Chapter Four
A content sigh, close to a moan, escaped Zaknafein's lips when Jarlaxle started kissing his chest. It was such a beautiful contrast to what his master at the Academy had done only a few hours ago. Zaknafein was silent for a moment, focusing only on those light, tender caresses, until he realised that he hadn't answered yet.
"Yes ... I do. I would like to keep coming here with you. It's nice ..."
Jarlaxle trembled, pausing. "Do you mean that? I've never had a lover before ... Is it out of friendship, or is it because you also ... want to do things with me?" He stumbled over the shy phrasing, suddenly not wanting to say 'vith', feeling that it sounded too sharp.
Zaknafein looked at him and kissed him softly on the lips. "Both ... if that is what you want," he replied quietly.
Jarlaxle returned the kiss, strongly and passionately. He broke the kiss to pepper Zaknafein's face with more kisses, and worked his way down to his neck.
"We'll show them. They'll regret not treating you better. You, the famous Weapon Master, and me, the famous mercenary. You and I will be an unbeatable combination. It'll be Menzoberranzan eating out of the palms of our hands. Relatively speaking, of course. We're only males. But we'll command respect, finally, when we can control what gets done and what doesn't. You can help me train new mercenaries, and I can supply Houses like yours with temporary soldiers and run errands. It will be..." Jarlaxle kissed him on the lips again. "...perfect."
Zaknafein closed his eyes, allowing himself to dream for a few moments. Yes, it sounded perfect ... And right now he didn't even want to remind himself that it was impossible. He opened his eyes again after a while and whispered in Jarlaxle's ear, "You know, I really liked that bed last time ... Maybe we could continue talking there ..."
"You're in charge," Jarlaxle said, rolling off of him and allowing himself to thunk onto the floor. He jumped up, grinning, as though he'd done some sort of masterful trick. He gestured grandly. "Lead on, o lover."
Zaknafein got up as well, much more slowly and shaking his head at Jarlaxle's antics. He hesitated, however, looking uneasy for several moments until he forced himself to calm down. He just smiled at Jarlaxle - the lascivious smile he had brought to perfection over the last years - before he turned around and walked into the bedroom.
Jarlaxle smiled back, a little puzzled at Zaknafein's expression. Jarlaxle followed him, and asked lightly, laughing, "Why do you have a smile you turn on and off like faerie fire?"
Zaknafein stopped and turned around, staring at Jarlaxle before he looked away. "If you don't like it ..." he mumbled, obviously embarrassed. If Jarlaxle already didn't like that smile, what else might he not like? Zaknafein didn't want to have the mercenary laugh at him.
Jarlaxle stopped smiling. "I didn't mean I didn't ... well ... I am finding out about a lot of worries I have for you. It makes me critical. I know it's unreasonable of me, and we've only been in the same room together twice. I may be overstepping my boundaries. I just didn't know how to ask ... I pry. A lot. It saddens me that someone so young has already manufactured a look that I have no idea what it means. I am a century older than you are, and I have no ability to read that expression of yours. I don't know if I made you uncomfortable, or if you are still in pain, or if you're thinking ..."
Jarlaxle spread his arms hopelessly. "I thought ... maybe ... that I could teach you to have few or no secrets around me. As I said, I pry. Perhaps I should start a spying business."
"I was just smiling ... I thought you would like that," Zaknafein sighed and looked sadly at Jarlaxle. If the things he knew how to do, the things that usually worked now failed him, he felt helpless ... He didn't know what else Jarlaxle would expect him to do.
"You talk too much," he said suddenly, so quiet that it was hardly audible.
Jarlaxle smiled sheepishly. "It's my defence. I didn't mean to pick apart yours ... or insult you. I like to drown people with words because they don't ask me things after that. I like not being asked things. Is it wrong? To want to know everything about you, without revealing anything of myself?"
Then he snapped his fingers. "Do you just want to get on the bed with me and vith?"
Zaknafein hardly hesitated, but simply closed the distance between them and pulled Jarlaxle close. He kissed the older drow passionately - even if Jarlaxle hadn't asked for it, Zaknafein would have kissed him, if only to keep him from talking. Without stopping to kiss him he shoved Jarlaxle towards the bed.
Jarlaxle was so surprised that he stumbled. First he was being kissed, and then shoved. He completely lost his footing.
