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

Watching Curio struggle was far more fun than what Curio was actually managing to do for him. How good that the healer knew what to do, at least, and did not need to be instructed in everything. No doubt, with practice, the healer would get better at all this. For now, watching Curio shiver and try to jerk away, being unable to... There was something to be said for that deep sense of self-satisfaction it allowed Vitor to feel. This was his slave, at his command, debased because he wanted the slave to be. Knowing that this healer did not want to do this at all, but fearing too much the consequences of disobedience... Oh, it made him almost growl in pleasure.

His hold on Curio's hair tightened, forcing Curio's nose to almost meet his pubic hair. The warmth and the tightness of Curio's throat was delicious. The twitch of the muscles that tried to accommodate him, seeing how close the healer was to gagging... Delicious. He stroked Curio's cheek affectionately, still holding onto his hair with his other hand.

“Good boy...” he murmured. It was a truly lovely sigh, to see this proud creature forced to bend down and worship him.

Curio was probably lucky this time that Vitor could not last long – not with excesses of the night and in his morning state. He forced Curio's head up and down at the pace that he liked, enjoying the discomfort shown in every line of the healer's body as much as the attempt to suck him off. Apparently, Curio was not so stupid, having realised that the better he did this, the sooner he finished.

It was soon enough that he felt his orgasm come, and he pulled out of Curio's mouth. Held Curio in place with one hand, and with the other aimed his dick, so that the come splattered across the healer's face. So much fun to see, but this was not really the time to play. Alas. He could take a few moments to enjoy the sight, however.

(The Beast would be an amazing nickname for Vitor's cock, but he had never really had those thoughts.)
 
He was almost sure the man was trying to choke him to death with his dick. Curio would not really have put it past the bastard to kill an annoying slave that refused his advances like that. His ghost would never be able to go on to the afterlife simply out of horrified embarrassment at how he’d died.

Several points he had to fight his gag reflex or struggle to suck in air when he was let off the meaty punishment. It wasn’t like Vitor cared much for his slaves comfort or that his lungs were burning at points. The mock tenderness of the petting and tone of words while the fist in the back of his head pulled out hair was just the finishing touch. Curio kept his lips tight and continued sucking though, knowing it would only end when the mans cock demanded it to.

When his head was suddenly whipped off the bobbing shaft he was confused for a moment. Eyes and mouth wide with lurid strings of spit and pre-cum sloppily still connecting his lips to Vitor’s endowment. That confusion turned in to stunned shock as the first scalding hot splatter of semen hit his face, barely missing one eye. He’d only had the instinctual ware-withal to snap his eyelids shut, but his mouth stayed gaping open, sore and gasping for breath as the assault continued. Gobs of sticky seed spread across his forehead, dripped down his cheeks and nose, and gladly poured good amount in to his mouth. The strong undeniable bitter taste made him want to gag, hurting his throat as the muscles back there were stretched from their earlier use for pleasuring this bastard.

Once it was over with, thankfully quickly despite how much came out, he blinked, dazed. Mouth snapped shut and before he could think better of it, he swallowed.

The shudder down his back, absolutely APPALED expression on his face made it rather clear he was not happy.

“You… you disgusting PIG!” the rage was perhaps not best portrayed while covered in another mans seed, voice raw and crackly. He could feel the hot liquid slowly dribbling down his skin. Curio snapped and tried to push back on the fist holding his head in place, one of his own hands grabbing a blanket and trying to pull it to himself to wipe the shame from himself.
 
((The first paragraph of your post just gets more amusing the more I read it... My father had to ask me what the hell I was sniggering about twice. Awkward!))

Oh, good, it swallowed. Apparently more out of the sheer shock than anything else, but it was a step in the right direction for Curio not to have spit it all out. The very visible shudder made him pat Curio on the shoulder gently, as if to say now now, it's not THAT bad... Not that Vitor actually cared, never in his life intending to suck his own, or anyone else's cock, however clean. But a slave did not have the luxury of that choice. A slave merely had to do what their master wanted. Whether they were happy or not was of course irrelevant.

But being insulted by a slave covered in his seed... That was just hilarious. Vitor began to laugh, not letting go of Curio's hair, and rather automatically pulling the blanket away from Curio's hands. This humiliation was not over quite yet.

