キラリ★キラリ

Though you're familiar with the walk down to the training grounds by now, you aren't yet familiar with the creeping sense of dread that accompanies you.

You'd been part of the 5th Company for a good minute now. It was decent, it really was! Decent pay, your job wasn't difficult, and even though your aim wasn't the best exactly, you'd had no trouble earning your keep and coasting through.

Until the vice captain returned from the Nod Krai expedition, anyway.

You'd heard the rumors about him once it became clear from Varka's letters that they were finally set to return.

---

"I heard the vice captain sabotaged a whole group of recruits so he could join the expedition..."

"I heard he tried to poison the Grandmaster. More than once."

"I heard he's so bloodthirsty, he tries to fight his comrades for fun...!"

"I heard he's stronger than a whole army, just on his own."

You were no stranger to the rumor mill that circulated amongst knights with nothing better to do, but the fact was that you'd never heard them talk about somebody quite like this. Frankly, it sent a chill up your spine. Just what kind of monster was this vice captain...?

The day Varka's forces returned, you were surprised to see a new face in the 5th Company; a young man, small in stature, with a head of messy, muted blue hair. He looked almost... princely. Regal. Of course, you had eyes. You could admit that he was rather attractive. A handsome face with alluring, wine-dark eyes, a charming little smile. If nothing else, you assumed you'd simply have some eye candy while on the job from now on.

So, naturally, it came as a shock when he introduced himself as the vice captain of the Ranged Company, freshly returned from Nod Krai.

Lohen, you reminded yourself.

His name is Lohen.

You were almost relieved, assuming that all of the rumors swirling around about him must have been exaggerated, the product of a bored, excitable bunch of recruits swapping ghost stories.

And then, a mere half hour into your first real day working under him, vice captain Lohen cheerily informed you all that you were going to be sparring, so he could see exactly how many of you were worth a damn in a real fight.

And your heart sank.

---

Now, months later, you're displeased to admit that you believe every bone-chilling rumor you've heard.

You've sparred him personally only a handful of times, but each session had been brutal. The first was easily the worst. It'd only taken a good 30 seconds for him to knock your wooden sword from your hand. And instead of stopping there like any other reasonable superior would have, vice captain Lohen had lunged forward, unarmed, delivering a roundhouse kick to your stomach that was enough to knock the wind from your lungs, before sweeping your legs straight out from under you.

"Ugh, what are they teaching you guys these days?" vice captain Lohen had rested his boot lightly on your shoulder where you lie on the ground. (As though he needed to keep you down at all while you recovered from that kick.) He looked down at you pitifully, and shot back a devious little smirk as you furrowed your brows and looked up at him in disbelief. He'd removed his foot, stepping away casually to pick his sword back up, before calling for the next poor soul to test their skills.

It'd taken you an extra minute to gather yourself and get back to the rest of the knights, legs a bit shaky, breath strained from the lingering pain. And as you processed the way your underwear stuck wetly to you between your legs, you immediately vowed to take it with you to your grave. Nothing good could come of someone like him having that knowledge.

So far, you'd stuck to your word, too. It hasn't been as difficult as you'd feared; the handful of times you've sparred since then have been fairly quick sessions. Not a lot of time to do anything too incriminating when someone's wiping the floor with you before swiftly moving on. You've silently thanked any archon that will listen for that mercy, at least.

Which brings you to... today. Again, you're plenty familiar with the path to the grounds; you're still getting used to the pit in your stomach as you make the walk.

You've never been stupid enough to purposely get on his bad side. Never talked back, never meant to step out of line, never even meant to so much as draw his attention, because having Lohen's attention was never a good thing. He never paid much mind to a knight doing their job well.

A knight who fucks up aiming practice so bad that the non lethal bullet hits Lohen right in the stomach, however... That's a knight who involuntarily signs up for the vice captain's "special training."

It just so happens that you, unlucky knight, are also the only one who gets such a privilege today. Either everyone else's aim sharpened up quick seeing the cold smile on their superior's face, or you just plain fucked up badly enough that he wants to make you suffer specifically.

When you spot Lohen, he's leaning against a box of supplies that were delivered earlier that afternoon, twirling that same frighteningly jagged knife around his finger while looking bored out of his skull. With a frown, you note that he seems to perk up quite a bit when his eyes land on you. He catches the knife and it disappears down his sleeve, like some kind of unhinged magic trick. You make an effort to keep your expression steady; the last thing you need is the vice captain thinking you're scared of him (even though, well. You are. Just not exactly the way he might assume).

