The Cruelest Fate
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©, with the exception of Jakadirek Mi'iduor, who is the property of euphorbic and used with kind permission. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.
Author's Note: Yes, I actually intended to do another chapter to this story, thought I was just waiting for my perverted muses to come knocking on my door. Well, they came and here you go.
Chapter 2: Patchwork Drow
No one was in the halls tonight; all of the Pilazi Guild's usual scoundrels were off to their own bloody mischief. No one noticed the dark elf casually strolling down the hallway, which was always a good thing, though Drizzt was perpetually on his guard especially since his scimitars were back in his room. His lithe, ebony form was encased in only a long robe of maroon silk lined in black velvet and fastened with a series of black corded hooks; one of Jarlaxle's usual gifts he enjoyed lavishing on his less stylish companions with deep pockets of holding that concealed a long dagger at each hip.
He came to the main stairwell and descended to the basement floor, where he stepped off and made a straight line for an arched, black door at the end of the hall. The door was not meant to be hidden, it was meant to tell all that this was an exclusive area; the private bathing room of the guildmaster. Bani Pilazi never left his own spacious apartment in a hidden corner of the castle to visit it; he had his own luxurious baths and enough bed slaves to bathe him. Instead he tossed the magical keys to his lieutenant (and main rival, and acting guildmaster) Artemis Entreri, who could have cared less about the place. Drizzt and Jarlaxle found the two keys idly thrown at them with Entreri's passing grunt of "Just clean up after yourselves." Since then he and the older drow took turns with the room; Drizzt had little desire to think on what Jarlaxle did with the bath, though he could assume as much. Usually Drizzt used it as a place of relaxation, though he did bring the occasional whore in there.
Tonight, however, did not involve any whores but one priest; Mazn'reysla requested a night to use the bath and have Drizzt over…for his own special purpose. Drizzt approached the door with a little more enthusiasm mixed with a tiny amount of apprehension. Ever since that one night in Cormanthor a month ago, ever since he first allowed another male to take his body, his relationship with Mazn'reysla had been more than a little interesting. There had been many more nights after that; some nights he thrusted into the cleric with gleeful abandon, while others he was content to lay on his back and be pleased. Some nights he would be sitting in a chair in the guildhouse and Maz would appear to give a few greetings, unstring Drizzt's trousers, massage his…aches with his hand or tongue, and walk away with a polite farewell. Both had walked away from encounters with small bruises, long scratches, bite marks, and large smiles. Straps and whips, however, were a taboo topic; bringing up painful memories of both their brutal, Menzoberranzyr childhoods. Tonight Mazn'reysla mentioned something about an experiment, something a little different for a change. Tonight would only be interesting.
Drizzt drew the simple, iron key from his robe pocket and put it in a small notch in the door that looked like nothing more than a knot in the wood and twisted it counterclockwise twice. The door promptly sunk in and swung open with a small touch. Drizzt walked through the door and closed it behind him, hearing the click of the self-fastening latch. He walked through a small, dark corridor before the hall opened up to the huge room in front of him.
It was the typical bath of someone like Bani Pilazi; an old Calishite who wanted to display his wealth and not his style sense. The entire walls were draped in red velvet wallpaper and festoons of gold silk that made his eyes ache. A few glass sculptures of flaming balls protruded from the wall glowing a pulsating red and yellow light that gave a bright hue to the room. Many gold cupboards filled with various wines and other illicit substances from exotic locations lined the wall as well as the occasional statue of a gold mermaid squeezing her breasts with her mouth gaping open in orgasmic ecstasy, a gold centaur stroking his own genitalia, or a gold…anything. Drizzt could never pry the image of the actual creature being dipped in molten gold out of his head whenever he entered this place; the poor creature would be naked and frozen by some magic into their obscenely seductive position. It was a rather amusing, yet somewhat unpleasant thought that he would never put past old man Pilazi or anyone with whom he associated.
The drow's gaze fell to the bath itself; a large, rectangular mass that composed the whole center of the room. The pool was composed of rare white marble speckled with naturally occurring gold flakes. A small spring from under the guildhouse provided the green water, though one enchantment kept the bath at a constant steaming temperature and another kept the water rippling with bubbles. A series of command words would be said to increase or decrease the pace of the bubbling. There was also another enchantment that purified the water, cleansing it of any spilled blood, semen, or any other substance that could provide a sanitation problem.
