Evan was mostly braced for the sensation of the goddess' lick, which honestly in some ways surprised himself. His grin only widened, and he rode the wave of excited nerve endings that lit up across his body into a more energized state, the tiredness of a few moments before now forgotten. He was close to making a gibing comment about how she expected that to get him on the table, when she issued her instruction to the thralls.
Evan re-sized up the men who were now approaching him. The thrall he didn't recognize seemed average enough; Evan could probably overpower him one-on-one. Philip was tall and strong, though, and might well give Evan trouble, especially aided by a flanking partner.
The captain artfully dodged the men's initial grabs. He managed to fully evade Philip's--the lieutenant's size and strength did come with a bit of slowness--but the smaller man still managed to grab Evan's upper arm. Evan didn't seem phased, though, and lunged for Philip's leg taking into account the other man's resistance. His goal was to throw them both off-balance--the unfamiliar thrall with a sharp tug past his center of gravity, and Philip by lifting his own leg out from under him and sending his center of gravity flying backwards. Gods, yes, he wanted to see Philip's back hit the ground.
But he didn't make it that far; the unfamiliar thrall swung around more successfully than Evan had anticipated, and managed to hook his foot on Evan's ankle. At the same time, Philip recovered from his miss--also more smoothly than Evan had anticipated--and managed to grab hold of Evan's other arm. The captain let out a soft, frustrated "Fuck," but was determined to make some come-back as he twisted to regain his balance and try to wrench away from Philip's grasp.
His attempt did nearly pull the giant off-balance, which briefly inspired celebration in a corner of Evan's mind, but the unfamiliar thrall took the opportunity to grab Evan's leg and hoist it up, and on top of that, a powerful shock ran through the captain's body. A louder "Fuck!" escaped his lips as his body tensed through the sensation, giving both the thralls the opportunity they needed to get the captain off the ground and, indeed, onto the table.
Evan stubbornly kept any further vocal outbursts from arising in response to the shock, and once the sensation had passed through him he struggled against the hands that now held him down. He could make only a small amount of headway, though--mostly against the unfamiliar thrall--before exhaustion from pushing against better-positioned grips with more leverage and plenty of determination began to tire him out, and he deigned to relax.
He exhaled purposefully, calmly, sending his glare up silently towards the sky. Sure, he felt frustrated, but it was difficult to be too terribly pissed when the goddess had done precisely what he'd goaded her to do. He hadn't expected her to use the thralls to do it, though, and he still didn't know how he felt about it. On some level, he enjoyed it; he liked wrestling, quite a lot, and a part of him was fully exhilarated by the experience, and mostly just feeling disappointed that it was over. On another level, though, his pride hated how fast he went down, even if he was outnumbered and had the shock to cast blame on. And then there was...curiosity, he supposed, about how the thralls themselves felt about it, if they were even free to feel anything. If they even really knew what was happening?
Evan thought about shifting to cast his gaze towards Philip's face--what he could see of it, anyway, as though that would answer any of his ponderings--but a fiercer curiosity also burned: what the goddess thought of that whole display, and what she was going to do next. Evan turned his head to face her, his expression recollecting its cocky grin despite his position.
"Afraid I'll get my hand around your throat again?"
Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
Moderator: On Dreams And Desire
Re: Part 1
The goddess felt Evan's change in energy like a rush. It flooded through her as it flowed through him, and she could see how drastically it reinvigorated him. It was as though he was pulling it through some channel, some portal from somewhere unseen, to replenish himself, especially, she imagined, when faced with a worthy opponent. This made her grin.
Though she certainly felt a worthy opponent, she was surprised that the lick itself did not take him off balance. He rode it in stride. Perhaps he had taken in the energy of what she had sent his way? Regardless, he was much renewed, and finally felt a worthy opponent for her.
By the time she had recovered, grateful that her startled expression likely went unnoticed, the men were already grappling. Though Evan was shorter than both men, he certainly held his own, using the thralls' physical weaknesses against themselves, but they were determined and attacked Evan like he was the only thing between them and complete and utter satisfaction. Nevermind that she so rarely let them get there.
She enjoyed the display immensely and quickly became aroused at the sight. The goddess allowed her hand to close around the stone gently as a genuine smile inched up over her mouth for a moment, which is, of course, when Evan looked at her. His cocky, curious expression gave her the impression that somehow he had still bested her, even though he was the one pinned to the table.
"On the contrary," the goddess responded before she could help herself, "I'm ensuring it will happen."
At that, she squeezed her fingers a little harder over the stone, and the skin over Evan's neck flashed with streaks of purple lightning, shocking him and every part of his neck that touched the table.
((OOC: In case it isn't obvious, he's also going to feel pressure around his neck.))
Though she certainly felt a worthy opponent, she was surprised that the lick itself did not take him off balance. He rode it in stride. Perhaps he had taken in the energy of what she had sent his way? Regardless, he was much renewed, and finally felt a worthy opponent for her.
By the time she had recovered, grateful that her startled expression likely went unnoticed, the men were already grappling. Though Evan was shorter than both men, he certainly held his own, using the thralls' physical weaknesses against themselves, but they were determined and attacked Evan like he was the only thing between them and complete and utter satisfaction. Nevermind that she so rarely let them get there.
She enjoyed the display immensely and quickly became aroused at the sight. The goddess allowed her hand to close around the stone gently as a genuine smile inched up over her mouth for a moment, which is, of course, when Evan looked at her. His cocky, curious expression gave her the impression that somehow he had still bested her, even though he was the one pinned to the table.
"On the contrary," the goddess responded before she could help herself, "I'm ensuring it will happen."
At that, she squeezed her fingers a little harder over the stone, and the skin over Evan's neck flashed with streaks of purple lightning, shocking him and every part of his neck that touched the table.
((OOC: In case it isn't obvious, he's also going to feel pressure around his neck.))
Re: Part 1
Evan's eyebrow raised in amused intrigue at the goddess' comment. She'd sought painful retribution from him after he'd choked her out the previous night, but apparently, she'd liked it and wanted it again, which seemed like good news for a few different reasons. Excitement raised to a full boil in the captain's gut, even as shocks and pressure lurched his attention into his neck. The sensations pulled a groan from his throat, sparking with both frustration and bliss, and his gaze returned slowly and a little hazily to the sky.
