know if he could reach new cover again before he was simply cut down.

Here…. Here he did not know that either. But there at least was the CHANCE….

Like Dionatchy, Curio understood that sometimes in order to win the war you had to loose a battle.

“How am I to know I do not face a similar fate with you.” He was proud his voice was even, vicious sounding around his gritting teeth. “As you said, I have nicked the Captains delicate offence. I think I am rather ruined either way.”

But he did not open the door.

He also did not drop his weapon.

“… The only reason I have not tried for your EYES is because while I would die with pride, I have promised to live to people far more important than you… Captain.” The word sounded like he wanted to spit.

He still didn’t try to attack though. His teachings as a boy didn’t allow him to simply drop the weapon, but his agreement didn’t allow him to USE it either. His mind whirled, until it decided… and simply loosened his grip visibly enough to show he could be disarmed.

He could only hope the man had some kind of hold to his words and Curio could find escape another day. The fates had not liked his brother trying to take the healer from them, but now they had won him back.

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missedstations​

“I do not destroy things that are useful to me.” That much was true. His slaves had never had cause to fear getting murdered for no particular reason. Maybe he was cruel to them, but he tended to sell them on – and even once and twice, he'd freed a slave. (In his people's way, of course, by offering that person to his gods, leaving them at a crossroads, with a knife and a silver coin. Enough to survive with.)

“You may not think so, but I do have honour...” The smile he wore suggested that he almost expected to have the classical northern response of spitting and saying that a gypsy could not possibly have any concept of what the word meant. It was why they hired him, after all. He was not afraid of their northern gods, not bound by their laws. His gods sang to him of the open road, of battles not yet won... Of those who had not yet bowed to him. Of blood and a different kind of glory. No remembrance in a clan's tales for him. Ah well. Someone had to play the villain.

He reached to take Curio's weapon, dropping it and kicking it away.

While he could respect a man who had fought him despite the odds, that would not satisfy his baser desires. “Perhaps you can hope those terribly important people can ransom you...” He grasped Curio's hair, far rougher than he needed to, and now he did do his best to slam him face down on the counter. He respected this man enough to give him the necessary lessons now.

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Fading_Cards​

It almost felt like RELIEF when the knife was taken from his hands. That had been tricky to convince himself to do that, and it was a risk that the man would understand what was going on.

That feeling was swiftly replaced by a cacophony of sound and sparks behind his eyes when his head hit the countertop. His teeth clicked together, grit, only letting out a minor grunt of discomfort. His hands spread wide on either side of his head, braced, his left smearing blood (why did fingers bleed so MUCH) as he resisted attacking the fist in his hair. Ransom. Yes. He did not believe any of his brothers or his father survived… and if his eldest had, he was already be ransomed to the nobles king, just as the noble would be himself. If so he could not be ransomed to him… but if his wife….

His wife.

/Oh Ilya…/ a sad thought, a desperate one. They had tried to get her out, to get on the list with her father to be allowed to run days before…

They had no luck then, but he hoped for it now. There marriage was not one of fluttering love, but they were in full agreement with each other, they worked well. No one new him quite like she did, and he in kind. If she survived she would pull on her father’s coffers not here in this town and pay for him. She had no interest in marrying any other man, and they were happy together. He could only hope…

For that though he would have to live long enough to be returned. So he forced himself to stay still. Waited for his hands to be forced behind his back and tied, then rope or leather looped around his neck to drag him outside the gates as a piece of property. It wouldn’t take long and then it would be over with and Curio could think outside the towns walls on how to free himself again.

“… I could perhaps be ransomed. Depends how crazed your men were towards cutting down anyone even vaguely in their path.” And sheer LUCK.

Curio did not count on luck right now.

He did not hold back a frustrated sigh. “I at least hope they DID get Sir Adelwell. Treasonous thought or no, the man was a lunatic to think this would work…” oh he had many other words for his noble lord at the moment, but they felt warmer, basking in rage, inside of his head, fuelling him. Gave him something to focus on as he went from man to slave.

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missedstations​

The first part was as Curio expected – Vitor undid one of his belts and tied Curio's arms behind him, folding them, wrists to elbows. Pulling the leather painfully tight. That he tied Curio well was another little mark of respect. No doubt the healer wouldn't appreciate it in this particular moment...

Ah, he had forgotten how good it was to see another man like this before him. He didn't feel like waiting very much at all.

“Don't worry, my employer asked for your lord's death...” He leaned over Curio's ear, whispering almost intimately into it. “I did it myself. I ran him through. He was such a coward when he died. He tried to run from me. You were much better than he was...” Almost flattery. If he was trying for pillow talk, he really wasn't very good at it.

“But for a pet, you use far too many words.” Vitor had no real need for thralls. He could sharpen his own blades and polish his own armour. Something to warm his bed though... That was another thing entirely. He licked the tip of Curio's ear. Now that this one was under his control... Oh, so many things to do. First though, he took his blade to the healer's clothes, ripping them to pieces, to find the bare skin.

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Fading_Cards​

Curio gave a start, his whole body tensing, when he felt hot breath turn in to wet tongue. He’d been silently trying to start his mind thinking about something else, ANYTHING else then the tightening around his arms and the warm words describing bloody violence in his ear. Separate himself from the indignity he was about to face walking out as a slave.

THAT had brought him back to the present like a lightning strike. For just a second he had hoped it was just a teas, just a show of power… but then he felt the cool blade of the dagger on his skin and the heard the clean ripping sound as he felt his shirts seams part before the blade.

