He stewed in angry self-pity for as long as he could stand, listening to the distant sound of the wind in the courtyard, the creak of the inn settling. It was self-indulgent and selfish of him, but Vanyel couldn't bring himself to regret it. The sorrow dimmed, lessened by him daring to feel it, and that, too, Vanyel could not regret.
He heard a bell chime twelve, the day officially gone, the world outside this room surely a dull and sombre silver.
A breath of air on the back of his neck made him shiver, and the sense that he wasn't alone had Vanyel sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes. He saw nothing to explain the presence he felt, the room dim in the dying firelight but free of any shadow large enough to contain a person.
Vanyel fetched a log into the fireplace with a thought, prodding it until it caught fire, and bit his lip thoughtfully. "Hello?" he whispered into the expectant silence.
The fire popped unexpectedly, and Vanyel jumped, looking to it and seeing the vaguest suggestion of a familiar face, disappearing as soon as he looked upon it. He smiled uncertainly, wondering--no, it could not be. But if it was...
His next breath was unsteady, catching a bit in his throat. The dull ache in him twitched sharply, a reminder of his earlier plans, and Vanyel blushed bright red. It cannot be--
A lock of his hair fell forward over his collarbone, soft as a caress. Vanyel closed his eyes and lay back on the blue and white quilt. The piled blankets only reached to his knees, leaving the rest of him bare.
Not my hands, he thought, collecting his focus. Vanyel reached above his head, crossing his wrists and pinning them to the bed with an invisible band of force. He licked his lips, trembling as he waited. Not him. But--if I were in the street. And Yfandes was somewhere else. And--someone caught my wrist and pulled me into an alley, and he turned me to face the wall so I couldn't see his face--
A scent as familiar as his own teased him, and Vanyel's eyelashes grew wet again even as he imagined a thick length, hidden under the quilt beneath him, pressing forcefully against his lower back. Taller than me. I can't fight, there's--threats, I don't know, I can't fight. I don't fight.
Vanyel spread his legs in response to an imagined order, and made the thickness under him thrust against him through the barrier of the quilt, the shaft caught in the valley of his ass, threateningly huge. Oh gods, he's going to-- Vanyel tossed his head in mute protest, half the quilt rising from the sheets to toss over his front.
"Don't look, Van." And the band around his wrists squeezed, as though trying to reassure him--The man's free hand came around Vanyel, lifting his tunic above his belt and cupping his shamefully hard cock, squeezing balls pulled tight to his body from fear--it had to be fear--Vanyel gave a surprised gasp, rocking up into the warm hand that had grasped him through the quilt. He was--oh fuck, his cock was dripping into the quilt, and the thick shaft at his back was pressing at his entrance, as though it meant to fuck him through the blanket and clothes, driving the cloth into Vanyel with his cock.
"Please," Vanyel begged softly, into a silence that he couldn't quite forget. The entrance of the alley wasn't far--anyone could look in and see Vanyel pinned up against the wall, moaning and grinding up against his attacker like he was in heat. His wrists were suddenly released, and his attacker spoke, "Get on your hands and knees and I've give you what you're begging for."
Vanyel flipped onto his front, hands pressed into the pillow, his face and mouth pressed into the quilt and his ass raised up in eager offering. His pants slid down his thighs, leaving his ass bared to all who might pass by. Vanyel couldn't fight this, not without consequences, couldn't do anything but kneel before this stranger and let himself be fucked.
He tightened his concentration before he slid an invisible bar of force inside himself, stretching his entrance in preparation. Vanyel slid his hand under the quilt, and reached up to grope himself through the thin layer of his--tunic. He was being stretched, his ass spread open on some stranger's thumb, spread open for the first time in--a long time--the stranger pulled out his thumb, spitting into Vanyel's hole and pressed three fingers back in. "God, you're so eager, Van--been a little lonely?"
His hips were twitching into the soft cotton of the quilt, pushing back into the thickness inside him, and Vanyel could just imagine what he must look like to any observer--A hushed gasp, and the sound of someone rushing away, but Vanyel couldn't think on that, not with the prick forcing its way inside him, with little regard for his comfort--fuck, it was so big!--a hand wrapped around his balls, still wet from being inside him, and Vanyel couldn't possibly fight this--
The flask of salve slid into him easily, hard and just thick enough to make him ache as he took it. Vanyel pushed it in as far as he dared, deep enough that the swell of the base was almost inside him. He thrust against his palm, into the blanket, tightening his body around the unyielding ceramic length trapped inside him. Gods this was perverted.
