WHAT IF I TOLD YOU NONE OF IT WAS ACCIDENTAL, AND THE FIRST NIGHT THAT YOU SAW ME, NOTHING WAS GONNA STOP ME?
theo james, bisexual, cis male + he/him/his → isn’t that oisín slatiascairis? i’ve seen them wearing the crest of lysain. i hear they’re 40, but they’re also a sorcerer. they’ve risen up the ranks to become a lord of (castle) qaixoneus. they seem to be ambitious & charismatic, but also deceitful & power-hungry. if you look closely, you’ll see their aesthetics include dark secrets hidden deep in dungeons; always looking prim and proper with friendly gestures and fake smiles; plotting and scheming behind people's backs.
BASIC INFORMATION
FULL NAME: [ OISÍN BALOR QROQIOHR SLATIASCAIRIS ]
NICKNAME: [ N.A. ]
TITLE: [ LORD OF QAIXONEUS ]
AGE: [ 40 ]
GENDER: [ MALE ]
PRONOUNS: [ HE/HIM ]
SPECIES: [ SORCERER ]
KINGDOM, HOUSE: [ LYSAIN, HOUSE SLATIASCAIRIS ]
HOUSE WORDS: [ HONOUR THE PAST, TREASURE THE PRESENT, LOOK TO THE FUTURE ]
DESCENDED FROM: [ MIX OF HOUSES, CHIEFLY A SORCERER HOUSE (MYRTHRAEL) IN LYSAIN AND A NOBLE HOUSE FROM THE KINGDOM THAT VARLINNIS REPLACED ]
OCCUPATION: [ NOBLE, IN THE TRADE BUSINESS ]
RELIGION: [ THE OLD SPIRITS ]
LANGUAGE, IN ORDER OF PROFICIENCY: [ COMMON, LYSINLINGUAL, LOST LANGUAGE (FROM THE KINGDOM NOW KNOW AS VARLINNIS), VARIOUS OTHER LANGUAGES ]
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: [ HOMOROMANTIC ]
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: [ BISEXUAL ]
SEXUAL TEMPERAMENT: [ DOM ]
SEXUAL POSITION: [ TOP ]
FACE CLAIM: [ THEO JAMES ]
EYE COLOUR: [ RED-BROWN ]
HAIR COLOUR: [ BROWN ]
HEIGHT: [ 1.84 METRES ]
BODY BUILD: [ ATHLETIC, BUFF ]
FACIAL HAIR: [ NEATLY TRIMMED FULL BEARD CENTRED AROUND THE MOUTH, EXTENDING TO THE SIDE OF HIS FACE. ]
TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: [ NONE. ]
NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: [ VARIOUS SMALL SCARS. ]
INTELLIGENCE: [ INTELLIGENT. ABLE TO PLAN AND SCHEME TO GET WHAT HE WANTS. ]
LIKES: [ POWER, ABUSING HIS POWER. GETTING PEOPLE TO DO HIS BIDDING. LUXURY. SCHEMING AND GETTING AWAY WITH IT. ]
DISLIKES: [ PEASANTS. WEAK PEOPLE. ]
ALIGNMENT: [ LAWFUL/NETURAL EVIL ]
POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES: [ AMBITIOUS, CHARISMATIC, DETERMINED, FLEXBILE. ]
NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES: [ RUTHLESS, OBSESSIVE, DECEITFUL, CALCULATIVE, MANIPULATIVE, POWER-HUNGRY, SCHEMING. ]
AESTHETICS: [ DARK SECRETS HIDDEN DEEP IN DUNGEONS. ALWAYS LOOKING PRIM AND PROPER WITH FRIENDLY GESTURES AND FAKE SMILES. PLOTTING AND SCHEMING BEHIND PEOPLE'S BACKS. ]
INSPO: [ MARGAERY TYRELL, OBERYN MARTELL, PETYR BAELISH, CERSEI LANNISTER, ZEBEDIAH KILLGRAVE. ]
LYRICAL INSPO: [ I WOULD NEVER CHANGE WHAT OUR PAST IS. WRITTEN IN OUR BONES, IT'S WHO WE ARE. // I LAID THE GROUNDWORK, AND THEN, JUST LIKE CLOCKWORK. THE DOMINOES CASCADED IN A LINE. WHAT IF I TOLD YOU I'M A MASTERMIND? AND NOW YOU'RE MINE. // I, I HEAR THE WHISPERS IN YOUR EYES. I'LL MAKE YOU WANNA THINK TWICE, YOU'LL FIND THAT YOU WERE NEVER NOT MINE. (YOU'RE MINE). ]
ancestors were from the kingdom that is now known as varlinnis, from before the war.
