A/N: Here's the last chapter. It is set after Drizzt's return from the Academy (you know, the fight and then Drizzt telling Zak that he didn't kill the elf child and the big father-son moment). Maybe I will write an epilogue, but I'm not entirely sure about that yet. Oh, by the way - reviews are nice. I like reviews. If nobody reviews I get frustrated. I'd rather have you yell at me because you didn't like a chapter than get no feedback at all. So ... please?
Zaknafein watched Drizzt put away his weapons while he sheathed his own swords. He smiled, but there was something sad about his expression. He knew that he and Drizzt would never escape this hell, but as the young drow had said, they were no longer alone.
The Weapon Master walked over to a small locker next to the weapons rack and pulled out a little bottle. He quickly drank the healing potion, sighing happily when he felt his crushed nose heal. They had both minor cuts and scratches, but those would heal on their own.
Zaknafein quickly closed the distance between them and pulled Drizzt once again to his chest.
"My son," he whispered again, words he had wanted to say so often and never dared to. He was stroking Drizzt's back, his face buried in the younger drow's hair.
"Father," Drizzt said hesitantly. The word sounded unfamiliar to himself, and yet so comforting. Zaknafein only let go of him after several minutes and looked at him with such relief and tenderness that Drizzt almost kissed him right then and there.
"I can hardly believe that you survived despite everything you must have been through. What did they do to you?" Zaknafein asked, his fingers combing through Drizzt's hair.
"Everything you told me they would do, and worse," Drizzt answered, and the happiness was now replaced by pain and sadness. Zaknafein turned away from him.
He thought of the last night before Drizzt had left, ten years ago, How could his son even look at him anymore, how could he forgive him? Zaknafein was ashamed of himself, disgusted. For the past ten years he had told himself that it made no difference, that his Drizzt was dead anyway, that raping Drizzt was no different from raping any other of his students. But now he saw that his son had survived, and Zaknafein felt as if he had hurt him for nothing. There was no excuse for what he had done, and yet here Drizzt was.
Zaknafein looked up, his eyes hesitantly finding Drizzt's again.
"I am ... I did not really want to hurt you, Drizzt. You know that I care, that I have always cared. I just wanted ... I needed ..." Zaknafein had no idea what he was saying, It had been so long since he had last felt guilty, and he had never learnt how to cope with guilt. He expected Drizzt to push him away, to yell at him, to condemn him, at least to demand a justification.
But Drizzt only put his right index on Zaknafein's lips and shook his head.
"Don't talk about it," he whispered, almost pleaded. "I don't want to remember it. I know you are not like my masters at the Academy, you are different. Like me. And that one night before I left ... that wasn't like you. It wasn't your fault."
Zaknafein smiled sadly. Forgiveness. It should feel good, it should reassure him, and yet he knew that Drizzt was wrong - either because he really believed this or because he wanted to believe it. But Zaknafein was, in some regards, just like any other drow master. Power was made to be abused. It was like him.
But Zaknafein swore that he would never let Drizzt see that side of him again. From now on he would give Drizzt all the tenderness and affection he deserved. He would do everything to hide his pain, his insanity, his anger from Drizzt. He wouldn't hurt him again.
Zaknafein realised that his eyes were burning and moist, and he was all but crying.
"Can I stay with you?" Drizzt whispered suddenly, looking at Zaknafein with wide eyes. These strangely coloured, ever innocent eyes. The Weapon Master flinched and made a step backwards.
"Do you mean ... in my bed? Tonight?" His voice was disbelieving - he might have understood that Drizzt forgave him, but that he wanted him again after Zaknafein had been so violent and rough last time? This had to be a misunderstanding. But Drizzt nodded and smiled at him.
"You always made me feel good, you knew exactly how to make me happy. It was beautiful. Nobody has touched me even half that tenderly for over ten years. I need it ... Please."
Drizzt's voice was so soft, so pure, so innocent, even after everything that must have happened to him at the Academy. His eyes, that had seen so many horrors already, still sparkled with admiration when he looked at his tutor. His father. Zaknafein's heart was racing with pride and elation. He couldn't believe that anyone in the world cared so much about him. Even Jarlaxle, his only friend and lover, had never made Zaknafein feel that way, so overwhelmed by his emotions.
He had wanted to save Drizzt, but right now he felt as if Drizzt's absolution was saving him. He knew now that he wouldn't lose Drizzt, and that made him love him even more than ten years ago. He would do anything to help Drizzt, to help him survive - physically and mentally. The hope that Drizzt would manage to keep the innocence Zaknafein had lost so early was the last thing the desperate Weapon Master was clinging on to.
In that moment he cared more about Drizzt than about himself, as if Drizzt's life was worth more than his own. Zaknafein thought again of Jarlaxle, who had saved him when he had been Drizzt's age. Jarlaxle, who had always been there for him, who had made sure that Zaknafein wouldn't become an empty, cold drow soldier like the others. And yet Zaknafein realised that his love for Drizzt was even stronger than his feelings for Jarlaxle.
