#illintent

@illintent trying to wreck Astarion's day

Decidedly, Astarion felt so very, very unclean. New bruises and aches catalogued along his body from laying on his back. Letting someone else have their way with his body. Memories of a night spent hunting and wooing potential prey items back. Their spend felt still clinging to parts of his skin. The alcohol of their breath lingered where their mouths nipped and lavished him with attention. The phantom touches caressed along his flesh. Even the hairs on his scalp ached from the rough treatment; it’s always rough with sailors.

Sailors, however, are prime targets. Ashore for a fortnight and easily forgotten by their crews. Oft travelers with no connections to the city. The perfect prey to bring home for the master. His clothing askew haphazardly thrown back on. Not a pretty sight does he make half-starved and aching. Regardless of his state, he walked obediently towards the dining hall leaving the twins he captured resting in the bed chambers. Ripe and waiting for his master to feast. He doubted Cazador would be grateful. He could only hope for a single evening of respite. A rat between his teeth.

A shudder involuntary as it was coursed down his spine. Even after so many, many years just the sound of his master’s displeasure has a hold over him. His pain and well being completely reliant on the man’s capricious moods. Whether he tranced as soundly as he could or spent a night of horror in Godey’s oh, oh so loving embrace.

No mistake. He was tardy. Dinner to be delivered before the midnight hour. He knew it was past that. Eyelashes fluttered as his eyes focused on the floor. A momentary lapse to find his nerve. Every ounce, every scrap of courage summoned to bring his gaze to meet Lord Szarr’s own. “Forgive me, Master.” He should have been quicker on the seduction. Quicker to throw himself at the two and bring them home quietly.

Naturally he was feeling very proud of himself, a smug look firmly fixed upon his face. He knew that his efforts would cause a reaction but when those cards fell from the thief’s hand and those dark eyes widened, he mentally chuckled. It was a very satisfying feeling to have someone else look at you with hunger in their eyes, especially when those eyes belonged to someone like Bakura. A man that was so locked away from the more tender feelings of the world, who’s heart had hardened as a result of all the trials and evils it had faced.

Ringed fingers pinched the hem of the skirt, lifting it gracefully from the floor as he curtsied, head bowing a little although his eyes never once left the other males face, wanting to soak in every little reaction. He straightened when Bakura approached and started to circle him, stalking him like the hungry predator he was. The strong arm that snaked around his waist, bringing their bodies together, was not anticipated and as a result it pulled a surprised gasp from the Egyptian, his own arms crossing over the one that was around his middle.

Ryou was usually the more responsible one between him and Bakura… And that’s why him forgetting to dry his hair while the window was open in his room bugged the heck out of his now dizzy and pained head.

Yes, he caught a cold because of his carelessness but could you blame him? He had so much schoolwork to do because, as always, he wanted to finish it Friday night so that he’d be free for the weekend.

Seems he was too overwhelmed with work this time around.

But laying down in his bed won’t help him. He’ll probably starve if he doesn’t get up as well…

Slowly getting up from the bed, he almost groaned as he stood up. Great, he could barely feel his legs due to the fever. Still, even if on unstable legs, he headed out of his room and towards the kitchen.

Half way through the living room he heard some noise from the kitchen. Was it Bakura? Honestly, Ryou would rather believe it was a robber then Bakura attempting to cook something.