bloodline got mixed with a sorcerer house in lysain.
very strong in mental magic, uses it to attain and keep power. manipulates people both mentally and by threats if needed.
has a network of spies, workers, suppliers, clients and other individuals around the kingdoms. would make an excellent master of spies but opted not to so he could work less conspicuously.
wants to reclaim his family's position in the upper echelons of varlinnis royalty. believes his birthright is the throne of varlinnis and will do whatever it takes to achieve this.
taught from a young age to be proud of his heritage and house but to not reveal their hidden strength too much unless needed.
pretends to be a nice person, but is absolutely not.
fancies himself a confidant and keeper of secrets, outwardly pretends to hate participating in politics.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
godefrius was no stranger to attention from men and women alike. he was used to having eyes on him, watching his every movement with various intentions, from surveillance to admiration, and he thrived in it. he strutted and he preened, and in return, people gave him what he wanted: attention. what came from oisín, however, was different. his gaze was a weight godefrius could almost feel physically. the heat was searing and godefrius was immensely grateful for all the training he had done that he was able to keep his expression neutral, the line of his mouth only slightly curled up in a smile, a sign that he was amused. other people might have fawned under the attention, but not godefrius. the praises the other man gave him were nothing he had heard before. oisín was not deserving of his subservience, yet.
despite all his calm demeanor, godefrius could feel the back of his neck heating up from the unwavering attention. "awfully sure," godefrius repeated, voice low, almost a purr, as his gaze swept lightning quick on the lord's appearance. "i hope the rest of you matches your confidence. i would hate to be disappointed." he would have said more if only his majesty didn't demand for godefrius, a sign that he was about to retire to his chamber. with a last lingering glance to the lord, godefrius inclined his head in a slight bow, all respectful gesture but none of it reflected in his dark eyes, full of hunger. "if you'll excuse me," murmured godefrius as he straightened up, "and please expect me in your chamber before midnight." and with that, he made his way to his king without sparing another glance at oisín. there would be plenty of time for that.
after his majesty retired to his chamber, godefrius assigned his men to stand guard as he returned to one reserved for him. it took him some time to unclasp and unattach all of his armor pieces until he was down to his under armor. it was unthinkable that he even considered oisín's offer. but godefrius had promised, had shown interest, had reacted, and for that, he had to see what oisín truly had for him. he left his quarter with only a hand knife on him, quickly and swiftly making his way towards where he thought the lord would be. being around the area where royals gathered without his armor made godefrius feel out of place, but he forged on, relying on his instinct and the lord's residual presence that godefrius had memorized. his magic, somehow, reacted to the lord, and wasn't that curious? perhaps he'd find out who oisín truly was tonight. he stood in front of a nondescript door and landed a knock, then two, before he stood back and waited.
oisín enjoyed this. the banter. the resilience of the other, how he barely folded or reacted too heavily to his sly words and actions. just the subtlest of twitches and smilies, feedback that the noble greedily absorbed. it would just make breaking him in all that sweeter. even without his arcane abilities, the sorcerer was trained in the art of reading people. and godefrius, though he didn't show it, wanted to be read like a book — among other actions. a grin lurked behind his trimmed beard. "i assure you. you've not had one like me." with his commanding presence, oisín doubted many, if any, made the other submit before.
alas, the time came for them to part ways, with the promise of more later. the fire simmering in his loins at the thought. "please, by all means, perform your sacred duty. i am not more important than your king." but his tone had a brand of mischief towards it. did the sorcerer believe the words he was saying? probably not completely. his swirled the liquid in his goblet and then placed the rim to his lips again, all but finishing his wine this time. the last few drops a symbolic gesture of leaving them for godefrius. as he too, returned to the banquet table after a lingering gaze at the bulky man walking away, eyeing his armour-clad rear. he stayed with the festivities a while longer after the chasque king and his lord commander departed, picking away at desserts and more wine before retiring to his chambers.
the buzz of alcohol followed him to his room, along with a jug for him and godefrius to share later. there was only one cup however, entirely by design — the method of sharing was to be more provocative than the other would probably come to expect.
oisín had not have to wait long for his door to be knocked on. he had barely begun to disrobe, having unclasped the upper half of his robe, leaving it open to the elements and revealing his muscled chest before his promised guard and bedmate arrived. the sorcerer took slow steps towards the door before pulling it open towards him. there godefrius stood, this time without all his armour pieces. it took him a second to reconcile the image with the one he had of the other just an hour or so prior. just as he was awfully sure that godefrius would be moaning his name just moments later he had also been awfully sure that the guard commander would find himself here. with the way they flirted, the outcome had all been assured. "ah, sir godefrius, i trust that his majesty is well and secure?"
