( OLIVER JACKSON COHEN, PANSEXUAL, HE/HIM ) — by the grace of the gods, old and new, i present to you SKINNER the GRAND SORCERER of HOUSE REMES within the lands of VALTOLIA. the gods have blessed us with their presence for 185 years. many know them to be PEACIBLE, CHARMING, QUICK-WITTED, and while it is not always shown, it is said they can also be AMBIVALENT, VINDICTIVE, & HEDONISTIC. what will their tale in the story of metia be? only they can write it, so let’s see how their legend unfolds.
once upon a time, in the labyrinth of house mulciber, a child was born that stole the hearts of all who were present.
the problem was, he well and truly stole their hearts. their minds, their souls, their very beings, were twisted to serve the whims of one so recently brought into the world, who only knew hunger and fear.
when the solanis school came to take him away, it was before he was named; the way that the servants and his parents, even his mother after her rigors, were clawing at the mages who came? the babe was dubbed 'skinner', for how one particular midwife's nails raked down one of the guards' arms, digging deep enough to rend flesh, in her desperation to heed the newborn mage's cries.
an enchanter from his first breath, control was among the first lessons young skinner had to learn. to control himself, so he would not so casually control others. his grip on the power was infantile, unskilled and unhoned, swinging a club when he would need a finer point for the ability to have any use. any time spent on the other wonders was often in service of learning to better wrangle himself, wrangle his power, his influence, his capability. which led to an incredible amount of effort in developing that control, but also the casual assumption that he could always just get what he wanted from someone, if he didn't care enough about the consequences.
such an attitude eventually grew into something resembling a charming form of confidence.
at the time of assignment, skinner was claimed by the kingdom of noble courts and intrigue, valtolia. where his honey-sting tongue could have most effect. he's served the kingdom faithfully for years, bending ears and bending hearts and minds to his will. in war? his greatest weapon is the very soldiers that are brought against him. monsters are made tame, or held still as they're slain.
the one rule? skinner never sleeps with someone he's ever spelled.
yes:
topping, bottoming, oral (giving), oral (receiving), public/semi-public, somnophilia (pre-agreed), breeding, marathon, rough (receiving), use of power (other mages/witchers), noble/royal dalliances
no:
any degree of feminization (either side), femme pronouns (either side), infantilization (either side), humiliation (either side), implications of mind control, feet, scat
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The smile of the other was matched on his face. A shift in his weight as he walked caused the cloth to shift his cock peaking just briefly before returning to the barely covered state.
"If this meeting was in the baths your mouth would be too full to speak and it wouldn't be the head on my shoulders making the choices." A sip of the drink in his hand as he moved to sit in his chair as he looked at the other. The lose tie undone now but he didn't call focus to it. "That is interesting. See who we can put closer to them maybe see if one of the lesser nobles could be pushed to entertain the idea of marriage. Put someone in their home since someone is already in ours." He laughed as a little at the other's comment.
"Name a place and you will have work free vacation once we get back." He paused for a second "Unless you have have someone else in mind."
in no world was that peek of an extra eye, gazing up at him from the king's loose robe, ever missed by one such as skinner.
"by that point I'd just speak into your mind. doesn't count as enchanting, so fun's still on the table, and I get to talk with my mouth full. despite all those cold, rude instructors at solanis trying to get me stop for years."
his report made, skinner leaned back on the seat as his hips slid forward, his leaner torso a plane angled away. already gazing up at the king due to his shorter height, only then accentuating it. "If the king so desires, I can seed the interest in argonian intellect and more martial capability, to see if any happen to fall into a marital bed." gently guiding the nobility? not his hand, or his role. skinner knew what his position required.
"--a vacation? you won't go and ruin it by telling the master of laws where I'm hiding, will you?" a tease, full of teeth. "perhaps leave to return to those cold halls of solanis. bit early for any postings of official positions, but can't say I'm not curious."
Godric took in the revelation without so much as a shift in expression, though his gaze sharpened. Not gone. That complicated things.
“Their work is meticulous, then,” he remarked, stepping forward, his posture still composed but brimming with an unspoken tension. “Precise enough to move unseen, but not enough to cover their tracks entirely.” He glanced toward the prisoners, the fear still fresh in their eyes.