“What are you DOING!?” his brain refused to catch up with the rest of him, head whipping up from the countertop and body flinching away what it could from the blade. The darker mercenary though seemed to be everywhere he tried to move. He was NOT being paraded through town naked! “I don’t know where your FROM, but my people don’t need such a thing as this to show slave status! Any man bound in public is not a free man. Stop that!” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, forcing himself to sound like the overseer of the new healers first lessons. Stern. Informative. In control as he tried to press himself into the furniture to get AWAY.

He was not in control.

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missedstations​

He had to stop and laugh at the idea of a slave telling him what he could and could not do. Trying to sound so serious too! It was rather sweet, really. He ran his knuckles down the healer's spine. “What use has a slave for dignity?” he said, sounding almost philosophical. He used one hand to keep Curio down while he sheathed his dagger.

“It's alright... I won't hurt you too much.” It was a little vague attempt at being nice and soothing, but underneath it there was a far darker implication. What, exactly, was too much?

“You gave in too easy. You stipulated too little for your treatment after. I am a man of my word, you know. If you were cleverer you might have made me promise more... Instead, all I am bound to is not killing you.” He sounded very self satisfied as he pulled down Curio's pants, ran his fingers across the hips, touched the buttocks... Such soft, warm skin. Feeling the healer twist away and be unable to - oh, it was delicious.

“It has been a very long time since I fucked a man. You must excuse my lack of ceremony,” Vitor said, his tone utterly playful as he bent over Curio's back again, nipping at the skin of the shoulder. A little admiring. Damn all his armour. He had to undo all those clasps before taking his pleasure. But he also wanted to see this one's reaction to the news first. It was bound to be amusing.

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Fading_Cards​

The laughter was not a good sign. The gentle fist down his bared spine and then a hand holding him down made the blond man go cold on the inside. The tips of his ears burned though as the Northerner went on and the fog began to slowly, horribly, clear on his own realizations of what was coming.

He hadn’t thought to get into any other details. He had assumed he was just meant for grunt work, commonly what men were taken for, to heal and labour but that was ALL. He hadn’t THOUGHT…. Hadn’t thought this animal, this stupid northern warrior, more commonly more concerned with simply what could be spoken with their swords and fists, had other ideas…

Curio was not naïve. He was after all a healer. As one he had been taught the most horrible and intimate things people do to each other, whether it is sanctioned by law or not. Common men, drunk in the tavern, telling tall tales and dirty lyrics, thought that only particular waifish men who could not be considered men, boys who could not be considered boys, took of other men as one normally would a woman. Curio new differently. Knew enough to simply treat, or advise on discretion, while mentally looking the other way to deny knowledge of who or what was going on to protect everyone involved. He was not naïve.

However he cursed himself for being blinded that such a thing would not happen to him.

Damned himself for not THINKING… later he would blame the fear, but there was nothing to blame but his own stupidity… that a soldier of war, blood splattered and hungry for death, wouldn’t do such a thing as this to another man.

Cursing himself did not stop the hands groping across his skin, or his pants from pooling around his ankles. It did not stop him from jerking forward, slamming his hips hard enough to bruise into the countertop to get away as his lungs felt like they suddenly couldn’t take in enough air.

“You demon born bastard of a whores son,” he seethed. This…. This was nothing but shame. It was damnable enough he had not gone to battle. Damnable enough he had allowed himself to be captured rather then slain. This… this though….

He hated his brother in that moment. Hated him and the promise he’d had Curio make with mixing of their blood in their clasped palms. This was disgrace… but he knew he still would not through himself into the hands of death. His body jerked to the side, trying to get away from the hot breath playing on his back.

“I was mistaken in my dealings…”hisses of wrath between his teeth, “I had assumed I was speaking with a man and not a mange of a wild DOG.”

He did not know if his mind was praying for death, delay, or rescue.

~-----------------------------------------~
missedstations​

“I am a whore's son! How did you know?” His voice was a little mocking. Really, so uncreative with the insults. It had been a long, long time since he could actually be offended at any of those. He'd clawed his way up above many of those with far better birth, and it still did give him immense satisfaction to murder lordlings. What was funniest of all were the times those same lordlings addressed him politely and hoped that their enemies weren't going to pay more.

He would have liked for Curio to suck him, but the healer's anger... Hm. He wasn't willing to risk his cock between those teeth quite yet. Maybe later, when Curio learned his place a little better.

Vitor's men did not question his interests. He stayed in command because he kept them fed, armed, and led them wisely enough. They merely told jokes sometimes about how he'd got a taste for ass in the South, where sultans sometimes kept harems of pretty boys... Exactly where Vitor had been and where he had come from was an open question. His features were mongrel enough to not be able to pin him to a particular area.

“Now, now. That's going a little far...” he answered, undoing the clasps of his armour, getting out his cock. It had been hard a while, and it was ever so good to see this healer humiliated and brought down, going red to the tips of his ears – this wouldn't exactly be a long dalliance.

“You should try to relax, it might hurt less that way,” he added, still a little mocking. No doubt the healer knew already. Not that he intended to help to make it easier for Curio in any way. That he spat in his hand and slicked up his cock as well as he could was entirely for his own comfort. He kicked Curio's legs a little further apart and lined his erection with the healer's entrance.

“Tell me what you feel,” he murmured, pushing in slowly.

~-----------------------------------------~​

 

[Fading_Cards]

A seer of crimson had flooded his face as the soldier mocked him, pawing at him like one a girl from a brothel. The rustle of piecemeal armour and leathers behind him made Curio clench his hands, clawing in to the flesh of his own arms. The sharp sting distracted him a little as he tried not to think of what he all to well knew was going on where he refused to look, and he tried not to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him tremble.