a hand reached out to touch the other on his wrist, pushing fabric up and away as he grasped it. there was always that thrum of magic that bubbled under a witcher's skin that sorcerers could sense. a pleasant sensation that was sparked by touch to be felt by both sides. and each one was different. godefrius', well, relit the spark of arousal within him that had flickered away earlier from waiting. oisín sensed a little sliver of darkness in his aura. perfect, he could manipulate that. his eyes burned with the beginnings of lust and hunger, smiling seductively as he subtly guided him in. "please come in... unless you'd like to be the object of a sandal tomorrow." closing the door behind them both, oisín made no move to budge. instead crowding the larger man against it before leaning in, hand moving to caress godefrius' bearded chin as he leaned in close, hovering just inches before the other man's face, breath hot and heavy against his features. wordless. a challenge. a dare.
his job was far from finished. despite the adventures and... shenanigans godefrius was famous for, he never allowed himself to abandon his job, abandon his king, out of all people, for a slight taste of entertainment. that was why, at the gentleman's remarks -- that part was rather questionable; godefrius knew no other gentleman who would say such outrageous things to a stranger, however welcomed -- he only offered a slight smile, hidden behind his unruly facial hair. he rolled his shoulders back before shifting on his feet to face the other man properly. "my lord," he said, hand on his chest, "i have my assumptions, but it seems to be rather impolite to presume. i'd rather ask."
"lord oisín," godefrius said, testing the name, the way his tongue wrapped around it. he ignored the jolt of heat at the brazen statement and opted for a short chuckle. if he thought the man was lying, that answer erased any doubt he had. no one else but a lord could have such confidence that it was almost amusing, if only godefrius wasn't affected by the lecherous words. even he found it hard to feign nonchalance in front of the lord. all the wanted was to preen under the attention. "you seem to be awfully sure that i would be moaning your name when the night ends, my lord," godefrius murmured, voice a little hoarse, a little rough.
godefrius swallowed, throat bobbing behind the piece of armor around his neck, and returned to his position. he was still on duty and he would not allow himself to slack off. "i will see his highness to his chamber once he's done," his words were clear despite only being slightly louder than a murmur, "and maybe, i can finally have a taste of that wine in your own chamber afterward." such bold request; anyone else might have had godefrius' head rolling down the hall. his gaze flitted to oisín, watching closely from the corner of his eyes. his lips curl up, coy, with a hint of mischief, and he added, "since you have been watching me all night, you know i would like that very much."
"an admirable characteristic." as a king's most trusted and loyal guard, godefrius would have to do a great deal of threat assessment and that came with a healthy amount of scepticism and assumptions. oisín wouldn't assume the older man would do otherwise. though voicing those concerns to the individual in question would be considered rude; oisín himself would have certainly taken offence at a wrong postulation or even a right one if he was trying to deflect. rightly so, the kingsguard acted in accordance even if oisín was harmlessly trying to goad him into spilling his thoughts aloud. not that the mind reader needed him to if he really wanted to peer a little deeper into godefrius' mind.
he succeeded somewhat at having the knight reveal himself, the minute actions that signalled that oisín had him flustered. "i am the only one giving you attention. much deserved i might add, sir godefrius. a person of your stature." one he would like to see brought low, put in his place to serve his betters. the sorcerer was sure of himself, a trait drilled into him since he was old enough to understand how to carry himself with confidence, as was befitting of a slatiascairis and a descendant of myrthrael. "if not my name, then who else's?" that is, if he didn't keep the man's mouth occupied.
"i am but a patient man, i can wait till the morn." he can absolutely wait for the good things. but not too long. though just as well, godefrius had his duties to attend to. he made a show of taking another sip of his wine before wetting his lips with the red. "pity, i was hoping to get to really know you by perusing your bedchambers. though i trust that you will know which one mine is." he'd certainly like to study the man while charming the pants (and the armour) off the other. "go on then, attend to your king." 'before you attend to me' was left unsaid.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
godefrius felt the gaze before he saw it. the commander was hidden by the far corner of the room, a vantage point that let him watch over the banquet. the king, he could see, was gleefully... chatting away with another royal, judging from the nonsensical swing of one hand with another on a goblet of wine. godefrius let himself relax, but the moment didn't last long, as it always was with the peace he felt. there was always something else. the man next to him was tall, near his height, and his presence -- oh, there was something else indeed -- made godefrius straighten up imperceptibly. but what made him truly look was the words he said.