His mind was already turning over the implications - this wasn’t just an assassination attempt, not when the aim had been to unsettle, to infiltrate. Poison, enchanted guards, a blade meant to send a message. Subtle, yet deliberate.
His attention snapped back to Skinner, voice low but firm. “Poetic.” He wasn’t interested in flowery descriptions of veiled faces; he needed names, methods, weaknesses. And if they hadn’t left… “If they’re still here, then we need to make them overplay their hand.” Godric looked dismissively at those the mage had sheered layer after layer off, "Have we exhausted this avenue?" Godric had no qualms with boiling them down to nothing, for the good of Valtolia and the rule of law, but he had no interest in redundancies.
"--we've exhausted this avenue." sparing this lot wouldn't leave even a dent in his legacy of horrors, but skinner was more a man for the long depravities, rather than the immediate bursts.
that. and if his mind was any further uncaged, he'd likely have some trouble pulling all those threads back together again. and where would godric and anyone in the vicinity be, then? not to mention how long it'd take before he was nullified, and exterminated.
"make your reports. assign your guards. we'll be out of foreign princes to monitor soon enough, and then it'll just be ours. imagine how much easier that will be?"
Night had long fallen and The King left the room of some noble of his kingdom he had 'slept' with. His body covered my a robe loosely tied around his waist as he made his way back to his temporary office here in this foreign kingdom. Brad was not to proud to say he was stunned by how beautiful the palace was. Everything here was foreign to him, and once he was over the culture he made an effort to learn as much as he could as he played the bumbling fool.
The door was unlocked when he moved the handle so his guard was alerted. He should have grabbed his clothes instead of leaving them on the floor but here he was. Walking into the room he relaxed seeing one of his own men. "If i had known i was meeting you i would have worn more clothes." He paused "or less depending on this goes" He joked as he moved to the small bar pouring two glassed of the whiskey there. "Learn anything interesting during our time here?" The question wasn't very leading and could mean anything. Brad had no idea if any protections had been set up by the other yet or not.
was it too cheeky to bow rather lowly, his already short height accentuated by the gesture, with his head almost eye-level with the king's....royal scepter...were it to peek from that loosely bound robe?
probably. but skinner was cheeky by nature and nurture both.
"you could order me to meet you in the baths if you so chose, but I'd bet that meeting would last a little longer than a quick chat. matters not to me. nothing I haven't seen before." both their proclivities were well known, by that point. "now, as for anything new... I've yet to report my findings back home, so I will give them now: whoever it was likely hadn't left yet, initially. the blade wasn't for combat, the poison wasn't anything we knew, mages were involved, and it was meant to make valtolia look weak. as for anything here?" he twirled his fingers in the air, causing a simple illusion -- a sigil. "one of the houses here has the most curious emblem." a serpent -- a viper, no less, on a purple field. "now, normally I would say, this is almost as obvious as the medesi witcher being a suspect. but my eyes, my ears, and my mind, will be open. even if it will cost me rather dearly."
for every man he has to enchant, charm, or otherwise ensorcell, is one less man he would get to enjoy the company of, someday.
tauric’s head lulled back in response to the tease of that rim, teeth sealing a groan in. hips bucked, eager, probing warmth. then he felt the other’s breath hot against his face, uttering words darkly - enough to frighten a normal man, perhaps, but only bolstered the grin on the dragonrider’s face. dark, dark mutterings from a dangerous mage. it was like mounting a smaller dragon, the promise of fire at every touch.
tauric exploded with laughter, belly trembling as his hands smacked that lean butt. “a threat,” he grinned near manically, “a good one. you might be becoming my next favorite whore, eh?”
his cock almost had no resistance when the other sat down, the ring blooming hotly around tauric’s length. skinner was sloppy, warm, and so tender that he instantly jostled his hips up, growling as he buried himself further up the other. “think we gonna be fuckin’ like this a lot, little mage. maybe i keep you loaded so another lucky man can feel me, eh?”
