DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the original FR characters. They belong to their respective owners/authors. I do own the OCs, however.

CHAPTER WARNING: lime and deviousness.

Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof. (unlikely that it would happen, since no one seems to care enough to review, even if 29 people read it, but anyway...)

Enjoy!

They had ended up doing it a couple more times, that day, and, at the end, before she left, sated and satisfied, the jalil told him her name.
Mez'Barris Armgo, second daughter of the Second House.
A princess of noble blood.
Every time he thought about it, he couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief and yet he couldn't stop thinking about her, about what they had done together.
He couldn't have asked anything better than for her to return, but he knew it was improbable.
She was too highborn to cavort with a scumbag such as him and the tales of nobleborn ladies choosing peasants or even whores as their lovers where just that, tales. The probabilities of seeing her again were slim, unless he somehow crossed her path in the street, but at least he would have something to remember her by.
In the end he had decided not to go to the healer about the wound he had received in that first duel: he healed fast enough and it was really nothing more than a shallow gash.
It would leave a scar, so that at least he could be sure that his encounter with the princess had not been a dream.
Life went on and he had a contract to fulfil, there was no time for maudlin sentiment and yet Uthegental felt like he had to remember.

Mez'Barris had emerged from the gladiator's barracks sore that day, but happy and light-headed. It truly had been a fruitful encounter.
The boy hadn't only been well endowed and strong (for the love of the Goddess, she would have serious trouble sitting in the next days!), which would have been enough, but also very keen on pleasing her to the best of his abilities and the way he looked at her as if she was wonderful and generous made her feel extremely powerful. Definitely value for money she told herself, returning to her family's palace.
During the course of the next two weeks, Mez'Barris had been too busy securing an alliance with Tal'queyllen H'Tithet, Matron Mother of the small and apparently unimportant, but in truth well versed in commerce and intrigue, Twenty-ninth House to seek dalliances and had almost managed to convince herself that the gladiator, however sexy, was too lowborn to merit her attention. He was just a glorified combat slave, after all, a step over a common whore, but not much more. What would her mother and her elder sister think, if they knew about her escapade? And what would they think if she repeated the experience?
Determined to keep away from the arena, but needing an outlet for the sexual frustration she had accumulated over the last two weeks, she invited one of her occasional lovers to her chambers. Solavin was one of the officers of the Armgo elite infantry company, a competent swordsman and quite handsome and he was genuinely trying his best to please her, but all his efforts still left her cold and, after a while, she dismissed him, even more frustrated.
"Damn it! -she thought – Possible that a single tryst with that boy had spoiled me for my usual lovers?" Mez'Barris silently fumed at the thought and decided to take the matter in her own hands. Sometimes it took a jalil to do the job of a jaluk.
She lay on her bed, trying to think of something arousing enough to set her off and, to her chagrin, the only thing that aroused her enough was the thought of him, the Lolth-damned gladiator, of his joy and disbelief when she asked him if he wanted her again, of him pinning her down to the bed and taking her hard, still looking at her with reverence, of the knowledge that she had had him completely in thrall. Mez'Barris cursed foully and fluently and scrambled down from the bed.
What was happening to her? She had never been so obsessed about a boy before, never in her life, even if she had had quite a few lovers, some of which reputedly beautiful.
"What am I to do now?" she asked herself, sitting at her desk and thumping her fist on the hard surface.
She wanted to go back to the barracks and have him again, her body craved that, but what of the consequences? Her relatives would think that she couldn't think higher than her privates, she would fall in their consideration and she couldn't allow that. Or could she?
If her mother and sister thought that she was too sex-addled to care for her reputation, they would likely underestimate her and, beneath their notice, that would give her ampler space to manoeuvre to a position where she could increase her assets and influence.
Yes, - she told herself, pacing across her bedchamber, still naked – they would not notice her until it was too late.
Besides, the boy himself, even if not a genius, was quite an asset, in the bedchamber and otherwise.
Even feigning disinterest, she couldn't help but overhearing the tales of his exploits in the arena.
Apparently, what he had done on that first day had been just an appetizer.
Mez'Barris nodded to herself. She needed a capable warrior loyal only to her and the boy seemed besotted enough that maybe, with time and cunning, she could convince him to stand at her side in her climb to power. It wouldn't be hard, she surmised, and it would be fun, that it would be.
A win-win situation, really.
It could prove harder to convince his master to part with him: the boy seemed to be one of his most prized slaves and he would probably ask an extortionate price, but that was a thought for later.
First, she told herself, rummaging into her closet for something sexy to wear, she needed to secure the boy's undivided loyalty.