He did not need the man to tell him what to do. As a healer, he knew the body, HIS body, and what this would DO….


That didn’t stop him from sucking in a gasp of air at the touch of hot wet flesh at his entrance. Knowing was one thing… this….this…. His body had gone rigid instinctually, taught as archers bow before the flight of an arrow. The only reason the bow survived such tense strength was because it could BEND…

Curio pressed his forehead against the wood as he allowed the large breath he held to slowly hiss out between his teeth. Eyes closed tight he forced himself to go slightly limp as the mans cock boldly prodded itself to try and enter him. Curio would deal with the shame later. Or at least that was the jibbering scrap of a plan that had arisen in his mind.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make it known he did not agree to this disgrace.

“What do I feel?” a short grunt, “I feel a mild slimy discomfort the size of a spring minnow, after it has been rotting for a week.” Oh like he was going to compliment the Northern bastard? Hah, this was no lovers embrace. “You sure that’s not the tip of your clit your poking me with? It must be hard to fuck like a man with a woman’s parts.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to speak much longer, he may as well castrate the man with what he could.

 

[missedstations]

Insults weren't going to make things better for Curio: he finished his thrust sharply, viciously. Maybe the words had got to him. Funny, how hard it was to stay calm after someone insulted the size of your cock...

“If no one ransoms you... The things I will do to you,” he hissed. A creative torturer he could be – but he also knew that the cruellest betrayal was that by one's own body. Later in the privacy of his own tent, he would make sure Curio enjoyed it. He wanted to see that too: it must be as interesting as this defiance.

Curio was tight, wonderfully so, probably a mixture of the nervousness as well as inexperience – almost a perfect sheath for his... 'other sword'. Definitely something to be said for raping naïve boys. Maybe he should do it more often.

“Ahh, you feel good,” he purred into Curio's ear, leaning his weight on the healer's bound arms, then licking and biting at the top of Curio's shoulders. It definitely couldn't be called 'kissing'. He might keep this one for a while.

 

[Fading_Cards]

“NNGGAA~*” Curio was deaf to what the soldier was spouting as he choked on air at the PAIN.

Oh spirits it burned!

But he knew pain. Births, deaths, survival, self-infliction… he knew pain. But this was… like the hot searing THRUST had shoved all the way up his spine and ripped through his mind, scattering him to the four winds. But he knew pain, and that no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t seize up. He could feel the sting of something in him that had GAVE… but it was only a sting mixed in with the scorching fire. His chest fluttered wildly for air, trying to push out the discomfort with each breath. He tasted the burst of copper on his tongue, inner cheek savaged by his own teeth.

And he RAGED inside.

“You…ah…. Yo~… Raaa… rabbit sized piece of filth!” the words were hard to struggle out, but barrelled like punches once they reached his lips. It was not a wise move. It did strangle the high keening noise of defeat that tried to rattle out of his lungs. “Haa~shi… s.. surprised it didn’t fa…fall off f-from what you carry, Plague raAAt~nk!”

His nails drew blood from his own flesh. The sharp jabs along his arms helping him concentrate on more then just being used as a comfort for some mans cock. It did not hurt near as much as he had expected though, scalding heat nestled in his body. It made him feel full in the most awkward of ways.

“Agni…” quite, /Agni save me from this…/ muffled into the counters wood that was becoming slick with cold sweat. Sadly he knew now the only boon he would receive from the gods would be the mercenary finishing quickly. It was no comfort. He did not think he had it in him to make that happen, no matter how much sick sense that made.

 

[missedstations]

No crying or screaming. No begging for mercy. A person had to respect that. There weren't so many who kept trying to shout insults. And, of course, the praying... That always happened eventually. These pious fools. As if the gods had ever saved anyone from anything – in his experience, they were vengeful beings that should be appeased and avoided.

Vitor set a brutal and punishing pace, with no concern for Curio's comfort... It was only dictated by what he wanted, how wonderful it was to plow this metaphorical field. He held Curio down as he thrust sharply, then pulled back with a snap of his hips, his breathing now ragged in a way that it had not been during their fight.

He talked to himself in another language entirely – whispering what was probably flattery, calling Curio 'wonderful', 'gorgeous', 'good boy'...

He did not last particularly long: with the excitement of the earlier battle, the discomfort of doing this in a random house... Maybe the gods were smiling on Curio that day, because in a short enough time his balls were feeling tight and he was shooting his load into Curio's arse. This time he was kissing the healer's back, sucking and licking at the skin until he was probably leaving bruises. Most would have just finished, pulled out and not done that bit of 'affection' at all, but he stayed in position for the moment, only pulling out when he was fully soft.

“I'm going to like you,” he said, patting Curio almost gently on the arse.

 

[Fading_Cards]

Curio could not voice any further. Not because he could not find the words, oh he had them, savage and flaming behind his eyelids. It was because he had to put all his strength into strangling the cries trying to struggle out of him. Though some pitches and gasps made it through, they were only the ghosts of what they could have been. Blinked viciously fast, fighting back the water in his eyes. Trying to BREATH as heavy weight and jarring movement boxed him in, made the universe a small insignificant scrap of solid wood and punishing wall of flesh all around him. Bit his own lip, HARD, each time a tremor of something OTHER then discomfort or that sharp slice of pain came with a thrust.

