Disclaimer: the characters and places (Drizzt, forgotten realms, etc, etc)
that you've read about in books aren't mine.
Brionne, Nala, the places they inhabit and the people around them, are.
SLASH WARNING: You don't like, you don't read. Thanks.
Reviewer request: I'm trying to keep Drizzt at least a little in character. Let me know if it's even close? Thanks.
**************************************************
Shaking. Drizzt was shaking in his arms, and Brionne just held him, giving him the time he so obviously needed, giving him warmth and contact. He couldn't tell if the Fey was crying or only trembling, but it didn't matter.
It felt wonderful to be so close to this man, to bring comfort and pleasure because he wanted to, not because it was required of him. He pressed his face to the wild mane of white hair, breathing in the scent of him.
He smelled like the wild forest, like earth and rain. And under those scents, he caught the faint whiff of desire, of arousal.
Brionne moved the lower of his two hands, a slow firm pressure against Drizzt's stomach. He was rewarded with a gasp. Drizzt squirmed slightly in his arms, a desire he couldn't express in words clearly stated in his motions. With tender slowness, Brionne caressed the firm expanse of his stomach, his sides, his chest.
Again and again, Drizzt protested with his foreign words, half-hearted and obviously torn, and repeatedly Brionne soothed him with gentle sounds, and less gentle caresses. Gasping, the fey surrendered to the hands on his skin. His head tipped back, resting on Brionne's shoulder, their cheeks almost touching.
I would never have considered myself pale, Brionne thought, watching his hands sliding across the black skin. But then again, I would never have imagined a lover so dark. The word lover sounded odd, even in his head. It was a word he had never used before.
He ran a thumb over the tiny black nub of a nipple, feeling Drizzt jump under him. It was amazing to have such powerful reactions, such deep responses. He ran his short fingernails along the edge of the dark suede breeches, drawing a ragged gasp of pleasure and frustration from his partner.
With great willpower he controlled himself, keeping his touches within the bounds of bearable pleasure. Too much and he knew the Fey would be overwhelmed, wouldn't be able to enjoy what he was feeling. Have I ever been the first for anyone before this? He asked himself.
Skilled fingers unbuckled the sword belt, and then unlaced the breeches. Drizzt shivered in his arms, hungry and afraid at the same time.
Calmly confident, he slid his hand inside the breeches, and felt a tiny spark of relief to find that apparently the Fey were as other men in at least one way. He wrapped his fingers around the base of that shaft, gripping and tugging in slow sure strokes. He was acutely aware how his own body was reacting to this, to the feel of Drizzt's hips between his knees. He sighed silently, his breath brushing over the pointed ear like a caress.
A sharp cry of pleasure slipped from those dark lips, and Brionne laughed softly, delighted in the reaction. He slid his unoccupied hand down the Fey's throat, from chin to collar bone. "Shhh," he whispered, tender mirth in his voice. "Nala sleeps."
He watched Drizzt's sharp white teeth close on his own lower lip, smiling wickedly. He gave the man a moment to contain himself, control himself, and then he licked slowly up the length of that strange pointed ear.
The lean body in his arms twisted and arched with pleasure, pressing hungrily against his hand.
Brionne had never seen anything so beautiful.
*****************
The hunt was everything. She only felt alive in a moment like this, with the wind in her face, ducking and dodging branches as her sturdy horse pushed down narrow trails and through light underbrush, following the hounds as they tracked.
She could hear the hoof-beats of her companions' mounts behind her, the squeak of leather from her saddle. A hawk screamed above her, and she looked to see it diving at some smaller bird. She felt no pang of envy. Soon, she would have her own prey.
She frowned as her horse caught up to the hounds. Desperately searching for the scent, they whined and paced, their noses to the ground. In one smooth motion, she swung out of the saddle, going into a crouch, looking at the ground.
Dog tracks hid those of the two-legged prey she was hunting. Not the small paws of her hounds, but larger prints, more clumsy.
