Chapter Text
Copyright © C.R. Bostic, 2004, 2012
~xox~
The lad was a mess. He was covered in dirt and dried blood. It was clear that the shackles binding his ankles and wrists to the chains they dragged him out on were nearly too big for him and were rubbing his skin raw. Tangled, wavy black hair tumbled to his thin shoulders, with unkempt bangs falling over his eyes. What little of his skin that could be seen beneath patches of dirt and torn clothing was very fair-almost as perfectly white as alabaster.
“Twenty silver for this young man!” The auctioneer shouted. “Do I hear twenty?”
The slave stood as straight and tall as he could manage, hobbled as he was. His eyes were downcast, and his sensitive looking mouth trembled as though he were fighting tears.
Coren frowned at the figure on the platform. There was something about the lad, something that drew him. The weapons dealer ran his fingers through his blond hair, inadvertently pulling a few strands loose from the ponytail that held the long mane back.
“I got thirty-five silver…do I hear forty? Show the nice folks yer face, lad!” The auctioneer shouted. The overseer Pete approached the slave and put his hands on either side of the lad’s head, forcing it back and brushing the bangs aside, so that the buyers could see his features.
Coren felt a stab somewhere deep within him as the boy’s exotic features were revealed. Though it was just as grimy as the rest of him, his face was that of an angel from an artist’s painting. He had creamy, fair skin, high cheekbones, and a straight, sculpted nose. He possessed a beauty that couldn’t be denied.
What struck Coren most profoundly were the lad’s eyes, however. He pushed through the crowd to move in for a closer look and he could see that those eyes weren’t human. They were large and long-lashed. The irises were larger than that of a typical human eye, so large that very little of the whites of his eyes were visible. They were so bright and pale a green that they seemed to glitter like gems and a darker green accented the outer rim of the irises, making their color more intense. The lad’s black brows were hedged in pain as his captor forcibly turned his head this way and that, so that all of the bidders could get a good look at him.
“Where is that boy from?” Coren muttered out the side of his mouth as Charlotte squeezed in beside him.
Beside him, Charlotte stared at the lad as well, and she twisted a lock of her curly brown hair around her finger. “I don’t know, luv. I’ve heard rumors that they caught a few of those Lashran folk in the deep forests of Nandar…maybe he’s one of them?”
Coren scratched his short-trimmed beard and considered the young slave. Yes, the Lashran were said to have a fey beauty to them, though they were so uncommon in this part of the world that he’d never seen proof before, himself. He caught himself wondering if the boy had wings, and he chuckled to himself. His ethereal appearance certainly didn’t mean that he was a magical creature.
“Going once…going twice…” The auctioneer spouted.
A fat man was eagerly walking towards the platform, eyeing the young man with lust.
Before he realized what he was doing, Coren shouted, “Twenty-five gold coins!” in a booming voice. A hush befell the assembly, and Charlotte’s brown eyes looked as though they were going to roll out of her sockets as she stared up at him.
“Are you mad, man? The boy is too weak to lift anything! You said yourself; you need a strong man to help you with the shop, and a homemaker to help you with your house! Does that lad look like either of those to you?” Charlotte was sputtering and waving her arms around, narrowly missing hitting people nearby with her wild movements.
Before he could respond to her chastising Coren saw the fat man scowl at him and dig through his coin pouch. “Thirty gold coins!” Fatty crowed triumphantly, certain that he had the other man beat.
Judging by appearances it certainly seemed like the obese man would win. He was obviously a rich merchant, dressed in fine silks and draped with jewelry. Coren was dressed in a flattering if average ensemble of leather breeches, thigh-high boots, and a loose red shirt. However Fatty was new to the pirate haven and thus had no idea who he was bidding against.
Coren smirked and shouted, “Forty-five gold coins!”
A few people in the crowd gasped and the fat merchant’s face fell. The auctioneer stood with his mouth agape for a moment, until Pete hissed, “Do yer job, Cuttlefish!”
The auctioneer shook himself and hollered, “Forty-five gold! Forty-five gold for this nimble young fellow! Who will take it to fifty?”
Charlotte shook her head, wondering what in the tempest of hell could have gotten into her old friend so suddenly. Could it be that he liked lads? She almost laughed at the thought. Coren was a notorious lady’s man and had never openly shown an interest in other men. On the other hand, from what she could see of the young slave’s features he was just as pretty as a lass. She pondered this and forgot to try and talk sense to Coren.
“Sold to Coren Darshaw, for forty-five gold pieces!” Cuttlefish hollered exuberantly.
Pete half-carried, half dragged the boy to his new owner and deposited him at his feet. “I sure hope ye know what yer doin’, old mate,” Said Pete with a disgusted look at the trembling lad on the ground.