Some parts of him wanted to just give in; to dig into the places in his mind that would find little more than pleasure in being pinned down and choked and shocked. Those parts certainly existed, and wouldn't be too difficult to find. But he couldn't help thinking of the disappointed look on the goddess' face, and feeling terrified that that was how she'd respond to him simply giving in. He couldn't take the easy way out; he had to keep struggling, to find the places where she was going to play to lose. But right now, those places didn't seem to be physical...
He gasped through the pressure around his neck and blinked his eyes back into focus, and pried his gaze back towards the goddess with yet another renewed cocky grin, this one a tad bit more sinister.
"Uranel probably liked this shit too, huh?"
It might have been a bit of a shot in the dark--the crone had only said that the king and the goddess had spent a lot of time together, not anything about the nature of that time--but Evan was willing to bet that even just saying the king's name would get something interesting to happen.
((OOC: Wasn't sure how much the pressure would inhibit talking, but Evan's happy to have determinedly groaned that out between breaths if needed lol))
Some parts of him wanted to just give in; to dig into the places in his mind that would find little more than pleasure in being pinned down and choked and shocked. Those parts certainly existed, and wouldn't be too difficult to find. But he couldn't help thinking of the disappointed look on the goddess' face, and feeling terrified that that was how she'd respond to him simply giving in. He couldn't take the easy way out; he had to keep struggling, to find the places where she was going to play to lose. But right now, those places didn't seem to be physical...
He gasped through the pressure around his neck and blinked his eyes back into focus, and pried his gaze back towards the goddess with yet another renewed cocky grin, this one a tad bit more sinister.
"Uranel probably liked this shit too, huh?"
It might have been a bit of a shot in the dark--the crone had only said that the king and the goddess had spent a lot of time together, not anything about the nature of that time--but Evan was willing to bet that even just saying the king's name would get something interesting to happen.
((OOC: Wasn't sure how much the pressure would inhibit talking, but Evan's happy to have determinedly groaned that out between breaths if needed lol))
Re: Part 1
Hearing the groan escape Evan's mouth reignited all the memories of the previous night they had spent together, the goddess' arousal full now, and aching. She felt him tempted toward giving in and listened to his mind balancing options--she did need to keep him above water, after all--and was grateful that her look of disappointment did something. That would likely be useful later.
And then, he went and said the king's name. It was the last thing she expected, and the goddess for the life of her could not fathom how Evan could have possibly known that Uranel had been here, that he had been with her, that they had...
The goddess emitted a terrifying and agitated growl-scream, and her face became an image of fury. She knew that Evan wanted to get under her skin, but she absolutely could not stifle her reaction due to her surprise. In her haste, she dropped the stone connected to Evan to the ground heartlessly, knowing it would give Evan a horrifying falling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Her fists balled into spheres of lightning, and the storm clouds flew into rage, the wind picking up as lightning struck the ground barely 20 feet from where they were. It struck again and again and again and again, creating a circle of singe marks around the four of them and the tables, and despite herself, Dehaljadrun was on the verge of tears in her grief-fueled rage.
Looking for something, anything, to take her mind off the pain that had settled into her chest for the last decade, the goddess grabbed one of the ceremonial knives, about the length of her forearm, unsheathed it in one quick, angry motion, and had it in a flash against Evan's neck, moving one of the thralls to the side, though he still held Evan's arm pinned.
"What in the FUCK do you know about that?"
And then, he went and said the king's name. It was the last thing she expected, and the goddess for the life of her could not fathom how Evan could have possibly known that Uranel had been here, that he had been with her, that they had...
The goddess emitted a terrifying and agitated growl-scream, and her face became an image of fury. She knew that Evan wanted to get under her skin, but she absolutely could not stifle her reaction due to her surprise. In her haste, she dropped the stone connected to Evan to the ground heartlessly, knowing it would give Evan a horrifying falling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Her fists balled into spheres of lightning, and the storm clouds flew into rage, the wind picking up as lightning struck the ground barely 20 feet from where they were. It struck again and again and again and again, creating a circle of singe marks around the four of them and the tables, and despite herself, Dehaljadrun was on the verge of tears in her grief-fueled rage.
Looking for something, anything, to take her mind off the pain that had settled into her chest for the last decade, the goddess grabbed one of the ceremonial knives, about the length of her forearm, unsheathed it in one quick, angry motion, and had it in a flash against Evan's neck, moving one of the thralls to the side, though he still held Evan's arm pinned.
"What in the FUCK do you know about that?"
Re: Part 1
The goddess' initial scream both pleased and terrified Evan, as it seemed his jab was more effective than he'd even hoped. He managed to keep his smirk on, full of threat and pleasure, until the goddess dropped the stone from her hands, and Evan felt his stomach lurch. He instinctively flailed, insofar as the thralls' grips allowed him, as his body clamored for something that would settle the sinking panic in his gut. The sensation dissipated about the same time as lightning flashed uncomfortably close by. Evan's brain raced to recollect itself while trying to make sense of the light, the wind, the expression on the goddess' face. It was a strange, exhilarating, terrifying ride, as the captain was swept along through his own fear, and his own swell of power. He might have been able to fully recover his cocky grin--just look what mere words from him had done!--but the blade against his neck brought fear back up to the surface, his heartbeat ringing loudly in his ears as a demanding panic swallowed his attention.
His hands had been balled into fists against the table, but they purposefully relaxed into open palms as Evan stared into the goddess' eyes, his gaze full of fright, determination, and seriousness. His breathing was quick and shallow while his mind frantically decided how to respond. Some part of him wanted to believe that no matter what he said here, she wouldn't kill him; she needed him, after all. But she was also impulsive, and he'd clearly struck quite the nerve, such that he really wasn't so sure she wouldn't slit his throat if he played this wrong--or maybe even regardless.
It was a little tempting to throw the crone in front of the goddess' rage to save his own skin here, but that didn't feel right. Even amidst his quiet panic, Evan managed to reframe his explanation.
