Origins: Talinvor In Chains (mature content)
His lips hummed a cadence to himself, something that rolled over and over in his head the night before. His wrists ached from the manacles that held him to the dank wall in the caves of the great mountain.
The pain would come again, he knew. His conditioning was to be a full decade of this and he could no longer remember how long he had endured. He wondered of his brother and hoped as twins, they did not split their strength. “Endure. Endure. Endure.” The words echoed in the back of his mind as if Surion was there speaking them.
His mind wandered and he failed to see the magi arrive. His face was gripped roughly, his humming unwavering as Talinvor met the old man’s gaze. He knew it was coming, but he screamed anyway as the shock of energy ripped through his body like living flame followed immediately with the piercing cold of ice. “Power is everything, Emotion betrays truth, Truth is knowledge, Knowledge is power, Power creates magic, Magic creates truth, Truth is knowledge, Knowledge is power, Power is everything.” Talinvor recited on rote, his thoughts breaking away from what his body endured. His muscles twitched in pain, but he no longer felt it.
****************************
Her dark fingers trailed down his bare chest, caressing the curve of his muscles. She purred as her hand glided down his taut stomach and the chains chinked as he tried to pull against them. “A fine specimen, Magi. He will be perfect,” the priestess cooed. Talinvor growled, his thoughts teetering on wanting to kill or copulate after today’s ordeal.
“Unity…Family…” he ushered to his mind to keep himself checked. He smirked at the priestess. “Of course I am of excellent stock, priestess” he replied quietly, “I will make your pure blood burn.”
Her eyes widened, the creature before her was hanging in chains but his eyes locked her gaze. He was bold, she noted. His words drew her lips into a wry smile.
“Leave us,” she snapped to the magi, who narrowed his eyes at Talinvor and then left the cavern. She traced a finger over Talinvor’s lips, teasingly. He did not lick her finger, as she expected but merely watched her with his crooked smirk. She meant to tease him, antagonize him to torture him while he remained chained like a slave.
He refused to avert his eyes and she could not understand why this bothered her. She held the whip and key, but it seemed suddenly insufficient. She cracked the whip near his face and he did not flinch. His teeth peeked from his lips as his cocky grin grew a little wider. “Frustrating boy!” she muttered, more to herself. He heard and responded in wry humor. “You would not be assessing me, if I were still a boy, priestess.”
Sauntering to him, she rubbed a bare leg to his and scratched her nails down his arm. “No. Not a boy, young warlock” she replied silkily. The chains shift and the priestess startles at the sound, nearly stumbling backward. Her eyes narrow before she quickly recovers herself.
His scent lingers on her, a warm musky smell along with the sweet tang of blood. She growls under her breath and lashes the whip to strike his chest. The snap of leather hitting flesh echoes in the cave. He did not flinch or cry out in pain. Instead, he hummed softly to himself, lost in the melody though his eyes locked with hers. He was not far away this time, but his gaze was challenging. Here was a warlock who knew his power.
“Unchain me,” he said suddenly, “and I will show you heaven until you cry out.” She smirked at that. So narcissistic, but it suited him. Curiosity got the best of her. He was not done with his trials but what did it matter? She still held the keys and the whip.
Tentatively she walked back to Talinvor and reaching for one of the locks, she had to stretch tiptoe. Her body pressed to his, either by accident or purpose, she no longer knew. He bit her earlobe, suckling on the sweet flesh. Her body felt like it would melt, the heat of his body burning her up. She unlocked the clasp and his arm freed, he stretched and shook it out.
“Release the rest,” he growled softly in her ear. “I can’t,” she nearly whimpered. “You will,” he responded. “And you will cry out my name.”
She blinked at him. “You are not allowed a name until you are complete with your training,” she whispered incredulously. Grabbing her, he shoved her against the dank wall of the cave, his remaining chain clanking loudly across the stones. Her hands slammed into the rough wall and his body pressed her there. Sweeping her long leather loincloth aside, he impaled her, pinning her by her lust against the rocks.
“You will cry out my name, priestess,” he growled into her ear as he shoved himself harder, skin slapping against hers as he stole her dominance. “My name is Tah’lon. You will not forget.”