When she arrived at the barracks, the fights had already stopped for the day and everything was more or less quiet.
Jhaelas the half-drow, however, was still poring over ledgers in a makeshift office by the light of a candle stub.
Despite the late hour, the ringmaster was very happy to see her, remembering her and her coin from the previous encounter.
Quite a large sum of money changed hands and she was shown to the door of the boy's sleeping quarters.
The boy himself was sitting at a table, honing a dagger with methodical and rhythmic strokes, clad only in a pair of loose-fitting serge trousers.
"Can't sleep, Crazy Dragon?" she asked seductively from the doorway, hands on her hips.
He jumped up in surprise, dagger at the ready, then saw her and relaxed a fraction. "Mistress… How..? Why..?" he stammered, confused, his eyes inexorably drawn to the neckline of her form-fitting, black, spidersilk dress.
The bloody neckline reached almost to her navel and, to tell the truth, she usually felt very self-conscious of her unfashionably broad silhouette in that dress, but he was looking upon her with such awe that every hint of self-doubt disappeared from her mind.
"I'm honoured of your visit, mistress…" he managed, regaining enough self-control to bow to her.
Mez'Barris, sashayed seductively towards him, smiling.
In her platform-heeled sandals (which she hated to wear, but she figured it would be just for a short while) she was almost as tall as him and could look him straight in the eye.
He quickly averted his gaze and she wound a hand in his short hair, pulling just a bit and forcing him to look at her again.
"Did you miss me, Uthegental?" she whispered in his ear and the warrior shivered slightly.
"Every day, mistress." he replied dutifully, but his voice sounded already rough with desire.
Either he was really good at pretending or he was really affected by her.
She was betting on the second, but one can never know with professionals.
She released his hair and started running her hands on his warm, coal black skin.
Drow males were usually toned but slender, lithe, while he was heavily muscled, but she admitted to liking very much to let her hands roam on the planes, ridges and dips of his broad chest.
His breathing became heavier as she proceeded with her leisurely exploration.
She felt the ridge of a scar under her fingertips on the side of his chest.
"Another paltry opponent?" she queried.
The warrior seemed very much embarrassed by her question and blushed an adorable shade of crimson.
"No, mistress." he replied quietly, looking down, and, in a flash of enlightenment, she understood.
He had let the wound heal on its own and scar as a memento of their lovemaking.
Mez'Barris felt a thrill of joy course through her veins.
He was not faking it, he was truly and well besotted with her.
That was perfect. She'd have an easy and fun time of convincing him to be permanently hers. He would come willingly, eventually, she was sure of it now.
Smiling sweetly, she kneeled in front of him and quickly flicked her tongue over the scar.
"Did you think of me, of your blood on my lips, of your cock inside me?" she asked, grinding her chest against his already hardened manhood.
He nodded wordlessly, eyes wide, almost trembling.
Her hands fleeted over the bulge in his trousers.
"Did you touch yourself thinking of me?" she asked again quietly and increased the pressure of her touch.
Uthegental hissed between clenched teeth to stifle a groan. That was no fun, she wanted to hear him and know that he had given up his control.
She was glad he wasn't wearing leather, otherwise he wouldn't have felt it so much when she licked at him through the fabric.
Now he did cry out and the sound sent a thrill through her veins.
"Did you?" she quested again, squeezing him gently and rubbing her hand up and down.
"Yes, for Lolth's sake, mistress, yes I did!" he exclaimed frantically, knees almost buckling.
She quickly tugged at the waistband of his trousers, letting them slide down, grateful that he appeared to be of the no-smallclothes persuasion and took him in hand, stroking him firmly but gently.
"This is much better than that, isn't it?" she purred seductively.
"Yes, sweet Mother of Dark, yes! Yes it is!" he sounded almost desperate and she liked it.
"Mine. – she thought, standing up again without letting go of him and leading him to the bed – Only mine."
Definitely a win-win situation.