"Only that I figured your beef with him was personal."
A soft note of apology colored the shape of his brow, though somewhere beneath his expression was still a layer of gratification at having gotten this rise. As long as he made it through this, it'd be pretty fucking hot to have gotten the goddess to hold a knife to his throat in anger, but the getting through it part was pretty fucking important, which he reminded himself of as temptation rose to follow up with questions--why destroy her temples and bind her here? He wanted to know, but somberly recognized this was absolutely not the time to ask.
His hands had been balled into fists against the table, but they purposefully relaxed into open palms as Evan stared into the goddess' eyes, his gaze full of fright, determination, and seriousness. His breathing was quick and shallow while his mind frantically decided how to respond. Some part of him wanted to believe that no matter what he said here, she wouldn't kill him; she needed him, after all. But she was also impulsive, and he'd clearly struck quite the nerve, such that he really wasn't so sure she wouldn't slit his throat if he played this wrong--or maybe even regardless.
It was a little tempting to throw the crone in front of the goddess' rage to save his own skin here, but that didn't feel right. Even amidst his quiet panic, Evan managed to reframe his explanation.
"Only that I figured your beef with him was personal."
A soft note of apology colored the shape of his brow, though somewhere beneath his expression was still a layer of gratification at having gotten this rise. As long as he made it through this, it'd be pretty fucking hot to have gotten the goddess to hold a knife to his throat in anger, but the getting through it part was pretty fucking important, which he reminded himself of as temptation rose to follow up with questions--why destroy her temples and bind her here? He wanted to know, but somberly recognized this was absolutely not the time to ask.
Re: Part 1
Dehaljadrun didn't care that Evan was afraid, didn't care that he worried she might actually kill him. Some part of her was absolutely tempted, but she saw the apology in his expression and tried to allow his words to soothe the storm he had kicked up inside her. She had, as she was obviously prone to do, overreacted. Evan didn't know much of anything about what had happened. Of course he didn't; how would he?
Still, he did bring it up on purpose, and that irritated her to no end. It was everything she could do to shove the image of Uranel's face from her mind, not to mention the ways he had touched her, the way he had completely beaten her at her own games, the way she had let him do it, just to feel some break from the monotony of her existence.
But, instead of breaking her out of it, he had trapped her in an even smaller cage. Yes, she was absolutely determined to kill him. Slowly, painfully. He deserved to die for everything he had done, for everything he had taken from her.
Outwardly, however, the goddess' face softened only slightly from its anger, and Dehaljadrun wasn't about to let a knife to Evan's throat go to waste. She pressed the blade in further and slid it from the left side of his neck to the center, creating a thin line of blood, before she pulled the knife away. The goddess leaned over Evan then, the citrus and rain scent of her hair and neck close enough for Evan to smell, and licked the line of blood that came out of him in one clean, quick movement.
Putting the used knife back, she picked up Evan's stone, set it back in its proper place on the table, and turned to put both her palms flat against the metal table. She shocked the metal then, twice as hard as she had shocked Philip, and knew that the table would emphasize the sensation everywhere Evan's skin touched it. She didn't care if he passed out. She couldn't care. Not right now.
Then, while he attempted to manage that, she said to Philip, "Fuck him. And make it hurt." Then she took Evan's stone from the table and walked away, off into the distance toward her palace.
((OOC: So, yeah, apparently she's going to go pout and try to get control of herself again. If Evan can knock Philip out somehow, then I suppose he could come after her. In her current state, she's not thinking very far ahead, but she will come looking for Evan eventually.))
Still, he did bring it up on purpose, and that irritated her to no end. It was everything she could do to shove the image of Uranel's face from her mind, not to mention the ways he had touched her, the way he had completely beaten her at her own games, the way she had let him do it, just to feel some break from the monotony of her existence.
But, instead of breaking her out of it, he had trapped her in an even smaller cage. Yes, she was absolutely determined to kill him. Slowly, painfully. He deserved to die for everything he had done, for everything he had taken from her.
Outwardly, however, the goddess' face softened only slightly from its anger, and Dehaljadrun wasn't about to let a knife to Evan's throat go to waste. She pressed the blade in further and slid it from the left side of his neck to the center, creating a thin line of blood, before she pulled the knife away. The goddess leaned over Evan then, the citrus and rain scent of her hair and neck close enough for Evan to smell, and licked the line of blood that came out of him in one clean, quick movement.
Putting the used knife back, she picked up Evan's stone, set it back in its proper place on the table, and turned to put both her palms flat against the metal table. She shocked the metal then, twice as hard as she had shocked Philip, and knew that the table would emphasize the sensation everywhere Evan's skin touched it. She didn't care if he passed out. She couldn't care. Not right now.
Then, while he attempted to manage that, she said to Philip, "Fuck him. And make it hurt." Then she took Evan's stone from the table and walked away, off into the distance toward her palace.
((OOC: So, yeah, apparently she's going to go pout and try to get control of herself again. If Evan can knock Philip out somehow, then I suppose he could come after her. In her current state, she's not thinking very far ahead, but she will come looking for Evan eventually.))
Re: Part 1
((OOC: Uhhhh yeah needless to say, CW: rape, though I think I kept it not-gratuitous. We may revisit whether it's something we ultimately want to publish, but for now it seems hot and appropriately angsty lol. At least it is to me, I hope it is not too much for you to enjoy! Let me know if you have trouble reading it and I can hand-wave more of the details <3))
Evan mentally hung onto the softening in the goddess’ expression, however subtle it might have been. He didn’t let his own expression show any relief, though; he figured the ice he was on was still entirely too thin. As he felt the blade push into his skin, he believed she wasn’t going to kill him, but his body was paralyzed with panic, afraid even to breathe.
He couldn’t help the relieved sigh that did finally escape his lips once the blade pulled away. Some part of him worried he still wasn’t out of the woods yet, and that the goddess would take that as a cue to threaten him further, but instead she leaned down and licked the wound she’d inflicted. Evan stifled the moans that wanted to flow out from him, but the change in his breathing was likely obvious enough. A pang of guilt settled in his heart; the smell of the goddess’ hair and the feeling of her tongue on his neck was all so beautiful and so potent, the captain wondered how he’d brought himself to try to hurt her in the first place.