Drizzt already felt himself sweat the second he walked into the room, all the while watching the thick cloud of vapor waft from the water and hang over the bottom of the room like a fog. He looked through the haze and pinpointed the black form of Mazn'reysla reclining in the water. Drizzt had made a copy of the key and given it to the cleric, who was unofficially a member of the guild through his various healing spells and the occasional arcane mission. He looked at the wizard-cleric and met his gaze; those beaming red eyes already boring through his soul as his champagne blond hair floated lazily in the water like puffy seaweed. Drizzt gave him a feral grin, slowly opening his robe to reveal his naked, anxious form. The robe slid off his tightly muscled arms and onto the marble floor as he slowly walked forward…and caught the sight of someone else…another drow walking into the water with a wine bottle and giving him a blank gaze of recognition.
Drizzt furrowed his brows in slight confusion, noting the new drow's unusual, pitch black hair still slightly matted over his bare shoulders as his deep yellow eyes looked at him in something resembling curiosity. The ranger forced a smirk as seeing Jarlaxle's regular associate, the psionic tailor Jakadirek, who casually turn his eyes from him and walk into the water beside Mazn'reysla. Maz's mouth turned up into a beaming smile as he looked at Drizzt, then the tailor who casually took a seat beside him. The cleric's fingers found their way into Jaka's hair as the habitually, yet frighteningly nonchalant drow uncorked the bottle with his fine fingers and poured the deep, red liquid into two, black stone goblets. Jaka then lifted his glass and took a sip, not looking at Mazn'reysla, who still ran his fingers through his black hair or Drizzt. He merely looked down at the pure, green water wrapped with fascination with how it bubbled.
Drizzt was familiar with Jakadirek; the quiet tailor had made a few fine outfits for him from leathers and skins of an origin he could only guess that all bore psionic resistance to blades and psychic attacks. It was said the young drow was a devout follower of Lolth, though his manner towards the Vhaeraunites was always polite. Drizzt figured it was probably a faith that had been beaten into him from birth and never shaken off, as was the case with many male drow; only others found a place for their forced faith in breaking apart heretics with a sword or spell. Jakadirek, however, struck Drizzt as a different species altogether, maybe a milder and much more sadistic soul. He had to admit the tailor fascinated him on a couple levels.
He couldn't say he was surprised to see him here…completely nude and sitting in a pool next to Mazn'reysla, whose own nakedness was clearly illustrated in the clear water, as well as his own physical desperation.
"So this is your experiment?" Drizzt asked walking forward and down the marble stairs leading into the water.
"This is my guest," Mazn'reysla replied, continuing to pat Jaka's hair as if he were a furry pet. "Jakadirek had produced masterful garments for us at the utmost expense of his talents. The least I can do is show him a little gratitude. Are you enjoying yourself Jaka?"
Jaka idly sipped his wine, giving his full attention to the goblet.
"Yes," he said in his usual, plain speech.
The tailor looked idly at Drizzt, who couldn't help but imagine him as some kind of quiet animal whose claws always spoke for him. Jaka tried not to make his gaze linger too long, for fear that it may be seen as some sort of threat; he was hardly in the mood for a fight, though given what he heard of this one, anything might set off his bloodlust. It was all his eyes could manage for not after consuming nearly half a bottle of surface wine while waiting for the rogue's arrival; an overly sweet beverage for which he knew he would never acquire a taste. As he drank, he shared the bottle with Mazn'reysla, who was mostly quiet save for the occasional philosophical statement that seemed to have no root in religious matters at all.
Jaka returned his wandering gaze to the swirling contents of his goblet, noting how the deep red mingled with the pitch black of the cup like bloody waves. He allowed his small body to sink against the smooth marble and further into the warm, green water while feeling the cleric's pointed fingers knead into his scalp. It was…comfort; a small feeling slowly sprouting in his numb form despite the dangerous rogue in front of him.