"is that so?" the gaze alone incited a rush of heat, starting a fire that would soon lick into him. weighted, dark. the blatant once-over heated the back of his neck up. godefrius unconsciously let his tongue dart out, wetting his too-dry lips. "you have me at a disadvantage, fine gentleman." and indeed fine he was. sharp jawline and strong nose: impressive side profile and low, velvety voice. godefrius stared unabashedly at the man, gaze going lower until he caught the crest of lysain on his person. one of the royals, perhaps, he surely dressed like one, but the fact that he chose to be next to godefrius instead of remaining seated was almost as baffling as what had come out of the gentleman's mouth. "you seem to know a lot about me but i know nothing about you." the flattery, combined with the voice, might have done something to him, but godefrius was a knight first and foremost. he'd sworn to protect chasque and its inhabitants and it had been drilled into him to be cautious of everything and everyone. "to whom do i owe the pleasure of speaking?"
the man was a little unkempt in the treatment of his beard styling. something oisín would never be caught dead with. but that didn't mean the sorcerer couldn't appreciate it all that same, it suited the other's imposing figure and there was enough volume that oisín could easily run his hand through it if he so wished. "pleasure would come later." tone suggestive, obvious heat in his words before the man dialled back in his flirtations... if only for a sentence or two. raising his eyebrows as he did his goblet, taking a sip of the very tasteful wine. "nothing? i am all but certain a man of your calibre would have astute powers of observation. i do not doubt you already have gleamed something about me. but i am just an unsuspecting lord from lysain. interested in a little more commerce with the kingdom."
a pause.
the corner of his lips quirked upwards into a small smirk, "but you need a name to moan later... oisín ought to suffice." his attention was well received so oisín knew he could be a lot more direct. oisín was sure enough of himself that he did not need alcohol to bolster courage. the vague mental impressions he got from the other was positive — he did not have to go prodding for it, his magic allowed him naturally capture glimpses (if not words then just feelings) without exerting his will against others — and left him feeling smug.
with all his armour, the sorcerer had to put a little more work into undressing the other with his eyes; that he made no show of hiding. the metal was framing the bulk that the other had and oisín would very much enjoy stripping all that away to reveal it all.
the sorcerer tipped his cup towards godefrius then. "wine? you do yourself a disservice if you do not at least imbibe some." though he doubted someone so dedicated to his job would compromise his faculties in anyway while the banquet was still going on unless... "standing there on guard the whole time with your watchful eye. the dinner is all but concluded." he made no attempt to hide that he'd been keeping his own tabs on the lord commander, under guise of amorous reasons.
@b3felled; for godefrius
location: the dining halls of the chasque royal castle.
a banquet dinner drawing to a close. alcohol in his veins. the perfect excuse to cozy up with the man. oisín leaned against the wall next to the other, eyeing him up and then down. slow. blatant. but not too eager. one hand on his half-empty goblet. the other not quite touching the larger man just yet. "a fine specimen for a lord commander of the kingsguard." godefrius dronnelgan. chasque's fierce protector. a capable witcher. "i have heard quite a bit about you." he hadn't really met the man before today, not enough for formal introductions at any rate. but that didn't stop him from trying to flatter the man. "an impressive history, among other things." like his physique. oisín made no move to disguise the fact that he was being more than friendly, more than he usually was or was know for. when he wanted something he chased it and it was rather clear what he was after in the moment... even if there were ulterior motives that he wasn't going to divulge.
the sorcerer did not have too many connections in the kingdom of chasque. and among those, sure some were noble houses. but his network here chiefly consisted of mostly trade and merchants. with few people in positions of effective power, and even fewer spies. if he wanted a foothold here, he had to put in the work. and what better way to start than with the kingsguard. in whatever way he can have him.
bright blue hues followed the stranger's every movement, his thoughts raced, tumbling over each other in a frantic rush trying to decipher what he'd do next, what he wanted, why malik was even here. he wasn't made for this kind of environment, the sheer thought of a spider sharing this space with him alone ...making him uncomfortable enough to stay up at night, even though he couldn't see a spider ....if it did a little dance in front of him.
the more he spoke, the more it bothered malik that he couldn't ....ah. one moment he was lost in the fog of terror & anxiety, the next it all came back to him. well, it wasn't much. but they met before. in fact, it hadn't been too long yet. did they ever exchange more than pleasantries? he couldn't ...remember the man's name, but he remembered the intensity of his gaze, eyes that seemingly saw through him with only little effort. was this ... vengeance for lost opportunities? was this because he hadn't greeted him proper? what if this wasn't about a ransom after all? he'd been so convinced that his blood could be the only possible reason for his abduction, he hadn't even thought about him having been the target. why would he? he ... tried to live a good life. an honest, free life.