And then, there was the feeling of devastation when she pulled back entirely too soon. It gripped hard at his core, but Evan valiantly kept it hidden, his hands re-balled into fists and his exterior hard and wary as he watched the goddess replace the knife and the stone she had dropped. He’d hoped to catch a glimpse of something from her other than cold and stiff and angry, but there was nothing that he could see. Gods fucking damn it, why was he so fucking good at completely pissing people off in his attempts to not disappoint them? At this point, he had no fucking clue which was worse.
In a sort of twisted, fucked-up way, he was glad when the goddess placed her hands on the table and sent sharp, punishing shocks into his body. He deserved it; he knew he did. Not that he could admit that to her, though; he grit his teeth and valiantly stifled the cries that wanted to escape down into only the occasional agonized groan. His body tensed and jolted, trying to arc up off the table to escape, but was held down firmly by the thralls’ unrelenting grips. What small corner of Evan’s mind still had room to think wondered distantly whether the thralls knew what they were doing; if they did, he acknowledged, Philip deserved the payback.
The captain breathed heavily once the sensations subsided, the black tunnel that had nearly enveloped his vision slowly receding out towards the edges. Some part of him had recognized that the goddess had said something, but the words didn’t really register until she was already walking away, and Evan felt someone starting to undo his belt. That meant his arms were free now, though, and the captain took the opportunity to push himself to sit up and reassess his situation. Philip had gotten his belt undone, and the other thrall still held Evan’s legs firmly to the table. Surely Philip wouldn’t be able to fuck Evan like this though, and that could work to the captain’s advantage.
Swallowing uncomfortably, Evan allowed Philip to unbutton his pants and pull them down, until the other thrall eased his grip, almost certainly to help Philip adjust Evan into a more fuckable position. Evan took that opportunity to kick the unfamiliar thrall in the chest--hard--and roll off the table away from Philip’s reach. He only had a split second to yank his pants back up and start running, which he did without a second thought.
Only problem was, Philip’s legs were long, far longer than Evan’s. Some part of Evan acknowledged it was naive to have thought he could outrun the lieutenant, especially with his pants still undone and making him clumsy. He’d only barely passed the treeline on the edge of the clearing before Philip tackled him to the ground and sent his chest straight into a protruding root below him. Evan gasped to catch his breath and frantically tried to get Philip off of him, but the lieutenant had size and strength and clarity that the panicked, breathless, pain-wracked captain below him lacked. It seemed like barely a blink before Philip had Evan’s pants down around his boots again, underwear and all, and pushed mercilessly inside him.
Evan grit his teeth through a loud, agonized groan, and clenched his eyes shut against the white-hot splotches that the painful sensation threw into his vision. He liked getting fucked as much as anyone, but this was absolutely not sex; it was punishment--retribution. Not entirely unlike something Evan had dreamt about inflicting on Mizu and Blake just the other night.
The captain’s cheeks burned with shame and frustration. He hated what was happening, but couldn’t shake the narrative that it was exactly what he deserved, for so many reasons. He wondered whether Philip knew enough about the captain to agree. He wondered whether Philip would even remember this; he wasn’t even sure whether or not he wanted the lieutenant to remember. Either way, it was going to be weird as fuck once they were back in the same army again. Would Philip tell Blake what had happened? Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
At some point the other thrall had tried to tug at Evan's arms, but the captain could hardly make sense of what he was trying to do, especially as Philip kept very ardently at his instructed cause, which kept the captain rather firmly pinned in place. Ultimately the other thrall left them alone, though Evan could sense him nearby whenever he wasn't completely consumed by Philip's thrusting. The captain tried a couple of times to throw the lieutenant off and escape, but all to no avail; every time, he'd manage to stop the thrusting for only a moment, but Philip easily wrestled him back into the next most accessible position, and recommenced his punishment without mercy.
((OOC: Dehaljadrun is prooobably going to return to a pretty defeated-seeming Evan. We're inclined to assure Andra and meta-Dehaljadrun that 1) Emily and meta-Evan are enjoying this a lot, and 2) rp Evan will be able to recover, and we are confident the angst will be glorious.))
Evan mentally hung onto the softening in the goddess’ expression, however subtle it might have been. He didn’t let his own expression show any relief, though; he figured the ice he was on was still entirely too thin. As he felt the blade push into his skin, he believed she wasn’t going to kill him, but his body was paralyzed with panic, afraid even to breathe.
He couldn’t help the relieved sigh that did finally escape his lips once the blade pulled away. Some part of him worried he still wasn’t out of the woods yet, and that the goddess would take that as a cue to threaten him further, but instead she leaned down and licked the wound she’d inflicted. Evan stifled the moans that wanted to flow out from him, but the change in his breathing was likely obvious enough. A pang of guilt settled in his heart; the smell of the goddess’ hair and the feeling of her tongue on his neck was all so beautiful and so potent, the captain wondered how he’d brought himself to try to hurt her in the first place.
And then, there was the feeling of devastation when she pulled back entirely too soon. It gripped hard at his core, but Evan valiantly kept it hidden, his hands re-balled into fists and his exterior hard and wary as he watched the goddess replace the knife and the stone she had dropped. He’d hoped to catch a glimpse of something from her other than cold and stiff and angry, but there was nothing that he could see. Gods fucking damn it, why was he so fucking good at completely pissing people off in his attempts to not disappoint them? At this point, he had no fucking clue which was worse.
In a sort of twisted, fucked-up way, he was glad when the goddess placed her hands on the table and sent sharp, punishing shocks into his body. He deserved it; he knew he did. Not that he could admit that to her, though; he grit his teeth and valiantly stifled the cries that wanted to escape down into only the occasional agonized groan. His body tensed and jolted, trying to arc up off the table to escape, but was held down firmly by the thralls’ unrelenting grips. What small corner of Evan’s mind still had room to think wondered distantly whether the thralls knew what they were doing; if they did, he acknowledged, Philip deserved the payback.
