A day bent over a desk, pouring over maps and letters and papers, made Sergei's body ache more than any day out on the field.
Sergei pushed himself away from his desk to stretch his aching limbs and work out the crick in his neck. More to the point, seeing Rolance's plans for war, laid out in cold, detached ink, was simply so taxing. It made one long for the days of patrol duty as a new recruit; roaming the streets of Pendrago, cooking under the hot sun in his armor, boiling and sweating and bored senseless, but flush with hope and determination to right the world's wrongs. He had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his brothers-in-arms (and with his brother), looking out at a world that cried out for aid, and knew that together, they would be able to make a difference.
And what a difference they'd made. Serving as foot soldiers in a fruitless war, slaying each other on the command of politicians who cared not one whit for their struggles, for their hopes and their dreams. Serving under figures who had grown so corrupt from their sins that their human forms had decayed with them. So many young lives lost. So many comrades fallen, and – and for what purpose—
Sergei rubbed a hand tiredly against his chin. He quite badly needed a trim; his beard went from distinguished to disheveled so quickly. On top of a trim, a bath sounded heavenly, but before all of that…Sergei had enough presence of mind left to inch over the papers on his desk before he laid his head down. A brief rest would be good, as well.
"Back! Back, I say! Repent for your wickedness and sin no more!"
Shepherd Sorey was a paragon of radiance and purity, and stood unflinching against the slavering hordes that attempted to block his path. His path to saving Sergei. Who had lost his shirt at some point? A hellion shrieked as Shepherd Sorey cast it away, but it also took his shirt with it, but not his shepherd's cloak, because Sergei was a man with a fetish.
The rising sun broke the horizon and set Shepherd Sorey's dignified profile ablaze. Birds appeared and perched upon him, and began to sing hymns to ancient shepherds past. Other species of animals began to crowd around him as testament to his purity and gentleness. He smiled down at Sergei, and his seraph companions sang out a single, long note that shattered Sergei's chains because he was tied up. In his dreams, Sergei could behold the seraphim, and they appeared to him as a whorl of countless wings; constantly churning, radiant with holy power. Unearthly beauty that flanked one more earthly, but was no less beautiful.
Between the birds and the forest creatures and the seraphim things were starting to get a little crowded. A pelican landed on Sergei's head, honked, and spat a fish into his lap.
"My comrades," Shepherd Sorey murmured. "Go forth and spread your blessings upon the land while I tend to this brave knight's wounds."
The seraphim let out a series of musical chimes, and seemed to travel with the sunlight itself as they went off. The forest creatures stampeded forth in a chittering, squawking chorus. The pelican fetched its fish from Sergei's lap and aimlessly waddled off to do its good work. And then, it was just Sergei and the Shepherd – Sergei, clad in nothing but plain white trousers, which maybe were torn a little bit from his previous battle. Shepherd Sorey made a concerned noise as his fingers brushed across a cut that skimmed Sergei's hipbone, and Sergei felt close to holy ecstasy from the sainted touch.
"My power is magnified by skin to skin contact," Shepherd Sorey said. He dropped his trousers to the soft grass, and settled in Sergei's lap, gloriously bare – except for the cloak. The cloak was still on. "May I have the honor of tending to you, brave sir knight?"
Sergei startled awake with a loud snort, and felt equal measures disappointment and relief to find himself alone in his office.
Like all children, Sergei had read tales of the Shepherd in his youth. He had devoured books and plays chronicling past Shepherds' bravery and chivalry; their championing of the weak and their resolve to right the injustices of the world. It had inspired him to do the same – it still inspired him, even after years of service, even after years of following dubious orders and marching in pointless wars. As a boy he'd daydreamed of saving the day with the ancient Shepherds, daydreamed of them accepting him as their equals...daydreamed quite often of Shepherds with tousled hair and roguish grins.
When he first encountered Shepherd Sorey, it seemed too good to be true. He seemed too good to be true, too good and upright and compassionate to exist in the world they lived in. Sergei had scarcely believed that such a person could exist, much less that Sergei would be fortunate enough to see the return of the Shepherd after centuries without. Sergei had never been so pleased to be proven so thoroughly wrong.
Sergei sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was all well and good to lift his spirits by daydreaming of the blessed Shepherd, but there was work to be done, while there was still some daylight to do it in. Sergei stretched both arms across his chest, and settled back in to work –
A knock came upon his open door, and Sergei looked up to see a knight standing there.
"Captain. The Shepherd has come calling, and is asking after you."
Sergei's eyes widened, and his hand came up to rub at his beard again. Heavens above, why didn't he trim it earlier? It would be dreadfully improper to keep the Shepherd waiting while he primped and preened, but more improper to present himself looking such a mess. Sergei felt caught between two intolerable outcomes, and called upon all his skills as a soldier and strategist to come to a decision.
"…yes. Yes, I'll be down with you."