The mercenary grunted and spoke gibberish while crushing the blond, making Curio think of a bull. Loud and obnoxious and messy.

The fates hated him. The fates hated him because he had tried to cheat him of his death. So this is what he was metted with for their ire. They gave him exactly what he wanted. His life… and quickly a slick to hot liquid soaking him in shame.

Curio gagged and let out an angry snarl when his new Master /may you burn in a thousand hells and have your balls pecked off by rage fuelled crows and your eyes made to sludge with a vipers acid…/ slobbered his mouth over his skin. A mockery of what Ilya would do early mornings, mist settling in the street, to wake him when she was in a pleasant mood. Wanted to buck and bite the mans face… but he could not find the energy. It had taken his all to just hold himself together… he was now nothing but a shamble of a man.

The very last bit of his rage arched through at the pat of his ass.

“I hope I’m you death!” a hiss, and then he was nothing again. Feeling warm sticky seed drip down his thighs. He swallowed not to vomit.

In to quick of a time Curio was stumbling, pants hauled up and rope around his neck, body stiff, out in to the street. There was raging fire several blocks over, smaller ones scattered about. Somewhere close by a woman was still screaming and crying as she suffered alike. More dead bodies in the street. He was hauled along to fast to recognize him, and it took all his concentration to not end up on his face in the dirt. He had already lost too much dignity; he could not spare what little he had left by being dragged like a wounded dog. Head down to keep steady as his legs ached, feet un-able to follow their usual patterned stride. Did not want to see the destruction of his home, his people…

Or at least that is what he convinced himself of, afraid if he held his head high everyone could read, would KNOW… what had happened to him.

/Just breath. Just don’t fall apart…/ he’d stopped silently praying when the mercenary did not suddenly die and burst in to flames while he was still fucking him. The man had not angered the gods… Curio had.

No attention was given as they stepped over slaughtered bodies of his countrymen, out of the walls, through the men outside of them picking up swords and arrows and supplies. Setting up tents and cooking fires farther out. Whimpers and garbled words of other people being collected in the center of the camp. He was only slightly surprised when he wasn’t brought to join them, instead his neck jerked by the rope around it off to the side and down on his knees inside a tent. Glared with what little strength he had left at the hands tying him to one of the poles holding it up. Not that it would stop him from simply getting up and escaping…. He would drag it with him… but that would be foolish in an enemy camp and…. And Curio simply felt to tired.

“My…. My hands….” His throat felt strangely raw for someone who had not screamed. “I need my hands to… to heal myself.” He did not acknowledge but sadly knew that this would not be the last time he would feel the other mans cock inside him. Feel spent. He could at least take some of the pain away from himself.

 

[missedstations]

Vitor hauled his new slave away without paying too much attention to the town, passing back through the breached gates. He had seen the same scene at least a hundred times, and knew well enough that in a few years time the place would be the same as it was again – maybe a few different people, and with a few children who were result of rapes. He wasn't a barbarian. He didn't exactly kill everyone standing. What his men did after the battle was none of his business, so long as they paid their dues.

The camp did not entirely consist of soldiers. They had their followers – a few women, boys and older men who picked at the dead like crows and sometimes served as errand runners. Vitor wasn't exactly going to put his tent up himself or fetch his own water, was he? He had a sulky looking boy to run his errands and look after his things. (A half wild thing, not even twelve...) The boy's only virtue was that horses seemed to like him. Vitor apparently had owned two, before a spear had felled his usual mount. What was left was what was once a war horse, but obviously past its prime, and a donkey that seemed to love kicking everyone else.

This little section of the camp was more peaceful. A small circle that no one had dared to encroach on, and a good fire outside the tent, heating both water and apparently some sort of stew. The animals were nibbling at the grass peacefully. How very far it was from madness and slaughter only minutes away.

There was the tiniest flick of happiness at seeing Vitor return across the boy's face. “Food, boss?”

Vitor made a noise of assent, shoving Curio into the tent. It was certainly amongst the bigger ones, with more things than were strictly necessary. There was a carpet to make the ground a little warmer – some eastern design. A good few spare pieces of armour and weaponry. A few clothes. A hunting bow and a quiver of well made arrows. A finely made lamp. Bedding that looked as if it might have been washed sometime in the last month. A couple of boxes for smaller items. It could all be loaded on the backs of his animals, at least.

He paid no attention whatsoever to Curio for a bit, discarding his sword and removing most of his armour. He began to clean the sword methodically. Rust just wouldn't do.

“Maybe I should leave you like that for tonight, teach you a lesson,” he replied.

 

[Fading_Cards]

Bile treid to rise in his throat, but the blond swallowed it back. Outwardly he only had minor bruising, a cut on his shoulder, and slices on his left hand that were drying in to crusty scabs already. He felt like his lack of see-able damage told everyone what WAS actually done to him, though really, now that he’d been dragged into a soldiers tent everyone would know anyway. You didn’t bring pack horses into your living room.

That still didn’t make him comfortable with just leaving himself like… this.

It was hard enough shifting himself, getting on his knees and folding his legs so he didn’t sit on his backside. No position was comfortable. Still… sadly he knew it could have been far worse. Not that the thought was a comfort.

“You would.” Dry. A statement of a fact with a shot of a hard glare. With the mercenary there he felt like a gashed wound, raw. He hoped that would fade… though there would be scar tissue left behind.

Curio eyed the sword. The soldiers tools. Made him think of his own sharp little blades scattered back in the town. Made him glance shortly to the thin cuts on the mans face. Those would scar. If they had been sewn up by now they would perhaps barely be noticeable, but the healer had a feeling they wouldn’t be tended to until much later, nd there would be no thread. At least he had left some kind of mark.