"mmm, you really are unflappable, aren't you?" meeting his escalation with nothing but joviality and affection. perhaps this dragonrider was well-seated, for once. just as skinner was well-seated on him, the mage letting out a soft oof of a grunt as that thickness bumped under his guts. despite his lesser stature, skinner likely felt surprisingly spacious inside -- if only due to the limited space being well-used enough, despite how it might look while in-use. his fuzzy rim, stretched wide and almost drooling someone else's cum down over tauric's bullish balls.
"if we're to be fucking like this often, then I'm going to need a little more care for my garments, in the future." he put his finger to the rider's lips, and started to slide up that sizeable haft, before continuing-- "as in, you get a free pass this time. not the next."
once that was said, skinner threw his head back as he punched himself in the stomach with the head of tauric's buried cock.
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the barrel-chested man laughed from his very core, the sound reverberating warmly between them. he tested the slicked rim, grinned something wicked at the mage before him. “neat trick, mage.” now why weren’t they frequently sharing beds before?
but that didn’t matter, not when they were now. not a bed per say, but - a patch of grass? tauric all but slumped down, landing on the earth with a loud thud and absorbing most of the impact. he kissed the other again, a press of heat and liquor, all before he pulled back with his mouth stretched in a grin. by now, his cock was at full mast, rutting up and down the other’s cleft.
“do it yourself,” the burly man commanded, lacing his hands behind the back of his head as he looked down at the mage. “i watch you perform.”
the mage planned to enjoy himself, but being told to do so? now that... that wouldn't do.
skinner did take a grip of tauric behind him, and he did lift his lean, firm butt to rest on the tip of him, used rim easily starting to swallow. but that's when he leaned in, lips against tauric's ear.
"command me again, and I will rip into the mind of your next favorite whore, and leave nothing but the memories of all the blood left on your hands. the corpses in your wake. the destruction you cause. until they can't look at you without going soft and sobbing into their hands." and as he threatened this man, or moreso the ones this man loved to fuck, skinner teased up and down the flare of tauric's blunt head. engulfing him, sealing over him, again and again. tinging the promise with pleasure, before pushing down and pushing out, to take more of the rider's cock inside him -- gasping as he did so.
Godric regarded Skinner’s theatrics with the same detached patience as he did most mandates of court - acknowledging, but unmoved. His own stance remained composed, still in the proverbial work mode.
Skinner’s analogy had merit, even buried beneath the indulgence of it. Fear could be wielded, turned inward against the very people it sought to protect. A prisoner alone feared only for themselves - but when left to fester among others? When made to witness? The mind filled in horrors worse than any hand could carve.
Efficient. Precise. And not entirely pleasant - but nothing about this work was pleasing.
“An attempt worth entertaining. Your restraint is... unexpected” His gaze flicked briefly to the prisoner, then back to Skinner. "Act how you see fit, I'll continue to oversee."
and so, the doom -- and well-being -- of the rest of the staff was decided. after languishing his 'fullness' for the rest of his break, skinner pushed off his seat to 'deal with' the rest of the men he would handle for the day. fitfully, they'd look between each other, mistrusting; yes. perfect. skinner let that percolate, picking the worst emotions between them to spread over them, painting emotions in watercolor to streak between canvases of their minds. borders didn't exist, thoughts blending, stories corroborating, secrets bubbling to the surface and belching out as the surface tension would burst.
"this was meant to weaken us," he started, his fully sated voice falling almost into a drawl. "or make us appear weak. the poison was not from our lands. some of our guards are confused, themselves, as to why they weren't at their posts, and another enchanter had their way with them. the blade was a message in its design, not made for war. there is...a face. veiled, deconstructed, but the eyes remain. cold. without emotion. perhaps without thought. and the worst of it is..."
the glow faded from the mage's eyes as he swung his head back towards leander.
listening to skinner explain how it felt to be that free had no right being that erotic. he wished he could take part in it somehow. but his bits of magic were borrowed at best and better described as stolen on a good day. as resistant as he can be to most things, he wouldn't be a match for his power on the receiving end. combine that with losing the chance to get skinner all splayed out like this and it wouldn't be worth it. but he could dream. he did enjoy seeing people being fully uninhibited.