Shepherd Sorey had come calling. He had come calling, and asked after Sergei, specifically. This was already an honor inconceivable, and would have kept Sergei standing tall through countless battles in itself.
But now Shepherd Sorey was in his private chambers, on his bed, devouring every book in Sergei's humble library with terrific speed. Sergei sat ramrod straight across from Sorey in an uncomfortable chair, and tried his best to banish the inappropriate thoughts that galloped through his mind.
"…and the Era of Asgard is obviously my number one favorite, but the Conciliation era is definitely up there as a runner up, and I don't think I've ever met anyone who's had such a great collection on it! The architecture style of the era is still really evident in the cities we've visited that were built then, and ruins from the time are still in great shape – what the style lacks in flash, it makes up for in functionality, right?"
"Ghnk," Sergei said.
Sorey blinked at him, and, his face a picture of concern, he stood and walked to where Sergei sat. Before Sergei could properly parse the situation, Shepherd Sorey's warm, calloused hand came up to rest on his forehead. The beads of his glove gently clinked with the motion, and the feathers brushed at his cheek. Sergei felt ready to drop completely dead on the floor at any moment.
"Are you feeling okay? I can leave if you need to rest." Sorey asked softly. He gave Sergei a crooked smile. "I've been informed I'm kind of a chatterbox when it comes to this stuff, so you can tell me to knock it off."
Sergei had had too much to drink in the mess hall. Or perhaps he had too little sleep. Or perhaps the stink of the dirty work he was expected to carry out was finally rotting through to his soul. The Shepherd, Blessed and Holy, True Be His Name, was a married man, and here Sergei sat, transfixed by his emerald eyes in the dim candlelight. His skin burned at Sorey's touch – perhaps this was the feeling of the Shepherd's Flame, the purification that he seemed to so desperately need.
Sorey grinned again, and moved behind Sergei.
"I know what always helps me when I've spent all day hunched over a book."
The Shepherd's nimble, skillful hands began to work the kinks from his neck and shoulders. Sergei could scarcely stand this any longer. He flew to his feet, then immediately fell to his knees before the Shepherd; hand to his heart, pleading his boundless forgiveness would pardon the feelings that thudded through his body and mind.
"My lord Shepherd Sorey," he began. "This wretched excuse for a knight must beg your mercy for the thoughts he is having due to your – your proximity to his general…generalness-"
Sorey slowly tilted his head to one side. Sergei took this as a sign to bow lower, and pressed his forehead to the cold stone of the tower floor. He heard Sorey make a distressed noise, and then Sorey was helping him back up into his chair.
"C'mon, don't – you're not wretched or anything, and what do you need to apologize to me for? I wanna help you relax."
Seated again, Sergei stared blankly at Sorey as Sorey kneeled between his knees. He smiled up at him, emerald green eyes bright and gentle.
"This also helps me when I've spent all day hunched over a book," Sorey murmured as he crept a hand up Sergei's thigh.
It was a little strange, touching someone other than Mikleo like this. Sorey readjusted his grip around Sergei's cock, and continued to stroke it as Sergei panted above him as if he was about to hyperventilate. Strange, but not unpleasant – definitely not unpleasant, Sorey thought as he stared at Sergei's enormous dick. He could feel his mouth begin to water at the sight.
Ever since their journey started, Mikleo had gotten it in his head that Sorey was "missing out" on something – that he needed to try sex with his own kind, with another human. Sex with Mikleo was already incredible, so Sorey didn't know what exactly he was "missing out" on, but he agreed to give it a shot to ease Mikleo's mind. Mikleo had informed him that Sergei was interested in him, which was news to Sorey, but made things easier. He'd prefer to try this kind of experiment with someone he knew and liked, after all.
In addition to being someone Sorey knew and liked, as luck would have it, Sergei was also someone Sorey found pretty darn attractive. He was just such a huge change from what Sorey was used to – emphasis on the word huge, jeez. Mikleo was so slim and delicate, with silky smooth skin and soft, small hands. Sergei loomed over him in the chair as Sorey worked his cock, one big, rough hand clutching at Sorey's hair, and Sorey felt so wonderfully small. Sorey was used to being big and clumsy and lumbering – though he was apparently a pretty small and sickly child by human standards, ever since he hit puberty, he'd come to dwarf the other Elysians in height and build. It was nice most of the time – being able to scoop up Mikleo and hold him close while he squirmed was a cherished pastime, as was ogling Mikleo when he was wearing Sorey's shirts and nothing else. But when he was around Sergei, he was the one getting dwarfed. Sorey felt a little thrill down his spine.
He bet Sergei could throw him onto that bed and hold him down, and he bet his big cock would feel so good inside of him. He bet it would nearly split him in two. Sorey could hardly wait.
Sorey groaned and leaned in to run his tongue across the head of Sergei's cock, never breaking eye contact with him. Sergei cried out so loudly that the shields mounted on the stone walls rattled, and his big hand tightened in Sorey's hair. Sorey's eyes slid shut in bliss, and he let out a moan himself as he tried to work the rest of Sergei's cock into his mouth. It strained his jaw and nearly made him choke when it bumped the back of his throat. Sorey leaned in to take him even deeper; his hand coming up to squeeze at his own cock to soothe the need burning in his veins.
