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“Then touch yourself, thrall. Spend for your Master.”

Perl knows he ought to refuse, ought to end this. To stroke his cock in front of another person. To be so close, so intimate, so submissive. It feels dangerous. So fucking sweet.

He’s too desperate, too eager to obey Kerik, to show him how grateful he is, how much Kerik’s sacrifices mean to him. He’d do anything. Anything. And the truth of that burns through him, too powerful for him to think about anything else. His mission. His shame. The danger of this. His fingers are already opening his breeches and freeing his roused cock. He moans with need as he touches himself and he is rewarded by a soft answering sound of desire from Kerik.

Pleasure, blood hot, cascades through him.

“You look so beautiful,” Kerik says, “on your knees before me, undone.”

Perl moves his hand slowly up the length of his blood-stiff cock, gliding right up to the top, twisting around the thick crown. It feels so sweet.

Kerik reaches forward and uses his thumb to open Perl’s mouth. He slips the tip between Perl’s lips. Perl groans and sucks, eyes on Kerik, thinking how good it would feel to have Kerik offer his cock instead.

Perl wants that. He cannot pretend he does not. He wants that and more. He wants Kerik to take his mouth hard, fuck his face, use him for pleasure while he kneels obediently and simply takes what Kerik chooses to give him. Thank him for it.

Sudden and sharp Perl spends in his fist, sucking down on Kerik’s thumb as wave after wave of pleasure takes him, and his seed, warm and soft, splashes onto the chamber floor between his spread thighs.

Kerik pulls his thumb back, before leaning down and taking a single brief kiss from Perl’s gasping mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you spend,” Kerik says, pulling back and touching the scar that encircles Perl’s throat. His fingertips are warm.

Perl gasps, beyond speech. It’s been so long since he let anyone else see this, anyone else so close to this achingly tender part of him.

Kerik leans close and kisses Perl’s cheek, then brings his lips to Perl’s ear, “When this is done, Perlash-zeren-ai, when you have completed your mission and wish to break your vow, I promise you, I will take you as you deserve to be taken. Tied down and screaming for me.”

Perl groans. Despite his recent spend, his cock twitches. But his mind is torn. When this is done? When he has completed his mission?

What will Kerik have to become for all of this to be done? The Magician. A mortal with the power of a fae. His mortal strength powering fae magic. And will it break his mind like it broke hers?

The chamber is scented with sex, with the smell of Perl’s spend, of his shame. He can feel how easy it would be to be distracted by something like this, something he wants so much. He gets to his feet on wobbly legs, “I’m sorry, I… I should not have done that.” He tucks his cock back into his breeches and stands, looking at Kerik, mind racing with doubts and trouble.

“Stop it,” Kerik says.

“Stop what?”

“Stop telling me you're terrible and shameful and you’ll get distracted from your mission. Just be quiet. Be quiet and come to bed.” Perl blinks and does as he is bid.

20

KERIK

Kerik did not know it was possible for him to fall asleep without pursuing his own spend, but as he presses close to Perl’s body, he feels a great wave of exhaustion take him. After all that has happened this day and all he has learned, all he wants is sleep.

As he lies there letting it take him, he thinks of all Perl has told him. He has no doubt that Perl believes his tale true. He thinks it likely the truth that faeries cannot tell lies. Perl really believes in this demon his father told him was coming and has shaped his life around it for a hundred years. But Perl’s father was no faerie. Perhaps he lied to his son. Kerik cannot fathom why, especially if his fate was to be sealed inside that burning cage. But he had been part of the court of the vile Hevelikar. And Perl had said magic had warped his mind.

The important thing however, is that Perl believes his mission true and he believes that Kerik’s magical powers are essential to its success. Perl wants Kerik twice over. As this fated Magician and as Master. And Kerik is happy to play both roles. He will enjoy the body of this beautiful creature who arouses him so much and he will learn magic.

And whether Perl’s demon is real or not, Kerik will be a great wizard when this is done. A great wizard perhaps with a beautiful faerie lover on its knees at the foot of his throne.

Kerik wakes feeling good and spends some time lying lazily in bed, kissing Perl’s hair, letting his lips slide over the white silken strands. His mouth drifts lower and kisses Perl's scar.

“Did it hurt for the whole year you wore it?” Kerik follows the kiss by tracing the mark on Perl’s throat with his fingers.

“No, not for the whole year. I told you, the iron burns at first but it subsides. And over time, my body formed this tissue, this mark, to protect me from it. By the end it was only the weight of it I felt. And the fact it prevented my magic while I wore it. In truth, it hurts more now than it ever did while I was made to wear the collar.” Perl’s voice is raw as he ends the statement. Kerik can hear the deep pain of having this mark of his shame burned onto Perl’s skin.

He is about to say something else, when a knock comes at the door.

Perl calls out enter without bothering to disentwine himself from Kerik’s arms.