Jarlaxle could take care of himself, but Drizzt needed him.
"Zak?" Drizzt's voice made him realise that he had been staring at his son for minutes now. "Do you not want me anymore?" His voice was full of anxiety. "Because ... because others have touched me?"
Zaknafein quickly shook his head, but he didn't trust his voice enough to answer. He pulled Drizzt close again, but this time not only to hug him, but to kiss him.
Drizzt's lips were as soft and smooth as he had remembered them, but a bit more experienced and at the same time shier than years ago, as if he had forgotten how he should behave towards Zaknafein. But as the kiss went on - tongues tenderly circling each other, fingers running through hair and searching for openings to slip under clothing - Drizzt seemed to get more comfortable.
From an expression of trust, of affection, of love, which neither of them knew how to put into words, the kiss turned into something more demanding, more passionate. Their relationship was not, had never been purely emotional, and as uncomfortable as Drizzt had become with vith at the Academy he felt the familiar, well-known desire course through his young, hungry body.
They were both panting when their lips parted, from the lack of air as much as from their arousal. Zaknafein drew Drizzt close again, his right arm sneaking around his waist to lead him to his bedchambers. Drizzt leant his head on Zaknafein's shoulder.
Just as years before Zaknafein - at least when he was like this - made him feel safe, protected, taken care off. As if nothing in the world could hurt him as long as Zaknafein held him in his arms. As if nothing in the world could hurt Zaknafein.
Once the door between the training hall and the private rooms was closed Zaknafein slowly started to undress him without saying another word. He took his time, smiling at Drizzt all the time, leaning in to kiss him while his fingers undid buttons, laces, buckles. Zaknafein knelt down to take off Drizzt's boots before he unbuttoned his trousers and slowly pulled them off.
Still on his knees he took in the perfect sight of that beautiful, naked body, more muscular now than ten years ago, marred by more scars.
But his. All his. Others might force Drizzt, but no one but him would ever get this from Drizzt voluntarily.
Zaknafein sighed contently and got up, kissing Drizzt before he quickly undressed himself, hardly helped by the young drow who just stared at him with longing eyes. As soon as his breeches had been discarded Zaknafein wrapped his arms around Drizzt's waist again.
He slowly stepped backwards until his calves touched the bed. He simply sank down on it, pulling Drizzt with him. The young drow hardly even tried to keep his balance on his own, he just flopped down on Zaknafein, trusting him completely.
"I missed you," Drizzt mumbled while he nuzzled Zaknafein's neck. "I often thought of you. I was so angry at you when I heard the others talking about your 'exploits', your cruelty, but sometimes I remembered all those wonderful things you had done to me. I always thought of you when I ..."
Drizzt's voice trailed off, and he blushed in embarrassment.
"When you touched yourself?" Zaknafein asked hopefully. He would have preferred to hear it from Drizzt, but he didn't want to pressure him. He knew that many masters and priestesses did that, forced their victims to admit all sorts of embarrassing, private things, and he didn't want to make Drizzt uncomfortable. The young drow just nodded and looked up at Zaknafein.
"Are you angry about that?"
Zaknafein chuckled, but when Drizzt's eyes widened in shock he quickly kissed him on the hair.
"No, I'm not. I like the idea," he said. "But from now on you won't have to content yourself with memories and dreams."
His hands were roaming over Drizzt's body, finding all those spots again that made Drizzt squirm in delight. Drizzt was returning the caresses carefully, even more tenderly than Zaknafein, and there remained some kind of shy innocence in them.
Drizzt wanted to please him, not out of fear to get punished, but because he really seemed to care about how Zaknafein felt. He rubbed against him, their chests meeting as well as their groins. A helpless whimper escaped Drizzt's lips when Zaknafein licked the tip of his ear and at the same time started to caress Drizzt's thighs.
Drizzt found himself pleading only minutes later, but for once he didn't feel humiliated by his own need. And Zaknafein, no less aroused and definitely not in the mood to tease Drizzt, didn't keep him waiting. He interrupted his caresses to reach for the top drawer of the nightstand and opened it, quickly snatching a vial with oil.
"I won't hurt you," Zaknafein promised, the guilt still gnawing at him. He was almost afraid of himself, of his own desires which could so easily turn into violence. Drizzt smiled and took the vial, slender hands opening it.
"I know you won't. I trust you."
Zaknafein felt as if his heart was going to burst, and if he hadn't been so aroused he might have started to cry. Drizzt took Zaknafein's right hand and poured some oil onto it before he put the open vial on the nightstand. He straddled the older drow and nuzzled against him, his head resting against Zaknafein's neck, legs spread just wide enough to give him access.