Zaknafein only ended the kiss to push Jarlaxle on the bed before he kneeled down to take the mercenary's boots off. He pulled his own boots off just as quickly before he joined Jarlaxle on the bed. Zaknafein grinned a bit, more naturally, but also a bit insecurely as if he expected Jarlaxle to laugh again.
Jarlaxle, however, only looked nonplussed that Zaknafein had finally started taking control.
"You're much more handsome when you're not trying to be something you think others want," Jarlaxle said after a moment, realising he was staring at Zaknafein's face.
He gave Zak his own little smile. "I like a forceful person. I need someone to match my own level of energy. I won't have to hold back all the time."
"But I will have to hold back or I would hurt you," Zaknafein whispered. "I don't want that."
He just looked at Jarlaxle for a few moments, before he suddenly straddled him and bent down to kiss his face. The eye-patch bothered him a bit, but Jarlaxle had said that it was off-limits, so Zaknafein did his best to ignore it.
Jarlaxle met him the rest of the way, reaching out and grabbing Zaknafein's arms - not to pull, just to have his hands there.
Zaknafein's fingers quickly moved to Jarlaxle's vest and opened the buttons. His lips moved down to Jarlaxle's throat and then to the now exposed chest. He wasn't particularly tender - he didn't know how to do that - but he didn't hurt Jarlaxle, and he stayed extremely attentive to the mercenary's reactions, always trying to adjust his caresses to what Jarlaxle seemed to want.
Jarlaxle squirmed, unable to help it under those ministrations. They felt good, and he felt heat rising in his cheeks. No one ever touched him with such avid interest before. No one who wasn't malicious.
While Zaknafein's tongue was tracing wet lines on Jarlaxle's abdomen his hands were already moving on to the buttons of the mercenary's breeches. He was undoing them slowly, and he only sat up to slide them off Jarlaxle's hips, discarding them somewhere onto the floor beside the bed. For a few moments he just took his time to look at Jarlaxle, apparently quite fascinated by what he saw.
Jarlaxle was blushing, panting and shaking from Zaknafein's caresses and startlingly embarrassed to be suddenly ... disrobed like this. He could say whatever he wanted, but all of it was bluster to hide the fact that he was really insecure about his body. He'd been told by his family again and again that he was scrawny and weak, and part of it still stuck.
Zaknafein wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of the right words. He did not want to say that Jarlaxle was beautiful - even if it was true - because it reminded him too much of the empty words of the priestesses and masters. Finally, for a lack of better words, he mumbled, "I like your body."
He hoped that Jarlaxle wouldn't misunderstand him - thinking that he only liked his body. He gave Jarlaxle another hesitating look before he resumed his caresses, his lips now getting closer to Jarlaxle's thighs.
Jarlaxle tried to hold his gaze on Zaknafein's eyes and failed miserably, looking away aimlessly at something, anything else. He was so much more comfortable being the one doling out caresses than being the one lying down and taking them.
Jarlaxle was struck by how close to a mirror image this was of last time. He was on his back now, and Zaknafein was ... He almost gasped. Did Zaknafein intend to do that to him?
He wished that he could stop shaking and get up, but he couldn't, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt the fighter's feelings. He just didn't really trust anyone to touch him down there without hurting him. It had been one of his Matron's favourite tricks: to pretend that she was going to pleasure him, and then ... pinch. Jarlaxle swallowed.
Zaknafein supposed that Jarlaxle's shivering was caused by his arousal, so he just continued. He didn't hesitate - he had done this countless times for men he hated, so we should he refuse to do it for someone he actually liked and desired?
He laid strong, but careful fingers around the base of Jarlaxle's erection before he licked it once from the base to the tip. Zaknafein looked up at Jarlaxle for a second before he wrapped his lips around Jarlaxle's erection, fighting down the gag reflex when he took it further into his mouth.
Jarlaxle choked down a cry and bit his lip desperately, breath whistling. He twisted once, and then fought to stay still, even though electric bolts of pure, raw feeling ran through his body.
"I just...I just..."
He had a sudden, horrible vision of Zaknafein biting it off. Then he closed his eyes and really did lie still, not wanting to provoke Zaknafein into making his vision a reality.