“Now, don't make it dirty,” he chided, “And give me a moment to remember this sight...”

Curio going red with ineffectual rage and embarrassment was quite something to see. He pulled Curio's head up a little to have a better look. At least the healer did not have to face his cock any longer? Small blessings.

He should have to get a good collar for this one, like for a dog, because pulling the healer around by the hair wasn't actually the most practical proposition... Hmm. He was definitely now thinking about keeping this one for a good period of time. Maybe even years if Curio continued to be this amusing!

“Like I said before, I really would prefer if you found a more respectful title to call me.”
 
If Curio could read the mans mind for his vague plans the young blond man would have struggled to find the nearest blade to slit himself with, blood oath be-damned. As it was the ideas of how to kill this man before he excaped were raging behind his eyes.

Moments passed as Vitor gleefully studied his slaves shame, the healer twitching at the disgusting feeling of cum sluething down his face. Blinking it out of his eyes like sticky water. The smell and taste inundating his senses and the sharp pains from his scalp and worn throat.

Finally… finally he just felt to damn tired for this and he knew unless he curbed to the mans submissive desires this could end up being worse. How he wasn’t sure, but it could, that was a sad fact proven repeatedly so far during his time with the mercenary. The rage and tension in his body deflated. Curio instead looked up at the man as blankly as he could muster, trying not to plead with them but failing, and he still refused to verbally beg to be released and allowed to clean up.
 
Eventually Vitor was satisfied, and tucked his manhood back into his pants. He still did not let go of Curio's hair, however, liking to see the slave so limp in his hold. Perhaps this slave was starting to learn... Good enough behaviour to warrant a bath.

“Have breakfast ready by the time I get back,” Vitor ordered to the boy.

“Yessir!” Apparently Jehan was embarrassed for Curio too, because he was bright red and trying so terribly hard not to look. Seeing his master being sucked off was one thing, but seeing his master jizz all over a slave's face... Oh dear gods. Or trying not to see. Whatever.

Not letting go of Curio's hair once – no doubt the slave would be reconsidering the length of his haircut by this point – Vitor dragged Curio out of the tent, past the fire Jehan had built, and into the camp main, towards the river. Vitor didn't care that Curio was stark naked or that there were so many very curious stares sent their way. Soldiers checking out Curio's ass, sniggering at the way the healer was being dragged along.

At the river bank, apparently a few other people might have got the bathing idea too – no privacy for anyone. Vitor pushed Curio to where the water was knee deep.

“See? I am nice. You did well, so can wash, but if you try to run, I will cripple you if I have to catch you. Understand?” It sounded entirely reasonable to Vitor. He had crippled slaves before for such offences. A nice clean cut through a tendon, and they could never run again.
 
The poor worn down Curio was rather flustered as he was pulled out and around by his head, un-able to properly utter a word. He was afraid if he opened a mouth yelps of pain or pleads to let go of him would tumble out as he tripped and stumbled trying to catch up to the brute hauling him around. There was also the conundrum of his hands trying to figure out if they should be covering his member, his face, or stay out pin wheeling to remain balanced. His whole body was a rather scalded embarrassed pink by the time feet splashed in to shallow water. He’d felt every stare and heard every mumbled comment and laugh, burning in to him.

He didn’t bother replying to the threat right away, instead all put collapsing in to the water. Bitterly cold but it covered him up, biting and awakening his mind as he quickly sat down on the river stones and ducked his head under, hands scrubbing madly at his face. When he came up for air he finally gave a wracking shiver from the loss of heat, but at least now he was sitting in the water and the group of other bathers couldn’t see all of his marks. Some of them absently looked over but went back to what they were doing, while some other more relaxed men, seemingly in no hurry to get back to pack up, kept an eye on things, knowing there might be some entertainment value in this. If nothing happened for a few moments other then a bathing slave (and anyone that pretty of a man with their general was absolutely a slave) their eyes would easily travel back to eyeing some of the new girls they’d made off with meekly cleaning up farther down the stream.