Coren counted out the coins to him and avoided Charlotte’s bewildered eyes. “I haven’t a clue, I’m sure,” He muttered as he knelt down to examine his new property. The lashran had fainted from exhaustion. Sighing, Coren gathered the slave up into his arms and carried him out of the slave market, with Charlotte following close behind and shouting about how he could have bought two blacksmiths and a cook for the price of the scrawny boy.
Glancing down at the unconscious young man’s pretty face, Coren felt a fluttery feeling in his chest and began to wonder if he had made a mistake. He felt unreasonably drawn to the captive lashran and he wasn’t sure how to handle that.
~xox~
“Well, what are you going to do now, you crazy sea dog?” Questioned Charlotte as she followed Coren into his house.
If it weren’t for the burden he carried he would have shrugged. “I suppose the first order of business would be to get him cleaned up and changed, then see about getting some nourishment into him.” Coren grunted slightly as he lowered the boy onto the couch in the lounge room. “Let me see the papers,” He said.
Rolling her eyes, Charlotte handed the rolled parchment to him and watched as he broke the wax seal and carefully examined the registration. Coren examined it thoughtfully and said, “Hmmm. You were right, Charlotte. He’s one of the lashran that Timulc’s lads caught in the expedition to Nandar. It says his name is…er…hmm.”
Coren’s eyes narrowed and he mouthed the long, strange name silently, trying to make sense of it. “Lythallendar…ye gods! What sort of people are they, to place such punishing names on their offspring!”
She snorted with laughter. “Why don’t you just call him Lythas?”
He considered the idea, gazing down at the boy as he stroked his chin. “Yes…that would suit him, and I would not get tongue cramps trying to call him for errands. Would you be a dear and fill the bathtub with warm water?”
When she glared at him and put her hands on her hips, he sighed. “Charlotte, love…I need to get him out of these filthy clothes and check him for lash marks. I don’t want to take the risk of him getting infected from dirty wounds and the he’s already feverish.”
Her look changed to worry, and she bit her lip as she glanced down at the boy’s flushed face. “Poor lamb…taken away from his country and abused like this,” She whispered, brushing her fingers across his hot cheek.
The same had happened to Pete and her when they were only children. It was Coren’s father who bought them and eventually granted their freedom. By then the Pirate life had been engrained into both siblings. They both developed a love for this place and for the ocean and deemed to stay and go into business here. Slavery was an unfortunate reality of the world they lived in. The weak lost their freedom to the strong.
Once she left to do as he asked, Coren turned back to the papers and finished reading them. “Birth date…oh…I see!” He muttered, glancing down at the boy again. He was in truth, no “boy”. His papers said he was only a month from his twenty-third birthday. Lashran either aged more slowly than humans, or the males did not grow facial hair. Lythas’ face was as smooth and soft as a child’s with no hint of stubble or even peach fuzz.
Coren felt a little more at ease now that he knew that the lashran was an adult and not a youth. The feelings he got when looking at Lythas were the same he would normally have when seeing a pretty woman. The confusion over his attraction to him was compounded by the possibility that he was still just a teenager. Ten years difference wasn’t such a big gap, was it?
Coren shook his head angrily, amazed at where his thoughts were leading. “Concentrate on the job at hand,” He muttered to himself. He whistled softly as he unfastened the few buttons remaining on the slave’s beige shirt. Pulling the garment open, he stared down at the lad with a critical eye, examining his chest and torso for whip wheals. No marks there but the boy was built better than he had first thought. Though small in stature, Lythas was built with a dancer’s frame. His pectorals were well defined and his stomach muscles were tight and firm.
The weapons dealer forced himself to keep it professional as he ran his calloused palms up and down the lad’s torso and chest, feeling for any broken or fractured ribs. It seemed there was nothing to worry about in this area aside from a few bruises.
As he finished undressing the slave and examined him carefully, Coren was forced to deduce that his clothing had simply been very baggy, lending him the appearance of scrawny-ness. Any lass would drool over Lythas’ lean, smooth body. There were no marks at all on him, save for the chafed areas on his wrists and ankles from the manacles. The dirt made the boy seem as though he had tan lines, it was so thick on every part of his skin that hadn’t been clothed.
The slave groaned in his sleep and squirmed restlessly, nearly rolling off of the couch. Coren held him down until he quieted and then smoothed a tangled, raven lock away from his face. Gods what a face! Those long lashes cast crescent shadows over his marble cheekbones and for a moment, Coren wondered what it would be like for that face to be flushed in passion instead of fever.
“Have you checked his teeth?” Said Charlotte’s voice suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts so badly that he jumped. “Wouldn’t do to have such a pretty slave if he’s got a mouthful of rotten teeth!”
She had a sly look in her eye and Coren struggled to keep a straight face in the sight of his panic. Could she have guessed what was going through his mind? How long had she been standing there? “Aren’t you going to take his knickers off too?” She questioned, pointing at the long underwear.
