Warning: Men will be with men. If you don't like, don't read.
Drizzt and friends aren't mine. Brionne, Nala, and the world they live in is.
Thanks for the feedback, guys. As always, it is appreciated.
***************************
Brionne watched Drizzt as they made their second camp, starting a small fire to dry their feet. Beautiful. For the first time, he began to doubt the wisdom of his plan, of getting Nala to a safe place, and then returning to his master. He knew he would be punished, perhaps killed.
Even that threat was pale in comparison to waiting every day for the rest of his life for the randomly timed pain the collar put him through. Every day, between one dawn and the next, the "collar" would search for it's other part, the gem that controlled it. The gem Brionne's master still owned. Every time it didn't find the gem nearby, it would send it's waves of pain through his body.
At least it's already past for today. Until the next dawn, he thought, still watching the exotic stranger. They had been far apart this day when the collar had searched for the gem. Brionne didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. The way Drizzt held him through the previous fit had left him confused, unfocused in purpose for the first time since he began planning Nala's escape.
Maybe there was something worth enduring the collar for after all.
****************************
Drizzt struggled to sleep, knowing he was failing miserably. Barely slitting his eyes open against the glare of the sun, he could see Nala, asleep and curled up in her cloak. Brionne's arm was draped around her shoulders, sweetly protective and comforting.
A whisper of longing sighed in his heart. Just to receive a touch. Just to know the feel of another's body against his as they slept. His friends had told him so many times that he deserved it, that he was as worthy of affection as any other man. And yet, aside from a quick comforting pat, or a brief hug from Cattie-brie, he still felt untouchable, even to those closest to him.
There was a flicker of motion behind the fringe of hair shading Brionne's eyes. Drizzt realized with a sinking feeling that the young man was awake, had been awake for a while. And that he had been caught staring.
*********************
Longing. That moment when desire becomes so powerful that it's painful. Brionne knew that emotion, had been trained by his life to recognize it, to use it, to summon it, to manipulate it. He saw longing now, in the Fey's lavender eyes.
And yet all of his skill left him as Drizzt realized he was being watched back. All of his experience told him to capitalize on the situation, to bind this man to him, and through that, to Nala. To bribe him with promises and temptations until they were safely in the Free Cities.
Like a man in a dream, he felt his body moving to his feet. Leaving Nala asleep on the ground, he took a step.
Everything he might have bought had already been given to him.
Drizzt could have already exacted payment from him, demanded it or just taken his pleasure by force. Instead, the only times he had touched Brionne were just in friendship, or in comfort when the collar punished him.
His bare feet were almost silent on the leafy floor of the clearing, yet Drizzt surely felt him coming closer. At the last moment, the dark man sat up and raised his head towards the morning sun, something approaching fear in his lavender eyes.
One chance to do it right, Brionne thought.
"Guenhyvar." Brionne said, gesturing around them in the forest. "She'll watch us, keep us safe."
"Drizzt." He said, pointing at the ground where the fey sat. "Drizzt will stay here, with me."
*********************
He'd had no idea what the graceful young man was thinking when he left his sister and came to stand before him. "Drizzt stay," was all that he understood of the short speech, and then Brionne's fingers were undoing the lacings of Drizzt's outer tunic, pulling it off over his head, and then loosening the buckles of his dwarven-made chainmail.
"What are you doing?" He asked the dark-haired man. His voice sounded awkward and he knew that none of the words he spoke were among those they had exchanged the meanings of.
Brionne didn't even try to understand. He just placed a fingertip on Drizzt's lips, and shushed him gently.
He would have protested more; he knew he should protest more, but such a feeling of calm confidence exuded from the younger man; a certainty he couldn't deny.
With very little effort, Brionne pulled the armor off over his head, leaving him feeling lighter, but more vulnerable. He expected to lose his shirt, boots and breeches in short order, but instead Brionne stepped behind him, going to his knees on the leafy ground.