"not exactly but you've got a bigger vocabulary than I do." he said when he pulled off skinner's cock, licking at his own bottom lip. "but it's getting the job done." the job of getting kellen excited enough to really have some fun in this borrowed bed. "how about you make that noise you made one more time for me." he requested while pulling those fingers free of the mage and prepare to put something a bit thicker in their place.
despite often being the one the witcher pressed into -- and left his ample appreciation inside -- skinner knew his magic took up quite a bit of space inside kellen, in return. letting the witcher fill him, cum so much inside him that he had to squirm and stretch just to feel like he could take it all, was almost like a return on what he'd given.
and skinner did love to luxuriate in that feeling.
"vocabulary's about the only thing bigger I have," he teased back, shivering pleasantly from that last slurp and kiss. if kellen wanted more sound out of him, skinner was happy enough to perform, beginning to hum in pleasure as those fingers slid free. the mage ran his hands up and down himself again, stroking his body to awareness, just in time for the witcher's blade to kiss against his sheathe. as kellen started to push? to breach him rather easily, due to his 'frequency of use'?
skinner didn't have to 'perform' that noise anymore, since kellen had him making it for real.
weightless, the mage was in tauric’s burly arms, lifted and held there as their mouths bruised one another. the dragonrider had considerable strength, native to his trade, and he so loved to show it off during these heated encounters. how many people had he jostled up to kiss on bar counter tops? countless.
but in a maze, surrounded by bright fuckin’ magic birds—
skinner was a first for that. it didn’t change much though, as tauric treated his partners all the same. he made sure he was satisfied, and they were satisfied.
and at the first touch from the other, he was already leaking. the dragonrider groaned into the kiss, pulled back, and spat onto his own fingers. grinning at skinner in the dark, tauric then guided the spit-coated fingers to the torn open patch of the other’s trousers, between the cleft, before he curled up.
“mhmm,” a dragon’s groan, heat and mead. the fingers probed further upwards. “if i make ye’ sing, do the birds do the same?”
"perhaps," skinner lied, "if you make me sing loud enough."
whether or not the birds made noise wasn't part of his enchantment. they'd fly, they'd carry stones, they'd rest on the lake between shapes and designs, but he wouldn't take their voices on top of it. let them voice their frustrations in the night. if he was going to make them suffer, then that was the least he could offer.
as tauric's fingers would soon discover, he's far from the first man to plunder the mage's insides, leavings ample enough to serve as a dessert. as he was probed, skinner did push as he sighed, all but glazing tauric's fingers in another's load. "see? I'm all ready for you, already. don't you want to thank me?"
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a belabored sigh and another eye roll. “just my luck that I catch you on a night where you’ve already been thoroughly satisfied and I’ve gotta figure out what itches you have left to be scratched.” he pressed another finger in, taking what he found in the mage as a sign that he could take it well enough. “if you even have any.”
all said as a tease, of course. all said while he was still laving over that crown and toying inside of him. if there was anything a pair of hedonists would be good for, it’s taking their time to roll around in the pleasure they’re giving and getting. the would be going on for hours still and neither one of them should be missed.
“describe to me how that feels.” is all he said before upping his efforts, twisting at his wrist and bobbing more intently.
"I thought you liked me with a little extra cream." the cat jokes would never end, not with skinner at least. "that means less to worry about my itches, and we get to focus on yours." skinner was in rare form, sated in mind and body both.
"oh, that?" sure, he could do for some pillow talk, as he rocked up and down between kellen's working hands. plundered, pulled on. "my mind is always twisting in a cage of my own construction, lest I invade the minds of everyone in my vicinity and bend them to my whims, thus forcing my immediate eradication from others of my kind under proof of lack of control." to always be one slip from immediate death? well. he'd certainly give it a go before some lucky mage or another would be the one to cut him down.
"when I get to...relax the guard, it's like. mmmmm..." skinner rubbed down his own stomach, up his own chest. "like relaxing a muscle long-held taut. like loosening the corset on my mind, feeling free. an ache, held long enough that I'm almost numb to it, relieved in a way that can only be a new pleasure." he cracked an eye open, gazing down at the witcher. "does that match your fantasies?"
Godric had remained silent throughout Skinner’s twisted musings, unreadable save for the minute tightening of his jaw. Not at the horror of the process - no, that was expected. Inevitable. But at the question posed to him, one he only provided a non-answer. What is a man without his mind? He already knew. "Fortunately it isn't required of me." Was all he said in response.