She gritted her teeth. Most likely some scavengers; hunters so unskilled that they just wandered the woods with their dogs, picking up anything with a collar. If they found Brionne first, things could become...complicated.
With a sharp whistle, she called the dogs to her. "Here." She showed them the paw-prints. "Here, this, go get it."
They picked up her dark enthusiasm. To hunt was to live. Without a yip, they disappeared into the underbrush after the new scent.
Remounting her horse, she looked back to the two men following her. "Scavengers. They may have found our prize already, and they've fouled the trail."
The men had ridden with her before. One grinned. One nodded. Obstacles like this never stood long in the Hunter's path.
***************** Drizzt was losing his mind, he was sure of it. The combination of physical and emotional pleasure was overwhelming him, stealing his thoughts, his will. Brionne brought him to the edge, again and again, so close, and then he would pull him back from it, denying him the release he wanted, needed.
How can something be so hot and so cold at the same time? He wondered as Brionne's tongue flicked along the back edge of his ear. The soft breath smelled faintly of mint.
And then both the hand on his shaft and the tongue on his ear were gone for a moment. Startled by the sudden change, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Brionne lick his own palm. The young man's eyes were silver, and sparkling like the edge of a blade, bright with pleasure and dark with desire. They met Drizzt's in open challenge, daring him to protest...or perhaps surrender, he wasn't sure which.
Almost fierce, his hand returned to Drizzt's shaft, slick and cold. The hand moved like black magic over him, twisting and tugging, rubbing over the top of his shaft like it owned him. Drizzt could see the younger man's jaw clench down against his own desire, could feel Brionne's arousal pressed in against his back.
Brionne's other hand caressed his chest in time to the stroking; soothing, petting kneading his skin.
Drizzt gripped one hand on Brionne's knee, where it squeezed against his hip. The other went up to tangle in the young man's hair. Thick and silken-soft, it was so warm in the afternoon sun.
And then Brionne was whispering into his ear, soft words of encouragement; words that he didn't know yet understood perfectly.
He was brought to the edge again, and this time he wasn't pulled back. This time he was allowed through it, past it, and he was falling, or flying, lost in pleasure so acute it was almost pain. Brionne held him through it all, his arm surprisingly strong around Drizzt's shoulders.
His orgasm spattered across his stomach, startling in it's heat. The stroking hand slowed and finally stopped, just cradling his shaft in those fingers.
Brionne's cheek nuzzled his, and soft lips searched out the curve of his jaw to kiss and nibble at. The gesture was affectionate now, gentle and teasing. He felt his body go limp in the grip of protective arms.
Do men kiss men? He wondered. He reached a tired arm up, around Brionne's head, drawing the young man's lips to his. There was no hint of resistance, and a gentle sigh slipped from those lips as they parted invitingly.
There was the lightest of butterfly-kisses between them. Brionne's tongue darted out to touch his lips, tasting the soft saltiness of them. They explored each other with shy touches, slow caresses. It felt so good to have the young man's fingers tangling in his hair, the way his knees hugged Drizzt's hips.
And then without warning Brionne was pulling away, regret in his eyes as he untangled their bodies and handed Drizzt back his undershirt.
Frowning with confusion, Drizzt put the shirt on, and then slid into the chainmail shirt as Brionne held it for him. Now he understood. This place, this time, was too precarious. Danger was too close to be unarmed and unarmored for long.
Brionne retied the laces of the over-tunic, and Drizzt let him. He watched the pale eyes, waiting for them to meet his, but Brionne never looked up from his task. His fair skin was flushed, color creeping up his jaw to his cheeks. He turned to move back to his feet, to walk away, but Drizzt couldn't let him. He reached out, not catching the young man's arm in his fingers, though he surely could have. Instead he ran his hand down the underside of the sleeve, applying enough pressure for the man to know he was being touched.
Silver eyes met his, finally. "Brionne. Stay."