even though he knew that freedom was no longer in the cards for him even if he escaped this place alive. he would either have to hide for the rest of his life ... or accept defeat & offer himself to a man he never met before .. for the sole reason of political advantage. he loved his kingdom, he did.... but... didn't he deserve happiness, too? he wouldn't find that in a loveless life. in a life that wasn't his. all this time he tried to avoid piquing interest. he attended festivities, he dressed his very best & only ever showed himself from his brightest side, danced & conversed if needed, but he didn't connect.
he never wanted to draw attention to himself so that suitors ... were sparse & to chase the foolish dream that maybe if he just managed to fall in love with someone, his father would ... agree. foolish indeed.
what i want he has decided to give away to someone else.
but what was that? was it ...treasure? cattle? had his father upset a wealthy man? a noble of his own kingdom? was malik paying the price with his life? brows pulled together when it seemed like he was inspected, his head moved left & right, neck craned & the long chain rustling whenever he moved, the collar shifting every time he swallowed hard around the dry lump in his throat.
you're what i want and he's certainly intending on not giving you to me.
"me?" this ...was about him? just him? someone would go this far ...for him? but why? his father had just announced he was eager to sell him for a shake of hands & some crops, or cattle - he hadn't exactly listened to the proposition after hearing it was an arranged marriage & he had no choice in the matter. maybe he should've asked for him. not the point, though. he didn't want to marry any stranger whatsoever. not this one, not the one his father chose.
thoughts were racing once more, as was his heart, eyes glossed over while the prince tried to make sense of it all without losing himself to panic. fingers trembled against the arm rests of the ...chair, thighs quivered & the cuffs around his ankles almost jingled with the movement. eyes always on the other's, watching for ....something. searching for mercy. for laughter, a pat on the back & the promise that it had all just been a jest. but ...it wasn't, was it? he was so gentle in his touch, so kind malik almost forgot that he was a prisoner.
his lips felt better almost instantly, the little ..demonstration not lost to him even in his current state, neither was the....was... when he... he tasted his blood? please, lord of the flames... protect me. but malik had been raised proper. "thank y-you." voice still raw & softer than usual due to lack of use, but with his ...abductor so close, it didn't need to be louder, did it? the flask almost had his eyes glow, heart fluttering in relief when the first drops of water hit the back of his throat, greedily devouring as much as it would give. the flamed beast smiled down upon him after all. "thank you." out of breath from vigorous drinking, refreshed & relieved, a little tear rolled down his cheek, though he paid it no mind, lips tugged into the softest of smiles.
"i... i don't remember your name. i-i apologize. but we met, didn't we? i-in... ritrinc. the... the festival. my name is malik, b-but i think you know that."
"don't panic." he tried to sound a little reassuring. though his captive had every right and reason to be. though he took great euphoria at the man's terror. "i won't hurt you." at least not in the traditional sense. what was traditional however, was how he felt that malik ought to behave. it was good that the royal still had his manners, even giving him a soft smile at being allowed to quench his thirst — an affliction that oisín himself had caused in the first place.
seeing malik at the festival was something else all together, draped in the finest opal and sapphire blue silks and glowing, sparkling like a jewel, as if an enchantment had been placed on him. if it hadn’t been him, someone else would have done the same eventually. oisín was the only one that was bold enough and had the resources for a successful kidnap job for someone as important as the varlinnis prince. but more importantly, he was the first to do so.
as with the blood before, the older man reached out to wipe at the other's tear, cupping the man's face, cradling it and using a thumb to rid malik of the salty liquid staining his profile. "you look so beautiful..." especially when he was crying. oisín knew then that he'd strive to let that happen more often... anything for another glimpse of this side of his prince.
at the very least, malik remembered of him, if not his name, then his presence, his face. in time, malik would come to know him a great deal, and maybe that would even the gap of how much more oisín knew of the varlinnis' second eldest when compared to the other way around. "and before that. yes. my prince." though his words weren't said with the respect and awe one typically used when saying 'my prince' but rather something akin to quantifying said prince before him as his property. "i am lord oisín slatiascairis, but you can refer to me as master... for now." perhaps mailk will be granted the privilege of something more later; husband eventually, once oisín was through moulding him to his tastes.
"i know a great deal about you, malik niamh of house feinhalnaar. your parents chose your name wisely." one day the radiant man (even looking like this) would be king, oisín would see to it — or rather mailk would be his queen, and him the king. the sorcerer had stalked his prey, years of monitoring the man, if not through his own eyes then through the eyes of spies and other contacts. he would have been perfect in the small council of lysain, gifted in the mental arcane arts and an excellent manipulator — he would have easily amassed power as the master of spies. but that was too conspicuous for him, too much attention and he had no desire to assert too much pressure on the lysain throne; at least not while he wasn't on a throne himself — he had his fingers in many pies for when the time would be right. "more than your father, radiant one. no, he could never understand that an arranged marriage wasn't for you." men like malik wanted to be wanted, to be loved. something he was very capable of providing.