"There's my favorite cadet who can't aim for shit!" he calls cheerily, making you duck your head shamefully. "Now now, don't be shy! You get a personal audience today. There aren't even any other knights here to see you get your ass handed to you. Benevolent of me, no?"

Face threatening to heat up, you try to maintain some semblance of professionalism, lifting your head again as you approach him. You consider saluting for good measure, but you're... pretty sure he'll just laugh at you for that. "I assume it will be shooting practice, sir?"

You stop when you get just a couple feet away, doing your best to not look as wary as you feel. The way the vice captain's eyes inspect your body language doesn't have you hopeful. His smile is wide, and smug. "You assume wrong."

"Wh... sir?"

He pushes himself off of the boxes with a little grunt, not even looking at you as he motions for you to follow him. "Normally when one of my knights misses their shot, you're right! I drag them out here, set up a bunch of dummies, and have 'em shoot for an hour or two until either the sun makes them delirious, or they actually improve." His sentence trails off into an amused little laugh that has more than just your jaw clenching. (You ignore that.) "But you, poor thing, shot me straight in the stomach. I could probably make you stand here shooting at targets all day and you'd still miss the shot tomorrow. Hah!"

Your face starts to burn with embarrassment and something else that you really don't need to be dealing with while your superior is chewing you out. "I'm... I'm still very sorry, vice-"

"Do you even know how bad those things bruise??" Lohen cuts you off, obviously not wanting to hear another formal apology. (Strangely, you note that he doesn't actually seem upset while he talks about you shooting him. The lopsided grin on his face is nothing short of delighted, eyes lit up while he talks about it. Especially the bruise. What a freak. But, you also find yourself struggling to keep your mind off of what that bruise might look like on his skin, under his uniform... well. Anyway.) You stay silent, waiting for him to continue as you follow him to the more open expanse of the grounds, roomy enough for multiple sets of knights to spar at a time, whether with weapons or otherwise. "So you... are going to be sparring me, personally. You get an hour. If you can land a hit on me before then, congratulations, you get out early!"

Your heart drops to your stomach. "If I... land a hit. On you."

Lohen turns to you again, sadistic glee on full display on his face. "Don't sound so defeated already, cadet! I haven't even laid a hand on you yet. Maybe your hand to hand combat's gotten better than your aiming skills, huh?" He cackles to himself like it's the funniest thing in the world before facing you fully, backing up a few steps. "Now. I'll even let you start us off. Give it your best shot, yeah?" He doesn't even try to hide the mockery in his voice.

You feel your heart start to race. Okay. Alright. A full hour of hand to hand sparring, just you and the vice captain, right. Cool. You can handle this. Who knows, maybe... maybe your skills really have sharpened, maybe the pressure will do you good? You warily step toward him with these thoughts in mind, deciding what kind of attack to kick things off with. He doesn't even get into a defensive position, a hand on his hip and a lazy smile on his face as he watches you curiously. You carefully keep your eyes trained on his to avoid giving yourself away, act like you're going to swing at him, before you sweep a leg out to try to catch him off balance—

And you're in the dirt before you know what happened, Lohen standing above you like he'd barely lifted a finger. "Too easy. Come on, at least try for me."

You bite back a retort, not particularly wanting to give him even more reason to beat you into the ground. You push yourself up, getting your bearings, arms up defensively as you glare at him, before trying again. And again. And again...

---

By the time the hour is nearly up, Lohen's barely broken a sweat. You, on the other hand, are panting, muscles aching from exertion, dirt staining your uniform in more than a few places. Not like you wouldn't need to wash it anyway, with the amount of sweat you'd no doubt soaked into the fabric.

Every swing you'd thrown his way, he'd either dodged with a little smile, or used his leverage to swing you straight to the ground. Every kick was met with one more vicious in turn (and fuck did it hurt. How conditioned was this maniac's body, exactly? Kicking somebody's shin really shouldn't feel like you're kicking a metal pole). He'd let you dart behind him a couple times, laughing under his breath, but you'd learned your lesson fairly quickly with the way he'd thrown you straight over his shoulder and into the dirt.

...So admittedly things were not going well.

Things were not going well, and he hadn't even gone on the offensive a single time.

To your credit, you hadn't sworn at him even once. Hadn't complained or argued or called him an asshole even though he really really deserved it. (You also hadn't said or done anything incriminating, which... you feel might be a miracle at this point.) You were keeping yourself in check impressively well!

Which makes you panic all the more when he glances at the timer he pulls out of his pocket, and sighs dismissively. "Five minutes left... alright, you've just about learned your lesson. My turn." A mean grin splits his mouth, and he cracks his neck.