The captain breathed heavily once the sensations subsided, the black tunnel that had nearly enveloped his vision slowly receding out towards the edges. Some part of him had recognized that the goddess had said something, but the words didn’t really register until she was already walking away, and Evan felt someone starting to undo his belt. That meant his arms were free now, though, and the captain took the opportunity to push himself to sit up and reassess his situation. Philip had gotten his belt undone, and the other thrall still held Evan’s legs firmly to the table. Surely Philip wouldn’t be able to fuck Evan like this though, and that could work to the captain’s advantage.
Swallowing uncomfortably, Evan allowed Philip to unbutton his pants and pull them down, until the other thrall eased his grip, almost certainly to help Philip adjust Evan into a more fuckable position. Evan took that opportunity to kick the unfamiliar thrall in the chest--hard--and roll off the table away from Philip’s reach. He only had a split second to yank his pants back up and start running, which he did without a second thought.
Only problem was, Philip’s legs were long, far longer than Evan’s. Some part of Evan acknowledged it was naive to have thought he could outrun the lieutenant, especially with his pants still undone and making him clumsy. He’d only barely passed the treeline on the edge of the clearing before Philip tackled him to the ground and sent his chest straight into a protruding root below him. Evan gasped to catch his breath and frantically tried to get Philip off of him, but the lieutenant had size and strength and clarity that the panicked, breathless, pain-wracked captain below him lacked. It seemed like barely a blink before Philip had Evan’s pants down around his boots again, underwear and all, and pushed mercilessly inside him.
Evan grit his teeth through a loud, agonized groan, and clenched his eyes shut against the white-hot splotches that the painful sensation threw into his vision. He liked getting fucked as much as anyone, but this was absolutely not sex; it was punishment--retribution. Not entirely unlike something Evan had dreamt about inflicting on Mizu and Blake just the other night.
The captain’s cheeks burned with shame and frustration. He hated what was happening, but couldn’t shake the narrative that it was exactly what he deserved, for so many reasons. He wondered whether Philip knew enough about the captain to agree. He wondered whether Philip would even remember this; he wasn’t even sure whether or not he wanted the lieutenant to remember. Either way, it was going to be weird as fuck once they were back in the same army again. Would Philip tell Blake what had happened? Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
At some point the other thrall had tried to tug at Evan's arms, but the captain could hardly make sense of what he was trying to do, especially as Philip kept very ardently at his instructed cause, which kept the captain rather firmly pinned in place. Ultimately the other thrall left them alone, though Evan could sense him nearby whenever he wasn't completely consumed by Philip's thrusting. The captain tried a couple of times to throw the lieutenant off and escape, but all to no avail; every time, he'd manage to stop the thrusting for only a moment, but Philip easily wrestled him back into the next most accessible position, and recommenced his punishment without mercy.
((OOC: Dehaljadrun is prooobably going to return to a pretty defeated-seeming Evan. We're inclined to assure Andra and meta-Dehaljadrun that 1) Emily and meta-Evan are enjoying this a lot, and 2) rp Evan will be able to recover, and we are confident the angst will be glorious.))
Re: Part 1
Dehaljadrun walked away from the scene she had set up and did not look back. She was angry and frustrated that her mind had decided now was a good time to replay all her failures and all the betrayal that Uranel had inflicted on her, all her stupidity in trusting him, all her hope that he genuinely did love her back. It was entirely too easy for her mind to turn all those things and project them onto Evan, dashing her hopes that she would ever get out of her predicament at all--or worse, that she might allow this man to betray her as well. She was well on her way to caring about him, no matter what she herself wanted to admit, and the less-than-kind portion of her mind used that as fodder all the way back to her palace.
It wasn't a terribly long walk, but she wanted to be long out of earshot of Evan, whom she could still hear struggling until she had reached the trees and passed through, making her way back to where she was certain no one would see her. The goddess kept her face steely until she arrived at the open air structure, told all the Shel'ti thralls to leave, and slumped down on the first available cushion. What did it matter that she was a goddess when she could not leave this place, when she had absolutely no contact with the other gods, and when the best help she could muster was ready to fire off heart-piercing comments at the first opportunity?
It was then that she couldn't hold the tears back anymore. She cried until she was sobbing, sobbed until her dress was practically drenched, and she took it off in frustration. What the hell was she ever even playing at? What was the point of her, anyway?
Fuck, she hated Uranel. And loved him. Deeply. Still. Forever. She doubted that she would ever stop loving him until she had killed him, and even then she wondered how long his memory would haunt her. How had she so completely believed him?
Because, she had wanted to, desperately, and ached for something different. Dehaljadrun had been ripe for manipulation, and some puny human king had seen it. Well, she would see to it that he would die, one way or another. There was nothing in all the realms that could stop her from ending the unnaturally long life she had agreed to give him.
Cold, naked, and alone with her knees up against her chest, the goddess looked at the stone she had brought with her. She was not entirely sure what possessed her to grab it, but she couldn't have left without it. Fuck, she couldn't even hurt the captain without feeling remorse. Even now, as her mind wandered toward him, she felt his pain, shame, and sensation of punishment as though it were happening to her, which swirled together with all the emotions she already had until she was not sure if she had ever hit a lower point. The desperation was definitely getting to her.
She resolved not to love Evan. She couldn't let herself do it. She had to be unattached to him if he was going to make it to the underworld. Love would just get in the way, as it always had, and pity was worse. She should let him deal with the thrall--the command could last for hours--and see what kind of a shell came back.
But... she couldn't. Dehaljadrun couldn't feel nothing about it, and the shimmering purple glow of the stone next to her seemed to reflect back light that attested to that. She picked it up, gently, tentatively, as though afraid it might bite her or else break, and stroked it several times with one finger, slow and comforting. The goddess let out another wave of tears, this one falling fresh on the stone now in her hand, and she had no idea what that would feel like to Evan, but she let it happen, continuing to stroke it as though that was the only comfort she had in the world. Gods be damned, she was grateful that no one could see her.
She wanted to curl up with the stone and forget anything else had happened or would ever happen, but the determined part of her chastised her, told her to get a grip on herself--it was just a careless comment after you pinned and shocked the man, after all--which gave her a moment, at least, of resolve.