the way the collar moved every time the prince made the smallest twitch. it fit him perfectly, and he didn't just meant in the sense that it was a good and tight fit, snug around the neck, but malik looked magnificent like this, like he should always have been collared; perhaps oisín would gift him one made from gold, to match the gold chains and jewellery the other was so fond of wearing. the lord of qaixoneus stepped back to get a thorough look of malik in his chair. giving him the full once over. appreciating the prince shirtless. fingers slid down malik’s bare chest, getting caught in his rough hairs as he briefly twirled them, enjoying how they felt against his fingertips. imagining how it would feel when they would lay in bed together...
oisín shook his head. he was getting ahead of himself. he still had work to do. malik's mind was exploitable in this state. vulnerable and terrified, confused and lost. it was easy for a sorcerer of his calibre to push and prod at it. a barely perceptible frown ceased his eyebrows as he stared down at the other while he expanded his own mind. oisín began rummaging through the man’s mind, digging deep subtly trying to find something for himself work with.
then, in for what seemed like minutes but was in actuality mere seconds, the sorcerer encountered on the perfect thread. and he pulled.
for some it was like pottery, pressing down against the mind like one would clay. for oisín it was akin to spinning fabric, something he’d actually picked up on once he made the connection. it helped him to hone his skills, visualise each thread in a person's mind. at the same time, it helped him to be like the people, helped to understand them. it was every little thing combined that allowed him to perform his magic with such ease now and without the need to move his fingers.
the magic wielder inserted a thought, weaving it in the man's subconscious. that malik would begin to think about him, miss his presence, crave his touch. the effect ought to be immediate but imperceptible, especially to another person that wasn't well-versed in mental magic.
a thrill ran down his spine and to his groin when he felt the thought nestle neatly into place. have some restraint, oisín. sure he could have just taken him now, the restrains would have made it all too easy, but the malik was special. the noble wanted his prince to at least desire him a little bit before he made his move, even if that desire was induced upon him.
as if to test this, oisín lifted his hand away from the man; wondering just how much he'd lean forward to chase the warmth of his touch, even bound and collared as he were.
@realmbred; for paric
location: paric's residence.
"i trust everything was to your satisfaction?" he held a glass full of red wine out to the other as the master of the house entered the balcony where he had previously situated his guest in. the sorcerer had procured a couple of items for paric's party based on their current standing arrangements as something akin to friends. he had always enjoyed the lavish events the master of revels had thrown. and while he usually enjoyed putting on a friendly façade at and for them, as were more than half the people there he suspected, oisín had genuine interest in nurturing his friendship with the changeling.
oisín would not consider himself a merchant — to say he outwardly looked down upon them would be incorrect, though his opinions about them were not the most diplomatic either — but a businessman. he was a noble after all, things like a merchant guild and their archaic way of handling things were not in his wheelhouse. besides, it was often far too messy for oisín's tastes, leaving too many loose threads and unresolved agreements or disputes. menial tasks like managing inventory and interacting with the peasant class were also far more suited for his retainers. he had far more important things to work on and do, plans to set into motion. but he was known to indulge in certain vices from time to time. "additionally, i also have another lovely shipment of goods coming in two days — if you're interested." he queried, willing to open his stock if paric was interested.
he'd had a many thought while trapped in this place with information scarce & escape routes not yet willed into existence. was this ..for coin? had he been kidnapped for a ransom? would his father - in this moment, procure golden coin to save his son? though that raised the question malik was afraid to ask himself:
would he?
out of all the princes, malik felt he was the least ... impactful. he had been blessed with the magic of their ancestors, but so had their youngest brother & ryker was a gifted fighter on top, who swung magic as well as he did his sword & had single-handedly befriended the vissaian crown prince. he'd inherited the feinhalnaar's beauty as well & stood up to par with malik in every sense, if not higher. malik was also not the crown prince, but merely the second born. did ... his father even consider freeing him? would he?
the more he'd thought about it, the less sure he became, so eventually he forced himself to stop. but if not for his name, why else would someone catch & chain him? for his magic? surely, there were others around who were more viable targets than him. after the first few days, he tried to stop finding a reason for he wouldn't know the truth until it was presented to him anyway, but one thing seemed clear. he was wanted alive.
when the thirst became too much to bear, he'd tried producing water, which was when a thought struck. what if he used it to.... but it was to no avail for his magic didn't work in this place. he could summon a few drops at best & while even those were a blessing to a parched man, it took a lot of strength to do so & he wasn't sure the effort was rewarded profoundly. if it cost him more strength to call forth drops of water than the water gave him... he'd cut his own flesh that way.