Coren gritted his teeth and pulled the last remaining garment off of the slave and tried to look casual as he examined the privates and buttocks for damage.
“Hmmm…he’s put together nicely! Oh, and he’s not a eunuch! You’d better not get him cut, Coren Darshaw! That’s barbaric!” Charlotte was staring at the lad with more than a passing interest as she prattled on about his body.
“Woman, cease your chattering! I’ve no intention of having him cut…you know I don’t believe in doing that to a fellow, slave or no. Go into my wardrobe and fetch one of my robes will you? He’ll swim in any of my clothes. I’ll need to have him fitted for some new ones.”
She smirked and set off to do it but he did not miss the glance she cast at the lad’s groin area. He wished he had missed it because he automatically followed her gaze and found himself staring. Like the rest of him, the penis was as pale as ivory, with the subtle hint of pink giving it mortal coloring.
Coren caught himself just as his hand was reaching towards that somehow adorable organ. “Hell’s bells…what am I doing?” He growled, lifting Lythas into his arms. He tried to ignore the fact that his own groin was stirring but the feel of the lad’s body against him as he carried him down the hall made it difficult.
When he reached the bathroom he carefully set Lythas into the tub and was thankful that Charlotte had only filled it hip-deep. At least he didn’t have to worry about him slipping under the water and drowning.
Bathing the lashran was pure agony. To hell with feeling something similar to what women stirred in him…this was far more intense! As his hands came into contact with Lythas’ soap slick skin Coren had to fight off soft groans of frustration. He caught himself massaging the pale pink nipples until they were hardened nubs and he snatched his hands away as if they were burned. This was too much.
He checked a sigh of relief when Charlotte came into the bathroom with a black satin robe. “I think you can do a better job of this than I can, Charlotte,” He said. “You’re used to bathing your kids, and I’ve never bathed another human being seriously before.”
She smirked at his choice of words. He had bathed plenty of women before but it usually ended up in lovemaking before the job was halfway done. She had a sneaky suspicion of why her friend couldn’t bring himself to finish the job.
She shrugged. “Won’t hurt my feelings…he’s a pretty one, to be sure. I’ll get him squeaky clean for you.”
Coren nodded his thanks and stood up, angling his body away from her as he went out the door. She bit her lip and widened her eyes. Well, her suspicions were correct. Pirate boy had an erection the size of his old ship! Giggling in spite of herself, she continued where he left off and cleaned Lythas up.
~xox~
Pete came for a visit the next day, bringing a surprise with him. “Coren this is Maggie…I got her for fourty silver. Knew ye blew all of the money ye brought with you on that scrawny lad so I figured I’d pick up a housekeeper for ye.” Pete stepped aside to let a plump middle-aged woman into the house.
“You’re a true friend, Pete.” Coren said as he opened his money pouch to count out the silver.
Pete shrugged as he held his hand out for the coins, not bothering to count them. “Yeah well…yer place is cluttered, and me sister’s been spending all her time helping ye out when she should be looking fer a husband!”
Coren laughed, shaking his head. Pete was so protective of Charlotte. Turning to Maggie he said, “What can you do, dear?”
She looked up at him shyly, a blush staining her cheeks. It wasn’t unusual for women of all ages to react that way to the handsome blond weapons dealer. “I can cook and clean, sir…and I can sew, read and write.”
He lifted an eyebrow, impressed. Slaves that could read and write were a rarity. “Ah, that is good. You shall have a room of your own and an allowance weekly so that you can purchase your own clothes and whatever other luxuries you would like. I have one other servant whose name is Lythas and I hope to purchase a blacksmith to help me in the shop soon, as well. Your room is the third one on the left upstairs. Go and put your things away and make yourself comfortable, now.”
She bobbed a curtsy, openly surprised at his generosity and kindness. As the woman picked up her luggage and went up the stairs Pete shook his head. “Word ever gets out that ye treat yer help like family, ye’ll be ruined!” He said with a chuckle.
Coren shrugged. “I find it makes things much more pleasant around the house to make friends with my help. Feeling at home also discourages them from running away.”
Pete smirked. “If ye say so. Now, about this lashran you bought last night…how is he?”
Surprised by the question, Coren said, “Well, he’s been sleeping all day and his fever broke this morning. He’s ungelded as well. Everything is intact. I haven’t had the chance to judge how good of a servant he’s going to be yet.”
“Aye…that’s what I wanted to talk to ye about,” Pete said, his brown eyes serious. “Look, I know ye felt sorry for the kid but keeping an ungelded lashran around the house isn’t the brightest idea. I know a little bit about them from working with some of the lads that travel to Nandar. Word has it, the males of his kind are randier than a rutting bull. Given his looks, I don’t think your lad would have a lack of female attention, either. Ye don’t want him liftin’ the skirts of every lady ye have over for tea, do ye?”