Holding the stone between her palms, still gently but firmer now, she entered into Evan's body. Her presence was warm and comforting, though tinged at the edges with sadness she could not possibly hide. She felt Philip's thrusting, mindless and yet determined, and it disgusted her. Commanding Evan's mouth with her own voice, she said, "Stop, Philip. That's enough," and promptly left Evan's body, setting the stone down as she returned to her own.
The goddess stood and dressed herself again in a short, black dress that was simultaneously tight and modest, coming up past her throat.
Enough feeling sorry for herself. She had a king to kill.
It wasn't a terribly long walk, but she wanted to be long out of earshot of Evan, whom she could still hear struggling until she had reached the trees and passed through, making her way back to where she was certain no one would see her. The goddess kept her face steely until she arrived at the open air structure, told all the Shel'ti thralls to leave, and slumped down on the first available cushion. What did it matter that she was a goddess when she could not leave this place, when she had absolutely no contact with the other gods, and when the best help she could muster was ready to fire off heart-piercing comments at the first opportunity?
It was then that she couldn't hold the tears back anymore. She cried until she was sobbing, sobbed until her dress was practically drenched, and she took it off in frustration. What the hell was she ever even playing at? What was the point of her, anyway?
Fuck, she hated Uranel. And loved him. Deeply. Still. Forever. She doubted that she would ever stop loving him until she had killed him, and even then she wondered how long his memory would haunt her. How had she so completely believed him?
Because, she had wanted to, desperately, and ached for something different. Dehaljadrun had been ripe for manipulation, and some puny human king had seen it. Well, she would see to it that he would die, one way or another. There was nothing in all the realms that could stop her from ending the unnaturally long life she had agreed to give him.
Cold, naked, and alone with her knees up against her chest, the goddess looked at the stone she had brought with her. She was not entirely sure what possessed her to grab it, but she couldn't have left without it. Fuck, she couldn't even hurt the captain without feeling remorse. Even now, as her mind wandered toward him, she felt his pain, shame, and sensation of punishment as though it were happening to her, which swirled together with all the emotions she already had until she was not sure if she had ever hit a lower point. The desperation was definitely getting to her.
She resolved not to love Evan. She couldn't let herself do it. She had to be unattached to him if he was going to make it to the underworld. Love would just get in the way, as it always had, and pity was worse. She should let him deal with the thrall--the command could last for hours--and see what kind of a shell came back.
But... she couldn't. Dehaljadrun couldn't feel nothing about it, and the shimmering purple glow of the stone next to her seemed to reflect back light that attested to that. She picked it up, gently, tentatively, as though afraid it might bite her or else break, and stroked it several times with one finger, slow and comforting. The goddess let out another wave of tears, this one falling fresh on the stone now in her hand, and she had no idea what that would feel like to Evan, but she let it happen, continuing to stroke it as though that was the only comfort she had in the world. Gods be damned, she was grateful that no one could see her.
She wanted to curl up with the stone and forget anything else had happened or would ever happen, but the determined part of her chastised her, told her to get a grip on herself--it was just a careless comment after you pinned and shocked the man, after all--which gave her a moment, at least, of resolve.
Holding the stone between her palms, still gently but firmer now, she entered into Evan's body. Her presence was warm and comforting, though tinged at the edges with sadness she could not possibly hide. She felt Philip's thrusting, mindless and yet determined, and it disgusted her. Commanding Evan's mouth with her own voice, she said, "Stop, Philip. That's enough," and promptly left Evan's body, setting the stone down as she returned to her own.
The goddess stood and dressed herself again in a short, black dress that was simultaneously tight and modest, coming up past her throat.
Enough feeling sorry for herself. She had a king to kill.
Re: Part 1
Evan was close to some form of breaking, with his will and his energy expended and a grim acceptance that he was at the enthralled lieutenant's mercy closing in. He refused to cry, despite the pain and all the emotions that came with it. He clung to the thought that the goddess would return, and at the very least not look disappointed, though he found himself spitting at the ground at the thought as rage and disgust towards her bubbled up. The night before, they'd playfully tested each other's boundaries; tonight, it seemed, they both had crossed them.
His mind moved on from that thought and decided to indulge in curiosity about the other thrall--what did he think about this display? What would he remember? Except, then, all of a sudden, his thoughts were wrenched back to the pained, angry, grief-stricken look that had been on the goddess' face, and despite his best efforts, sobbing erupted from deep within his core. He regretted his comment about Uranel, not just because of the situation it had landed him in; and, somewhere in his mind, he felt the very real possibility that the goddess regretted what was happening now. It manifested like waves of warm melancholy caressing slowly over his skin, distracting him from Philip's thrusting in a way that still managed to bring him back into his body. Droplets of cool, refreshing tingles joined the waves as well, and for a moment, Evan felt he might be able to enjoy what was happening; like it was something worth enduring as a part of a game he actually did want to play.
But then a new wave of sensation passed through him, quieting his sobbing and filling him with warmth. He spoke--no, the goddess did--and Philip obediently pulled out without a sound. Evan was on some level sad to feel the warmth of the goddess' presence dissipate after that, but he was glad to have agency back--in more ways than one. He rolled over to be sitting facing Philip, who now stood listlessly beside the other thrall. Sitting wasn't exactly the most comfortable position to be in at the moment, but apparently getting eyes on Philip had been Evan's top priority, he supposed just to be able to convince his body that the threat really had passed. He wiped his arm hastily over his eyes and sniffed back the remnants of crying as he pushed himself to his feet and pulled his pants back up, this time taking the time to button up and re-clasp his belt, all the while his eyes kept watch on Philip like a hawk. He knew the man wasn't in his right mind--among other things, the Philip Evan was familiar with would be too afraid to hold someone's hand even with permission, let alone fuck them on command--but gods damn it was really fucking tempting to punch him in the face. He wondered whether that would hurt Philip's physical body or not, but thought back to Trevor, and the bite mark he'd woken up with. No, pissed as Evan was, he didn't want retribution against this soldier, not in any way that would last. If Philip did remember this afterwards, he'd beat himself up for it plenty without Evan's help.