His eyes trailed up to Drizzt again, who looked at him with a semi-amused expression; those fascinating lavender eyes taking on a twinkle. It was a treat in and of itself to see the great Drizzt Do'Urden sitting in the water completely nude; his armor and those famous scimitars in some other location. He looked vulnerable, a vision that fascinated Jaka; just one blade or one psychic pierce through that perfect, ebony skin and he would bleed. Jaka bore no desire to mar the rogue, as long as matters stayed peaceful between them. He was in a calm sort of awe over the famous rogue. Here, he almost looked real.
Drizzt gave a stiff smile and stared at the tailor; an icy lavender gaze meant to test his fear, though the tailor gave his usual quick glance. Sizing up the drow was like examining the base physical reactions of animals; his face was perpetually blank, though his muscles betrayed legitimate calm. This one was indeed interesting.
Mazn'reysla analyzed every glance between the two, every twitch of facial muscles, and every ease of muscles and his grin widened. He rested his head on Jakadirek's black shoulder, his wet mane spilling down the tailor's chest and adding a perfect contrast to his long, black hair. The smell of rich, spiced Calimshan wine exuded from his even breaths and seemed to match his soft, warm skin.
Jaka looked over at the blond hair trailing down his shoulder. Without a conscious thought, he raised a finger and delicately stroked the locks of pale yellow. He had seen very few drow with this hair color; he wanted to feel its texture to find if it differed from that of usual drow hair. Maybe it could be a new material for braided fringe or lace, though its frequency was likely scarce. This would definitely merit further inquiry later.
Maz leaned further over and allowed Jaka full access to his hair, which prompted a small chuckle from Drizzt, who rose from the water and walked over to a nearby cabinet, opening the gilded doors carved with palm trees, and picking out a bottle of Turmish Red before walking back to the pool. Mazn'reysla gave his own laugh in response; both knew this wasn't an expression of affection of passion, but perhaps market research. It only added to Jakadirek's own unique intrigue.
"I have learned not to see individuals by their station," the cleric practically cooed; a common nod to Vhaeraun's more egalitarian nature that was perfectly snuck in. "I could never see him as merely a tailor. Instead I see him as…beautiful. Don't you agree, Drizzt?"
Drizzt leaned back against the marble, absorbing the steaming water while giving another deep look at Jaka and idly uncorking the wine with his fingers and sipping directly from the bottle. Maz was gradually getting closer and closer to the tailor, all the while giving Drizzt a mischievous eye. He was obviously trying to test him in the simplest way possible by trying to make him jealous, or even to see if that was an emotion that still existed in the emotionally unstable ranger's vocabulary.
In truth, it barely existed at all, though there was a small pang he wanted to hide away. A tenday after having no one else but Mazn'reysla, he returned to Baldur's Gate and took a tavern whore and only realized after he was through with her that it meant something. Mazn'reysla had the potential to become a serious lover, a state that he had no need for now. It was the death of his last serious lover that drove him insane; which was exactly the game strategy the cleric was using now and looking amused that this moment that only fazed the fallen ranger for a brief second.
Drizzt leaned forward, his momentary apprehension replaced with intrigue as he unapologetically ogled both drow. He had never considered the physical beauty of males until now, thought that said little since he had not even considered the physical beauty of females until the past couple years. He examined the tailor's young, blank face and the way his black hair framed his innocent features. He was a dangerous animal, the absolute best kind. Lavender eyes trailed down to his well toned chest, indicating him to have at least a small bit of martial training etched in his muscle tone. Further down into the water was his phallus; relatively average sized, though betraying his hidden emotions with Mazn'reysla's finger trailing over the lower portion of his collarbone. The cleric was obviously avoiding the tailor's black corded necklace, likely treating it as some kind of magic item of an importance only Maz understood. Once again, the tailor's own body was betraying him. Having this form beside the cleric only enhanced his interest; the one for whom he felt the smallest pang affection was cuddling up to another beautiful drow. He knew he should be jealous, though it was having the exact opposite effect.
What struck Drizzt the most was the perfect contrast between the two; both bearing slight, yet tone physiques. Both had the faces of fallen angels with beaming, curious eyes that hid a cornucopia of cruelty. He saw pure, obsidian flesh before him; one smiling drow marked with champagne-blond hair and huge, deep red eyes and his blank-faced companion with hair as black as his own skin and eyes like beams of yellow. Drizzt sipped his wine and savored the unusual looking drow sitting in front of him. He gave a small chuckle, especially considering his own purple eyes scanning them both. What a patchwork swath of dark elf kind these three were.