Curio’s fingers gently slid through his wet hair, across his scalp. A pang of pain on his face, soreness, and it seemed like he was taking a moment to see if Vitor had plucked him bald. He did think perhaps his head should be shorn, but somehow he didn’t think the soldier was going to let himself get his hands on any finely sharp blades to do it any time soon. He wouldn’t stop to think about a haircut if given the chance.

Finally he paid a seething glare at the man who abused him so. “You are a horrible man,” was almost like he was grasping at straws, wanting to spit something much more vile, but remembering Jehan’s warning. Oh. Jehan. Oh for the gods sakes the boy had just witnessed him…. UGH!

It didn’t even cross Curio’s mind that perhaps the boy had already seen it all before and it wasn’t that big of a deal to him.

Instead he began back out in to the flow of water, simply trying to get some distance between them for when Vitor decided to start taking off his clothes and washing along with him. He didn’t think he could stand them being both naked in public so close together, whether he hid the obvious marks of being used for sex or not. Deeper water would also be more pleasant… he would not have to crouch.

He began to wonder if the mercenary knew how to swim. Most people, even those who spent their lives on the water, did not.

“I am not going to run. As I told your stable boy I am not that stupid. You are all to close to my home and there are to many of you still struck with bloodlust. I may know the lands here but they are mostly treeless for farms. A well shot arrow would simply leave me dying tired,” he admitted aloud. It galled him that he could not attempt escape yet, but he had patience, even perhaps a little patience through suffering. It was one thing they had to learn to understand for healing, though he did not think Magda had this in mind when she spoke of it.

“That still does not mean I am going to call you anything different then what you deserve,” was his only shot at a true insult, but tamed without actual name calling. He also did not yell to grab attention or to try and burn the man who was using him. Really he just wanted to be as un-noticeable as possible as the cold currents tried to wash his shame away.
 
Vitor took a good look at the girls, but he was not particularly interested. Let his men have their fun... He had his own. How many of them would be dead or pregnant by the end of the month was a good question. For now, they were only a little bruised and bloodied...

“Any of them your wife?” he asked Curio when the slave came back for air, almost casually cruel.

Vitor was taking the opportunity to wash both himself and his clothes, taking a handful of the rough river sand to scrub at his skin, removing all the sweat and the stench of other people's blood. It was his first time to clean himself since the beginning of the siege, and it felt good to let the cold water run through his hair and across his skin. There was a soreness in his muscles from battle that the water soothed. Hard work, killing.

He scrubbed the mud from his pants too. Just by washing away the sweat, no doubt the aroma would be improved significantly. As a soldier, he wasn't ashamed of his men seeing him naked. He had nothing to worry about – tall and lean and tightly muscled, with scars from almost every battle. He had been trained almost exclusively by fighting, even from a young age, and his strength lay in endurance as well as the ability to swing a sword. Curio had not seen him naked yet either: undressing fully before fucking was more of a thing for lovers than for slaves.

Vitor threw his clothes back onto the bank and felt his way into deeper water without fear – his mother had followed the rivers as much as the roads, and had taught him to swim from an early age. It was common amongst those people, but a half-breed like Vitor was not exactly welcome to stay with any company for long. It had been why she ended up working in a filthy little brothel in a city, and he'd disappeared to look for glory... Elsewhere.

“Do you like their staring?” he asked Curio, mockingly. “Some of them wouldn't mind a go at you...”

Vitor had no intention of sharing, but there could be some fun in making Curio think otherwise. (The possibility of that leading to venereal diseases... Ugh.) Unless the boy already told the slave about those habits. That would rather be a shame. But there could be an other worry that a slave might have about life in a messy camp like this. A master could not always keep an eye on their property, and every so often someone else did get the opportunity... Did Curio even know of such things? A man who had never been a slave, or owned slaves, would be unlikely to know.
 
Incidentally Jehan had told the captured healer about the mercenaries ‘sharing’ preferences. That didn’t mean Curio entirely believed them though. The boy was young, despite the things he had obviously seen going on in and outside of Vitor’s tent, he had at least some worship towards the older man and could perhaps have turned a blind eye to this or that. Since he’d been he one to ask the question, he DID know what could happen to him here… if only because there were stories of what happened to women in enemy camps. He didn’t like it, but at current he was being treated and used like a woman, so it would figure the same applied to him, no matter how much that galled him.

