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An hour and a half later, they were still sitting on the floor, Tristan's back against the couch, Nikita settled snugly between his legs, resting against his Master's chest. Tristan was still playfully feeding the slave different things, and allowing himself to be fed as well, as they talked. So far, Trinity and activities around the Palace were discussed, but there was still one question Tristan had been dying to ask.
"So, what do you do around here for fun, then?" he asked, taking a long swallow of wine. He'd already had two glasses, as had Nikita. "Do you go play with the others often?"
"Oh, no," Nikita told him, shaking his head, his eyes half-closed from the effects of the wine. "We never leave our rooms without Masters. And when we do, we have to be on a leash. We're slaves; we're obedient."
"So you never leave here?" Tristan questioned. "You've never been outside the walls of the palace?"
"No. But that's okay," Nikita assured him. "I'm fed, clothed, housed and indulged while I'm here. I have my books and my harp and my music?dancing?it's not so bad, really. Maybe someday I'll leave here. I just hope that if you decide you don't want me anymore, I get a Master that's at least half as wonderful as you've been to me." He leaned back further, snuggling against Tristan, enjoying the feel of a strong arm snake around his waist and hold him close.
"But?don't you ever want something more?" Tristan asked him. "To be able to go outside any time you want to; do what you fell like doing, love whom and how you please?"
"I used to," Nikita admitted, his face tilting up toward the ceiling. "But I've only had a few really mean Masters, not like some of the others; so I'm lucky. And Hyacinthe says it's because I'm beautiful and Masters wouldn't like me as much if I were scarred."
"Who's Hyacinthe?" he quieried, absentmindedly running his fingers through the long silver strands. "Is he another slave?"
"Mm," Nikita purred, melting against Tristan. "We pretty much grew up together?he's probably the closest thing to family I have. Kind of like a brother. He knows about cruel masters?more than I've experienced, anyway."
"How many have you had?" He couldn't help but feel slightly angry at the thought of anyone wanting to hurt Nikita. "Did they hit you?"
"Only a few, really," Nikita replied. "There was some hitting, but not too much, I guess. There were other things that were worse, but not like Hyacinthe. He's been hurt a lot?I don't know why, though. He's beautiful, too."
"What about now?"
"Hyacinthe? Oh, he has a Mistress, now, from what I've heard," Nikita murmured, drinking slowly. "He seems to like her, too. That doesn't happen very often, though. I've heard other Masters talk and say that he's a terror and impossible to deal with. Maybe that's why they hurt him so much." He shrugged and snuggled deeper into his Master's embrace.
"So, you sit and read all day, then? Doesn't that get a bit?boring, though?" Tristan asked slowly.
"No?I dance and sing and play my harp, too," Nikita reminded him gently. "I love to dance, in fact."
Leaning down, Tristan whispered into his slave's ear, "Would you dance for me? Right now? If I asked you to?"
"Nothing would make me happier," Nikita vowed, tiliting his head back, trying to bring Tristan's lips closer. "I would do anything for you, Tristan. Anything at all." Without so much as another prompt, he drew himself up to his feet and tried to scamper over to where the stereo was kept in a cabinet built into the wall. However, being more than slightly tipsy, he stumbled just a little on his way.
After a few moments of digging through the collection of music, he finally decided on what he wanted and set it to play, taking his place in a large, clear area of the floor. His eyes closed and as soon as the haunting gypsy music began, he felt his body being taken over by the bittersweet melody and he began to move. First, it was just a light sway of the hips and arms, then he felt himself begin to turn slowly, in small circles. He was so wrapped up in the music, he didn't even hear the bells that surrounded his ankles and neck.
Tristan reclined comfortably against the couch, waiting patiently. As soon as the music began, he took another drink and watched carefully. He was amazed that Nikita still had the moves of a cat, his body moving so fluidly he was once again trapped by the sight. The dark blue eyes were closed, the red lips parted, his sways and circles becoming a slow, erotic dance, his head leaned back, the dim lighting of the room glowing off his dusky skin and silver hair. The movements became longer, more drawn out and sensuous as the sad notes of the violins straining through the air.