Strong fingers roamed his back in a slow caress through his shirt, testing his responses, evaluating the tightness of his muscles, the tension of his shoulders. And then those hands started a slow comforting massage, thumbs running up either side of his spine.
There had never been a touch like this in his life. He had known since childhood how much pain his body could experience and still exist. He had known torture, injury, exposure to the elements. He had no idea how much pleasure he could take.
A low groan slipped from his lips, and he cut it off as soon as he heard it, afraid of doing something to break the moment. Brionne spoke gently, reassuringly, and Drizzt sighed and relaxed into the touch again.
He felt Brionne's warm hands slide up under his shirt, felt himself tensing as the soft cotton was pushed up over his head. The dappled sunlight of the clearing fell warmly on his now-bare shoulders. Behind him, Brionne resettled, one knee on either side of Drizzt's hips. He felt himself unexpectedly stirring, his body responding to the kindness it was being shown. He felt a heat in the pit of his stomach, felt fire rise to his cheeks.
A slow finger traced the lash-scars he had acquired in Menzoberanzan. Brionne leaned to one side, reaching and turning Drizzt's chin to face him. Silver eyes searched the dark face as his gentle voice asked a question. The words Drizzt understood were, "Drizzt? Slave?"
And how could he explain that with the few words they shared? That he had been a noble and a slave, that his own family had laid most of the stripes there. "No.." he began, then, "..yes."
He sighed helplessly but Brionne seemed to understand. The pale eyes held a world of sympathy, of understanding, but not an ounce of pity. The young man bowed his head for a moment, lips pressed against the point of Drizzt's shoulder. Then he moved back into his previous position, his fingers returning to the now-bare skin, searching out the returned tensions, every ache and pain.
When he seemed satisfied with his efforts, he reached both arms around the dark litheness of Drizzt's chest, one hand going high to rest over the dark elf's heart, the other low, ending up above the opposite hip. Through the torn fabric of Brionne's shirt, their skin touched, heat growing in that point of bare contact. Brionne just held him like that, his chest pressed against Drizzt's back, face nestled in his hair, for a long time.
Drizzt and friends aren't mine. Brionne, Nala, and the world they live in is.
Thanks for the feedback, guys. As always, it is appreciated.
***************************
Brionne watched Drizzt as they made their second camp, starting a small fire to dry their feet. Beautiful. For the first time, he began to doubt the wisdom of his plan, of getting Nala to a safe place, and then returning to his master. He knew he would be punished, perhaps killed.
Even that threat was pale in comparison to waiting every day for the rest of his life for the randomly timed pain the collar put him through. Every day, between one dawn and the next, the "collar" would search for it's other part, the gem that controlled it. The gem Brionne's master still owned. Every time it didn't find the gem nearby, it would send it's waves of pain through his body.
At least it's already past for today. Until the next dawn, he thought, still watching the exotic stranger. They had been far apart this day when the collar had searched for the gem. Brionne didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. The way Drizzt held him through the previous fit had left him confused, unfocused in purpose for the first time since he began planning Nala's escape.
Maybe there was something worth enduring the collar for after all.
****************************
Drizzt struggled to sleep, knowing he was failing miserably. Barely slitting his eyes open against the glare of the sun, he could see Nala, asleep and curled up in her cloak. Brionne's arm was draped around her shoulders, sweetly protective and comforting.
A whisper of longing sighed in his heart. Just to receive a touch. Just to know the feel of another's body against his as they slept. His friends had told him so many times that he deserved it, that he was as worthy of affection as any other man. And yet, aside from a quick comforting pat, or a brief hug from Cattie-brie, he still felt untouchable, even to those closest to him.
There was a flicker of motion behind the fringe of hair shading Brionne's eyes. Drizzt realized with a sinking feeling that the young man was awake, had been awake for a while. And that he had been caught staring.
*********************
Longing. That moment when desire becomes so powerful that it's painful. Brionne knew that emotion, had been trained by his life to recognize it, to use it, to summon it, to manipulate it. He saw longing now, in the Fey's lavender eyes.