The bottle twitched inside him, and began to thrust. Vanyel moaned into the bed, back arching as he enjoyed the slick slide of it inside him, the sense of being fucked amazing, almost hurting, but so much better for that 'almost'. "Just a little more," he murmured quietly, terrified that someone might hear, but needing to say it--Vanyel rolled his hips back, helplessly aroused by the cock inside him. It was so good--so thick and warm, opening him wide enough to hurt and just using Vanyel's body like Vanyel might use his hand. No love, just some stranger fucking him--
A startled sound escaped Vanyel's throat as the man behind him pulled him upright, dragging Vanyel into his lap and burying his cock even deeper. "Ride me, Van. Show me how good you are at this."
Ride--? Vanyel shifted his weight, bringing his feet under him for leverage. His attacker had gripped his hips, was gently urging him upward, up until Vanyel felt the tip of the stranger's cock teasing his entrance. If he rose any higher, he'd be empty, no one inside him, and that--Vanyel sank down, taking the cock to the hilt, and then did it again. His attacker spread Vanyel's buttocks apart, watching his cock disappear in Vanyel's willing hole, and Vanyel wanted to beg--just a little more, a little deeper, and it'd be enough--
Vanyel pressed his cock into the quilt, thrusting against it as he used his fetching gift to fuck his ass with a bottle of cheap snake oil. Sweat streaked down his chest, and he was so incredibly close--
Vanyel felt the wet spurt of his attacker's orgasm, filling Vanyel with his semen as he slammed into him one last time. He whimpered, knowing that he'd given the man what he'd asked for, let his body provide pleasure--and it wasn't Vanyel's fault, he'd had no choice--and climaxed, his body tightening around the thick cock inside it, squeezing every last drop of cum from it.
"Gods Van, you look so beautiful like this."
Vanyel shuddered into the blanket, spilling his seed on the cheerful blue and white patterns. His skin sang, pleasure stretching him into a softer shape, relaxation filling him until he slumped bonelessly into the quilt he'd abused.
He stroked the cotton blanket in vague apology, slowly getting his breathing back under control.
Re: Fill- Vanyel/Blanket 3/4 - A Restful Night (Porn!...and fantasy dubcon?)
He heard a bell chime twelve, the day officially gone, the world outside this room surely a dull and sombre silver.
A breath of air on the back of his neck made him shiver, and the sense that he wasn't alone had Vanyel sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes. He saw nothing to explain the presence he felt, the room dim in the dying firelight but free of any shadow large enough to contain a person.
Vanyel fetched a log into the fireplace with a thought, prodding it until it caught fire, and bit his lip thoughtfully. "Hello?" he whispered into the expectant silence.
The fire popped unexpectedly, and Vanyel jumped, looking to it and seeing the vaguest suggestion of a familiar face, disappearing as soon as he looked upon it. He smiled uncertainly, wondering--no, it could not be. But if it was...
His next breath was unsteady, catching a bit in his throat. The dull ache in him twitched sharply, a reminder of his earlier plans, and Vanyel blushed bright red. It cannot be--
A lock of his hair fell forward over his collarbone, soft as a caress. Vanyel closed his eyes and lay back on the blue and white quilt. The piled blankets only reached to his knees, leaving the rest of him bare.
Not my hands, he thought, collecting his focus. Vanyel reached above his head, crossing his wrists and pinning them to the bed with an invisible band of force. He licked his lips, trembling as he waited. Not him. But--if I were in the street. And Yfandes was somewhere else. And--someone caught my wrist and pulled me into an alley, and he turned me to face the wall so I couldn't see his face--
A scent as familiar as his own teased him, and Vanyel's eyelashes grew wet again even as he imagined a thick length, hidden under the quilt beneath him, pressing forcefully against his lower back. Taller than me. I can't fight, there's--threats, I don't know, I can't fight. I don't fight.
Vanyel spread his legs in response to an imagined order, and made the thickness under him thrust against him through the barrier of the quilt, the shaft caught in the valley of his ass, threateningly huge. Oh gods, he's going to-- Vanyel tossed his head in mute protest, half the quilt rising from the sheets to toss over his front.