Feathers and silver strands melted in and out of the wavering light, shadows following and leaping in time with their owner across the floor on the carpets. Mandolins and tambourines melded with a perfectly harmonized pair of voices, keening into the dark. Bronze skin began to shine with a fine coating of sweat as the warm air grew heavy with the scent of musk and wood.
When the music picked up, the ballet became faster, more intense. Nikita's arms began to flow faster as his body bent and shifted, moving with frantic grace. Feet began to skim over the floor, tripping along those same shadows as they flitted away from him. Then, Nikita's own voice began to wail along with the music as he spun, faster and faster, long lean legs flexing and shifting under the dark blue silk that covered so much, but hugged and clung to his flesh in places as he moved.
Before Tristan could think about what he was doing, he found himself slowly crawling across the floor on his hands and knees, until he was close enough to touch Nikita. Then, he straightened, standing on his knees and caught the dancer as he spun, pulling him close and burrying his face into the tight muscles of the dark-skinned boy's stomach, nuzzling and planting gentle kisses around his belly button. He felt Nikita's body start to shake slightly and stood, catching him before the slave's legs gave out beneath him.
Strong arms holding him about the waist, Nikita let his upper body fall back, his hair pooling on the floor at his heels as his hips pressed against Tristan's. He let his body sway with the music again, loving the feeling of being crushed against the rougher fabric of his master's jeans, a hot throbbing presence growing against his own confined sex. He moaned softly as Tristan's hands moved up his back, pulling him upright and closer. His head remained thrown back, baring his neck, his breathing coming out in short gasps as he tried to press himself against Tristan's leg, whimpering when he couldn't.
He cried out as soon as he felt hot lips press against his exposed skin, one gentle hand tangling into his masses of hair as the other slid down to cup his bottom, kneading the firm flesh slowly. He clung helplessly to Tristan's shirt, gathering the soft gray cotton in his grasp, shamelessly thrusting his hips forward, his body flushing with desire and wanton need. "Please?" he gasped softly. "Love me, Tristan?make me yours and stay with me. Do with me as you like; anything."
"Nikita," Tristan whispered against the boy's throat. "I can't just take you?I couldn't. You aren't a sex toy, don't you see that?" He placed several small, hot kisses up Nikita's throat above the slim silk and belled collar, jawline and to his pouting lips. Claiming that mouth was like paradise as he delved into that warm sweetness with his tongue. He could feel the smaller boy moan into his mouth and gently pull his hand out of his hair and to his chest, placing his fingers on one of the silver rings that pierced his nipples.
"Then make love to me," Nikita breathed as their lips parted. "Be gentle and kind, if you like. I just want you to love me and be happy with me."
"I am happy with you," Tristan promised. "I haven't been so relaxed in a long time. And I do want you, but I won't use you. Do you understand that if we do this, it will mean more than sex?"
"Yes," Nikita replied, throwing his arms around his Master's neck. "I want that more than anything, and it scares me, but I know you won't hurt me. You could never hurt me; I know that. You're a good person and you're handsome and strong and wonderful?"
"Nikita?"
"I'm not just saying that, either," the silver-haired boy added, nuzzling into Tristan's neck. "You are wonderful and all of that. I want you to make me feel and want things?I want to fall asleep with you and wake up beside you."
"And what if I said no?" Tristan asked seriously. He felt his heart crack as he saw the look of utter helplessness and despair in the dark blue gaze that had been fixed on his own. "I'm not saying it, but what if I had?"
"Then I wouldn't do anything at all," Nikita protested sullenly. "Nothing at all. I wouldn't listen to you, I wouldn't sing or dance or play for you?I would stay in a corner and that's all. Can't you see that I love you so much, already? You're kind to me and don't hurt me?don't hit me, don't whip me or bite me too hard or put things in me that are too big to feel good at all?and I know you never would."
"How do you know?" Tristan whispered intensely, picking up the slight body and carrying him to the bed, setting Nikita down on the comforter on his back. "How do you know that I won't hurt you? That I won't make you cry or scream?" He bent down to take one of the rings in his teeth and tugged. It wasn't a hard pull at all, but enough to catch Nikita's attention.
