A/N: I just felt like writing some Aspen, so here's the result…
Wriggling back into his pants, Aspen considered leaving the hotel room, before the half faerie on the bed pulled at his arm, begging him to come back and stay a little longer. He said such nice things that Aspen couldn't refuse, suppressing a sigh as he rolled back onto the bed, allowing the other faerie to rest his head against his shoulder. They'd had some fun for sure, and it hadn't been the first time Aspen had seen him.
As the faerie – whose name Aspen had long forgotten – told stories of his wife and his children, Aspen nodded along, although his thoughts were elsewhere. His fingers played with the faerie's hair lightly, keeping him satisfied as he talked.
When there was silence, and Aspen realised he'd missed something important, he said a quick, "Sorry?"
"I… I said I love you," the faerie breathed, shifting his head so he could see Aspen's expression.
Aspen blinked slowly, unsure of how to react. He barely knew the other faerie. Yes, he had slept with him a few times, but that meant nothing to him. However, sometimes if he slept with someone more than once, they got the idea that he liked them, or he wanted to be with them, and they became very loose with their declarations. It was a stupid thing for them to say, when love hardly made any sense, and he wasn't even sure he believed in such a thing. But, it was still nice to hear, of course.
"Do you?" Aspen replied, settling on a pleased smile. He could not say such things back, because being a pure faerie, he couldn't lie. "Why do you love me?"
The faerie almost looked a little embarrassed, although he didn't take it back. "You're pretty and you know exactly what I like. I… I really enjoy this. All the things we do."
Aspen nodded, stroking the side of his face, as if how a mother might comfort a child. "That's nice of you to say. I've enjoyed this too…"
He couldn't resist the compliments and nice words, and every time he heard them, he found himself wanting more. As if they were never quite enough.
His smile widened. "What else do you like about me?" he asked, encouragingly.
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused.
~~O~~
Slinging his arms around the warlock's neck, Aspen giggled, as it took him a few tries to open the hotel room door with the key. Once he got it open, he started inside, eager to hear more. The warlock had said the most exquisite things, and he'd promised more if Aspen came back with him to the hotel room.
"Would you like the light on, or off?" Aspen asked, pausing by the light switch.
"Off," the warlock replied a little dismissively, and Aspen left it alone and walked over. In the dim lighting, the warlock wouldn't see his good looks as well, he wanted to say, but he kept quiet on the matter.
"Would you-…" Aspen started again, before the warlock came up behind him, and grabbed his hair, his mouth near his ear.
"Don't speak unless spoken to," he ordered, his teeth grazing his ear. "Do you understand?"
Aspen swallowed and fell silent, giving a slight nod in response. The warlock's nice words were gone now, and his demeanour was cold and stony.
"On your knees," he commanded next, letting go of Aspen's hair as he pushed him away.
Aspen lowered himself to the ground slowly, staring out at the window and pushing down his thoughts, finding it a good distraction.
"That's the way," the warlock murmured, making a noise as if he were pulling something out of his pocket. "Be a good faerie, won't you?"
Aspen strained to listen for any kind of praise, and he found himself a little less resistant as a blindfold was tied around his eyes. His distraction was gone now, and he could only focus on the sensations and their combined breaths.
For some, he'd learnt, it was a game of power and control. It was hard sometimes to swallow his pride and let go of his own control.
But sometimes, it was what he had to do.
That night, he had a nightmare unlike any he had experienced before.
There were hands grabbing at him from all directions. He could not escape them, for there were so many, and for every hand that he pushed away, another rose to replace it.
Some fingers twisted in his dark hair and pulled sharply, while others traced a line around his lips, before pushing his lips open and sliding inside his mouth.
There were whispers too, hissing at him from the darkness. Some spoke nice words, calling him 'pretty' and 'good.' But then they morphed into something else, their edges jagged and cutting as they ordered him around and dragged him down. They called him things like 'worthless,' and 'easy.' He tried to raise his own hands to block his ears, but it was of little use, when the multitude of hands stopped him.
Soon the hands curled around his neck and squeezed. It became hard to breathe, and he choked, the voices laughing at his misfortune, as if it were all a joke to them.
The laughing grew louder until it hurt his ears, and it blotted out his thoughts. The hands discarded him like a child would discard an old toy, tossing him to the ground.
It was cold on the ground, and he shivered, realising his clothes were gone too, and he was naked in front of them. But the hands returned, and they poked and prodded at him, relentless in their pursuit, even as he curled in on himself. He was sure his skin must be marked as nails raked against it, not caring if they drew blood.
The hands were inescapable, and his body eventually became limp, too exhausted to fight back anymore.
This was his fate, they whispered relentlessly, echoing in his thoughts.
"No, that isn't what I mean. I meant-... I just..." he said quickly, looking conflicted before pulling him closer quickly to kiss him before breaking away for just a moment, "I don't mean to think you'll get angry. I don't think that, but if you think it's crazy and... And...you hate it because... Because I've realized that I'm in love with you, really, and I think I've known that for a long time but I could never pinpoint what it was and... And..." He trailed off his sentence, looking conflicted and uncharacteristically nervous. "It's crazy, right? Because that isn't like me at all."
They were words he never thought he'd ever mutter, and he wasn't sure whether they suited him or not. But he inhaled quickly, struggling as he waited for Caspian's reply. He was worried of being rejected. Of Caspian hating him and turning him away. Caspian was the one constant in his life, and he didn't know if he could bear the thought. When he didn't reply straight away, Aspen felt foolish, considering leaving and going to the Towns before he made even more of a fool of himself.
But Caspian's admission in return stopped him, and it was the first time someone he actually cared about – someone who really knew him – had told him they loved him. It wasn't someone who'd slept with him a few times, or merely thought he was pretty. It was Caspian.
He couldn't help but smile slightly, his gaze softening.
Was this perhaps what love was really like?
And, did someone like him really deserve such a thing?
Despite moving with the Hunt to the Faerie, Aspen still made time for his hook-ups and encounters with strangers, whether it be in the Faerie, or in the Towns. However, he grew discontent when it started to feel like a cycle. Everyone wanted one thing from him, and he got the feeling they thought he was easy. It was not something he liked being considered.
Slipping out to the Towns one night, he paused when the gaze of a faerie girl with long, black hair, travelled down his body. When she beckoned him closer, into the alleyway, he followed, a little intrigued. Was it someone he had met before? He couldn't remember.
"Mmm, you look tasty," she said in jest, her eyes sparkling as she pushed him up against the wall. Her hands wandered to push his cloak aside, and they pressed against his skin under his shirt.
Out of habit, he nearly replied with one of his usual witty replies, before he was quiet when his wings scratched against the wall uncomfortably, and his gaze flicked down the alley. Her hand started lower, and he pushed her off him, after a pause, moving away from the wall.
"What's wrong, hun?" she laughed. "Are you shy tonight? We've had fun in the past."
Frowning, he glanced back at her. "I'm not in the mood."
"Oh, come on," she replied, rolling her eyes. When she reached for him again, he was annoyed, gesturing dismissively and starting away.
As usual, he grew caught up in his thoughts, as he walked through the streets in the silence. Was he stuck in a never-ending cycle? Everyone wanted the same thing, and while he hadn't minded in the past, their words were no longer enough. He grew tired and dissatisfied, although he wasn't sure why, and he yearned for something else.
Was he losing his head? Change was never something he had craved in the past.
But he'd never been able to silence his thoughts entirely.
A/N: The song lyrics I added in there are from Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) by Eurythmics.