Zaknafein moaned in anticipation and let his right hand slide down, slipping one finger in. Drizzt was, to his surprise, perfectly relaxed and just sighed happily. Zaknafein buried his face in Drizzt's hair, breathing in the scent of soap, leather, sweat and something so excitingly sweet that it made him shiver. Drizzt smelt of strength and softness and lust and innocence, just like his body was at the same time smooth and strong, like his movements betrayed shame as much as desire.
Drizzt's skin was slick with sweat by now. He rubbed against Zaknafein and then bucked up, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to be closer to Zaknafein's groin or to the deliciously intruding finger - fingers, only a few moments later.
Drizzt was squirming, his breathing ragged by now. He enjoyed how Zaknafein took his time, caressing him instead of rushing to his own pleasure. But Drizzt was getting impatient, and to his mind Zaknafein still looked far too calm, although he was sweating as well.
The young drow sat up, sighing a bit at the loss of contact. He reached for the oil again and moistened his hand. He smiled shyly at Zaknafein, not quite sure of himself, but cockiness and impatience overcame his hesitation.
Nimble fingers circled Zaknafein's erection, slicking it with oil, stroking with excruciating slowness. His little manoeuvre was quite successful - Zaknafein groaned and twitched, while his eyes were fluttering shut. Drizzt hesitated again, but then he took a deep breath and lowered himself on Zaknafein's groin, once again torturously slowly. He went at his own pace to adjust to him, to let the painful stretch dissipate before he moved on.
It took Zaknafein all of his will power to lie still instead of thrusting up and thereby hurting Drizzt carelessly. He grabbed the headrest of the bed, helplessly holding on to it, fighting for some control. He slowly opened his eyes again, and what he saw made him shudder in lust. Drizzt straddling him, the black skin glimmering with sweat, his slender body trembling. The flawlessly pretty face was a full of desire, pleasure, rapture even.
"You are so beautiful," Drizzt whispered, his voice filled with lust. His eyes were roaming over Zaknafein's body before they returned to his eyes. Drizzt's fingers drew tender lines on his tutor's strong chest and shoulders, caressing him while he started to move, ever so slowly.
Zaknafein couldn't answer, only stare at Drizzt with an expression close to a faithful's who was seeing an apparition of his god. He almost had a pleading whisper on his lips when Drizzt moved so slowly, but he held himself back - ten years since he had last felt this, ten years of pain and longing, ten years in which he hadn't even hoped to experience such bliss again. It was probably best to make this last as long as possible.
He let go of the headrest and put his hands on Drizzt's hips, feathery light, caressing instead of urging. Still, he was incapable of holding himself back all too long, and after a while he quickly grabbed Drizzt and pushed him on his back to lean over him. Drizzt gasped in surprise until Zaknafein covered his lips with his own, and the loud moan when the Weapon Master thrusted back into him was muffled by their kiss.
Zaknafein's eyes were closed now - as beautiful as Drizzt was, his sight seemed too much of a sensorial impact right now, combined with their mingling moans, with the scent of sweat and oil and lust, with those feelings that made every nerve in his body tingle in overstimulation.
Drizzt all but cried out when he came, his fingers dug into Zaknafein's shoulder while the older drow kept moving, each thrust a small wave of pleasure until the flood washed over him.
Trembling and panting Zaknafein slid out to enable Drizzt to lie down more comfortably before he sank in the younger drow's waiting arms, face against Drizzt's neck. Neither could have said how long they just lay there, gasping for breath, dazed by the blissful afterglow, basking in the other's scent and touch and taste.
"I knew you wouldn't hurt me," Drizzt mumbled after what seemed a peacefully long time. His voice was weak, but filled with not only satisfaction, but true happiness. "I don't care what you did once, I only care about now, and about the future. We will do this again, won't we?"
Drizzt looked up, his eyes suddenly wide with anxiety, but his fear disappeared immediately when Zaknafein kissed him.
"Every night, if you want," Zaknafein promised, conveniently forgetting that Malice demanded his attention in some nights. Drizzt's eyes were filled with adoration and tenderness, and he started to shower Zaknafein's face with kisses.
"Don't you ever leave me, father." He tried to sound demanding, admonishing, but his words came out as a pleading whimper.
"I won't," Zaknafein said and smiled. He believed it. He believed that he had saved Drizzt as well as himself, he believed that the rest of their lives wouldn't be spent alone, but in this beautiful, perfect intimacy - untouched by the horrors of the world they lived in.
When Drizzt left his room later that night Zaknafein did not know that he would never see his son again. He did not know that Malice's daughters would come for him shortly after he had fallen into reverie. He did not know that a sacrificial dagger would be cutting out his still beating heart only an hour after he had last felt Drizzt's lips on his.
But lying on the altar with Malice looming over him, Zaknafein would remember that feeling. He would remember his son's smile. In the pinnacle of four centuries of self-destructive survival Zaknafein felt almost sane again, proud that for once in his life he was doing what he believed was right.