Nikita cried out and arched his body under Tristan's. The pain normally bothered him, but this wasn't hard enough to really hurt him and it felt so good, he couldn't stop himself from pulling at his Master's shirt, wanting it off so badly he could have screamed. "Yes?" he moaned when Tristan's attention turned to the other nipple. He felt Tristan raise up and take the shirt off, then settle back down to attack the hard little nubs of burning need, pressing a hard, flat stomach against Nikita's bulging erection. "Mmngh?Tristan, please?" he pleaded softly, running his fingers through the jaw-length black hair, trying to wrap his legs around Tritan's waist and pull him closer. The silk caught on the seams of the faded jeans, making his efforts more difficult.
"Put your hands up above your head and close your eyes," Tristan ordered, nipping at the left ring once more before he stood. He was surprised with Nikita's immediate compliance to his wishes. It felt strange, but somehow empowering to see the lithe body stretched across the mix of burgundy, purple and gray, strong arms poised above a gentle, beautiful face, deep blue eyes closed, feathery lashes resting against flushed cheeks, pouting lips parted just enough to let in the gasps of anticipation.
He walked over to the cabinets of instruments, browsing through the several sets of cuffs, blind folds, and other miscellaneous toys. Picking a particularly soft-looking pair of wrist and ankle cuffs, lined in fur and a few other random objects, then returned to the bed. Shifting Nikita to the desired position, he gently closed the cuffs around Nikita's wrists. "Keep those eyes closed until I tell you to open them," he murmured in one heavilly pierced ear, tugging softly on a random silver hoop with his teeth.
"Anything you want, Tristan," Nikita breathed. "I promise."
"Very good, Nikita," he purred, kissing the now un-painted lips and crawling down to sit beside his little prize. Hmm?now, I wonder, what would you do, if I did this?" Carefully, he ran one single stiff feather down Nikita's chest and stomach, making the younger man squirm and gasp in shock, but not once did the slave open his eyes.
"Or this?" Tracing the tip of the feather back up Nikita's body, he tickled at the erect nipples, flitting around the rings, tracing slow circles around the tensing muscle. As Nikita struggled desperately to keep his composure, he traced his fingers along the waistband of midnight blue silk. Nikita's hips jerked upward, trying to make Tristan apply more pressure to the sensitive area below his stomach. "Now, now, be good, 'Kita," he chided playfully, leaning forward to allow his breath to play across the area of skin his fingers had been previously.
"I'm sorry, Tristan," Nikita whimpered. "I'll be good."
"Will you?" he teased, raising an eyebrow, kissing the hot skin as his hand journeyed downward, cupping the hot bulge under his palm. "I wonder if you can." He started rubbing softly, tugging at the drawstrings with his mouth.
"I'll be good?I'll be good?" Nikita chanted desperately. "Anything you want?I'll be good?" Tears formed at the back of his eyes as he fought to keep control of himself. It had been far too long since someone, anyone had touched him at all, and even longer since the touch had been so achingly sweet and soft. The kisses, the feeding one another, the wine, the dancing and the way Tristan had picked him up and carried him over to the bed?it was almost too much for him to handle.
"Shh," Tristan soothed, moving up to kiss Nikita again on the lips. "Just relax and I'll be right back."
Nikita nodded, tears spilling out the corners of his eyes. He felt Tristan's weight leave the bed and almost sobbed with frustration. He wanted to be touched again so badly it hurt everywhere, but especially in that throbbing ache between his legs. He wanted to get some sort of pressure, but it was impossible with the way he was bound. Soon enough, though, he felt Tristan return and kneel on the bed next to him. Then he felt those soft lips on his own again and opened his mouth in time to catch the slow trickle of wine being transferred across his tongue. He began sucking gently at first, then harder, sucking the warm white sting into his mouth, swallowing and continuing to kiss Tristan feverntly.
"Enough of that," he whispered, breaking the kiss reluctantly. "I still have a few things to do. Be good and I promise you, I'll stay for as long as you like."
Nikita nodded and waited, not daring to open his eyes or even speak. He wanted to be good so that he could keep Tristan forever. The roaming touches and kisses started again and he moaned out loud, writhing in an exquisite mixture of ecstacy and agony. He felt the bottoms of his pants being pulled out of the belled ankle bracelets and untied. Each foot was kissed softly on the bottom and it tickled, especially when Tristan raked his teeth across the skin.
