#zaennon

hnnnng look at himmmm!

The fireflies danced through the early evening air and inside Zaennon’s belly as he crept silently through the camp.  The clan were in their tents, enjoying the last meal of the day with their families. Cheerful conversation could be heard through the canvas walls of the temporary village, but the tent Zaennon approached was silent.  

A bit grander and less used than the rest, this tent was only erected for visitors to the clan, and its current residents were, at least as far as Zaennon was concerned, most important visitors.

Or at least one was. Daz could choke on nightshade for all Zaennon cared, but where Daz went, Gwyn followed.  Gwyn was the reason Zaennon had fireflies in his belly. Zaennon happened to know that Daz was currently preoccupied meeting with Kivuli to discuss shade outbreaks in the surrounding area, and that Gwyn was likely to be waiting patiently inside the tent, alone.

Zaennon pushed aside the tent flap and saw Gwyn there, his back turned and apparently engrossed in the contents of a scroll.

He let out an excited whisper, “Gwyn!”

The dark imperial turned to face him, his soft features lighting up with a smile, “Zae!”  Setting the scroll aside, Gwyn raced into Zaennon’s waiting embrace, the taller man lifting him off the ground in his exuberance. Both of their faces were alight with happiness at seeing one another, but Zaennon held a finger to his lips. He whispered again, much quieter, “Will you take a walk with me?”

Gwyn hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to stay in the tent. But he wanted to walk with Zaennon.

A hand squeezing his own was enough to solve his momentary indecision, and he nodded eagerly, his smile returning now that his mind was made up.  The pair slipped out of the tent, and Zaennon led them around the back and out into the woodlands, following the winding deer trails.

When they were a distance away from the campsite, Zaennon could speak normally.  His voice was light and airy, but there was some uneasiness to his tone.  His nerves were getting to him.

“I have someplace I would like to show you,” he explained, wrapping an arm around Gwyn’s hip as they continued to walk.  The lights of the camp were disappearing behind them, leaving the couple in tangled-trees darkness with only a silver crescent of moonlight to guide their path.

Eventually, a golden glow appeared in the distance, and as they grew nearer, Gwyn felt his jaw drop.

They had entered a part of the forest where the trees were ancient, broad and tall.  The forest floor here was a soft and fluffy bed of ferns. Everywhere around them, Zaennon had dangled votive candles from the sprawling branches, or propped them up atop breaching roots and piles of stone.  They were in their own constellation of flickering flames, their only company the rustling leaves high above them in the breeze of a summer evening.  

In the center of their private copse, Zaennon had laid down a thick crimson blanket atop the soft ferns, gently illuminated by one hundred candles. Gwyn turned to him with an expression of giddy surprise.

“All this?” he asked, gesturing around the scene, his smile playing around the corners of his lips.

Zaennon shrugged and looked at his feet, suddenly self-conscious of the whole thing.  Was it too much?  Not enough?

Gwyn dispelled his worries for him.  Taking him by the hand, the smaller man led him down to the blanket, which seemed to be inviting them.  When they were comfortably seated, sides pressed together and arm over arm, Zaennon turned to the root beside him and pulled out a bottle of honey wine he had hidden there.  He passed it to Gwyn for the first sip, noticing with a gulp that the golden liquid exactly matched the tone of Gwyn’s eyes.  They were the loveliest eyes.

He took a long swallow of the wine when the bottle was passed back to him, hoping it would help calm his nerves.  He knew what he wanted, but he needed to be sure it was what both of them wanted.  

He set the bottle aside and locked eyes with Gwyn.  He could drown in that gold and die a happy man.  His movements were slow and careful.  He reached towards Gwyn’s cheek and noticed a tremble in his fingers when he stroked his partner’s jaw.

“It this alright?” he questioned.  His voice had deepened.  It was rougher now and slightly strained.  Gwyn’s eyelids fluttered at the light touch, and he nodded.  Zaennon froze for a split second, eyes piercing until Gwyn remembered his voice.

“Yes, this is alright,” came Gwyn’s assent.  Zaennon’s eyes softened now that he knew he was not trespassing.  He pressed a soft kiss to Gwyn’s lips.  They were still sweet from the honey wine, and made him hunger for more.  He felt Gwyn’s fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his head, inviting further contact.

His kisses moved to the corner of Gwyn’s jaw, down his throat, across his collarbones.  Zaennon parted the fabric there and Gwyn shrugged out of the garment, then reached up to help the taller man out of his own. With a heavy breath, Zaennon wrapped a long arm around Gwyn’s waist and hoisted him forward on the blanket, bringing their bare skin close.  He continued his trail of kisses from Gwyn’s collarbone to his chest.  He picked a nipple and bit it softly, causing Gwyn to jump at first and the nib to harden immediately.  Zaennon chuckled and kissed Gwyn’s lips in apology, moving a roving hand up to cradle the smaller man’s neck before returning to his mission.

When his kisses reached the hem of Gwyn’s pants, he looked up into those golden eyes again, gazing across the plane of Gwyn’s stomach.

“Is this alright?” he asked again, both hands on Gwyn’s hips, spreading his partner’s knees with his body.   His voice was low, serious and dripping with anticipation.  

Gwyn nodded eagerly, letting out the breathless “Yes” he knew Zaennon would not proceed without.  

With dexterous fingers, Zaennon unlaced the front of Gwyn’s pants, helping his partner squirm out of the black fabric and freeing the erection that had been straining against its confines.  He felt himself grow harder just looking, but focused his full attention on Gwyn, who was having trouble keeping his hands to himself.  Zaennon sacrificed one hand to hold onto Gwyn’s reaching arm, while the other he used to keep a firm hold on the ridge of Gwyn’s hip.  