Gods, but what did Evan want, then? He cast his gaze somewhat uneasily around where they stood in the woods near the clearing, he supposed just checking to see whether the goddess was close by or not. Parts of him wanted to see her; parts of him didn't. Even from moment to moment, his narratives about her felt like they were rapidly fluctuating. At one instant, she was unquestionably an adversary at this point; someone who was gleefully cutting into their ranks and absolutely would chew Evan up and spit him out without the slightest thought or remorse. But then, in the next instant, she was his goddess; someone his whole life had lead him to, and he'd gone and fucked up by carelessly making a flippant remark about what was obviously a painful past. Other narratives popped in and out of existence along with those, but those two were the strongest and the most often-recurring, warring with each other in Evan's mind and strangling his ability to act. One thought said to use the talisman and return to camp; another thought said to go follow where the goddess had gone and confront her. He was scared, and angry, and couldn't fathom how the night could be reclaimed by either of them. But... fuck it all if in the end, the part that finally won out in him wasn't the part that wanted to try, whatever the fuck that even looked like.
The captain cast one last weary glance over the thralls before walking back out into the clearing, intending to follow the path he'd seen the goddess take when she'd left.
His mind moved on from that thought and decided to indulge in curiosity about the other thrall--what did he think about this display? What would he remember? Except, then, all of a sudden, his thoughts were wrenched back to the pained, angry, grief-stricken look that had been on the goddess' face, and despite his best efforts, sobbing erupted from deep within his core. He regretted his comment about Uranel, not just because of the situation it had landed him in; and, somewhere in his mind, he felt the very real possibility that the goddess regretted what was happening now. It manifested like waves of warm melancholy caressing slowly over his skin, distracting him from Philip's thrusting in a way that still managed to bring him back into his body. Droplets of cool, refreshing tingles joined the waves as well, and for a moment, Evan felt he might be able to enjoy what was happening; like it was something worth enduring as a part of a game he actually did want to play.
But then a new wave of sensation passed through him, quieting his sobbing and filling him with warmth. He spoke--no, the goddess did--and Philip obediently pulled out without a sound. Evan was on some level sad to feel the warmth of the goddess' presence dissipate after that, but he was glad to have agency back--in more ways than one. He rolled over to be sitting facing Philip, who now stood listlessly beside the other thrall. Sitting wasn't exactly the most comfortable position to be in at the moment, but apparently getting eyes on Philip had been Evan's top priority, he supposed just to be able to convince his body that the threat really had passed. He wiped his arm hastily over his eyes and sniffed back the remnants of crying as he pushed himself to his feet and pulled his pants back up, this time taking the time to button up and re-clasp his belt, all the while his eyes kept watch on Philip like a hawk. He knew the man wasn't in his right mind--among other things, the Philip Evan was familiar with would be too afraid to hold someone's hand even with permission, let alone fuck them on command--but gods damn it was really fucking tempting to punch him in the face. He wondered whether that would hurt Philip's physical body or not, but thought back to Trevor, and the bite mark he'd woken up with. No, pissed as Evan was, he didn't want retribution against this soldier, not in any way that would last. If Philip did remember this afterwards, he'd beat himself up for it plenty without Evan's help.
Gods, but what did Evan want, then? He cast his gaze somewhat uneasily around where they stood in the woods near the clearing, he supposed just checking to see whether the goddess was close by or not. Parts of him wanted to see her; parts of him didn't. Even from moment to moment, his narratives about her felt like they were rapidly fluctuating. At one instant, she was unquestionably an adversary at this point; someone who was gleefully cutting into their ranks and absolutely would chew Evan up and spit him out without the slightest thought or remorse. But then, in the next instant, she was his goddess; someone his whole life had lead him to, and he'd gone and fucked up by carelessly making a flippant remark about what was obviously a painful past. Other narratives popped in and out of existence along with those, but those two were the strongest and the most often-recurring, warring with each other in Evan's mind and strangling his ability to act. One thought said to use the talisman and return to camp; another thought said to go follow where the goddess had gone and confront her. He was scared, and angry, and couldn't fathom how the night could be reclaimed by either of them. But... fuck it all if in the end, the part that finally won out in him wasn't the part that wanted to try, whatever the fuck that even looked like.
The captain cast one last weary glance over the thralls before walking back out into the clearing, intending to follow the path he'd seen the goddess take when she'd left.
Re: Part 1
((OOC: The part of my brain that has a Puck is like, "and this is when I would have kidnapped Evan."))
Dehaljadrun closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She knew that the captain would be collecting himself and planning his next plan of action. Maybe he had seen the direction she had gone off to, maybe not. Maybe he was going to try to run--or leave--her heart almost burst at the thought. She couldn't go another day without seeing him, especially cut off from the ability to inhabit anyone around him. The goddess could inhabit him, she guessed, but it was risky.
She knew she could reach out with her mind to feel his approach if she wanted to, but that felt oddly like a violation, and she wasn't prepared to do that yet, not when she needed all her thought processes together for figuring a way out of this situation. She needed this to work, that much was painfully obvious now, and that meant she actually had to fix this. Fuck.
It wasn't hard, though, to bring the remorse back up, welling at the back of her throat like a roar ready to escape. She ached there, burning with an apology she hadn't said yet. FUCK.
She could just tell him. She could just say why it hurt. Surely he would understand? But that felt like an excuse in a way that didn't feel right to her. Even if Evan had known about the history with Uranel, she really didn't have any right to...
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
Fine, then. She supposed it just came down to the fact that she did love him, and you don't hurt something you love like that.
There, she admitted it. Not like she was about to tell him, though.
But, it did give her an idea, a way out of this, and perhaps stepping her game a little early, but... She pulled back some of the confidence she had had just moments before Evan said anything and had hope that she could do this for the first time since he blurted the king's name out. A fire in her chest fueled her desire, and she was suddenly eager to see Evan again, whatever that meant. She really, really did want him. Not just... and...
She had to brace herself, though. After all that, was he still willing to do this for her? And what about after the five days? Would he ever want to see her again? Fuck, she hoped so. Gods, that was dangerous.