Zaknafein didn't reply of course, he just continued to suck and lick, trying to do his best and ignoring for the moment his fears that it might not be good enough for the mercenary. He gradually increased his rhythm, determined not to stop until he had given Jarlaxle release.
A slow whine began in the back of Jarlaxle's throat. He felt his erection pulsing.
"I don't want to climax yet." He was blinking, unfocused, at the ceiling, not realising that he was speaking out loud. He felt as though he couldn't speak. "I haven't done anything to you, yet. Why do you want me over so quickly? I like you."
Zaknafein lifted his head in surprise and licked over his lips. He looked a bit disappointed, as if Jarlaxle had told him that he had failed.
"I don't mind doing this for you," he said quietly. They had the whole night, they were both young ... there was no reason why this should be over just because he finished now what he had just started.
Jarlaxle looked at him, equally surprised. "All right." He meekly settled back down.
Zaknafein seemed reassured and smiled a bit before he resumed his task. He managed to ignore his own hair that was hanging in his face and just focused on what his lips and tongue did, finally swallowing as well as he managed. Breathing heavily he straightened up and looked down at Jarlaxle, his eyes wide.
Jarlaxle shrugged uncomfortably. "What is it?"
Zaknafein looked away and laid down next to him, asking quietly, "Was that all right?"
Jarlaxle flushed. "I...I...never had a good time before." It was hard, being coherent when he was feeling as if he were floating in a sea of warm towels. "M-Matron, she always used to hurt me down there. She'd get me wanting her and then stick needles in me, or pinch it."
He laboured to sit up. "To tell the truth, I never let anyone touch me there since."
Zaknafein grimaced at those words - his experiences with priestesses were less numerous than Jarlaxle's, but he knew how cruel some females could be. He gave Jarlaxle a surprisingly sad look and softly stroked his cheek. Jarlaxle instinctively flinched before he could stop himself. Zaknafein sighed and drew back.
"I would never do that," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "I may be brutal sometimes, but I wouldn't do something like that."
Especially not to you, he added in his thoughts, but he didn't dare to speak those words aloud. As much as he liked Jarlaxle, he couldn't simply forget everything he had been taught in his life and accept his feelings completely.
Jarlaxle couldn't keep himself from trembling. He was all keyed up now. The good experience he had just had was almost forgotten. It seemed far away. He was caught off guard simply by remembering one of the things he had tried to suppress. It had been so long that he hadn't expected to be bothered by the recollection ever again. But he was wrong. His body tingled all over from dread. He didn't know how it could have escaped him, the danger he was in. The danger of exposing himself to somebody, vulnerable, and allowing himself to care. He knew what happened to him when he cared. It hurt.
He felt as though he had suddenly realised for the first time that he was naked in bed with a practical stranger, showing himself without any of his masks. He hadn't cared, before. But that one small memory of pins sliding into his erect penis was so vivid that his throat closed up and he could hardly breathe. How he looked at Zaknafein, seeing the fighter as a sympathetic figure when he was in pain, frightened him most of all.
Zaknafein looked only confused now, maybe even worried. He could almost see how Jarlaxle was withdrawing from him, how he was trying to shut him out after those intimate, almost trusting moments. And the young fighter realised that he didn't want this to end, he didn't want to lose Jarlaxle now that the mercenary had shown him already so much of himself.
Zaknafein had for the first time in his life experienced something like affection, the tender beginning of something that might be trust one day, and he wanted to keep it. More than that, he felt as if losing it now would break his heart more than everything else he had gone through in the last thirty years.
"Jarlaxle." His voice was only a whisper. He had no idea what he should say or do in such a situation. Touching Jarlaxle was the only way he knew to express his feelings, but he didn't want to be pushed away again. Tears prickled up and rolled down Jarlaxle's cheeks in response.
"I never told anybody." He leant forward, silently inviting an embrace he couldn't bring himself to ask for.
Zaknafein's eyes widened a bit. He couldn't remember if he had ever seen a drow cry, unless it was in physical pain. The sight startled him so much that he didn't react immediately.
After a few seconds he managed to pull himself together. He still did not dare to embrace Jarlaxle again, he just ran one hand over the mercenary's arm and shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. He lifted his other hand to wipe the tears off Jarlaxle's cheeks.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anybody," he said calmly, supposing that Jarlaxle feared he might do what every other drow would do - try to use the information against him.