He bent his head and softly kissed the tip, then slowly licked and sucked, playing until Gwyn looked ready to burst and rocked against the weight on his hip.  When Gwyn was nearly ready to finish, Zaennon stopped. With a curious expression, he pressed a thumb to Gwyn’s opening and found it pliant with arousal.  Gwyn sighed and bit his lip, giving his hips a slight lift of invitation and pressing himself against Zaennon, whose breath was now coming in shallow gasps.  Zaennon shed his own bottoms and approached Gwyn from above, maneuvering the smaller man into alignment so that his lanky body encompassed his smaller partner in total contact.  

Gwyn gasped in pleasure as Zaennon pushed himself inside, filling him to the walls, seeming to envelop him inside and out.  With torturous slowness, Zaennon rocked against him once.  Twice.  Gwyn moaned from the pleasurable friction and felt his toes curl into tight fists.    Zaennon picked up the pace and edged them both closer to completion.  When he felt himself get close, he wrapped his hand around Gwyn’s dick and worked him in rhythm until Gwyn’s entire body went rigid and then shuddered, coming over Zaennon’s stomach.  Zaennon followed a moment later, feeling a warm rush from the pit of his belly and then an all-encompassing ecstasy.  

Full Name:  Zaennon

Gender and Sexuality: ultra gay

Pronouns: he/him

Ethnicity/Species: Imperial?  I guess if he was a human he would be southern european/middle eastern

Birthplace and Birthdate: He was born in Dragonhome on Dec 30 (capricorn lol)

Guilty Pleasures: shade fuckler ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Phobias: disappointing his brother and lying to himself.  He’s pretty conflicted regarding these two because he’s confined by his perceived need to make his brother proud but also feels like the only way to do so is to be someone he’s not.  He’s also afraid of spending his whole life performing that persona

What They Would Be Famous For: Probably famous for the time he decked the leader of his birth clan

What They Would Get Arrested For: see above :)

OC You Ship Them With: I WONDER WHO

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: I honestly don’t know anyone who has a motive to kill Zae?  He’s functionally harmless.  I guess the closest would probably be someone he slept with before meeting Gwyn.  He has a habit of laughing a lot in the bedroom, and someone may have taken that as a personal slight rather than just understanding that Zae gets the giggles from certain activities

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: he loves romcoms and lighthearted tales, his favorite would definitely be Chocolat :’D

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Anything senselessly bloody and violent isn’t really his bag.  He’s a softie.

Talents and/or Powers: He sings and plays the lute, he has an eidetic memory

Why Someone Might Love Them: He is never stingy with his affections, and is a very clear communicator.  He will compose a song to brighten your dark days, and he’s always able to summon an optimistic outlook if you need someone to be the bright spot for you.

Why Someone Might Hate Them:  A lot of people might think he’s too sensitive.  He’s learned to weather constant criticism of himself, but finds it really hard to take when directed at someone he cares about.  He can act rashly when his emotions overflow.

How They Change: Gwyn really teaches Zae what commitment is all about.  I’m not sure how a happy ending with them would unfold because we haven’t really discussed it, but I know in the bad ending Zae will become a wind wraith who wanders the roads, searching for Gwyn... probably murdering unfortunate travelers because that’s how despondent spirits do

I like to imagine them making a safe home for themselves though, after Lorne and Gwyn don’t have to run anymore.  Maybe something like a cottage on a pond.  Someplace peaceful.

Zaennon’s stomach fluttered expectantly.  Every hour that had passed today had caused his excitement and apprehension to grow. Today was the day Gwyn would return, officially to check up on the health of the clan, but more important to Zaennon was simply that they could be together.  

He paced the length of his tent and felt again for the ring in his pocket.  All day he had been anxious he may lose it, and now its smooth sanded surface had been given a bright shine from the constant worrying of his fingers.  He had carved the ring himself from the branch of an ash tree, believing the pale wood would flatter Gwyn’s hand better than any other, and set it with a small golden citrine he had traded from a traveling merchant.  

He had no idea how this would work.  If this would work.  Gwyn was constantly traveling and doing important jobs, and Zaennon knew he would only be a distraction or in the way if he tagged along. He also understood, much to his distaste, that Gwyn himself was not totally in control of his schedule or choice of occupation.  Still, Zaennon had made up his mind.  He wanted Gwyn and no one else.

When the sun had crossed into the lower third of its arc, Zaennon could not stand to wait in his tent a second longer.  He would meet them on the road or as they entered the camp.  Plus, walking somewhere would help calm his nerves.  He waved aside the heavy hanging cloth door and stepped out into the cool evening, taking brisk steps to the camp path.

At every bend in the road, he expected to find Gwyn and his… associate.  His long stride ate up the miles, and as darkness descended, so did his mood, sinking into icy disappointment.  They had never been this late.  

He stopped when he reached a straight stretch of road that continued on into the woods.  There was no sign of them, nor of any traveler. The path was cast in the true darkness of night, the day of Gwyn’s arrival had come and gone with not so much as a whisper of Zaennon’s beloved.  

He pulled the ring out of his pocket again and inspected it closely in the starlight.  Dead leaves rattled on their branches overhead, heralding the first cold breath of winter.  The road was empty, and Zaennon felt his heart twist with worry.  His mind jumped from one scenario to the next: raiders waiting in ambush on the road, Daz suddenly changing his mind and sending them off into a new direction, or even that they had somehow wandered from the path and become lost.

haha ok :’D  NSFW under the cut!