Coren bit back a chuckle. What would Pete think if he knew it wasn’t only women who found Lythas appealing? “I understand your concern my friend, but I won’t un-man him like that. Remember, if it weren’t for mine and my father’s attitude over such things you’d be missing some parts yourself.”
Pete shuddered. “How could I forget? It’s just a bit of friendly advice, is all. Wanted to let ye know about it before the boy hits his seasonals.”
Coren’s brows drew down in confusion. “Seasonals? What in the hell is that?”
“Well, from what I hear, Lashran lads get a period of boosted vigor two or three times a year, if ye know what I mean. They aren’t the most fruitful lot, so the boys get a little more…um…productive during certain times of the year.” Pete was actually blushing…a rare thing for him.
Coren snorted. “You’re boshing me.”
Pete shook his head, his eyes earnest. “Oh, no! I’d never bluff ye about something like this. Of course I’ve never seen a lashran go into his seasonals, cause they usually geld them when they catch them. I can’t tell ye how bad it is…ye’ll just have to find that out on yer own. I’d just feel bad if ye bought a slave from us that gave ye more trouble than he’s worth, is all.” He snapped his mouth shut and stared past Coren’s shoulder, suddenly.
Following his gaze, the retired pirate turned around to see Lythas at the bottom of the stairs, wearing the black satin robe Charlotte had clad him in. The boy was dead white and trembling and when Coren’s blue eyes met his wide green ones, Lythas covered his groin area with his hands and turned around, running up the stairs as quickly as his legs would carry him.
“Lythas!” Coren hollered but the lad paid no attention to him. Coren scowled at Pete. “You and your big mouth…the lad’s scared witless now!” Pete frowned and lowered his head. His friend was right…the boys’ reactions could only mean he’d overheard him talking about having him neutered.
Coren vaulted up the stairs after Lythas, fearing that he would try to climb out a window to escape and fall to his death in the street. “Lythallendar!” Coren called, remembering the slave’s full name. The boy went into the room he had been resting in and slammed the door behind him, barring the weapons dealer out.
“Open this door Lythallendar! I have no intention of having you cut! Pete was just running his mouth!” Coren put his ear to the door to listen for sounds. It was clear that the boy was leaning his weight against the door, for there was no way he could have locked the door without a key.
“I do not believe you! Humans care not what happens to their slaves!” Came a melodious, strangely accented voice from the other side.
Coren sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. This was the worst start he had ever had with a slave. Perhaps the boy was more trouble than he was worth! This thought put an idea into his head and his icy eyes narrowed, while a grin spread across his mouth.
“Well I suppose we shall have to do this the hard way then, lad. I’ll simply lock this door and have the window watched from outside. I have no use for a rebellious slave so I shall sell you to that fat merchant who was after you from the beginning. From what I hear he has no qualms about neutering his males and I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy having him rutting over you.”
~xox~
On the other side of the door Lythas closed his eyes and shuddered. He knew exactly which man his master was speaking about and the picture that sprung up in his head was a very unpleasant one. Fear and desperation made his breath hitch unevenly and a cold sweat broke out all over his body. Could he trust this imposing man? Given the horror stories that other captives had told him while they were cramped in the stock hold of the boat, Coren was a saint when it came to how he treated his property. Instead of waking up locked in a cold basement with cold chains hampering his limbs, Lythas had found himself clean and warm in a soft bed. Why would his master go through that sort of trouble over him if he meant to be cruel?
“I’m waiting for your answer, lashran. What is it going to be?” Came his master’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.
Lythas rested his forehead on the smooth oaken wood of the door. He had already deduced that attempting to escape through the window would only kill him or break bones…it was simply too high to land safely. Even if he attempted to use the bed sheets as a makeshift rope, it would only reach five feet or six feet down from the window and the house was on a hill. Slowly and uncertainly, Lythas stepped back and turned the doorknob. When the door was opened and his master stood staring at him across the threshold he slowly backed away, licking his lips nervously.
Coren approached him slowly, his blue eyes unreadable. Lythas forced himself to stop backing up and he closed his eyes, bracing himself for a punishing blow to the face. He winced when the man’s fingertips touched his face. “Look at me,” Commanded his master’s deep voice.
Swallowing hard, Lythas obeyed. His lips parted and he could not contain the expression of confused relief on his features when he saw gentle concern in the man’s blue eyes. “I swear you will not be mutilated in any way, Lythas. That isn’t the way I run things around here.” Promised Coren.
Weak with relief and pent-up emotions, the Lashran felt his legs giving out and Coren steadied him with a strong arm and helped him to the bed.
~xox~
“Easy there, lad,” Said Coren as he half-carried the slave to the bed. The lashran’s incredible green eyes filled with tears as he regarded him and the weapons dealer felt a pull at his heartstrings. He knew from listening to Charlotte how frightening and miserable it must be to have one’s freedom ripped from them and to find oneself on an auction block in a strange land.