Jarlaxle's last barriers went down when he heard the promise. He let out a wail and surged forward into Zaknafein's arms, pressing himself against the student's body. He wiggled until he was comfortable and clung to him, making himself a place before Zaknafein could change his mind.
Zaknafein froze in surprise, but he quickly relaxed again. His strong arms sneaked around Jarlaxle and held him close, calloused hands stroking the mercenary's back. He could hardly believe that Jarlaxle was so open-hearted, and he couldn't understand why Jarlaxle believed that he was different from other drow. But Zaknafein knew better than to speak now, so he remained silent and continued to caress Jarlaxle, waiting for him to calm down again.
Jarlaxle let out a deep breath. His voice still wavered unsteadily, but it wasn't so full of raw emotion.
"She would make me recall the worst memories and then entice me while I was at my weakest. Every time, she would hurt me ... at the end. I didn't know what to do. She took me from my family when I was only sixteen, and they let her take me. I spent all of my life figuring how to escape her."
A shiver passed through his body. "I didn't know what to do ... and my mother hated me. She never wanted a male. She executed my father for making her bear one. She tried to sacrifice me to Lolth, but I wasn't a third child. She wouldn't take me. My mother had to raise me. I was always alone, and, she didn't even want me as a soldier. It meant - that woman ... meant ... she didn't have to. Keep me, I mean."
Zaknafein tightened his embrace, glad that he didn't have to look at Jarlaxle right now. He felt completely out of place in this situation, not knowing what he was supposed to do. Listen silently? Say something? Express pity, understanding? Try to give comfort? He didn't want to hurt Jarlaxle even more by saying something inappropriate.
"But it's over now, you have escaped her," Zaknafein said after a while. His lips were close to Jarlaxle's ear, almost touching it. "You told me yourself that you are free now, more independent than a male could be in every other situation."
He hoped it had been the right thing to say, but he was almost prepared to have Jarlaxle slap him or yell at him.
Jarlaxle sighed, let some of the tremors pass, calmed down. He looked at Zaknafein, and the look on his face made his first words completely unnecessary. It was the look of someone about to walk off the edge into a spike filled pit.
"It...It hurts. I'm so clever. Why didn't she want me?"
"Because priestesses hate clever males. They hate males who are more than obedient tools, who have a personality. That's why they try to beat it out of us," Zaknafein sighed, and he looked beaten himself in that moment. He knew that the priestesses and the Academy had almost managed to take away every personality he had.
"You called me brainwashed, last time, and yet you allow yourself to be hurt by the contempt some female has shown you long ago. She's not worth it. Don't let her control you even now." Zaknafein didn't know what he was saying, if he was making any sense at all. It just made him angry and sad to see Jarlaxle like this - this apparently so strong, independent mercenary, who seemed to be free from the misery of Menzoberranzan, and who turned out to be as beaten and humiliated as every other drow male. Zaknafein refused to accept it. Jarlaxle had given him hope last time, hope that there was another way to survive than by becoming a weapon in a priestess's hand, and now he saw that hope crumble.
"Cleverness is a good thing," Jarlaxle said, and he pouted. His expression changed from dangerously suicidal to childishly defiant in an instant. "I can get people to believe what they want about me. I dress in these clothes so everyone believes I'm an idiot." He looked down and seemed to notice with mild surprise that he wasn't wearing the clothes in question. He didn't let that stop him from continuing his thoughts. "I can make word games, and beat everyone I know at sava, and gather troops."
He suddenly changed the subject. "Goblins have a thing called 'yan'. Mothers have it for their children. It means," his brow furrowed, "the mother cares about and likes all her children, she never hurts them, and if they get into trouble, she helps them - and she hugs them and gives them things. Like food. Herself. Instead of making a slave do it." His eyes met Zaknafein's, and they were clear of any calculation - a strange, clear look that would have made any drow uneasy. "That's why I don't hate goblins."
Zaknafein simply continued to hug and caress Jarlaxle at first, finding the closeness quite comforting himself before he had to let go of him and looked at him. His face turned into a mask of confusion at Jarlaxle's strange look and his even stranger words.