He did not rise to the comment on the women or about himself. He recognised a few of them… but thankfully none of them were anything closer then the occasional patient. As he began combing fingers through his hair in the water to help get any grunge out he hoped he wouldn’t have to aid to their death beds.

He kept his gaze down, looking at his own wavy reflection. Denying anything more then a glance at the man who claimed himself as master of Curio’s body. He’d seen plenty of men naked while treating them in some form or another, or during the summer when everyone who could went swimming. The scars told stories that tugged at his interest simply as a story teller and medical knowledge, but nothing else interested him. Not that he would ever be interested in a man, let alone one that used him like a lady from the brothel. Disgusting.

He ducked his head under the cool, sound smothering water again. Stayed there, as if the cold could numb his mind, hi thoughts.

Quite.

Only when his lungs burned for air, exhaling even before he hit the surface did he emerge again. A gasp for air. The stones beneath his feet were slippery.

“I would protest something along the lines of one of you is a horrible enough thing, but somehow I don’t think you care,” he finally replied as clear of any emotion as he could muster. The water calmed him, and at least for a moment he was covered despite the audience. He could at least attempt some semblance of sanity as long as Vitor did not touch him. Be as cold and unfeeling as the rivers currents of the blood and ichor it washed away. Curio did not know if he could maintain that if the brute broke the spell. So much of him was still angrily seething at what he had been coerced in to doing the past two days to keep his life and generally able body.

/Only until I can escape… this will just be some horrible nightmare in just a few days… just need to get space between and cover to hide under…/

He could deal with his skin wanting to crawl until then.

Perhaps.

For now he simply had to… behave… enough to apparently ‘earn’ clothing for the coming travel. Curio at least hoped it would be something practical. He did not like the idea of walking across farmland and where ever else they were going with his dick bobbing and smacking around as he moved for all to see.

It wasn’t the water that made him shiver in disgust.
 
When he was finished washing, he stood waist deep in the water, closing his eyes for a moment and turning to face the sun, briefly masking in the warmth, feeling the water drip down his face and back. He shook himself to get rid of the excess water.

Vitor laughed a little. “I only care that my property isn't damaged.”

If someone touched Curio and got caught, a flogging would probably be the most they would get. It would be a punishment for insubordination, most likely. He could simply not let a failure to respect him pass... It was without any concern for the dignity of his slaves. A punishment for violating a slave could not be too harsh, either – it was only a slave, after all.

“Come, slave. Pick those up.” He meant the wet clothes on the bank.

Bathtime was over, and obviously Vitor was waiting for Curio to get the hell out before him. He had absolutely no curiosity as to what his captive's name actually was... So the healer was no doubt doomed to be referred to with only that word for absolutely the rest of their time together.
 
The ‘slave’ simply simmered with a glare, but began walking towards shore. He made sure to keep a distance between himself and the scared mercenary, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything else scathing in public. Long pale hair stuck to Curio’s shoulders as he got out, shoulders hunched slightly, now switching his attention to the other men around the river. Like any person with half a brain he did not trust strangers, let alone ones that apparently now claimed his body and life as part of their winnings in battle.

The healer picked up the now wet pieces of clothing, not wet leathers, and whatever else Vitor had taken off by the river bank. Both because there was the issue of being in public hanging over his head, and that holding all that in his arms some of it draped down to cover his personal areas. Yes, he was still shivering wet and cold, bruised shoulders and backside for all to see, but it was the little things.

-------------- ---------------- ---------------

Indeed it WAS the little things.

Like following Vitor back to camp and getting his bare ass swatted when a bunch of soldiers or working grunts passed by. He’d made a startled noise, but simply walked faster.

Like the boy running about gathering up smaller things and bundling them in an obviously practised way.

Like when Jehan handed him things or ordered him to move objects a bit to heavy for him while Vitor went about the camp, doing whatever he needed to do.

Like the small bowl of food Curio found shoved in his hands at some point. His stomach was both grateful for it and hateful to the presence because of the healers nerves.

How suddenly the tent was all but bare but the poles and fabric itself.