“Why are you not punishing me?” Questioned Lythas warily.
Coren impulsively stroked the lad’s soft raven hair, which was actually curlier than it was wavy, now that it was clean. “You reacted out of fear and in the end, you did obey me,” He explained. “I do not punish my servants for having emotion.” His gaze became stern as he continued, “However, if in the future you purposely disobey me, backtalk me, or do a chore badly on purpose, I will strap you. You must understand that while I am lenient I expect you to do as you are told. Is that clear?”
Wide-eyed, Lythas nodded and chewed his bottom lip. Coren fought off a grin. The lad really was too appealing for his own good and the expressions his face went through were endearing. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Well, now that we’re acquainted, what say we get some good food into you? If I know ship food, your last meal was probably hardtack or gruel and you could use something nourishing.”
The lad blushed as his stomach growled and he smiled bashfully at his master when the man chuckled. “That would be most appreciated, Master.” He whispered.
“Come along then,” said Coren, and he got up and began to walk out the door. Lythas’ soft footfalls told him the lad was following. He sighed to himself, wondering what he was going to do about the strange, powerful attraction he felt for the boy. It was all he could do not to kiss him when he had blushed as prettily as a lass. None of his emotions showed on his features as he guided the boy to the kitchen. Part of him was thankful that Pete had left while he was upstairs dealing with Lythas. The last thing the young man needed was to run into the person who had suggested that he be neutered.
~xox~
The first order of business Coren dealt with was having both Maggie and Lythas fitted for collars. Most Pirates branded their slaves but he found the practice barbaric and settled instead for smooth collars engraved with his insignia. Once this was done he took them to a tailor and had them both fitted for a new wardrobe.
He almost laughed at Lythas’ wide-eyed wonder as they went through the city doing their shopping. The lad had arrived at nighttime and had been too frightened and weary to pay attention to his surroundings. Tariff was literally a canal city. Though there were wooden streets one had to use a skiff to travel from one end of the city to another. The buildings were all constructed cottage-style, lending the place a deceptively tranquil and homey quality. Those that knew no better soon discovered what the city was truly like once night fell. Only Pirates and smugglers were safe on the streets in Tariff.
The weapons dealer checked on his shop to make certain nobody had broken in; though very few would be foolish enough to try, given his reputation. Finding all to be intact, he took his servants back to his house and instructed them to put their new clothing away and clean the house. Once this was established he left to visit the trader’s market and from there, the Sea Fury tavern.
Coren needed a lass tonight. Far too often, he had found himself staring at Lythas and the thoughts that had gone through his head were both inappropriate and disturbing. He had begun to teach the lad to read and write but found his presence so distracting that he ended up giving the assignment to Maggie.
Deciding that a romp with a woman would clear up the strange thoughts going through his mind over his lashran slave, he brought a pretty tavern wench home that night. His annoyance was complete when he found himself imagining that it was Lythas writhing beneath him, instead of the pretty blond he had brought home. He finally gave into his imagination and the sex was disturbingly better as a result.
As he was leading Linda to the door to escort her home, he was surprised to find Lythas awake and in the lounge room. Coren stopped, putting his hand on the girl’s arm to stop her as well.
Lythas looked up from the parchment he was writing on and his sensitive lips parted. “Hello, Master,” He said softly, running his fingers through his hair. His face flushed lightly, for he was supposed to be in bed at this hour.
“Lythas, why are you down here? It is two in the morning and the rules are that you stay in your chambers after ten at night.” Coren’s blue eyes were narrowed and he unconsciously clenched his jaw. He had just spent the night trying to get over his attraction to the little fool! The last thing he needed was this.
Lythas swallowed, his green eyes large in the light of the chandelier. He was frightened. Good.
“Oooh, your slave is a pretty boy,” cooed Linda, beginning to cross the room to Lythas. She made and exclamation of surprise when Coren gripped her arm, halting her steps.
“I’ll get a ferry for you. Neither of you move,” the weapons dealer said, glaring at both of them in turn. He went outside without waiting to see if they obeyed. Very few people disobeyed a direct order from him when he was in this mood.
Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long for a ferryman to paddle down the canal of his street. “Alright, Linda. Your ferry is here. I’ve paid him extra to see you to the door of your house.” He said once he was inside. She pouted and placed a delicate hand on his chest.
“What about you?” She asked, “I thought you were going to escort me home?”
Coren gently but firmly lead her to the door. “That was my intention but one cannot let his slaves disobey without punishment. Forgive me.” He kissed her hand and saw her out the door.
Once she was gone, he sighed and locked the door then turned to Lythas. The lad shrank away as he approached. Coren was a muscular, tall man-as imposing as he was attractive. His hair was free of its ponytail, falling in golden ripples to his shoulders. His blue eyes were unreadable as he spoke. “What were you doing that was so important that you had to disobey my rules and risk a strapping?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.