"Wha-"

You already knew he was fast, but seeing him coming at you after an hour of him barely dodging and parrying, lazy movements and a bored expression, sends a spike of pure fear through you. (And something else, but you really have bigger things to worry about than the way your underwear is sticking uncomfortably to you right now.) Your hesitance is your downfall, and the vice captain is dragging you to the ground with a scary amount of ease, knocking a little "oof" noise from you as you land. Through your little noise of pain, you try to thrash under him as he gets you pinned with a knee to your back, your front pressed into the dirt. You can feel the metal adorning his boots digging painfully into your muscle. "Mm, this should get it through your head. Maybe."

And the condescension absolutely dripping from his tone taunts you into making another poor decision. Frustration apparent in your voice, you pant out, "What, you were too scared to... to fight back until now?"

There's a long pause before Lohen laughs, high and deranged, sounding like he's finally having fun. You regret mouthing off the second you hear it, subtly pressing your thighs together, your breath coming faster now. You feel his weight slowly press down on you, his forearm now on your shoulder blades, and you feel his breath at your ear, voice low and threatening. (You're holding your breath altogether now.) "I didn't know you had such an attitude on you, cadet." You can hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm... sorry, vice captain, it was a. A slip up. It won't happen again," you practically wheeze out, your own voice strained both from Lohen's (shockingly heavy, Barbatos, how much fucking muscle did he actually have compacted into that small stature?) body pinning you, and the mix of fear and arousal coursing through your veins.

"Oh, by all means, let it happen again. Give me an excuse to do this."

"Wh...!"

Before you can ask what exactly "this" is, you feel his forearm instead moving forward, snaking around your neck, and tensing as he pulls you into a fucking headlock.

You think you might just die.

From the embarrassment? The arousal at having Lohen on top of you, pinning you? The little twinge of fear in the back of your mind because now you're pretty certain he could kill you for real like this if he wanted to? You really aren't sure. It's hard to think beyond the feeling of his muscles tensing around your throat, cutting off your oxygen. You barely have the clarity of mind to not humiliate yourself further by rocking your hips for friction, but you don't quite have the control needed to hold back a pitiful, hardly audible whimper.

The cruel, delighted lilt in his responding laugh is enough to bring you to your senses. At least, enough that you realize you need to tap now or you're actually going to pass out with the vice captain's arm around your throat, pinning you into the dirt. So you tap, a bit frantically. He gives one final squeeze for good measure before releasing you into a panting heap on the ground, rising to his feet.

You cough a bit, struggling to at least sit up and look at him, but his back is turned. You hear the click of his timer again. "Mm, congratulations cadet, you survived!" He glances over his shoulder with a little smirk. "Maybe next time that aim will be steady, yeah??"

He tosses a bottle of water to you that you barely catch. You pray your emotions aren't plastered all over your face as you meet his gaze. "I'll... I'll do better next time."

"Aw," he coos before he can stop himself. "See, we'll train you yet."

---

The second you get back to your quarters, you're slipping out of your filthy clothes and straight into the shower. You feel a pang of humiliation as you think about the earlier special training (as though you'd been able to think about anything else since then), and you make a soft noise (not unlike the one you made when you were put in a headlock by the vice captain less than an hour ago) as your hand slides between your legs.

“What do you have in store for me?” Lohen asks, excitement buzzing in every word.

You narrow your eyes at him, keeping your mouth shut. Instead of telling him, why not show him?

SLAP.

A strike hits Lohen’s face, pushing it to the side, bangs hiding his expression. Then you hear him chuckle.

“Oh, god. What did I do to deserve you?” His eyes find yours with an indescribable hunger, worshipping you.

Another slap, then another, and another.

Lohen doesn’t even have time to react, but his body tells on itself. The tent in his pants twitches at every strike to his red, swollen face. His fists remain clenched, nails digging into his palm, not daring to move a single inch.

After a particularly nasty smack to his face, your fingers bunch up in his hair, pulling him up to look at you. And there it is again—that devilish smile. He will always find your sadism exhilarating, to the point of giving you reasons to earn it.

“No one understands me like you do,” Lohen says in a tone that would make you believe it was from a follower worshipping their God, in a way that would never make you believe it was said in a situation where he was getting slapped—if it weren’t for the fact that Lohen was the one who said it.

You let go of your grasp. Lohen’s knees hit the floor and you swear you could see a flash of enjoyment. Of course, he would like it.

Gloved hands reach for yours as Lohen brings your palm to his cheeks, rubbing against it like a dog would to its owner.

“I’m yours… Yours to keep… Yours to own… Yours to break.”

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