"Don't look, Van." And the band around his wrists squeezed, as though trying to reassure him--The man's free hand came around Vanyel, lifting his tunic above his belt and cupping his shamefully hard cock, squeezing balls pulled tight to his body from fear--it had to be fear--Vanyel gave a surprised gasp, rocking up into the warm hand that had grasped him through the quilt. He was--oh fuck, his cock was dripping into the quilt, and the thick shaft at his back was pressing at his entrance, as though it meant to fuck him through the blanket and clothes, driving the cloth into Vanyel with his cock.
"Please," Vanyel begged softly, into a silence that he couldn't quite forget. The entrance of the alley wasn't far--anyone could look in and see Vanyel pinned up against the wall, moaning and grinding up against his attacker like he was in heat. His wrists were suddenly released, and his attacker spoke, "Get on your hands and knees and I've give you what you're begging for."
Vanyel flipped onto his front, hands pressed into the pillow, his face and mouth pressed into the quilt and his ass raised up in eager offering. His pants slid down his thighs, leaving his ass bared to all who might pass by. Vanyel couldn't fight this, not without consequences, couldn't do anything but kneel before this stranger and let himself be fucked.
He tightened his concentration before he slid an invisible bar of force inside himself, stretching his entrance in preparation. Vanyel slid his hand under the quilt, and reached up to grope himself through the thin layer of his--tunic. He was being stretched, his ass spread open on some stranger's thumb, spread open for the first time in--a long time--the stranger pulled out his thumb, spitting into Vanyel's hole and pressed three fingers back in. "God, you're so eager, Van--been a little lonely?"
His hips were twitching into the soft cotton of the quilt, pushing back into the thickness inside him, and Vanyel could just imagine what he must look like to any observer--A hushed gasp, and the sound of someone rushing away, but Vanyel couldn't think on that, not with the prick forcing its way inside him, with little regard for his comfort--fuck, it was so big!--a hand wrapped around his balls, still wet from being inside him, and Vanyel couldn't possibly fight this--
The flask of salve slid into him easily, hard and just thick enough to make him ache as he took it. Vanyel pushed it in as far as he dared, deep enough that the swell of the base was almost inside him. He thrust against his palm, into the blanket, tightening his body around the unyielding ceramic length trapped inside him. Gods this was perverted.
The bottle twitched inside him, and began to thrust. Vanyel moaned into the bed, back arching as he enjoyed the slick slide of it inside him, the sense of being fucked amazing, almost hurting, but so much better for that 'almost'. "Just a little more," he murmured quietly, terrified that someone might hear, but needing to say it--Vanyel rolled his hips back, helplessly aroused by the cock inside him. It was so good--so thick and warm, opening him wide enough to hurt and just using Vanyel's body like Vanyel might use his hand. No love, just some stranger fucking him--
A startled sound escaped Vanyel's throat as the man behind him pulled him upright, dragging Vanyel into his lap and burying his cock even deeper. "Ride me, Van. Show me how good you are at this."
Ride--? Vanyel shifted his weight, bringing his feet under him for leverage. His attacker had gripped his hips, was gently urging him upward, up until Vanyel felt the tip of the stranger's cock teasing his entrance. If he rose any higher, he'd be empty, no one inside him, and that--Vanyel sank down, taking the cock to the hilt, and then did it again. His attacker spread Vanyel's buttocks apart, watching his cock disappear in Vanyel's willing hole, and Vanyel wanted to beg--just a little more, a little deeper, and it'd be enough--
Vanyel pressed his cock into the quilt, thrusting against it as he used his fetching gift to fuck his ass with a bottle of cheap snake oil. Sweat streaked down his chest, and he was so incredibly close--
Vanyel felt the wet spurt of his attacker's orgasm, filling Vanyel with his semen as he slammed into him one last time. He whimpered, knowing that he'd given the man what he'd asked for, let his body provide pleasure--and it wasn't Vanyel's fault, he'd had no choice--and climaxed, his body tightening around the thick cock inside it, squeezing every last drop of cum from it.
"Gods Van, you look so beautiful like this."
Vanyel shuddered into the blanket, spilling his seed on the cheerful blue and white patterns. His skin sang, pleasure stretching him into a softer shape, relaxation filling him until he slumped bonelessly into the quilt he'd abused.
He stroked the cotton blanket in vague apology, slowly getting his breathing back under control.
(One more segment to finish, I think!)