And yet all of his skill left him as Drizzt realized he was being watched back. All of his experience told him to capitalize on the situation, to bind this man to him, and through that, to Nala. To bribe him with promises and temptations until they were safely in the Free Cities.
Like a man in a dream, he felt his body moving to his feet. Leaving Nala asleep on the ground, he took a step.
Everything he might have bought had already been given to him.
Drizzt could have already exacted payment from him, demanded it or just taken his pleasure by force. Instead, the only times he had touched Brionne were just in friendship, or in comfort when the collar punished him.
His bare feet were almost silent on the leafy floor of the clearing, yet Drizzt surely felt him coming closer. At the last moment, the dark man sat up and raised his head towards the morning sun, something approaching fear in his lavender eyes.
One chance to do it right, Brionne thought.
"Guenhyvar." Brionne said, gesturing around them in the forest. "She'll watch us, keep us safe."
"Drizzt." He said, pointing at the ground where the fey sat. "Drizzt will stay here, with me."
*********************
He'd had no idea what the graceful young man was thinking when he left his sister and came to stand before him. "Drizzt stay," was all that he understood of the short speech, and then Brionne's fingers were undoing the lacings of Drizzt's outer tunic, pulling it off over his head, and then loosening the buckles of his dwarven-made chainmail.
"What are you doing?" He asked the dark-haired man. His voice sounded awkward and he knew that none of the words he spoke were among those they had exchanged the meanings of.
Brionne didn't even try to understand. He just placed a fingertip on Drizzt's lips, and shushed him gently.
He would have protested more; he knew he should protest more, but such a feeling of calm confidence exuded from the younger man; a certainty he couldn't deny.
With very little effort, Brionne pulled the armor off over his head, leaving him feeling lighter, but more vulnerable. He expected to lose his shirt, boots and breeches in short order, but instead Brionne stepped behind him, going to his knees on the leafy ground.
Strong fingers roamed his back in a slow caress through his shirt, testing his responses, evaluating the tightness of his muscles, the tension of his shoulders. And then those hands started a slow comforting massage, thumbs running up either side of his spine.
There had never been a touch like this in his life. He had known since childhood how much pain his body could experience and still exist. He had known torture, injury, exposure to the elements. He had no idea how much pleasure he could take.
A low groan slipped from his lips, and he cut it off as soon as he heard it, afraid of doing something to break the moment. Brionne spoke gently, reassuringly, and Drizzt sighed and relaxed into the touch again.
He felt Brionne's warm hands slide up under his shirt, felt himself tensing as the soft cotton was pushed up over his head. The dappled sunlight of the clearing fell warmly on his now-bare shoulders. Behind him, Brionne resettled, one knee on either side of Drizzt's hips. He felt himself unexpectedly stirring, his body responding to the kindness it was being shown. He felt a heat in the pit of his stomach, felt fire rise to his cheeks.
A slow finger traced the lash-scars he had acquired in Menzoberanzan. Brionne leaned to one side, reaching and turning Drizzt's chin to face him. Silver eyes searched the dark face as his gentle voice asked a question. The words Drizzt understood were, "Drizzt? Slave?"
And how could he explain that with the few words they shared? That he had been a noble and a slave, that his own family had laid most of the stripes there. "No.." he began, then, "..yes."
He sighed helplessly but Brionne seemed to understand. The pale eyes held a world of sympathy, of understanding, but not an ounce of pity. The young man bowed his head for a moment, lips pressed against the point of Drizzt's shoulder. Then he moved back into his previous position, his fingers returning to the now-bare skin, searching out the returned tensions, every ache and pain.
When he seemed satisfied with his efforts, he reached both arms around the dark litheness of Drizzt's chest, one hand going high to rest over the dark elf's heart, the other low, ending up above the opposite hip. Through the torn fabric of Brionne's shirt, their skin touched, heat growing in that point of bare contact. Brionne just held him like that, his chest pressed against Drizzt's back, face nestled in his hair, for a long time.