Sergei was babbling senselessly as Sorey worked, babbling about forgiveness and purity and something about a pelican? Sorey wasn't really paying attention, honestly. The words about how good Sorey's mouth felt, how good it all was – Sorey paid attention to that, though, and the praise made his cheeks flush with happiness and his hand tighten at his cock. He wanted to keep sucking on the huge cock stretching his lips, keep feeling Sergei's cock thrusting desperately into his mouth, and to taste his cum exploding hot across his tongue. But, he also didn't really know Sergei's stamina as well as he did Mikleo's – so while Mikleo was usually up for another round after fucking his face, Sorey had no idea if Sergei would be down for the count after pulling the trigger once. Somewhat mournfully, Sorey pulled off Sergei's cock with a lewd slurp, and pressed one more wet kiss to the tip before he clambered to his feet and flopped back down into the bed. He squirmed around a bit to get comfortable, and then glanced over at Sergei, giving him a hopeful little smile.
He only had to wait maybe half a second before Sergei was looming over him again, so big and so wonderfully there as he stripped Sorey out of his clothes with a desperation that edged on frantic.
"My lord shepherd, this humble servant is at your disposal," Sergei babbled as clothes flew through the air. "I am but a man and cannot resist my base lusts-"
Sorey rolled his eyes, giving a little huff of annoyance. He really didn't get why most humans got so bent out of shape about sexuality. Maybe it was because he and Mikleo had been experimenting before they understood what experimenting was, or maybe it was just because Sorey was weird – and he always knew he was weird. He rolled onto his stomach to offer his ass to Sergei to shut him up.
Sergei stammered to a stop, paused for a long moment, and then dove in with a muffled cry as he bit down on the back of Sorey's thigh. Sorey moaned aloud, then louder as he felt Sergei's tongue flick out and roam upward.
Oh, wow. Even as the feeling of Sergei's tongue dipping in and out of him set his nerves alright, Sorey could barely suppress the giggle that tore from his throat at the tickle of his beard against the sensitive skin of his thighs. Sergei's hands grabbed at his hips, his ass, his thighs and calves, and then – then Sorey heard the soft pop of a bottle being opened, and oh wow those were definitely his fingers in his ass, working him open alongside Sergei's wiggling tongue. If just two of his fingers were big enough to get Sorey teetering on the edge like this, Sorey could hardly imagine how he could possibly manage to fit that big cock inside of him without coming in a matter of seconds.
Then Sergei's fingers were gone, and Sorey barely had time to mourn the loss before he felt his cock rubbing against the seam of his ass. Sorey felt ready to come just from the feeling of it grinding against him, but he needed more – and thankfully, Sergei seemed pretty eager to give it to him. The tip of his cock rubbed against Sorey's hole once, twice, before Sergei pushed in entirely, moaning high and desperate as Sorey's body took him in.
Sergei's cock felt even bigger than it looked, and that was saying something. Sorey choked on his own breath with every thrust and poke of Sergei's cock inside of him – every thrust seemed to hit a new sensitive spot inside of him (with a cock this size, it would've been harder to miss, he supposed). That was amazing enough – but what really was driving Sorey insane was the spill of words out of Sergei's mouth as he worked Sorey hard and fast.
So good, my lord, sweet Shepherd, incredible. About how it was so much more than he dreamed, about how amazing he felt inside. Sorey could barely help the little bubble of happiness inside him at the stream of praise, and his hand came down to work at his cock in time with Sergei's feverish pace.
In no time, Sorey felt his orgasm crash into him, and he made sure to clench down on Sergei hard. Sorey bit his lip mischievously at the sound Sergei made, and rode out the feeling as Sergei pounded him into the mattress; rhythm-less and desperate. Sergei let out another long moan that was loud enough to rattle his armor where it hung on its stand, and, after a moment, pulled out of Sorey carefully.
Sorey shuddered at the feeling of the cum drooling out of him, and gave a weak little groan as he felt Sergei trace the path of it down his thigh with his tongue. He'd definitely have to tell Mikleo everything about this once he was dressed.
"It was great seeing you," Sorey said, earnestly. "We should meet up again!"
Sergei bowed deeply. His cheeks were still red as cherries.
"O-of course. The Shepherd and his friends are always welcome in our humble quarters."
Sorey blinked, and turned to his side slightly as if listening to someone invisible speaking to him. He grinned and winked at Sergei, and leaned in to take his hand to press a kiss to the knuckles. While so deliciously distracted by this lovely sight, Sergei felt a sharp slap to his ass. He yelped, spinning in place to find the culprit – only to find nothing but empty air.
"We'll see you again sometime," Sorey said cheerfully, waving as he bounded down the cobblestones to the city streets.