Lythas swallowed and Coren’s cool eyes rested on his pale throat. Wordlessly, the slave pointed to the parchment on the lounge room table. Coren walked to the table, expecting to find that the lad had been working on his alphabet. What he found instead made him catch his breath. It was a nearly completed portrait of Coren. Lythas had drawn him flawlessly, right down to the small scar over his right eyebrow.
His gaze snapped back to Lythas, surprise evident on his chiseled features. “Why did you draw this?” He said softly.
Lythas lowered his gaze. “I…noticed that you have portraits of your family line hanging in the house, but none of yourself. I thought that it would be nice to show you my appreciation for buying the wardrobe and teaching me to read and write.” The lad blushed hotly and dared to raise his strange, beautiful emerald gaze. “The lighting in my quarters was not strong enough and I wanted to surprise you. I thought you would be asleep. Forgive me for angering you, Master.”
With that said Lythas knelt gracefully, bowing to Coren with the youthful beauty of a sage at a King’s court. Coren worked his mouth, flabbergasted. What in bullocks was he to do now? The lad had disobeyed him but only with the intention of giving him a gift.
Sighing, Coren placed a hand on Lythas’ head and stroked his soft raven curls. “Well my lad…I’ve never run into this sort of situation before. This drawing is…wonderful.” He swallowed as the green eyes looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “I did not know you were a talented artist.” He held his hand out palm up and Lythas hesitantly took it and rose from the floor. “I must punish you for your disobedience, whatever the reason for it was.” He grimaced as the lad’s lower lip poked out, giving him an endearing, petulant look.
“Yes, Master,” Lythas said softly, “I understand.”
The weapons dealer suddenly wanted to kiss that pouting mouth and crush the lashran’s sweet lithe frame against him. He shook his head to banish the image and stepped back. “Remove your pajamas and lie down on the couch,” Coren ordered. He tried not to let those lovely eyes of Lythas’ weaken him. The lashran silently did as he was told and Coren attempted to watch dispassionately. It was useless. Looking again at Lythas’ body, Coren amended that he would have to stop calling him a boy. He was a young man, slim and beautiful. Coren unbuckled his belt and approached.
Gods, how was it possible for anyone to have such smooth flawless skin? The retired pirate stared at the curve of the lashran’s back and shoulders, scanning down to the round firmness of his pale buttocks. Coren was thankful that he had recently been given sexual release or he might have ended up worshipping the lad with his hands and mouth, rather than strapping him. He drew the belt back and Lythas tensed up in anticipation.
The lashran winced as the belt was brought down onto his back, then onto his bottom. Again and again Coren struck him, and Lythas moaned and cried out. Coren was careful to work the belt evenly up and down the slave’s back, buttocks and thighs, striping his body meticulously. His slave began to shiver and arch his back and he sucked in great gulps of air and curled his hands into fists.
Worried that he was causing more pain than was necessary, Coren stopped the lashing sooner than he had originally planned. Coren knelt beside the couch and brushed aside the sweat-dampened hair to gaze at Lythas’ face.
“I am sorry,” Lythas said quietly, daring to turn his head and look at him.
Coren took a deep breath and wrenched his eyes away from Lythas’ nudity, struggling with guilt as he saw the welts rising on the creamy flesh. He had been careful not to break the skin and Lythas would only suffer mild bruising from the experience, but he still felt like an ogre. “I didn’t enjoy doing that, Lythallendar.”
Coren cleared his throat and picked up the lad’s pajamas, trying not to stare at him. “It will sting for a few days,” he said in reference to the stripes.
Lythas nodded, grimacing as he stood up to put his pajamas back on. Coren gave him a firm stare. “Now, are you going to be more careful and obey the curfew I gave you?” The lad bit his lip and nodded. Coren stood up and ruffled his hair. “Good lad. Now get to bed.” Lythas stiffly and made his way to the staircase.
“Oh, and Lythas…”
The slave turned around slowly, concern written on his features.
“I’m pleased with the portrait. Perhaps I can persuade you to try map making for my shop.”
Lythas smiled slightly. “I can try, Master.”
~xox~
As the days went by, Coren discovered that Lythas was an astonishing learner. He had intended to buy a slave with smithing skills at the end of the week but he changed his mind. Lythas watched him create a couple of basic throwing knives and timidly asked if he could try to make one. Amused, Coren stepped back and allowed the slave to try his hand at it. His amusement swiftly became amazement as the lashran worked. When Lythas finished, he lifted the red-hot knife carefully with the tongs and set it in the water. Steam rolled out and Coren gave a low whistle as he inspected the craftsmanship. “Lythas, I believe you are going to work out just fine.” Though a bit too light it was an amazing feat for someone who had never done it before.