Instead, his focus lay on the revelation - memories torn, not molded. Deliberate, precise. A second hand at work, and one that did not share Skinner’s artistry. That complicated matters. That meant intention. Someone wanted this man broken, but not erased.
His eyes flicked to the prisoner’s slackened, trembling form, then back to Skinner as the mage whirled on him. The demand was expected. Theatrics. Always.
“I’ll see it done. If we are to assume infiltration, then every face we bring closer must be accounted for. No unknown names, no loose ends.” He stepped closer, tilting his head just slightly, expression composed but cool. “Take your break,” the word held a touch of dry amusement, “we'll resume when you've had your adequate rest.”
skinner made a presentation out of his relief, almost rolling himself into a seat as one swollen with either bread or child. letting his head fall back, hands resting on his still rather lean stomach. breathing slow, grinning wide.
"it's like a feast. delicious from the start. but I just have to keep eating, and eating, and eating." skinner groaned as he settled on the chair, rolling his head on his neck to make it stretch and pop.
"you know, we both might see sunlight if we do a bunch at once. let their fear for one another percolate the most pertinent thoughts forward, and I scrape them off like scum from a broth." not that the mage knew a lick about cooking. moreso, he'd fucked or mindfucked enough chefs to get the analogy. "less damaging for them, less filling for me; at least, less than if I gorged myself on them one at a time."
he only snorted, running two of his fingers that were toying with the mage's sack further under it, finding where could dip and press in the crease between his warm cheeks. it was more a test than a tease, wanting to better survey the landscape he'd be roaming in and around for the night. skinner was fun in so many ways, the biggest for kellen being that he could just be himself without reservation. he never liked to hide who he was but his own bed would be a lot cooler if he didn't from time to time.
"wasn't worried about how ruined the sheets might be by the end of this," he said when he finally spoke. he squeezed the man laid out in front of him at his base, leaning down to lick across his head as his fingers pressed a little more intently at that ring. “just trying to figure out which way's the best way to get you there. haven't decided yet.”
skinner was, often as usual, well-used as he was well-bred. kellen would find little resistance, and perhaps a trace of another visitor; nothing substantial, as it'd been some time. a little tryst in a hallway, or a quick seat at the table, lifting his robe this way and pushing his pants that way. the mage was a man of many laps, not one to lapse on his efforts in keeping the court -- and her more powerful servants -- entertained, and feeling some sort of affection for him.
at the tongue, and the press, the mage let out a long, pleased sigh. some actual attention and appreciation. "well, I'm leaving the decision-making to you, tonight. I'm still riding the high of melting those memories." not that he'd be an entirely dead fish for the witcher, that just wouldn't do. skinner did roll his hips, dragging himself over that tongue, would kellen leave it there, then rocking down onto those fingers. "--and I do quite enjoy how...ample a witcher's affections can be."
especially since it was agreed, the borrowed sheets weren't going to be a problem.
tauric was single-minded in the sense that he could process only one emotion at a time. right now, at the forefront of his head, existed only lust towards his fellow valtolian. “hah. that’s what you think.” giant hands reached for the other’s smaller build, timed within the same moment his thick, weighty cock sprang out. already it was rock-hard and flaring enormously between them, pulsing as he guided his hands towards the other’s ass.
“'m going to fuck you until whole kingdom wakes up,” tauric mumbled, his accent thicker than usual, like it was slurred. then he leaned down for a heated kiss, his tongue pushing through to introduce the taste of strong mead, while his hands pulled at the fabric of whatever skinner wore, ripping it carelessly.
skinner watched, bemused, as his clothing was -- once again -- rather unceremoniously torn from his frame. the first time, that wasn't his fault; he didn't go seeking out his last would-be suitor, only to be hefted off his feet into a burning, bruising kiss. this time? maybe a little bit his fault, since he went and baited the rider about it.
tauric collided with him hard enough to push his head back, before skinner could give back into the kiss. grabbing him by the rudder, smearing that cockhead over chest, his neck, his stomach, just rubbing the tip against his skin until he'd be sensitive enough to leak.
hopefully.
a man only wanted to have to ensorcell himself open so many times a day.
