Title: Blood Pact
Rating: M. NSFW.
Word Count: 1019 words.
PC: None.
Pairing: Niall/Jowan
Content Notes: Explicit sexual content.
Spoilers: Mage Origins.
Summary: A mage and an apprentice begin as teacher and student, evolve into something so much more, and just as suddenly drift apart. Jealousy is an ugly beast, however, and something as innocent as concern is quickly warped into a twisted obsession. Trapped in the tower, with no where to run, one of the two must yield.

[[ ... Prologue ... ]]

"I do not understand why we should subject ourselves to this-this... barbarism. We could simply leave. Templars are not necessary to keep us in line. If we isolate ourselves-"

"And do what? Live as animals in the wilds? Will you keep home in a filthy cave then, lit by your magic to keep you warm?" The senior enchanter laughed, the mockery in his voice clear. "You could no more live there than you could overpower a templar. We need the society around ourselves to keep us from drifting-"

"Gentlemen," the voice that broke in was calm, perhaps even slightly amused. "Niall," the newcomer murmured, looking down quickly as both mages turned to face him, "I needed you to look over my proposal. You said you would before I turned it in."

"Of course." The Isolationist looked back to meet the older mage's gaze easily. "You must excuse me, senior enchanter...I have matters to attend to."

"By all means." Derision still laced the voice.

The mage brushed past him, grabbing his apprentice's elbow on the way out to drag him out of the suddenly oppressive library. Living in such close quarters, with no place to escape to, forced civility was a necessity. If mages would simply grow a backbone and leave, the tower wouldn't be required at all. However, as he was rapidly learning, convincing anyone that change could be a good thing was fighting a losing battle.

His grip on his companion relaxed as he slowed his walk. Getting out of the room was doing him some sort of good, because he could at least breath more easily now. "Thank you," he said softly, not looking at the apprentice trailing behind him. There was no proposal for him to look at; it was simply a predetermined phrase used to extract the Isolationist when he got in over his head arguing his policies and beliefs with the senior enchanters. It happened frequently, and after getting into trouble for coming to blows with someone, the younger man had come up with the idea.

It was something that they were both thankful for.

Upon reaching a quiet room, Niall pushed the younger man into it, taking care to shut the door as he followed him in. Nearly breathless with anticipation, he pulled his partner close, his fingers burying themselves into dark hair. Something about the arguments made the two of them ridiculously attracted to each other, sparked an insatiable burn that only touch seemed to assuage. It was destructive, out of hand.

He felt hands on his shoulders, and he pulled back to see grey eyes staring up at him under a thick veil of lashes. His hand lifted to brush the backs of his fingers against the side of the face he had come to associate with lust and all of the heat that was building inside of him. For a heartbeat, the two stared at each other, just feeling the tender moment that wrapped itself around them, that stroked and teased their skin until they positively ached to touch again.

Then breathless whispers fell from those lips, and Niall captured them, drinking in as readily as the younger man gave them. Clothes parted and robes were pushed up, and then he was lifting those pale thighs, his fingers stroking the tender inner flesh. He kept his mouth on the other man's; there could be nothing to attract attention to the two of them. No one knew; no one, with the possible exception of Irving, would know.

Slow, drugging kisses belied the heat and speed beginning to consume both men, and when Niall pulled back, it was only to whisper softly, "Jowan," over the other man's ear. Taking the soft flesh of the lobe into his mouth, he slid his tongue over it before he bit down sharply. Tasted a sharp tang of blood. Jowan squirmed against him, rubbing against him, encouraging him as he gasped at the feel of such harsh treatment. He loved every moment of it.

Before the apprentice could ask again, a vial was in Niall's hands, and then oiled fingers were inside, stroking and teasing and stretching. A shuddering whimper escaped into the room, and they stilled for only a moment to make sure no one had heard. Then something larger than fingers pushed into the younger man.

They stayed like that for a moment, apprentice's knees hooked over mentor's elbows, foreheads pressed against each other, both gasping for breath. Then movement started. What had started as out of control as a wildfire and tempered into something akin to lava flow. Slow and steady with momentous repercussions. Both of them were gasping, whispering nothing to each other, only noises that each of them fed off of.

Niall pressed closer, pressing Jowan against the wall more to help hold off his weight as his own strength began to fade. The closer he got, the more he bit down on moans, and when a noise escaped his partner, he captured that mouth with his own. Heat consumed them both, and with a stifled cry, he exploded, his world shattering into the heat and tightness surrounding him. There was a moment of hesitation as he recovered his sanity.

Then he smoothly lowered those pale legs, dropping to his knees in one smooth motion. He took Jowan into his mouth, finishing him easily, drinking him until nothing was left. Only when they were both recovered did he move away from the apprentice, shooting him a dark look of longing. It was shocking how no matter how many times he took and took, nothing ever seemed to be enough. Grey eyes darted away from his own, and he smiled to himself. Jowan, somehow, managed to be shy after that, and it was part of his charm.

They were wordless as Jowan slipped away first. Sitting in the dark for a moment, Niall drew a deep breath. It was one of the sweetest moments they'd had together. He listened to nothing for a few minutes, and then, once he'd decided enough time had passed, he straightened himself up and slipped out.