“Who did you steal your sword from?” vice flat. This was not for friendly conversation. “You are not a man who would purchase when you can steal.” Fact. In his mind fact. Curse the bastard. Walking sin. He wondered who had died for the bedsheets alone.

 

[missedstations]

He snorted at the question. “I didn't. This sword was made for me.” It was nothing ostentatious, just a plain but well balanced blade. What was the point of a pretty sword if you couldn't use it? Or if it was hell to clean... This was his profession. He did not fight to show off. People who hired him were always mindful of that, wary of his loyalties and of his skills.

The boy came in without announcing himself, setting a bowl full of a thick stew beside Vitor then disappearing again to get some water and a cloth. “Boss, y'might want to wash yer face.”

Vitor let the boy poke at him with something akin to good humour – apparently screwing Curio had significantly improved his mood. Clean and narrow cuts, probably best left open to the air. He certainly wasn't vain enough to mind a couple more scars.

There was nothing like a good battle to work up an appetite, so he began to eat as soon as the boy was done. Rabbit, locally stolen vegetables, fresh herbs. Excellent, considering the boy's entire cooking ability consisted of putting everything in one pot.

“Want me t' clean yer armour?”

“No.” At the fallen expression he added, “I'll give you a present if you find me a good horse by tomorrow.” He wasn't expecting much, just something rideable until he could visit a proper horsemarket. Good mounts were not cheap... Damn it. The boy did seem happy to be given this task though. Vitor was terribly soft on the kid, really - probably because he could not for the life of him work out why the boy seemed to like him.

Slightly sadistically, he asked Curio as soon as the boy was out of the tent again, “Are you hungry?”

 

[Fading_Cards]

Curio watched silently as the boy and man interacted. Tried not to think to hard on it. The lad at least did not seem to have a collar to mark who his owner was, so he was here…

It made no sense to the healer, but neither did taking a man to ones bed instead of a pretty maiden.

At the offer of food his lips pursed. The smell was tantalizing, and he had not had anything past his morning bread hours ago. He would also need strength to mend himself whenever he was … allowed the ‘privilege’. Barely resisted the urge to spit at the man. It didn’t matter what strength he had, he was in no state to escape now, so it did not matter. He was also far to bitter to accept such a thing.

“No.”

Terse syllables and he looked away to glare at the patterns in the carpet. He was not interested in playing games.

 

[missedstations]

Vitor snorted with amusement and continued to eat. A slave only got a master's leftovers anyway. (Admittedly, that was probably why the boy filled the bowl up quite so much... Like everyone else, he didn't comment on what Vitor chose to fuck, but he didn't have to treat them like dirt for it.)

There was no need to be overly cruel... It was in his interest for the slave to remain in decent health, at least, and he was quite sure that if he left Curio's arms in that position too long, they would be damaged. Hence, when he was done eating, he placed the bowl back on the floor and undid the bindings on the healer's arm.

“Do anything stupid, and I'll tell them you're fair game.” There were plenty of men who liked fucking both men and women, and a good number that would do it out of curiosity, then maybe later in the evening, those who couldn't actually tell the difference.

 

[Fading_Cards]

The healer had been patiently ignoring the swordsman until he’d stepped towards him. Curio could not hold back the sigh in relief as his arms were untied, blood properly flowing again, moving stiffly to bring them before himself and rub at the agitated lines in his skin.

There were scratch marks from his own hands.

Curio looked up with scathing teal eyes at the warning. He wasn’t entirely stupid. “Here I thought they’d give me flowers and make a proper man of me in the church first…” he remarked scathingly.

Pin-needles settling in his arms he began to start his breathing techniques. Calm and focus. Calm and focus. A swirl of cool rose up inside him, faint, but there. He ignored the breathing of the soldier and raucous of the camp. Right hand lifted, and began to slowly trace the thin lines of dried crimson on his other hand. As fingers slowly moved past skin mended, the cuts thin enough that no scar was left behind. This was difficult, to focus, to do this while it felt like his psych was jangling apart like a house with no pillars in the wind. Normaly superficial wounds were washed and wrapped and left to heal naturally, but Curio didn’t want any more hands touching him and simply did not TRUST anyone…

It was not like he would be using what reserves he had to heal a dying man anytime soon. If any of these men here were wounded, he would not waist his gifts, and thus his souls strength, on them.

Next was the gash on his shoulder. For that he places his solid palm over top and concentrated. This would scar slightly. That complete after a few minutes he dropped his hands in his lap and let out a long sigh. His bones felt weak.

He did not move to take of his pants.

Instead he looked at the soldier and held a steady eye. Curio did not want an audience. If it was necessary, he would wait for however long for the mercenry to leave to fair stories and drink with his men before he attended to THAT.

 

[missedstations]

Having untied Curio, he sat back down opposite.

It was really rather fascinating to watch these healers... He would not have trusted this one yet anywhere near any of his men anyway: amongst his people, 'healer' and 'witch' were the same word, able to both ease pain and curse.

Vitor merely raised an eyebrow at the look that Curio gave him. A slave? Having privacy? Never.

“I will not leave you here untied, if that is what you expect.” And the boy was not stupid enough to untie a slave without Vitor's express permission. “You either fix yourself now, or hope I'm patient enough later. You're mine, pet.”

It was another lesson, in a way. He was showing, very simply, that it was on his indulgence that he gave the time for Curio to heal himself. Heck, it was on his indulgence that he even let Curio still have some pants.