after days in the dark, the door swinging open to reveal a ..light just floating inside so bright malik had to squeeze his eyes shut & avert his gaze even when he squinted to catch a glimpse of the man stepping inside with it. it took his eyes a little while to get used to light again, but even then - when his gaze fell on the man addressing him so formally, he ... came up short. sure, it was familiar in a way & he had no doubt they spoke before, but malik met a lot of people ...every day, every time his father hosted festivities & every time he invited suitors into the castle to meet him.
malik was famished & afraid, the reality of his situation way too heavy a weight on his shoulders. he knows who you are. so this was indeed a pointed attack, was it not? lips were dry when they parted, droplets of blood forming in the little cracks that tore when he swallowed hard or tried to speak. words fell short at first, but he cleared his throat, a little wince followed & quiet whispers grew into soft tones. "w-who.... why?" he just wanted to go home.
at the mention of precautions, his eyes followed the other's down to the chair he was strapped into. teeth clattered when he didn't pay attention & he sucked in a little breath when touched, his neck giving in to the nudging to lift to bear not only the collar around his neck, but his bright blue eyes filled with fear, too. what... was this about? why was he here? what was... what was happening?
beautiful.
he couldn't move, he couldn't even pull away, although the soft nature of the touch had him lean into it. almost. "please, m-my father, i'm sure he'll give you what you ask." fingers & thighs trembled against the sturdy chair, unsure of what would happen next. terrified of what was yet to come. again, reminded of his short comings, for he was sure his brothers would be spitting insults & threads, ryker would never have ended in this chair in the first place, but malik ... soft, naive malik... was not born with the bravery of a soldier. "please."
malik was as soft as the stories told, as he observed. no vile words befell upon him, no jerking away from his touch. sure, oisín did enjoy shattering the psyche and machismo of the feisty ones but there was something to be said about imposing himself onto weak-willed men; a quality he didn't find to be a detriment at all. they were endearing in their own way. sometimes the joy felt for him was in earning things that were easy. a recompense if you will. one shouldn't work too hard all the time without the universe remunerating them.
the prince either didn't remember him at all or failed to recollect who he was in the state he was in. confusion clouding is mind while deprived of light and basic necessities. oisín wasn't aggrieved at that. disappointed perhaps he didn't make a big enough impression on the prince in the fleeting times they've crossed paths. still, he didn't reveal himself just yet... maybe give the other chance to sieve through memories in his brain for an answer.
at the mention of the varlinnis king, the noble resisted a cruel laugh. he cared not for the royal other than his plans to depose of him eventually, just like the crown prince. malik seemed far more interested in what his father would and could do than what he might do himself to bargain his way out of the chair he found himself. "what i want he has decided to give away to someone else." he'd been driven to anger when rumours of an arranged marriage between his beloved and some undeserving lord. he'd have that man killed sooner or later. but never did he expect for the prince to run away, giving him the perfect opportunity to enact his plans.
oisín stalked closer to his captured prey, leaning down so he was closer to the other than he had ever been before. up close the lord couldn't help but admire malik's delicate features. he tilted the man's face to the side, heart racing at the allure of the feinhalnaar, before releasing his grip. if it wasn't clear to malik by now, he was exactly what oisín wanted and he decided for the prince's sake to clarify. "you're what i want and he's certainly intending on not giving you to me. no matter, i do not require him or his approval. i have you now." the arrangement imposed on malik by his father was a minor inconvenience to the mental sorcerer at worse, a boon at best. especially considering how it all played out for him. oisín did not just mention that he wanted malik to be his because in his eyes, the prince already was.
curling his fingers up, oisín caressed the captive's scruffy face with the back of hand. "a most exquisite creature. the beauty of varlinnis." in awe of the other's elegance, even stained and marred as it was. finger against the other's bottom lip, wiping away at the droplets of blood. a soft iridescent glow behind his fingertips, healing the man's cracked lips. the light faded and oisín lifted his fingers up before pressing it to his own lips, tasting malik on his tongue. the first taste of his future spouse.
in a rare display of kindness, something that was uncharacteristic of him or rather his true nature — or just conceivably that his current target was special — oisín reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. he uncapped it and pressed the mouth of to malik's healed lips. "drink."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
@powergrabbed
location: oisin's secret sex torture dungeon
inspo: *grabbity grab* i swear i can be serious lmao
triggers: kidnapping
several days had passed since malik woke up in a dim-lit room with a heavy metal chain around his neck, cuffs with little hoops clasped around his ankles & no clue how he got there. what he remembered after the initial throbbing headache subsided was ... the road. he remembered the last conversation he had; with his father. it was been a futile discussion, because his father's opinion on the matter had long-since been made. malik may not be the oldest prince, but his heart was still not meant to be his own to give away.