Trying to keep himself from throwing his carefully planned seduction out the window, Tristan tugged at the low waistband of the silk pants. Nikita raised his hips slightly and he pulled the garment down and off the prone body below him. Breathing in, he drank in the sight of Nikita's naked form, his sex standing hard and dark in the faint light. He licked his lips in anticipation and tore his gaze away long enough to secure the ankle cuffs to Nikita and the bedposts. Now securely bound, Tristan leaned back to thoroughly enjoy the sight before moving on.
Nikita looked positively beautiful in the dim light, particularly tied with his eyes squeezed shut. His fists were clenched and he never even bothered to attempt testing the bonds. That much trust had to be amazing to give was the only thought crossing his mind as he gazed on his new lover. The feeling of knowing that he was the one being trusted in that way made him hot and he wanted Nikita right then and there, to take and possess him. "Too fucking beautiful for words," he whispered inaudibly to himself. He rid himself of his reamining clothing, watching his slave carefully, just out of curiosity to see if Nikita would try anything, but the silver-haired boy stayed still, his eyes closed, trying to slow his breathing as he waited.
Crawling up the bed and positioning himself over his new lover, kissing the boy, softly at first, then a little harder. He ran his hands through Nikita's hair, pushing it away from his sweat-soaked face. "You are so beautiful, Nikita," he breathed against the other's lips. Covering the dark face with small kisses, he repeated the phrase over and over, closing his eyes when he heard the first soft, tenetive whimpers. "Beautiful and sweet?"
The trailing kisses spread to Nikita's jawline and neck, tracing cords of sinew and muscle with the very tip of his tongue, softly nipping at the hot bronze skin. Nikita began to whimper outright, straining to meet his lover's kisses. He just knew that Tristan was the perfect Master for him, the one he'd been wishing for ever since he'd heard about kind Masters that cared for their slaves. The others hadn't been nearly so kind to him; it was mostly for them to take their pleasure from him and only acknowledge his presence in those times. There were a few that had been kind enough to take him outside, if only to walk him around like some pedigree meant to be admired, but not touched. But Tristan?Tristan was so different. He talked to Nikita, held him, kissed and touched him in the ways he'd read of, but had never experienced.
He gasped when the warm, heavy fluid fell in rivulets across his chest and stomach, followed by Tristan's mouth, his tongue lapping at the liquid in small, playful licks. He felt that same tongue trace skillful patterns down the ridges of muscle under his skin, across his stomach and down to where his thigh met his groin as fingers playfully plucked at the rings in his nipples. Tristan's warm mouth encompassed Nikita's scrotum, sucking gently as he pulled each ball carefully between his lips. He trailed the tip of his tongue up the underside of Nikita's shaft, teasing at the head with kisses, then planting sucking kisses back down the sides of the slave's shaft. He wanted to scream, not accustomed to the pleasure he was receiving.
Tristan smiled a little when he heard the high-pitched whimpers sharply forcing their way out of Nikita's parted lips. He bet himself that no one had ever stopped and considered to please him in any way physically before. He desperately wanted to pull out all the stops, right then and there, to show Nikita what sex could really be like, but he knew that he'd need some other tricks to keep up his sleeve for later endeavors. Instead, he decided to demonstrate just a tip of the sexual iceberg. Taking the boy's member into his mouth, he swallowed the entire length, sucking softly, then increasingly harder before toning the suction back down when Niktia's soft noises became too desperate.
Everything was warm and wet and so wonderful, Nikita couldn't control the small thrusts his hips were making, trying to get deeper. He was no innocent to oral sex; he had given the treatment several times in his young life. But to be on the receiving end?he suddenly understood why it was so popular among many of his past Masters. He was certain he was in heaven at that moment, so much that he didn't comprehend the cautious penetration from one of Tristan's well-lubed finger. But when the penetration became apparent, he screamed as the probing digit brushed against that one place within him that sent shockwaves through his body. He writhed and whimpered, trying desperately to keep himself under control. He had been taught, as a force of habit more than anything, to not allow himself to orgasm unless he was permitted to.