 

[Fading_Cards]

Curio sneered at his captor, but kept his mouth shut as far as a scathing comment was concerned.

For now.

He paused for a moment and thought about actually leaving his other wounds for later… and immediately chastised himself for even thinking about doing something so stupid. This was not something to be stubborn with. It was going to be embarrassing and uncomfortable, and he already wished the ground would simply open up and take him to the Final Depths, but he could not afford becoming infected.

Eyes slid sideways. He could just turn around…. But that would leave his back vulnerable. He obviously did not trust his ‘Owner’ no farther then he could throw a mountain. That, and somehow he knew if he did, the man would think of somethingeven WORSE… or just tie him up again and leave him like he threatened.

Curio let out a low, seething snarl, his eyes narrowed. “I HATE you.”

Then the blond moved to sit on his backside, gently, putting his hands to work shuffling his pants down to his knees. Looking down and concentrating only on himself…. Frayed edges of his psych fluttering and attempting to panic at the thought of someone watching him do this. That CAUSED this.

Legs parted wide, as Curio twitched from the sharp pain and the sticky pink, red, and clear mess smeared behind his balls. Tentative fingers prodded gently at his abused opening, slightly looser then it should be. Nerve endings were oversensitive, sending tingles of a careful burn to his groin as he slowly healed the hairline external damage. Curio’s cheeks flushed in a mixture of heat, embarrassment, and rage as he all but demanded his body to stand down. Unfortunately healing small wounds could feel.. nice. Quickening the natural mending of the body while cooling the itch and taking away pain. Normally a good side effect, Curio cursed it now. Especially for what he had to do next.

His entrance healed he moved the hand away, grabbing one of his knees. He could re-use those fingers, but he simply refused to taste the mercenary’s spunk on his tongue. Two fingers of his other hand, the minimum needed to complete the circle of energy. Tried not to think about the process as he sucked the two digits in to his mouth to slick them up with spit. His… he was still slick inside from cum, but Curio was trying to ignore that.

There was no show or tease once he decided his fingers were slick enough. Simply dropped them down and gently, slowly, began to move them in to himself, hissing at the jabbing pain as he was stretched. Nails dug in to his knee as the cooling sensation of healing sparked down his insides. Tried not to think that he was essentially finger fucking himself with an audience. Command his own member to stay down, this was NOT the time….

Startled and KEENED a little as the healing energy passed over a sensitive bundle of pleasurable nerves deep inside him.

 

[missedstations]

Vitor had truly intended not to pay attention and to clean his armour. But honestly... How could anyone resist a sight like that? He openly stared. It wasn't something a person saw often. He did know the theory of how these healers worked, having seen them in action many times, but to watch this boy...

He did not quite know whether the play of emotions on Curio's face or what Curio was doing with his fingers was more arousing.

Seeing the embarrassment, the humiliation, the anger and the misery – it made a potent brew, that made him feel satisfied on too many levels for it to be healthy. He wondered what Curio would feel when – not if – he made the healer suck him off. That was bound to be fascinating.

That, and Curio was far too lovely when he went that bright red colour. It had always fascinated him with the pale skin of the Northerners... How easily they changed colour, how easy it was to mark them...

To see the damage he had done was heat straight from his eyes to his cock. Maybe Curio was not teasing, but still... Good gods. The sounds the healer was making and the obvious discomfort made Vitor's pants uncomfortable. He loosened the bindings slightly, but did not reach for himself.

And then Curio made that sound.

He just couldn't really resist keeping his hands off Curio any longer. He shifted on his haunches and ran his rough fingers along Curio's cock. “Aren't you pretty.” Whether he was talking to Curio or Curio's penis was not entirely clear.

 

[Fading_Cards]

Curio startled at the sudden touch, the sudden boxed in HEAT of another man between his legs, warm hands touching his member. The jerk made him keen again, fingers bumping against the now healed point of pleasure. It mixed with the small sharp pain lower down strangely, only ADDING to the pleasent feeling going straight between his legs.

A gasp and his free hand was gripping around the mercenaries forarm, inifectually trying to push him away. "S..Stop you.. you sick bastard!" Using his magic had only weakened him slightly, but the exhuastion from what he had already been through made him much less then a formidible opponent. It didn't help his body was betraying him, blood rushing to fill his cock in the hands of the man who had lead distruction against his home and raped him. "Let go... it's... it's just a reaction. Just stop!" his hand pushed at the other arm and nails began to prick at darker, sun weathered skin. This simply caused a tugg on his shaft which made him hiss and close his eyes, trying to think, tring to force his bodies instinctual interest down. His hips shifted what little they could to the side with his own fingers still shoved up inside of him, surrounded by warm, wet fluttering muscles.

A long, calming breath in to his lungs. "Of course you would take advantage, Filth. Just.. please... just.. give me a moment and I'll be fixed. This is NOT for you... it will go away when I'm done." put all of his concentration in not canting his hips up for more attention, face distraught with disgust, rage, and perhaps defeat.

 

[missedstations]

Vitor did know it was just a reaction – plenty of pretty boys under him had cursed him when he'd found just the right points to touch. He knew very well that what they really hated had not been the rape so much as their inability to control themselves. Forced pleasure was far more humiliating than the initial reaction. He had to laugh a little at Curio's desperate denial that his erection was for his rapist – as if that mistake could be made.