HOW IN THE FUCKING HELL DID THE CRONE FIND THIS MAN?
Dehaljadrun briefly wondered if Evan and the crone and the lot of the army were all secretly working for the king, but she banished the thought, though worse things had happened.
The goddess opened her eyes and let a sigh out of her mouth. She wiped her eyes and removed any traces that she had been crying, though her expression was still somber. Gods, would this hole in her heart shut up?
She was scattered, her thoughts were everywhere, and yet she still thought she could do this. Surely Evan was worse off than she was. She remembered being inside his body, the sensation of almost completely giving in, and not really to her, but to despair... and she was on the verge of tears again. Gods, there was pain on every side of this equation. Downsides of feeling fucking everything, she guessed.
Taking one last breath, and then one more because she choked briefly on the first, Dehaljadrun walked out of her palace toward the section of forest where she knew she would find Evan. Exploratorily, she reached out with her mind to see where Evan was. She was slow and methodical about it lest he somehow notice her presence. She found him headed toward her on the other side of the trees, and the goddess' throat almost burst momentarily in relief. He wasn't leaving. He was coming to find her. After all that, he was coming to find her.
Perhaps she would let him and see where he wanted to go from here. But that, again, felt like leaving this wound open in a way that felt painful even to Dehaljadrun. Fuck.
She couldn't believe she cared so much about this. She checked the sensation against how she felt about the thralls. Did she have remorse about their roles in this? No. Not a drop. Then why...?
The goddess knew why. She'd known from the fucking moment he had dragged his nails across his collarbone. She was absolutely and completely fucking his. What fucking god made love up anyway?
Fine, she would stay near her palace--there was room here after all--and wait for him, but she would go through with her plan.
She stood with her arms crossed, staring at the place where she knew Evan would arrive from. Her expression was a fairly obvious mixture of reservation and remorse, though she couldn't help a small smile of relief to flicker the moment he came into view. At least, until she registered whatever expression he had.
She needed to do this before he said anything. And before she could do that, she needed him to know she was sorry.
Her expression lost its reservation completely as it showed her sadness, or at least a quarter of it, alongside her remorse. Once she knew he had seen her so vulnerable, the goddess said, still holding the stone, "I want to show you something."
Dehaljadrun closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She knew that the captain would be collecting himself and planning his next plan of action. Maybe he had seen the direction she had gone off to, maybe not. Maybe he was going to try to run--or leave--her heart almost burst at the thought. She couldn't go another day without seeing him, especially cut off from the ability to inhabit anyone around him. The goddess could inhabit him, she guessed, but it was risky.
She knew she could reach out with her mind to feel his approach if she wanted to, but that felt oddly like a violation, and she wasn't prepared to do that yet, not when she needed all her thought processes together for figuring a way out of this situation. She needed this to work, that much was painfully obvious now, and that meant she actually had to fix this. Fuck.
It wasn't hard, though, to bring the remorse back up, welling at the back of her throat like a roar ready to escape. She ached there, burning with an apology she hadn't said yet. FUCK.
She could just tell him. She could just say why it hurt. Surely he would understand? But that felt like an excuse in a way that didn't feel right to her. Even if Evan had known about the history with Uranel, she really didn't have any right to...
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
Fine, then. She supposed it just came down to the fact that she did love him, and you don't hurt something you love like that.
There, she admitted it. Not like she was about to tell him, though.
But, it did give her an idea, a way out of this, and perhaps stepping her game a little early, but... She pulled back some of the confidence she had had just moments before Evan said anything and had hope that she could do this for the first time since he blurted the king's name out. A fire in her chest fueled her desire, and she was suddenly eager to see Evan again, whatever that meant. She really, really did want him. Not just... and...
She had to brace herself, though. After all that, was he still willing to do this for her? And what about after the five days? Would he ever want to see her again? Fuck, she hoped so. Gods, that was dangerous.
HOW IN THE FUCKING HELL DID THE CRONE FIND THIS MAN?
Dehaljadrun briefly wondered if Evan and the crone and the lot of the army were all secretly working for the king, but she banished the thought, though worse things had happened.
The goddess opened her eyes and let a sigh out of her mouth. She wiped her eyes and removed any traces that she had been crying, though her expression was still somber. Gods, would this hole in her heart shut up?
She was scattered, her thoughts were everywhere, and yet she still thought she could do this. Surely Evan was worse off than she was. She remembered being inside his body, the sensation of almost completely giving in, and not really to her, but to despair... and she was on the verge of tears again. Gods, there was pain on every side of this equation. Downsides of feeling fucking everything, she guessed.
Taking one last breath, and then one more because she choked briefly on the first, Dehaljadrun walked out of her palace toward the section of forest where she knew she would find Evan. Exploratorily, she reached out with her mind to see where Evan was. She was slow and methodical about it lest he somehow notice her presence. She found him headed toward her on the other side of the trees, and the goddess' throat almost burst momentarily in relief. He wasn't leaving. He was coming to find her. After all that, he was coming to find her.
Perhaps she would let him and see where he wanted to go from here. But that, again, felt like leaving this wound open in a way that felt painful even to Dehaljadrun. Fuck.
She couldn't believe she cared so much about this. She checked the sensation against how she felt about the thralls. Did she have remorse about their roles in this? No. Not a drop. Then why...?
The goddess knew why. She'd known from the fucking moment he had dragged his nails across his collarbone. She was absolutely and completely fucking his. What fucking god made love up anyway?
Fine, she would stay near her palace--there was room here after all--and wait for him, but she would go through with her plan.
She stood with her arms crossed, staring at the place where she knew Evan would arrive from. Her expression was a fairly obvious mixture of reservation and remorse, though she couldn't help a small smile of relief to flicker the moment he came into view. At least, until she registered whatever expression he had.
She needed to do this before he said anything. And before she could do that, she needed him to know she was sorry.
Her expression lost its reservation completely as it showed her sadness, or at least a quarter of it, alongside her remorse. Once she knew he had seen her so vulnerable, the goddess said, still holding the stone, "I want to show you something."