"you should always splurge for the place you like to... splurge." it wasn't his best job but kellen grinned down at skinner like it was. well, for that and for how good he looked all splayed out like this. neither one of them aged like an average mortal but they also looked better than many could ever aspire to, though their bulds were very different.
"that is the question of the hour..." the witcher mused as he reached for the mage's ankles and used them to spread his legs, giving kellen more space to knee up onto the bed in between them. both hands trailed upwards from calf, to thigh, to hips. finally, one hand cupped skinner while the other idly wrapped around his shaft to tilt it from side to side. a quiet evaluation. "I think I want to get in you but that feels too easy. maybe I should spend some time warming you up to it first."
"splurging is enjoyable." with cash or with other forms of spend, skinner tended to be generous with himself -- and some trusted others. kellen very much among that list, whether it was his own gold he was throwing -- someone else's gold he'd embezzled -- or the kind of spend that made more messes than fixed them.
skinner laughed as kellen pulled his legs apart. going easily, letting the man of almost-similar height climb between them without challenge. "I am rather easy," he admitted. "but if you'd retract those claws, I'm sure we could have a nice time before either of us manages to get a dick in the other." getting finger-blasted by one of the more dexterous witchers across the known kingdoms? skinner didn't keep much in reserve, opting to enjoy, but even that was a certain degree of spoiled. "how poor a condition do you intend to leave these sheets in, tonight?"
the fact that he planned to magically clean and possibly repair them in the morning? kellen could either guess, or already know. shifting, shimmying a bit to get comfortable, his gaze was warm and upwards towards kellen the entire time.
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in his drunken stupor, tauric had little care of prying eyes. but did he normally care about it, even when sober? not really. again, not much in his head, so much so that he left house selwyn to die on their starry hill. his pleasures were simple ones: good mead, great trysts.
he flashed a big, toothy grin as skinner’s coat fell. taking a few steps closer, tauric was very quickly looking down at the other, towering over the mage. breaths came heavy, yet steady, all as he moved forth until the mould at the front of his trousers likely pressed against the other’s core.
tauric nodded at his own breeches. “take ‘em off.”
it's with an amused expression that skinner watched up at tauric, as he started undoing his fastenings and straps. "at least you're leaving my clothing in tact," he teased. the rider wouldn't be the first one skinner would ride that night; he had many appointments, and a few surprise visits. but magic and a well-practiced sense of propriety left each lover as clueless about the others as the last.
unless they were one who liked to take the mage, pre-glazed.
"here it is," he offers, enjoying just how much taller tauric was than himself. letting that weighty cock rest against his robe-covered chest. "now what about mine?"
the sight of the castherian prince in a state like this would have been quite the scandal if the two of them were caught, especially when the entire metian aristocracy was roaming the hedge maze. and yet, rohan didn't care about that thanks to all the wine in his system right now. back home, he was known for taking men like this and nobody batted an eye.
maneuvering his pants open and freeing his aching cock, rohan didn't need to be told twice. "if you insist," both of his hands grabbed the others fuzzy cheeks and spread them wide as his cock aligned itself and pushed in. skinner's warmth constricted around his member as he pushed in, rohan's head shot up as he let out a moan that could definitely be heard by someone on the other side of the maze.
finding the valtolian mage in such a...compromising...position, wasn't as unlikely as one would think. as long as the voyeur, intended or otherwise, wasn't someone he'd desired any time with? the memory of the interaction would be gone, or replaced, or smudged beyond recognition. such was the entitlement of his role.
(there had to be some benefit, somewhere.)
"not that quick--!" skinner laughed, eyes blown wide, as the drunken prince moved with almost a questionable swiftness. briefly enchanting himself, skinner bade his own body to obey his command -- that being, to open. so that rohan might find him pleasantly pliant, but not entirely plush. enough so, that skinner could actually enjoy himself, as the prince of toyne took up rather swift residence in his body. hefting him up, pushing him into the wall of the maze, skinner just rested his arms around rohan's shoulders and held on for the ride. watching down at him, his face, enjoying the throes of ecstasy the drunk prince was chasing.