safe to say, the soft-spoken romantic had disagreed. again. but with a suitor's name thrown in the fray, malik had felt cornered, the pressure becoming unbearable & so he packed essentials ( & more ) to sneak out of the castle in the safety of the night. by the time the sun kissed the horizon good morning, he passed the kingdom's borders. he didn't want to leave, but he'd seen no other option at the time - no way out, no light at the end of the tunnel.
horse neighing as he slowed the steed for a barricade in the dirt road down to a halt, his robes flowing elegantly & chains rustling comfortably as he leaped off the horse to observe the issue. someone had felled a tree to block the road. it was fresh, he could smell the scent of wood in the air. what happened after that? he didn't know. that was as far as his memories would let him go. the next thing, he woke up in this strange place.
he could move around for as long as the chain's range would let him, which ... well, was enough to explore the enclosure, but that didn't help. the door wouldn't budge, the lock on the outside unreachable, calling out for help had bore no results & pacing frantically had brought him nothing but his nerves running amuck. his armor had been taken, but he was left in his trousers, which looked worse for wear, finest silks tattered & torn - a sad sight, really.
he'd been here for days.
lips chaffed & dry, his head was swimming & his stomach churning, fingers pushed in-between his throat & the collar in an attempt to keep it from grinding against previously unblemished skin. when rustling on the door broke the everlasting silence, he pushed himself up to sit on the makeshift bed on the other side of the room, pale blue eyes observing the door with tight grip winding around his heart & squeezing.
a pair of men he'd never seen before stepped inside, their faces ...held nothing for him to go on, not even when they surrounded him, pulling on the chain & maneuvering him into ...a chair of sorts he'd been trying his damndest to ignore. feet chained in place, arms fastened to the arm rests... no amount of fight his tired body could put up was enough to stop this, no pleading loud enough to stop them, no whispered prayers enough to reach the outside.
the noble had planned and schemed and murdered and brainwashed and manipulated people just so he could have the man firmly in his dungeon. and this was no ordinary man. no, this was the esteemed malik feinhalnaar, second in line to the varlinnis throne. and if oisín had his way. his future wife. and one step closer to sitting on the royal seat. there had been multiple setbacks to get to this point but oisín, ever persistent, was nothing if not determined.
no, this was something he wanted for years, at least decades if he was being honest. power he craved, bringing glory to his house, coveting a very specific throne. all his desires nurtured from a young age. but when he'd first set eyes on malik, he wanted him, lusted over him. and he knew he had to have him. whatever it took.
oisín still had a lot of work to do to get there however. and it all starts with mentally manipulating and training the man. sure he could pose as malik's rescuer from this horrid place — no doubt what he'd planned to implant into the man's brain later when all this was said and done, and the story that they'd both (when the prince was resolutely in his clutches) sell to the king of varlinnis. but oh he did so enjoy breaking in men and women. not just physically, but mentally too. that sick thrill lit up a fire in him every time he did so. make them his.
but nothing and no one did he ever want to be his more than the pretty man trapped in his dungeon.
he let the prince stew in relative darkness, days with minimal food and water. the cunning man kept his fellow sorcerer weak so that malik couldn't use his magic against him when oisín would reveal himself. it would also have made the man more susceptible to mental conditioning and commands. just little things first before he'd make the prince obey his every word eventually. he wanted malik's devotion towards him to be absolute.
not to mention: the air was dry — he did his research. knew whatever there was to know about his prince, or at least what he could have gleamed from his interactions with the other and people who had been in contact with his obsession; listened to every oral story about the royal. every little tidbit gained just made him love him more, proved to himself that what he needed to do was right. and oisín knew the lack of moisture would be hard for the other to manipulate, kingly blood or no.
the noble descended into the basement and unlocked the prison door. he walked in, illuminating the place with a magically powered glow light floating just above him. the light at first dim before growing and turning harsh as it cast its light on the man in the room, chained and locked tight into the chair.
"my dear prince malik." he began as he took careful, deliberate steps towards the other. oisín's tone was one of... respect. the man was still a royal after all. but immensely ironic considering the situation. "deepest apologises about all this." he gestured at the contraption that he had his men put the prince in. "it would behoove me to take necessary precautions. just, didn't think you'd be too pleased with your circumstance." oisín did not want malik to lash out at him, at least physically. bound like this the most he could expect was verbal jabs, empty threats, death glares and maybe a hurling of spit. the noble held all the power here and he knew it. and he wanted the other to know exactly what he would be doing to him. a hand reached out to grip at the prince's chin, lifting it upwards for him to examine. "beautiful." a little bruising, a little worse for wear, a little desperation and terror. exactly what he desired.