Slowly stretching the slave and preparing him for entry, Tristan marvelled at his self-control. Were he in Nikita's place, he was certain he would have already gone over the edge. As it was, he thoroughly noted the silver-haired boy's whimpers and squirming body, tense with longing and the need for release. He sucked harder, waiting for the right moment when Nikita would let him know it was time. He didn't have long to wait; soon, the slave was alternately thrusting into his mouth and rocking back onto his hand, trying to get the most effective penetration.
Nikita moaned, arching his back when both the wonderful mouth and fingers abruptly vanished. He sobbed weakly, wondering what he had done to be punished in such a way. He'd done everything Tristan had told him to; he hadn't opened his eyes, he hadn't tested against his bonds? I've been good, haven't I? Haven't I, Tristan? his mind pleaded as the cuffs about his ankles were released and his knees were pushed up. "Oh God?" he gasped as he felt Tristan's mouth over his own and the tip of his Master's cock press agains his opening. "Please?" he whispered between kisses.
Taking the cuffs off Nikita's wrists, Tristan used his movements forward to push into the waiting body beneath him. He kissed the boy deeply, letting his hands roam freely over his body, around his back and pulling the slave onto his lap. The penetration was exquisite, Nikita's body clenching sweetly against his burried length, rocking ever-so-gently, trying to pull him in deeper. He reached down and slowly ran the pad of his thumb over the swollen head of Nikita's sex, then grasped lightly, keeping a firm hold on Nikita from behind. The other's arms wrapped themselves around his neck, Nikita practically sobbing into his neck. "Come on, love," he encouraged softly, nuzzling the slave's cheek until his head turned so Tristan could kiss him. "Just let it go?let me make you happy tonight, Nikita. Let it happen."
When the final words of permission were whispered against his lips, Nikita felt the world fuzz over and the pent-up longing that he'd been so carefully holding released. He heard a cry and vaguely recognized it as his own voice as he felt himself explode, Tristan's gentle hands kneading the seed out of him with quick, expert strokes. Stars bloomed behind his eyelids and then things went dark.
Tristan felt Nikita go suddenly limp in his arms and glanced down in time to see the slave pass out. He certainly wasn't finished, but he was so close to the edge it was painful. But, he would rather die than take too much advantage of the situation; there was no respect in taking an unconscious body, that was for certain. And respect was something he wanted Nikita to have, above everything else. So, he bit his lip as hard as he could, trying to stave off his own oncoming orgasm until he received permission from a fully conscious partner. He cradled the beautiful body close, running his fingers throught he long silver hair, placing small kisses on the sweat-heated skin until he felt eyelashes fluttering against his own face.
"Tristan??" Nikita asked, more than confused. He knew that he had spent himself, but he could also feel his Master's length inside him.
"I didn't want to do anything without you being awake," he admitted with a devilish grin. "Although it looks like you enjoyed yourself."
"But?I?why?" he questioned. "I'm here for you to?"
"And I'm here to not take advantage of that," Tristan scolded gently, laying the boy down on the comforter. "I might hurt you doing something stupid like that and you're right; I'd never hurt you like that."
"Then please finish," Nikita pleaded. "I want to see you, if you'll let me?I know I opened my eyes, but?"
"Don't worry about that," Tristan assured him. "If you hadn't, I'd be very worried." With that said, he began thrusting inside the body beneath him, enjoying the moans that had started again immediately, kissing the open mouth that was so plainly offered to him. When he finally came, he was still kissing Nikita, the smaller boy's hands clenching onto his hips, driving him deeper, his own hands tangled in the hair he found so enchanting.
"Mmm?" Nikita purred playfully as his Master sat up. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but it looked as though Tristan had other ideas. "Where??" he started as the taller man picked him up.
"Quick shower," Tristan explained. "We're both a terrible mess and I could certainly appreciate someone to scrub my back." He grinned a little down at the bundle in his arms, who nodded sleepily and agreed on the condition that the favor be returned.
"Anything for you, 'Kita," he promised. "And then we'll go right to bed."
On to Part 2
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