"Yes," Drizzt said with a nod, watching Mazn'reysla's hand trail down his chest and idly brush against a nipple, which hardened at the touch, "he is quite beautiful."
Jaka did not protest the touch; it actually pleased him. The cleric noted the relaxed expression on the tailor's face, taking that as permission to move forward. His finger lightly brushed again over the soft, ebony skin and trailed to Jaka's nipple. He brushed the black bud at first, then gently squeezed and produced a gentle, yet heavy exhalation. Maz looked back at Drizzt, whose eyes were also locked on the same point. This was not making him jealous at all; instead it was titillating him. The good boy had come a long way.
Maz smiled wider, a finger lightly trailing down Jaka's chest and across his tight stomach muscles. The tailor sipped his wine casually, though Drizzt swore he saw his muscles tremble slightly, though that could have been a figment of his own imagination. He was enjoying this. The cleric's slender fingers drummed over his lower abdomen and disappeared under the water, though Drizzt could see one finger busy at work.
Jaka took another deep sip of his fifth glass of wine, allowing the warm comfort of the alcohol to embrace him as did the hand of the cleric, which gradually wrapped around his being and gently squeezed.
"I am going to kiss him, Drizzt," Mazn'reysla said teasingly. "How would you like that?"
Drizzt eased back, his eyes locked on the hand under the water as a wide smile crept over his face. Mazn'reysla smiled back, turning his face up and immediately locking his lips with Jaka's in a moist, gentle kiss. Jaka matched the press with his own gentle passion, savoring Mazn'reysla'a tongue lightly brushing against his lips. Jaka opened his own mouth and let his tongue crawl out and play along.
Maz turned his head slightly to see Drizzt's eager look.
"I would like to see how far this goes, Drizzt," the cleric sighed. "What would you like to see?"
Drizzt gave a dirty chuckle, feeling particularly daring.
"I want to see him fuck you," Drizzt replied without a beat, his lips in a sneer. "I want to see him ram it up your ass, make you his toy."
It was a bold dare, though Drizzt was never an enthusiast for subtlety. If Jaka was scared off or Maz was offended in any way, at least all the cleric's dramatics would be shoved in his face. Drizzt knew he would not go for this; being taken by a Spider Kisser was likely on the list of the vilest…
"If you insist," Mazn'reysla responded with a fake pout covering a smile.
Jaka looked at Drizzt, then the cleric, wondering what he had gotten himself into, though he did enjoy a unique situation. Here was a priest of Vhaeraun, the lover of Menzoberranzan's most hated renegade, asking for him to take him. And Drizzt's wide eyes and eager grin told he was enjoying all of it. His bitch of an aunt would hate this…
Mazn'reysla kissed him with more fervor, his hand squeezing harder. He was ready for this now. Jakadirek gently grabbed Mazn'reysla's shoulders and turned his back to him. Mazn'reysla slowly reached into a small compartment on the edge of the bath, producing a round bottle containing a thick, greenish liquid he had stowed there ahead of time; producing another chuckle form Drizzt. He had indeed prepared. Maz pushed the bottle into Jaka's hand. Jaka popped the cork off the bottle, methodically emptying a small amount in his palm. He reached under the water and spread the orchid oil over himself before carefully putting the bottle on the edge of the bath. Drizzt marveled at how precise and careful his actions were, as if he were doing a routine act like brushing his hair. The look in his eyes, however, suggested something a little more interesting.
Mazn'reysla arched his back forward and took a comfortable grip on the marble, a huge smile still plastered on his face. Jaka grabbed the cleric's shoulders and slowly began a small, tentative thrust that became steadily more rapid. Maz gave out a happy sigh, closing his eyes and savoring the gentle sensation becoming more violent. Jaka's fingernails dug into his partner's shoulder as he pulled him in deeper, though making no noise; no sigh, no moans, not even a stray grunt.