Brionne shook his head. "Nala..."
"Nala sleeps." Drizzt told him gently.
SLASH WARNING: You don't like, you don't read. Thanks.
Reviewer request: I'm trying to keep Drizzt at least a little in character. Let me know if it's even close? Thanks.
**************************************************
Shaking. Drizzt was shaking in his arms, and Brionne just held him, giving him the time he so obviously needed, giving him warmth and contact. He couldn't tell if the Fey was crying or only trembling, but it didn't matter.
It felt wonderful to be so close to this man, to bring comfort and pleasure because he wanted to, not because it was required of him. He pressed his face to the wild mane of white hair, breathing in the scent of him.
He smelled like the wild forest, like earth and rain. And under those scents, he caught the faint whiff of desire, of arousal.
Brionne moved the lower of his two hands, a slow firm pressure against Drizzt's stomach. He was rewarded with a gasp. Drizzt squirmed slightly in his arms, a desire he couldn't express in words clearly stated in his motions. With tender slowness, Brionne caressed the firm expanse of his stomach, his sides, his chest.
Again and again, Drizzt protested with his foreign words, half-hearted and obviously torn, and repeatedly Brionne soothed him with gentle sounds, and less gentle caresses. Gasping, the fey surrendered to the hands on his skin. His head tipped back, resting on Brionne's shoulder, their cheeks almost touching.
I would never have considered myself pale, Brionne thought, watching his hands sliding across the black skin. But then again, I would never have imagined a lover so dark. The word lover sounded odd, even in his head. It was a word he had never used before.
He ran a thumb over the tiny black nub of a nipple, feeling Drizzt jump under him. It was amazing to have such powerful reactions, such deep responses. He ran his short fingernails along the edge of the dark suede breeches, drawing a ragged gasp of pleasure and frustration from his partner.
With great willpower he controlled himself, keeping his touches within the bounds of bearable pleasure. Too much and he knew the Fey would be overwhelmed, wouldn't be able to enjoy what he was feeling. Have I ever been the first for anyone before this? He asked himself.
Skilled fingers unbuckled the sword belt, and then unlaced the breeches. Drizzt shivered in his arms, hungry and afraid at the same time.
Calmly confident, he slid his hand inside the breeches, and felt a tiny spark of relief to find that apparently the Fey were as other men in at least one way. He wrapped his fingers around the base of that shaft, gripping and tugging in slow sure strokes. He was acutely aware how his own body was reacting to this, to the feel of Drizzt's hips between his knees. He sighed silently, his breath brushing over the pointed ear like a caress.
A sharp cry of pleasure slipped from those dark lips, and Brionne laughed softly, delighted in the reaction. He slid his unoccupied hand down the Fey's throat, from chin to collar bone. "Shhh," he whispered, tender mirth in his voice. "Nala sleeps."
He watched Drizzt's sharp white teeth close on his own lower lip, smiling wickedly. He gave the man a moment to contain himself, control himself, and then he licked slowly up the length of that strange pointed ear.
The lean body in his arms twisted and arched with pleasure, pressing hungrily against his hand.
Brionne had never seen anything so beautiful.
*****************
The hunt was everything. She only felt alive in a moment like this, with the wind in her face, ducking and dodging branches as her sturdy horse pushed down narrow trails and through light underbrush, following the hounds as they tracked.
She could hear the hoof-beats of her companions' mounts behind her, the squeak of leather from her saddle. A hawk screamed above her, and she looked to see it diving at some smaller bird. She felt no pang of envy. Soon, she would have her own prey.
She frowned as her horse caught up to the hounds. Desperately searching for the scent, they whined and paced, their noses to the ground. In one smooth motion, she swung out of the saddle, going into a crouch, looking at the ground.
Dog tracks hid those of the two-legged prey she was hunting. Not the small paws of her hounds, but larger prints, more clumsy.