“I just can't resist...” he told Curio. “And maybe you will learn to enjoy this...” was the slightly more thoughtful addition. “I'm not always rough as I was earlier.” He was not at all sorry for what he had done. It was his right to take advantage of the conquered, of course. Curio had tried to fight him, and had done it well. He was merely acknowledging that sometimes slaves learned to at least appreciate their masters.

Curio's verbal pleas were ignored, of course. Vitor wrapped his fingers around Curio's cock, stroking gently, encouraging. Maybe Curio was hoping that his erection would fade, but Vitor had no intention of letting that happen.

“I really would prefer if you used a more respectful term of reference when speaking to me,” he said, not pausing in the motions of his hand, massaging the head now, and using his free hand to untangle Curio's fingers from his arm.

 

[Fading_Cards]

At first he tried holding back the strangled moans, but that nearly ended up suffocating him, making him dizzy as he was already weak. So he let himself breath, instead clamping his jaw down and not letting any noises past his lips but a galled hiss. His skin all lightly flushed now, member starting to stand proud and red between his legs, betraying him.

Curio cursed that he would cut it off of he could for this betrayal.

His hand without purchase scrabbled wildly, repeatedly batted away from trying to grab and push the larger man off of him. Finally it simply dropped to the floor, nail digging in to the yarn of the rug. A steadying arm as he tried to shuffle backwards and away instead.

“Filth is as respectful of a term as you deserve,” lips pulled back and teeth snarled. A cornered animal, angry, confused, and appalled with himself. It was hard to concentrate on healing himself, trying to keep his hips STILL when they wanted to thrust forward and he wanted to curl them back and away. He was able to manage it, and guide his massaging fingers down, knitting flesh together as quickly as he could manage. He just had to FINISH… and then he could push the mercenary away and curl in on himself in shame.

A moment later, which seemed to stretch on forever with the overbearing presence of the soldier pawing all over him and the growing lump in his britches the healer was tyring to ignore, and Curio was done. His pulled his fingers out, his clenching ring of muscle making a lurid wet noise as he was left empty. A sticky trail of spit and seed connected them until Curio quickly wiped the offending matters into the floor. He grabbed his pants, try to close his legs and pull them up despite the mercenary shoved between them, trying to HIDE. Wanted him to stop from getting any ideas of furthering this, knowing he was already stretched from earlier, healed from pain, and slick like a woman in her bedchambers. He just couldn’t… just…

“Stop! Just… stop! I’m done. Let me go. You’ve done ENOUGH already…”

 

[missedstations]

Vitor had to grin at Curio's reaction. He was still horny – the earlier satisfaction had already faded, after all. He wouldn't mind another round now that he had eaten, taken off his armour, relaxed a little. He kept a hold on Curio's cock, placing a thumb on the sensitive underside and stroking that.

“I don't think you need those,” he said, pulling Curio's pants away. It was tempting to get rid of them entirely, it really was. Curio did have such a nice ass, and seemed to get embarrassed so easily. Endless source of amusement, he could see that already.

A fuck was really a brilliant idea. Curio was stretched and still slick... Unlikely that he would cause too much damage. Maybe a bit of carpet burn? A little fun before all the drinking started would probably keep him from doing anything too stupid. He began to undo his trousers again.

Vitor gripped Curio's knee and used that to pull him back close. “On your back.” He wasn't really asking, he was more informing. If Curio refused, he would just use force.

 

[Fading_Cards]

Curio tried to hide the buck of his hips in his scramble to get away, a confused flail of arms as he tried to rescue back his last piece of clothing, and lost. Seeing the mans arousal up front made his stomach clench and flutter in childish fear. He hadn’t SEEN it the first time it had soiled inside him, but now it was graphically there. Dark blood filled flesh long and thick with a bulbous head. No wonder it had felt like he’d been ripped apart.

“No! Stop… just leave me…” a snarl and he shoved both his hands at the man shoulders, which seemed as immovable as a mountain. That was the problem with using magics. Even a small amount took so much of your energy, it was not an act without consequence. He would need food and rest and calm to get back to himself.

Obviously he was getting none of those.

Curio paused, glaring at the soldier as his chest rose and fell with staccato breaths. Thinking. Angry. Scared. Tired.

A strangled keen of rage as he flopped back on to the floor, not caring his head smacked the earth to hard. The dull throb was a welcome distraction. “I hate you,” dull, “Just…. Just get it over with,” Curio hid his face behind his arms, fingers pulling at his own hair. He hated himself, but he knew he couldn’t fight right now. At least not a winning battle. He didn’t have the strength, or the moment of surprise… attempting to bite savagely in to the Moors throught to scatter fleshy chunks and spurting blood…. He would attempt it, more then likely fail to even get close enough to the jugular to nick the vein. He would be shoved down and he would at least be beaten and violated again at least, killed brutally at most. If he made it through, he would not have the strength to heal himself again.

This was the best choice. A disgusting choice… but he had to choose his battles in order to win his freedom, and this one he would not succeed.

“You piggish grunts will surely return my blood from where it betrays me,” he cursed aloud. Just because he’d laid back did not mean he had to watch, or care. The brute would forget about Curio’s own cock as soon as he was shoving in to him again, he was sure. Then he could suffer his discomfort in some laughable kind of peace.

 

[missedstations]

Sometimes Vitor wondered why any of them bothered with the words. It wasn't as if it made any difference to him. Well, sometimes they annoyed him, but that was as far as that worked. If the words really pissed him off, well, all he had to do was gag the offending slave.

He did not intend to let Curio not care. Watch... Curio certainly didn't have to.