Like how Vitor had returned and started taking up the outer stakes that kept the fabric down….. and Curio was still naked as the day he was born, hair dry and annoyingly fluffy about his face.

“Ahhh…” this whole debacle had been… oh how he missed his clothes right now. The wind was blowing a good bit more then a breeze and it was bitingly cold outside the tent. Jehan had been mindful enough to keep him inside packing what he could. Sometimes he had to stumble out to help him lift something heavy on to the horses backs (one of which he vaguely recognized as some nobleman’s steed. No one he had treated, but occasionally passed in the streets) while he tried not to think to hard about the fact he was still nothing but bare skin. His eyes flicked to the exiting flap of the tent, then back to Victor. He had no idea how to go about this and it felt like his tongue would freeze whenever he tried to pick words. Words that didn’t include heat and vitriol that would probably only warm him in the passing of breath. He even refused to call the man by his name… and the word ‘master’ made his hands twitched to look for something to stab a man with. He honestly didn’t think the man would go through with having him march naked. Curio was noticing now things were down to the last ropes and apparently the madman WAS.

You could almost say he looked a little panicked.
 
Vitor had no problem whatsoever walking back to his tent naked, drying off then getting dressed in marginally fresher clothes. Nothing was properly clean in a camp like this, but new pants were good. No doubt Curio gave the clothes plenty of envious looks as Vitor laced up his boots and buttoned up his shirt. He looked damned good – tall and dark and handsome, with a dangerous selection of weapons permanently close to his hands. The sword belt that he wore normally was beautifully ornate, with patterns carved into leather and and gold buckles. They matched the couple of the earrings he put into one of his ears. As a visitor, he would have made more than one maiden swoon, but as a conqueror... Certainly not as attractive. More of a savage stranger, a cruel foreign victor.

He ate breakfast quickly – there was much to do before they left. What to do with the prisoners, with the loot, how his soldiers would be paid. He inspected the injured and made arrangements for their transport. Oversaw disputes over seized booty. He was both leader and law-giver here. Vitor tried to be fair, at least: trying to split things evenly enough or sometimes assigning them to someone else entirely who might be deserving.

It was good to see the camp be disassembled. He didn't fancy this place that much at all, and was already getting restless to leave.

Vitor took a little time to get to know his new horse, a gorgeous grey, patting him on the nose, saying hello. The horse was being treated far better than Curio was, and they were both getting ridden! Well, at least he wasn't planning on riding Curio into battle at any point. The horse even got some treats, like a couple of apples, bits of dried apricot. He even saved an apple for the old warhorse. Vitor loved that horse, even if now he was far too old to gallop fast enough and had far too many old injuries. When he had started his career he'd ridden that horse, and had his life saved plenty of times by the virtue of those hooves. He was superstitious enough to feel that he ought to return the favour now.

Ah, yes. Time to deal with his annoying new slave now.

He picked up the pair of boots he had found for Curio and dropped them in front of the slave. Oh, he certainly was going to make Curio march naked, at least for a bit. That stick up the healer's arse needed dislodging.

“Oh, look at your face!” he teased. “Were you worried I'd make you march barefoot? Couldn't possibly do that. It would absolutely ruin your feet.”
 
The healer wasn’t quite sure what he looked like, but the sudden embarrassed, disbelieving heat in his face, then cold splash when he realized the man wasn’t joking… pink, red, pink, ashen white. Blinking, staring eyes at the boots as if the next time he’d open his eyes they would be something else. Something else much more suited to not being dragged like cattle next to a horse.

Silence.

When he finally was able to look up, owlishly, at Vitor his lips had settled, pressed thin against each other.

“You… you can’t be serious.”

Paused. Looked back down at the boots… obviously stolen goods from the town, they looked rather similar to the pair he’d paid good shilling for last year as a winter gift for his wife.

His wife who hadn’t shown up with the calls for ransom that morning, loud bargaining heard across the camp.

Before that thought could tumble and cascade down his tightly held emotional turmoil Curio clamped the door shut. Think of now. This… this was distraction. Cold, terrifying distraction. Boots. The cold wind. Yes, anger. That he could deal with right now.

