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“Right now?”

“Are you questioning me, thrall?”

Perl bites his lip. Kerik knows Perl is conflicted and considering that he should not allow this. He should tell Kerik again that he made a vow. But Kerik can see that is all unravelling. Perl is powerless to resist this. Even Zai himself could not stop what is bound to happen as surely as if it was fate.

“Take your clothes off,” Kerik says, surprised at how dark and husky his voice sounds. “Show me the body I get to use as your Master.”

Perl obeys. He gets up from the bed, stands before Kerik as he lies, reclining like an emperor, watching Perl reveal every part of his delicate pale skin for Kerik’s delight.

When Perl is naked, Kerik says, low and dark, “Come here thrall. Offer yourself to me.”

He waits for Perl to refuse. To say no or mention his vow, but he does not. He looks like he cannot. He looks like he is compelled, too addled with lust to do anything but obey Kerik. Too desperate for the deep relief of indulging his forbidden desires.

As soon as Perl steps close enough to the bed that he is within Kerik’s reach, Kerik pulls him down, hands on his shoulders, twisting his body as he draws him in, throwing him down on his back.

It's a matter of moments for Kerik to shed his hip cloth and then they are kissing, both naked, mouth to mouth and skin to skin. Kerik presses his body down on Perl’s beneath him, revelling in the cool smooth feeling of Perl’s body, like living marble.

Kerik takes his sweet time undoing Perl. Ruining him very precisely. He kisses his mouth and then his chin. His neck where the skin is rough and red. His chest and belly. He drops a single kiss on the wet head of Perl’s hard cock, which is elegant and slender, almost refined compared to Kerik’s own. Which is also hard, insistent between Kerik’s thighs and Kerik knows just where that cock is going to thrust and spend before this night is over.

‘Turn over, thrall,” Kerik hisses in Perl’s ear. “Turn over for your Master’s pleasure.”

Kerik moves back a little to allow Perl to obey, but not so much that he doesn’t feel it as Perl moves under him, shivering with desire, skin slipping over skin as his breathing grows ragged. Perl is so smooth and pale, where Kerik is darker and the skin of his limbs and chest is dense with hair. The small amount of hair Perl has on his body is pale as moonlight, shimmering in the centre of his chest and at the join of his thighs.

When Perl is on his belly, displayed, Kerik leans away to take him in. The curve of his spine, the dark lines of the places where his wings lie, the sensuous rounding of his ass.

Kerik cannot stop himself. He uses a hand to spread Perl open, exposing his hole, small and pale pink, a delicate rose like his bathing pool. As Kerik reveals him, Perl buries his head in the pillows with a soft sound, a mixture of mortification and need. Without a word, Kerik lowers his head and runs his tongue over Perl’s hole.

He doesn’t always do this when he fucks a man, but he does when he is overcome with desire. And now his desire is so great it is like a fever.

Perl tastes like salt and earth, no different from any man. Kerik licks along the seam of him, pausing to tease at his hole, moaning deeply against it and enjoying the sounds Perl makes, gasps that become moans, moans that grow deeper, darker, needier and louder.

Kerik groans against Perl’s flesh, his hole growing warmer and he wonders how his tongue must feel to Perl. Savagely hot.

“Please,” Perl gasps out, lifting his head a little from the pillows so he can be heard. “Please Master, fuck me. Use me for pleasure…” His words fade into breaths for a moment, before, “use my body. Any way you want to. Make me your, uh, your whore.” And then he moans, as if aroused to hear himself begging so.

Kerik moans too, feeling a great rush of desire to hear his ice faerie speak so wantonly. “Fuck you, faerie?” he says, leaning forward, letting his chest brush Perl’s body. His ass and then his back. He kisses Perl’s neck. “Is that what you want?”

“Uh,” Perl replies. Just a whiny sound, desperate. Then a gasp, “please.’

“What about your vow? Aren’t you” — Kerik pauses and moves down, kissing Perl on his spine, right in the centre of his back — “chaste?”

“No. Not now. Not since I met you,” Perl says back, words stuttering with his need.

Kerik feels a warmth inside him at that. His cock hard, blood-heavy and ready, but this is a different feeling. The deep thrill of being desired so, being so desirable that this chaste elegant faerie is reduced to such a beautiful panting mess for want of him. A desperate wet hole.

Kerik sucks his first finger briefly into his mouth, before pressing it into Perl. Perl is tight, cooler than a mortal in a way that is distinctive and arousing.

Perl moans to feel Kerik’s finger inside him, pressing back, wanting more, so greedy that Kerik slaps him on the thigh. “Patience, faerie," he says, voice a blend of arousal and amusement.

Perl looks back over his shoulder. “You’re so cruel, Master,” he says, so lilting and breathy it’s all Kerik can do not to force Perl’s face back into the silken pillows and take him fast and rough with no preparation.

But this is too important for that. Kerik has waited and wanted too long.

Instead he slides a second finger into Perl, keeping his free hand tight on Perl’s thigh as a warning to let Kerik have control. “How long?” he says, voice sounding rough, as if his cock is already inside Perl’s sweet hole. “How long since anyone fucked you?”

“You know how long,” Perl gasps back, an edge of petulance in his desperate gasping.

Kerik pulls his fingers free and slaps Perl’s ass. Hard. “How fucking long, faerie. How long has this perfect hole of yours been chaste?”