Tar'kah rolled his shoulders, luxuriating in the warm caresses of his bathwater. His head lolled back. For a moment he just existed: no need to fight or flee, simply a clear mind and a relaxed body. Frothy bubbles clung to his tusks and coated his unruly blue mane with snowy iridescence. He loved coming to the inns in Silvermoon. The elves understood the meaning of personal hygiene and luxurious bubble baths. He thought wryly of what his fellow trolls would say if they could see him wallowing in a tub of scented soaps, but decided he did not care. He looked forward to when Lyinar would arrive to share his bath with him.

His long ears twitched, vaguely sensing the snick of a lock being picked. Tar'kah thought he had given Lyinar a key to enter the room. A dull twinge of unease prodded his subconscious. I shud get up. Nah, I shudn't. He waited for a moment, but did not hear the dull clump of Lyinar's boots. One red eye snapped open. I shud get up.

The rogue's face would have been comical, Tar'kah observed, if the blasted man hadn't been holding his coin bag in one hand and his favorite axe in the other. Plump, succulent lips were parted with shock. Even the rogue's ears tilted back and down in distress. Tar'kah stared at the young blood elf with one eye, his body frozen in a state of disbelief that this young one would have the audacity to rob him. The rogue seemed to have suffered a similar fate; only his glowing eyes moved, flickering from the troll to the bag of money then back to the troll. Finally his eyes settled on Tar'kah's axe and his gaping mouth snapped shut.

"I'll stab you," he waved the axe in the air, donning a fierce mien. Tar'kah struggled not to burst into derisive laughter as the unknowing elf nearly sliced off his own ear. The troll decided he was clearly in no danger despite being unarmed. He was more worried about what harm the poor rouge would do to himself.

"Yah don't stab wit an axe," he informed the moronically cute creature. "Yah hack wit an axe."

The elf's brows pinched together and he brandished the axe at the troll again. "Then I'll hack you. Don't come near me."

As the initial state of shock wore off, Tar'kah began to wonder why the rogue didn't run with his prize, since the troll was obviously naked and highly unlikely to pursue. The roundness in the elf's pink cheeks and his soft, unmarred skin betrayed his youth. A lack of scars in a rogue could only mean a few things: skill, luck, or inexperience. Tar'kah crossed the first two from the list. The blood elf's shiny black hair spiked all over his head, so different from the long, flowing manes he had seen on many blood elves. The troll tilted his head, a small smirk playing across his lips. Tar'kah could see the perplexed elf pause as he considered his would-have-been prey. Losing his nerve, he stepped towards the door.

The elf's knees buckled. With a sharp gasp he collapsed to the floor, the axe clattering next to him, forgotten. Icy tendrils wound up his body, rooting him in place. Tar'kah's grin broadened as the little elf gazed up at him with accusing eyes and chattering teeth. "Let-let me go!"

"Nah can do, mon," Tar'kah winked at him. "Nah me doin' it, after all. Speakin' of, it's 'bout time yah got here, Nahri. Mah bath is gettin' cold."

"Perhaps another body can warm it up for you," a distinctly elven voice purred from the door. Hopeful green eyes peered up at the newcomer. If the young rogue had expected help from his elven brother, his hopes were soon dashed as the hunter whacked him across the temple with the broad side of his bow. With a low groan, the rogue surrendered to the blissful dark of unconsciousness. Lyinar raised one elegant brow. "Shall I remove him from our room, or were you enjoying your-" he gestured to the disappearing suds that revealed Tar'kah's lean, naked body- "exhibitionism?"

Tar'kah laughed at the disdain on his pretty elf's face. "Dahlin', if yah tink dis is 'ex'bitchonism', jus' wait til he wakes up. Tie him up for naw. I tink he be fun when he wakes up. He's kinda cute."

Lyinar did as he was told, but the tightness of his lips and the stiffness of his motions broadcasted his displeasure. He touched the other elf as little as possible while he lashed him to the bed. Tar'kah observed with a hint of amusement and a strong dose of affection. His precious elf had always carried a jealous streak. He would need to be reassured of his place. He would also need to be reminded of his place. When Lyinar finished, the troll motioned him over to the bathtub.

"Strip," he commanded gently. Bowing his head, Lyinar responded immediately, shrugging off his leather armor with aqualine grace. Tar'kah surveyed his familiar body: the lines on his upper arms where his golden tan ended and turned pale, the shimmering blonde hair that tumbled over his shoulders, and the fine, downy fur that trailed down from his dimpled belly button. There had never been an elf as lovely as his elf. Tar'kah sighed, nuzzling Lyinar's stomach with his hooked nose. "Dere's mah good baby. So beautiful."

Lyinar preened under his attention, but Tar'kah caught the quick glance his lover shot the rogue as he settled into the tub between Tar'kah's lefs. The troll chuckled, pulling Lyinar's back to his chest. The elf gasped softly as he felt Tar'kah's erection pressed against his backside. He tilted his chin so that he was gazing up at his dominant lover. Tar'kah cupped his face in a large hand, lowering his head until his lips barely brushed against the other's. "Yah gonna play nicely wit the little rogue, Nahri. Nah-ah," he scolded when Lyinar tried to wiggle out of his grasp with a disgusted snort. "Ya gonna teach him how to perfect his rogue-ly arts-"

"I'm a hunter, not a rogue."

"-and how nah to get 'imself killed-"

"I don't care if he does."

Tar'kah pinched him hard on the inside of his thigh, causing him to yelp. "-and yah gonna stop in'trupting when I givin' yah orders. Wha on eart' has gotten inta yah?"

If Tar'kah hadn't been holding his lover so closely and safely against him, he would have backed away from the venom in Lyinar's eyes. "I don't want you fucking some other elf, Tar'kah!"

"Hmm," Tar'kah rubbed the calloused pad of his thumb across Lyinar's cheek. "Dere is dat problem. But," he leaned in closer and breathed into Lyinar's lips, "dat's why yah gonna do the hon'ahs fo' me."

Tar'kah crashed his lips against his wide-eyed lover's, taking advantage of Lyinar's shock to run his tongue over the elf's pearly teeth. Soon, Lyinar was kissing him back just as fervently, his arms wrapped around the back of Tar'kah's neck and his hands buried in the stiff blue hair. When they parted, flushed and panting, Lyinar's eyes once more traced over the figure of the rogue tied to their bed, but along with jealousy there was a touch of desire and possessiveness in his gaze. Tar'kah threaded his fingers through Lyinar's honeyed locks, pleased with himself.

Daddy always knew just what his baby needed.