“Betrays you?” He laughed. “Maybe you are made to be a whore... Did the gods not let you fall into my hands?”

Oh, he did know that you could force certain reactions from a person – but also that sometimes they took the words to be true. Why else would their flesh be so willing, so responsive under his hands? It certainly couldn't possibly be because he knew what he was doing.

He ran a hand across the plane of Curio's chest. It was a nice one, for a young man – lightly muscled and quite shapely. He flicked one of Curio's nipples, apparently rather pleased with his prize. “You are a lovely boy...” Vitor muttered, stroking Curio's side in an apparently reassuring way.

This time, he was far gentler, pushing inside the healer slowly, giving a little time to adjust, still muttering little reassurances and caressing Curio's member and body. He aimed the angle far more carefully this time, trying for that place inside the healer's body. Maybe he was trying to prove exactly how much control he had, over both pain and pleasure.

 

[Fading_Cards]

Curio did not appreciate being called a ‘boy’. He was a grown mand of his people, had proved his worth among them. Nor the more gentle caresses of big hands that in no way could be mistaken for his wife’s daintier fingers, despite the fact they were treating him the same.

Covering his eyes proved to be a bad idea. If this was a repeat of the abuse he suffered through what was only a little while but seemed a lifetime ago, it would have been a boon. He would not have to witness the violence and only feel it, making it sharp and horrible. In reality… this time was a different beast. The calluses rubbing along his shaft tried to be the center of his world, nothing else to distract his blood from happily pooling. His hearing was perked, could hear men outside and the graphic wet noise as his entrance snugged around the soldiers head.

“NNNnnggg~aa… shit…” his body pushed down, but didn’t clench, which only seemed to aid the hard scalding hot shaft to slide in. Again he was feeling that burn and fullness. Is this how it felt for his wife? Why on earth did she let him near he~

“AAH!” a sharp gasp, his hips canting at the sudden small burst of stars. Arms flew from his face, fingers fisting in the carpet. That horrid little traitor that had hinted at itself before, only then the pain had been to much.

Curio grit his teeth, staring up at the tents fabric. “Stop that,” he vaguely knew that a man could experience some pleasure this way, like the secret spot for a woman. Just because he knew didn’t mean he thought it existed. He despised being proven wrong. “I don’t want to play your games!” as yet he did not hurt. There was no sharp jabbing or stinging rips. If anything it felt….

Curio rose up on to his elbows, feet spread wide on either side of the soldier diggin heels in to the floor. Backing away, involuntarily shivering at the friction of the mans cock sliding back out of his sensitive hole.

He did not want to have to heal himself again, but he did not want to …. THAT either. If he could piss the bastard off enough to just take but not beat him, he’d be fine.

 

[missedstations]

Stop that? He loved it when slaves said those things, because then he could grin widely and tell them - “No.” The simple statement of fact, that their views were not going to be considered either now or later or any time he wanted to fuck them. A good slave learned to merely accommodate their master's desires, but Vitor was not expecting that from Curio. Not yet, anyway.

“Now, now...” he said quietly, as if a smidge disappointed by Curio's attempts to get away. Funny thing, he did know how that particular humiliation felt... Maybe that was what made him so good at in his job. He knew what it felt like, so he knew what tortures to inflict. And he knew ever so well exactly where failure led.

He gripped Curio's thighs, to pull him back and to keep his legs spread wide. It was a deliciously vulgar sight – Curio's cock erect, his balls, and then his anus, not fully contracted, with some of Vitor's earlier come still dripping. If he could have that sight in a painting, he'd actually buy a house just to keep it!

“Do you know what you look like right now?” he purred, “Like a well used slut... And that was your first time earlier, wasn't it? Maybe you are a natural. So why are you resisting?”

 

[Fading_Cards]

Curio grunted as he was hauled back on to the soldiers thick manhood, thighs twitching as they were forced farther part. Rendered them nearly useless to help push himself away. His body clenched around the invading flesh, but that only made it more obvious to his senses that he was speared deep like a woman, and probably only felt good to his torturer. He refused to sit up and look down at the graphic detail between his legs… he just… no… the tent walls. The tent walls and roof and even the bed off to the side. Anything else then the sweating mass of a man fucking him.

/’Maybe you are a natural’/

The blond grit his teeth, snarling in rage. Wanted to at least remove that smug smile off the bastards face.

The swing was awkward thanks to needing to balance back on one arm (he was not going to lean forward on his hips, he would not welcome that invader more then he had to) but his full strength, what he had of it, was put behind it. Just wanted to bruise that dark face, but rage back in to his eyes. Stop this travesty of an intimate embrace. This was supposed to be brutal. Curio could only forgive himself for letting the man shove his cock inside him again if it hurt or he was simply used like it was supposed to. Not THIS!

 

[missedstations]

It really was rather lucky that Curio was so offbalance – he only managed to get the tip of Vitor's nose. It was both a little painful and pretty damn amusing. He had expected Curio to try something, with obvious provocations like that... This healer was an interesting one, both resigned and very proud. More of a man than some of his soldiers! Really not going to make things easy for anyone, that was. But easy was, in truth, rather dull. There were so many people in the world who were intimidated by brute force that it was a joy – if that word could be used – to have someone that needed something else, something subtler.

“How sweet you are,” he mocked, letting go of one of Curio's legs to catch the wrist. “You're so wonderfully tight.” Vitor punctuated that sentence with an almost brutal thrust. “You should not be ashamed of enjoying this,” he continued, breathing harder. He did know that he had a nice cock, and he knew what to do with it.