Lythas smiled proudly, his fair features flushed from exertion and glowing with perspiration. Coren found himself staring at him. This time he couldn’t pull his gaze away, as he had managed to do so many other times. Ye gods, the lad was too bloody appealing! The weapons dealer took a step forward before he realized what he was doing and damned near pulled Lythas into his arms.
A knock at the shop door broke the tide of lust surging through Coren’s body. He bit back a curse. The way Lythas had his lips parted and moist, the hazy drugged look in his half-lidded eyes and the quickened rhythm of his breathing hinted that he had felt the same thing Coren did.
“Stop the bloody banging! I’m coming!” Coren shouted as the knocking became more violent and insistent. “Stay here,” He said to Lythas. He almost did a double take. He could have sworn the expression on the lashran’s face was one of acute disappointment.
Practically charging down the stairs to the main part of his shop, Coren cursed himself for a fool. Of course the lad was willing! He knew beyond a doubt that Lythas was a virgin. He had confessed as much to him yesterday when Coren had pointed out a comely lass on the street and said something quite lewd. The lashran was new to desire and was probably only responding to Coren’s own lecherous responses. He probably felt an obligation to respond even if it was only for show.
Coren quickly banished his thoughts as he opened the door. There stood Jack, who was sometimes called “Three shot Jack” because of his intolerance to alcohol. He had a bad habit of challenging people to shot-drinking contests, believing he could win. This often resulted in him losing horribly and passing out after three shots.
“Took you long enough,” The big man grumbled, letting himself in.
“I was upstairs teaching my new slave how to make throwing knives,” Coren replied. “What brings you here so early? The shop doesn’t open for another hour.”
Jack’s wide mouth turned down at the corners. “There’s been talk, lad. I came to warn you. Bolringer is getting antsy about your business. Says you’re stealing his profits. I guess he expected he’d make a killing in this town with his imports but he ain’t taking it so well that you’re still getting most of the clientele. I heard him talking about hiring some lads to come give you a ‘scare’ last night in the Jade Tiger.”
Jack’s black eyes were twinkling as if he himself found the whole thing extremely amusing. “’Course, I told him he’d be better off making nice with you. Let him know about your reputation in this town. He just told me to bugger off. Said you cheated him out of enough already. Said you bought something he was after first.”
Coren knew exactly what that “something” was. He was filled with disgust at the fat merchant, knowing full well what he had wanted with Lythas. He smiled coldly. “It’s hardly my fault that the man didn’t bring enough money with him to outbid me at the market. Let his boys come. Don’t let on to anyone that I know about this.” He reached into his money pouch to draw some gold out, payment to show he appreciated Jack’s warning.
The bear of a man clamped a meaty hand on Coren’s wrist and shook his head. “Naw…keep your coins. You’ve done plenty for my crew in the past and I’ll never forget you backing up “The Harpy” when that bloody patrol galleon put us in a fix.”
He was referring to the time his own pirate ship had gotten caught by a larger, more powerful galleon…one of the King’s coastal patrols. Coren saw the cannon fire from a distance. His ship, “The Falcon Wing” just happened to be passing by on its way to Toria and discovered his associate in a fix. The Falcon promptly began firing on the galleon and they won the fight and split the spoils. He probably saved Jack and his entire crew from an early watery grave.
“Very well old bear…but I insist you take a discount on your next purchase of supplies from me. This confrontation is going to be far too much fun for me not to reward you for your warning.”
Jack grinned. “I heard you’ve got yourself a map maker. I wouldn’t mind a few fresh ones drawn up. The ones I’ve got are getting downright impossible to read.”
Coren nodded. “As good as done! Just bring the maps you’d like drawn up by and I’ll set him to it immediately.”
He noticed that Jack was staring past his shoulder at the stairs behind him and he turned around. Lythas was slowly coming down the stairs and he seemed unsure of whether he was allowed to or not. “Come over here, lad. I’d like you to meet your newest customer.” Coren said with a beckoning gesture.
Lythas relaxed visibly, a slight smile forming on his delicate lips. He smoothly crossed the room and bowed before Jack’s mountainous frame. “Hello, Sir. What can I do for you?”
Jack tugged his gray-streaked wiry beard and flicked a glance to Coren. “Ah, so this is your new slave, eh? No wonder Fatty was so pissed.” He held his hand out to the lad and Lythas placed his own slender hand in it uncertainly. He winced as the pirate squeezed it firmly and shook it. “Nice to meet you, boy. I was just telling your master here that I need some of my old maps redrawn. You’ve got an artist’s hands, that’s for certain.” He examined the young man’s soft palms for a moment before freeing his hand. “Think you can do that for me?”
Lythas nodded emphatically. “Most certainly, Sir. Drawing is my favorite pastime.”