"That's absurd. Why would mothers do that? And why would anyone want to have their mother around more often than necessary?" Zaknafein snorted and shook his head. "And even if it is true, it might explain why goblins are slaves and we are not. How is society supposed to work if people trust and like each other just like that? It makes you vulnerable."
Jarlaxle scowled. "If female drow were capable of 'yan', we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. If I had my say, if I were Lolth instead of Lolth, I'd make everyone capable of yan. The reason they're not is because of their own fault. If I can't make everyone capable of yan, I'll make then suffer for not giving me -" He cut himself off.
"I'm sorry if I seem contradictory," he said, with a quick smile, "but I think that for not liking me and for making me suffer, I ought to exact punishment from females who think they're better than me. I wouldn't necessarily commit acts of violence against them - but who's to say it's my duty to prevent violence from happening to them? Plenty of people are violent to females, including themselves. If I don't stop them from killing each other, it's hardly the same as murder." He seemed genuinely happy now. "I'll just manipulate everyone around me who is incapable of yan and get what I want that way. And if they happen not to be able to yield results either way, I'll clean my hands of them."
Jarlaxle gave Zaknafein an affectionate look. "You, you gave me what I needed. You have significant potential. Don't let yourself get talked out of being able to feel yan for someone."
Zaknafein's facial expression was unreadable while he listened to Jarlaxle. He couldn't say that he understood even half of what the mercenary was saying, and he wasn't sure if that was his fault or if Jarlaxle was simply too insane to make sense to anyone else.
"I gave you what you needed?" he asked, picking a part that sounded halfway reasonable. "Because I was nice to you?" He seemed to think about this and shrugged, not giving away what he was really thinking.
"Oh, and the females ... you should try being violent to them some time. It's beautiful. I killed a female once, a commoner of course, back in the slums," he explained, unconsciously trying to steer away from a conversation that made him only confused and uncomfortable. "I don't think I've ever been as satisfied as when I killed her," he continued, an almost dreamy look on his face before he grinned at Jarlaxle again.
Jarlaxle smiled back uncertainly. "I can't ... Not yet. Most of my clients ...Well, I'd be run out of business if I were openly hostile. If I nudge things in the right direction to guarantee a female's death, on the other hand, then I gain respect."
He gave Zak a pleading look. "Are you sure you won't join? It would be fun having a rogue member who will randomly kill females. Then we can both be happy. You can do the killing, and I can do the denying. 'Oh, no, I didn't tell him to do that, I profusely apologise.'" He broke out into a huge, mischievous grin.
Zaknafein first looked disappointed - apparently he had believed that being a mercenary was much more fun than that - but then he had to grin.
"I'm not sure that would be good for your business. But as a House soldier, or even Weapon Master, I would get to kill a whole lot of drow." Zaknafein's eyes were sparkling now, and he looked happier than Jarlaxle had probably ever seen him. Happier, and somehow thrice as insane.
Jarlaxle sighed. "Well, okay, but I don't want you telling me later when you want in that I never invited you."
"I won't," Zaknafein chuckled and nibbled on Jarlaxle's earlobe while he drew him closer again. "And you won't send me away if I ever come back to you and ask you to take me in, will you?"
Jarlaxle laughed. "Of course not! I'll say, 'What took you so long, you silly elf!' and we'll break open the wine."
Zaknafein couldn't help but laugh. It sounded strange to his own ears - not the amused, cruel laugh he knew to well from others and from himself, but simply an expression of ... happiness. "And even if you hesitate," he added after a few moments, "I think I discovered today the perfect way to make you give in to me."
His smile almost looked lewd for a second before it became softer again.
Jarlaxle's eyes lit up. "A hug?"
Zaknafein blinked. "I was thinking of something more ... intense. Something that involved my tongue," he said in the most even tone he could manage.
Jarlaxle turned bright red. "Or I could do that too," he said in a small voice. "We could work out a deal, I think."
"Probably, yes," Zaknafein answered and chuckled again. "Maybe we could start working on it right now." He pushed Jarlaxle on his back and leant forward to kiss him slowly.
Jarlaxle immediately felt himself getting hard again and floundered somewhere between confusion, embarrassment, and alarm. Zaknafein smiled and kissed him again, more impatiently now. After all he had spent the whole night taking care of Jarlaxle's needs so far, more or less ignoring his own.