Grabbing ruthlessly on to that strand of viciousness at this cruel joke he re-focused. Deep breath in. Ignore the rattling of more then his bones inside him.

Curio frowned. Flicked his eyes to the open flap at the front of the tent, just as the tent across from them toppled to the ground, ready to be rolled up. The men were busy and didn’t bother looking away from their work. Dressed in shirts and furs and vests, pants and kilts that helped them ignore the increasing wind. The blond recognised this weather. The farming planes usually became seas of whipping grass a few hours before the clouds would fully close in and begin to rain. It was warning for farmers to hurry up their work. For him…

Vitor still seemed rather smug with himself when the misfortunate slave eyed him again.

“It’s going to be cold… and rain soon.” Yes, the clouds on the horizon seemed fluffy white, but the local had seen them transform to dark billowing grey monsters in mere moments.

“You can’t… you are bloody serious,” a frustrated sigh. Fingers rubbed hard at the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. Willing away the headache that was starting to pound in his skull. To much going on in there.

“Fine,” feet slid in to the offered shoes before the man could think to take even those away. Curio would hand them back over for a shirt, but otherwise, hell no. He only hoped hypothermia was as delusional and painless of a death as rumour said it was.
 
Vitor watched the colour changes that Curio's face went through, with a very self-satisfied smirk. The humiliation was rather enjoyable to see, going straight to his groin. Again! Hah. There really was nothing like getting a proud, stuck up idiot down on his knees. He didn't give a shit about the weather – a day of it wasn't going to kill anyone. And if it rained, then all that would happen is that Curio would be wet naked, as opposed to everyone else, who would be wet and dressed in soaked clothes.

“I am serious,” he confirmed, grinning. A bit of freezing and having to run stark naked in front of everyone might be just what the healer needed. There was no need to be cruel, however... No one could accuse him of being inconsistent and vicious. He was going to offer Curio a chance to earn a few more things. Vitor certainly didn't bother lying to his slaves.

“Get on your knees and suck me off,” he commanded. “And I might give you something else.”

And yes, he did know that it was in public, that virtually anyone who cared to look could see. Though the horse might provide some cover from prying eyes... Not that Vitor cared very much. He was a soldier, and public sex was nothing interesting to him. It would only show exactly how much control it was that he had over his slave, and serve to remind people of what was his.
 
If the Evil Eye was a functioning truth, the mercenary before Curio would have died instantly in that moment. It was perhaps only tempered by the wide look of disbelief and pink cheeks of embarrassment. Tongue stalled pressing at the top of his mouth, un-able to think of something to say without stuttering like a fool. A tired, cold, enslaved, naked fool standing only a pair of boots and nothing but the angry pink of his skin giving his pale self cover.

Head whipped around, taking in anyone and anywhere they were fully visible, dry, fluffy white blond hair getting in his eyes. One hand angrily shoved the strands back out of the way. The healer had only one victory for the day, having found his hair tie while helping pack up the tents knick-knackery. It still didn’t keep all of it at bay, but with the winds striping his body of any heat it produced he was at least glad he also didn’t end blinded by himself. Cutting it all off still didn’t cross his mind. Of course to do so would require thinking, rather then working on knee jerk reactions, and Curio was avoiding thinking in-depth all he could. Antagonism was much easier.

There was a girl in shabby layers gathering things in to her basket staring at them. He did not know her. That didn’ stop Curio from steadying his ire, making her get up and run off like she’d been burned. There were a few others, not looking at them or only sending short glances. To them the leader with a new slave was nothing important to interrupt their work. It could still be highly entertaining though. Especially when they weren’t sobbing messes pissing the man off. Other wise the gelded horse and still half standing tent provided some cover… whatever menial comfort that was supposed to give the slave. Hah.

Eyes tumbling with indecision looked back at the larger man, lips pursed.

“No.”

The malice didn’t seem so sure of itself.

“You would probably just give me something ridiculous like a hat,” Curio wasn’t thinking right, but that didn’t make him entirely stupid. “You wouldn’t last long with how you get off on making a fool of me,” he stifled the sneer of his lips what he could. He didn’t like feeding in to the mans desires but it was all he could DO… “With how you work I may as well go…no,” he paused, thinking better then to add to that, “… I’m not going to give you any ideas.” It honestly hurt to say no because there WAS the chance he could receive some kind of proper clothing… or a blanket. Something.