Drizzt leaned forward and allowed his eyes to drink in the whole scene, suddenly realizing he was grabbing his wine bottle harder by the neck. They were two, small, odd-looking creatures engaged in this violent ecstasy. The only noises that came from either of them were the sound of their breathing becoming a bit heavier mingled with the splash of the water. He suddenly realized that this whole scene was more like a bizarre fantasy than an emotional test.
Jaka's breathing became heavier, his slender, coal black hands finding their way to Mazn'reysla's long, blond hair and clutching on and yanking hard. His lips found their way to the cleric's neck, which he started biting hard as if he were a vampire who had lost his fangs. He was like a wild animal; though a controlled wild animal and a beauty to behold. Mazn'reysla kept his grip on the edge of the tub, though he let his body hang loose savored the every thrust, which filled him up perfectly and matched every wide bite and pull. He was letting himself be pleasured.
His thoughts were practically nonexistent, Jaka read as he scanned his partner's surface thoughts. Instead he caught a peace he had never read in another drow, though his thoughts occasionally seemed to moan for him. He was almost at a perfect center, something else he would have to study later. Mazn'reysla was proving to be one of the most fascinating lovers he had ever had; a drow whose thought processes seemed completely different from the rest of his kind. He was becoming more study material than instrument of pleasure, though sometimes the two were one in the same
Mazn'reysla opened his eyes and looked over at Drizzt and saw only eagerness. He was concerned he would be jealous; that ancient honor still not scrubbed from his soul. Instead his smile was wide and his lavender eyes only seemed to dance. Drizzt met his gaze and smiled wider. His right hand then casually splashed in the water, though under the green water, he could see the warrior's hand wrap around his own fleshy sword and begin to rub. The cleric smiled wider, leaning back and gently nibbling Jaka's jaw.
Jaka leaned against his partner's ear and whispered something out of Drizzt's hearing range, though the tone was still usually matter-of-fact. Mazn'reysla smiled and nodded. The tailor concentrated, enacting a mild, psionic link between the two to share sensations. A second later, Maz let out a deep moan. Jaka's hand trailed to his own neck, tracing his own collarbone around the black corded necklace. The cleric sighed harder, his flesh trembling as the tailor's fingernails raked over his own shoulder. Maz let out a deeper moan that became longer and more passioned. Drizzt leaned back, seeing that something unique had transpired between the two, maybe even a psionic linking. It became more obvious when Jaka sunk his black fingernails deep into the flesh on the side of his neck, drawing a small amount of blood. Maz gasped as his neck twitched for a second, a sensation he immensely enjoyed.
Mazn'reysla's moans started becoming louder, a reaction Drizzt had never seen from him before. For a second he almost felt jealous, but continued his own enjoyment of the scene, a sigh slipping past his own lips. He sat back, enveloped in the warm water, stroking his own sensitive flesh and feeling his own pleasure rising as he watched the two; the violent thrust and bite of the young psionic and the screams of the usually stoic cleric, whoes eyelids fluttered in pure ecstacy. This was meditation for him, physical pleasure of a kind he had never experienced.
Mazn'reysla screamed louder, letting out a few animalistic growls before doubling over and releasing. Jaka gave a few more violent thrusts, prompting a few uncomfortable shudders from the cleric before his passion was met. He gradually withdrew and slowly lowered himself to a sit in the tub. Mazn'reysla continued leaning over the side, letting out a few residual pants that turned into a shrill cackle. The after reactions from both were as exciting as watching the act itself. Drizzt gave a few more intense squeezes before knowing his own satisfaction as he gave a long sigh.
Jakadirek watched him curiously, resting for a second, before slowly rising from the tub.
"I thank you for this experience," Jaka said plainly, his voice mingled with heavy breaths.
Maz let out another sighing cackle while plopping into the water with a splash.
"No, I am the one who should do the thanking," the cleric replied. "You should teach Drizzt that trick sometime."
Drizzt felt mildly stung by that remark, though shrugged it off quickly. He merely smiled and let out his own laugh. Jaka's eyes trailed to his and the two were locked in a stare for a short while. Drizzt smiled and clapped his hands.
"A fine performance," he said, though for some reason he knew this would have some far reaching effects for pain or pleasure.
Jaka breathed a small sigh of relief…and further enjoyment of this whole bizarre scene.