She gritted her teeth. Most likely some scavengers; hunters so unskilled that they just wandered the woods with their dogs, picking up anything with a collar. If they found Brionne first, things could become...complicated.
With a sharp whistle, she called the dogs to her. "Here." She showed them the paw-prints. "Here, this, go get it."
They picked up her dark enthusiasm. To hunt was to live. Without a yip, they disappeared into the underbrush after the new scent.
Remounting her horse, she looked back to the two men following her. "Scavengers. They may have found our prize already, and they've fouled the trail."
The men had ridden with her before. One grinned. One nodded. Obstacles like this never stood long in the Hunter's path.
***************** Drizzt was losing his mind, he was sure of it. The combination of physical and emotional pleasure was overwhelming him, stealing his thoughts, his will. Brionne brought him to the edge, again and again, so close, and then he would pull him back from it, denying him the release he wanted, needed.
How can something be so hot and so cold at the same time? He wondered as Brionne's tongue flicked along the back edge of his ear. The soft breath smelled faintly of mint.
And then both the hand on his shaft and the tongue on his ear were gone for a moment. Startled by the sudden change, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Brionne lick his own palm. The young man's eyes were silver, and sparkling like the edge of a blade, bright with pleasure and dark with desire. They met Drizzt's in open challenge, daring him to protest...or perhaps surrender, he wasn't sure which.
Almost fierce, his hand returned to Drizzt's shaft, slick and cold. The hand moved like black magic over him, twisting and tugging, rubbing over the top of his shaft like it owned him. Drizzt could see the younger man's jaw clench down against his own desire, could feel Brionne's arousal pressed in against his back.
Brionne's other hand caressed his chest in time to the stroking; soothing, petting kneading his skin.
Drizzt gripped one hand on Brionne's knee, where it squeezed against his hip. The other went up to tangle in the young man's hair. Thick and silken-soft, it was so warm in the afternoon sun.
And then Brionne was whispering into his ear, soft words of encouragement; words that he didn't know yet understood perfectly.
He was brought to the edge again, and this time he wasn't pulled back. This time he was allowed through it, past it, and he was falling, or flying, lost in pleasure so acute it was almost pain. Brionne held him through it all, his arm surprisingly strong around Drizzt's shoulders.
His orgasm spattered across his stomach, startling in it's heat. The stroking hand slowed and finally stopped, just cradling his shaft in those fingers.
Brionne's cheek nuzzled his, and soft lips searched out the curve of his jaw to kiss and nibble at. The gesture was affectionate now, gentle and teasing. He felt his body go limp in the grip of protective arms.
Do men kiss men? He wondered. He reached a tired arm up, around Brionne's head, drawing the young man's lips to his. There was no hint of resistance, and a gentle sigh slipped from those lips as they parted invitingly.
There was the lightest of butterfly-kisses between them. Brionne's tongue darted out to touch his lips, tasting the soft saltiness of them. They explored each other with shy touches, slow caresses. It felt so good to have the young man's fingers tangling in his hair, the way his knees hugged Drizzt's hips.
And then without warning Brionne was pulling away, regret in his eyes as he untangled their bodies and handed Drizzt back his undershirt.
Frowning with confusion, Drizzt put the shirt on, and then slid into the chainmail shirt as Brionne held it for him. Now he understood. This place, this time, was too precarious. Danger was too close to be unarmed and unarmored for long.
Brionne retied the laces of the over-tunic, and Drizzt let him. He watched the pale eyes, waiting for them to meet his, but Brionne never looked up from his task. His fair skin was flushed, color creeping up his jaw to his cheeks. He turned to move back to his feet, to walk away, but Drizzt couldn't let him. He reached out, not catching the young man's arm in his fingers, though he surely could have. Instead he ran his hand down the underside of the sleeve, applying enough pressure for the man to know he was being touched.
Silver eyes met his, finally. "Brionne. Stay."
Brionne shook his head. "Nala..."
"Nala sleeps." Drizzt told him gently.