Argh.

Hands shot up and rubbed at his face again. “…. Dammit.” A heavy sigh as he resisted looking around the clearing again. If they looked, the looked, and for goodness sake don’t THINK… “Just … promise me it’s not something stupid…” tired again, frustrated. Strained. He didn’t know whether to yell at the man, walk away and deal with what may come, or simply fold.

He could smell the promise of rain in the wind.
 
Considering the rambling that Curio was going on and on with... Vitor was tempted to slap him around again. As adorable as seeing the humiliation was, all this talking that the healer could do was damn annoying.

“You need to learn your mouth is better used for other things,” he said coldly, taking one of Curio's wrists, and twisting it to make Curio kneel. Why should he promise anything to a slave?

“Very well, I promise you one thing.” Ah well, he could play this game. “If you suck me off, I will give you something for certain, but if you also call me master afterwards, I will definitely give you a shirt. How about it, slave? Are you too proud?”

Probably, but Vitor was feeling a little demanding right now. Sooner or later, Curio would have to accept it. Where better than in the middle of the entire camp. Should Curio refuse, that was no skin off his nose. A useless slave that could not be trusted was ultimately going to be worthless... And it was necessary for Curio's submission to be seen, sooner or later. It would be embarrassing if the commander could not control his pet.
 
The blond healer cringed as tendon and bone in his arm protest, but did not fight going down any more then a moment.

‘Are you too proud?’ and ‘slave’ rang in Curio’s ears, but he bit his own tongue against saying anything. Only because the answer was ‘No’. He wasn’t to proud. He was distraught, angry, mind scrabbling to grab on to stronger, forward moving emotions that would keep him standing. Keep him fighting and living, rather then collapsing and sobbing like some mess of a woman, or worse, simply.. loosing something of himself to deal. Let the man think it was pride.

If not the first, but the second time the mercenary had wasted seed inside his body, told him how foolish that was. Rolling over to fist himself to cum after his own dick had felt pleasure from the act of being rutted.

The pale skinned slave simply looked up at the soldier that had spared him his life but taken everything else. Pausing quietly for a moment. Whether to make the large man holding him down tick and play up his ire, or to simply mull the thought of calling the man ‘master’ in his head. Hating how it did not make his tongue set on fire from even thinking of agreeing to do it…

Perhaps just on the threshold of Vitor’s shortening temper, Curio’s free hand shot up and tangled in the strips trying the mercenaries pants up. Eyes flicking and stying down, steadied, at the mans crotch. Ignoring the sounds of an active camp around them or even Vitor himself. Only a jerk of his captured arm to signal he’d like it back now. Other hand shoving in to cradle the mans balls and bring them out made it rather clear… he agreed.

The flaccid cock before him was still large in its slumbering state. The healer didn’t pause to study it though. He didn’t need to think bout this, it was best to just… not. Instead he opened his mouth and deep pink tongue, scalding hot compared to the increasingly windy cold air outside, broadly lapped at the offered flesh. From the loose skin at the tip to the base, thinking of what his wife had done to him without directly trying to think of her. Just the memory of hands and mouth guiding him as he sucked at the side of the limp base. Curio could already feel the horrible mans lustful interests grow under his tongue and fingers absently massaging his hairy sack. There was no mistaking whatsoever that he was doing for something else in his mind.

The enslaved man held back an angry snarl. He couldn’t even hide in his mind while doing this. All he COULD do was attempt to get Vitor off as quickly as possible… which meant working him UP in the first place. Bastard.

Instead he sighed in frustration, hot hard breath fanning across sensitive skin. He still didn’t quite know if what he was doing was right, but Curio still tried whatever he could think of. Including bringing a hand up to pet across the loose skin near the head of the mans cock, then pull it back. Wrap and squeeze a thumb and finger below the quickly growing head and hope that felt as good as he thought it might.

The only blessing perhaps working in the poor healers favour was Vitor’s cock tasted much less offensive then it had that morning.
 