Jack frowned and pulled Coren to the side. “You’d better keep a sharp eye out on your lad there, Coren. Fatty’s tastes run to pretty boys. I didn’t understand why he was so upset about you outbidding him at first but now I see what his problem is. He’s a bit obsessed, if you take my meaning. Better keep your little artist on a short leash, for his own protection.”
Lythas tilted his head to the side and bit his bottom lip. His green eyes were watching the two men in innocent curiosity. Coren sighed. “I know, Jack. That’s why I out-bidded the tub o’ lard in the first place. I’ve seen what eventually happens to young men like Lythas when someone like Fatty gets their greedy paws on them. He’s not exactly a blacksmith but he’s got other talents to make up for it and he’s a fast learner.”
“That’s good to hear, lad. Now, what sort of launchers do you have in? I’m looking for something compact that can fire grappling hooks.”
“Damn…you caught me on a bad day, I’m afraid. I’m expecting a shipment of those to come in at the end of the week. I do have some newly designed hooks, however. Want to take a look at them?”
“Aye…that’ll do for now. Let’s see what you have.” Jack said.
Coren lead his friend over to a table against the left wall, where some wicked looking barbed grappling hooks of all sizes were laid out. Lythas followed in interest and gulped. “Master…what do people use those for? Catching sharks?” His eyes were wide.
Coren and Jack shared a look and then burst into laughter. Lythas blushed and smiled shyly, though he had no idea what he had said that was so funny. Coren wiped his eyes and composed himself, though he couldn’t relax his smile as he drew the lashran close to show him a better view of the devices.
“No, Lythas…these are used for attaching ropes to things from a distance. Like high walls, windowsills, tree limbs and such. You see this hole in the end of it?” He picked up one of them and held it before the slave’s startled face. Lythas nodded and he continued, “The rope is threaded through there and knotted and you throw the hook at whatever you mean to climb or pull down. I’ve added the barbs to prevent slipping and it gives those who try to remove the hooks a nasty surprise as well.” He grinned sharply and Lythas gulped.
For all his patience and well-spoken elegance, his master was a dangerous man. Still, something happened to Lythas every time Coren looked at him…especially when he smiled. The lashran felt so small and helpless in this frightening new life he had been forced into and Coren was so strong and sure. He felt completely drawn to the man, though a part of him wondered if his feelings were a good thing. He thought that women were pretty, certainly…but they didn’t make his stomach fill with butterflies the way his master did. How was he to fit into this new world when he couldn’t share the desires of human men?
Noticing that Coren was still looking at him, Lythas tried to keep his face straight and attentive. He gingerly reached out to touch the tip of the grappling hook and he gasped and pulled his finger away. A bright drop of blood grew on his index finger where the sharp point pricked him.
“Ah, hells,” Coren swore, dropping the hook on the table. He took the slave’s hand in his and applied pressure to the finger, making him wince. “Let that be a lesson to you. Always use caution with the items in this shop.”
Jack chuckled. “Here I was worried that the lad might take up one of the weapons in here and try to use it against you to escape. He’s as green as a lass.”
Coren frowned at the statement as he released Lythas’ finger. Jack had a point. He wasn’t at all worried about the lashran turning on him; he was certain the boy knew he was as well off as he could be in his situation. It was the fact that Lythas obviously had no weaponry skills whatsoever that bothered him. In this town even a slave should know at least a little about self defense.
He gave him a measuring look. With his slim frame and grace, a rapier would be most suited to him. Muskets were too dangerous…the kick would likely toss Lythas to the floor. The lashran stared back at him with dismayed emerald eyes and he placed the tip of his finger to his lips and sucked on it to ease the sting. Coren suddenly found his eyes glued to the shapely lips that pulled at the finger and he wondered what it would feel like if he were to replace Lythas’ digit with his own.
“Coren? Did you hear what I said, lad?” Questioned Jack. The weapons dealer shifted startled pale eyes to his friend and the pirate rolled his eyes. “If you’d listened, you would have heard me say that the boy should get up the stairs. I just saw some of Fatty’s men out the window. They’re heading this way.”
Coren leaned over to peer around Jack’s girth. There were ten men, all wearing black clothing and masks, heading straight for his shop. He grinned and then chuckled. “What do they think they are, cat-burglars? I don’t know whether to laugh myself sick or be insulted!” Jack joined his laughter.
Coren turned to Lythas. “Get up the stairs and stay hidden, lad. This could get a bit rough and you’ll only be in the way if you’re down here.” He ignored the hurt look the slave gave him and slapped him smartly on the back. Without argument, Lythas did as he was told. “You don’t have to get involved in this, Jack.” The weapons dealer said to his friend.
Jack nodded. “I know but I could never pass up a good fight and I can’t risk losing the best dealer in Tariff. Let’s have some fun!”
~xox~
-To be continued.