Ah, good. Curio was submitting to this demand. They were getting somewhere. Vitor let go of Curio's arm now, having him where he wanted to. On his knees, in front of crotch. Beautiful. It was so much more... Fun? To do that to a man than to a woman. It was a woman's place to please her man. Very few men actually enjoyed performing this service, and it was fun to make them.

He ran his fingers along Curio's jawline, almost affectionately. “Good boy...” he purred when the healer touched him. Vitor gasped a little at the heat, holding onto Curio's hair to steady himself. “I'm glad I didn't kill you,” he said. It was as close as a confession of love that Vitor would probably ever come out with. He was glad that he had the patience to try and keep this slave.

Luckily for Curio, Vitor was hard fast. The heat of that mouth and the difference of it compared to the cold wind. He groaned quietly, throwing his head back for a moment. The pressure of Curio's fingers. Gods. Why didn't he keep whores like this more often?

“You look beautiful like that,” he murmured, looking down again. What also worked in Curio's favour was that Vitor was feeling... Perhaps tender. He could simply shove his cock down Curio's throat and just fuck his mouth, but letting the healer do all the work was more enjoyable. He undid the slave's hair, toying with the strands. He did like Curio's looks. Pleasantly manly, but not so much to challenge his own self-image. And that whitish-blond hair, which was so rare further south. He loved it on both men and women, and a highly disproportionate number of his slaves had been blonde.

“That's it, keep going,” he murmured, stroking the back of Curio's neck.
 
The man on his knees was non-plussed by the confession of waylaying slaughtering him. As far as he knew the dictation could be reversed at any time, and… and currently Curio’s ‘life’ apparently revolved around having another mans dick thrust upon and in to him at anyone but his owns leisure. Not something he would light the spring pyres for.

It was only moments before the cock between his lips was heavy and hard. Length shoving in to tickle the broad head against the back of his tongue as he bobbed his head along the shaft. Ignoring when his hair suddenly fanned across his shoulders. Tried not to think to hard on the almost affectionate words the madman was pouring down on him that made his ears and cheeks turn a different shade of pink. Curio was sucking his cock, of course he’d be a little more congenial… at least that is what he told himself, no matter he began sucking on the sensitive flesh more in earnest.

He wasn’t trying to deep throat, this wasn’t a good position and he really didn’t want that horrible feeling of gagging on another mans dick anytime soon again. Instead he wrapped his hand tightly around the lower half that wasn’t in his mouth. Thrusting it up and down along the slippery shaft along with his mouth. On upwards thrusts he made sure to wrap lips tightly below Vitor’s proud red tip and suckle. Trying to get the man off as quickly as possible to end this humiliation.

To stop the abashed heat in his own blood that sparked at the thought of others watching.

His other hand coming up to pet along the mercenaries balls, feeling them tighten beneath his fingers. Curio making sure to distract himself so he stopped thinking and simply, for the moment, did.
 
Seeing the proud healer debased in this way was satisfying in more than just using Curio. It was almost like getting back at all the northerners who mocked his heritage and his looks, who implied that he was an unworthy warrior. To make one of their supposedly worthier members kneel before him and suck his cock... Sure it was depraved. But fun.

Vitor was definitely enjoying himself: while stoic for the possible audience, Curio could no doubt hear his breathing quicken and feel Vitor's hand tighten in Curio's hair. That he was being gentle probably implied that Curio was doing a good job. He was running his fingers through Curio's locks, caressing the healer's jaw and throat lightly.

“Good, keep going...” he purred, his hips moving ever so lightly to thrust a little against Curio's mouth, but he was still allowing the slave to take some initiative. Really, this one was surprisingly clever, to be working out how to please him so quickly. Or maybe his mockery was really true, and Curio was a natural after all. It really would be a shame to lose him anytime soon – and he was glad that so far there had been no offers of ransom for the healer.

And there was a little bit of an audience, when people realised what was happening – a few soldiers pausing, staring, laughing a little. It was putting the slave exactly in his place, and showing to everyone what Curio was for, exactly. It definitely wasn't for the healing! There was a hint of possessiveness in the way that Vitor held onto his slave's hair, pulling on it as he came hard into Curio's mouth, holding him in place. At least it wasn't on his face, like earlier?
 
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