Summary: Lonely, Dagonet's convinced he's being toyed with ... How can a certain enigmatic Scout persuade the shy Healer that his feelings are genuine ?
Comments & Reviews: positive comments welcomed
Disclaimer: Despite my flights of fancy, sadly the boys aren't mine. They belong to Jerry Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures - more's the pity ...
Warning: This does contain "slashy" themes. If this offends, please avoid like the plague ...
Part IV - Playing Games ?
Walking slowly back towards the pallet, the Aorsi leisurely unfastened the long, suede tunic and shrugged it off his broad shoulders to reveal what was once a white undershirt that flowed becomingly over a lean, sinewy torso. That too, was hastily tugged over his head, tousling the wild, braided, dark mane of hair.
The Healer watched the Scout's silent approach appreciatively; clad only in tan, suede breeches, slung low on lean hips, which clung lovingly to his toned, muscular lower body. Feeling wary, Dagonet sat perfectly still, mesmerized by the sheer power, vitality, silent grace and beauty of the man.
And Tristan was handsome, of that Dagonet was in no doubt, despite the numerous faint, silvery scars which marred the perfection of his sleek, athletic frame. Half-naked, and closing in on him with a wolfish grin on his lean, attractive face, Tristan was the most strikingly beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
" Who said anything about playing ? " Tristan growled softly, as he knelt between Dagonet's leather-clad, muscular thighs, amber eyes gleaming predatorily and with meaningful intent. " I've never been more serious about anyone ... "
Dagonet swallowed hard and absently ran the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. The small, innocently made gesture did not go unnoticed by the eagle-eyed Scout who knowingly arched an eyebrow, before leaning towards the tall, well-built Roxolani to gently nuzzle his throat.
A low husky moan escaped Dagonet's lips and he threw back his shaven head, as his torso arched instinctively towards Tristan's. He vaguely became aware of a light breeze against his flesh and of a hand roaming freely beneath his rust coloured tunic, with gentle possessiveness over smooth, firm, bare skin. Dagonet froze.
Tristan's featherlight caresses made his taut abdominal muscles tremble and he felt the younger knight's lips curve into a rare, gentle smile against the vicious scar that marred the left side of his attractive face.
" You can breathe, y'know, Dag, " Tristan teased gently, his neatly trimmed beard lightly scraping the Healer's skin as his breath ghosted Dagonet's stubbled jaw. The Scout's left hand warmly rested upon Dagonet's upper right thigh, its thumb idly making small circular patterns against the Roxolani's inside leg.
The shy Sarmatian giant inhaled sharply, closed his tempestuous grey eyes and immediately trapped the hand that was causing such sweet havoc to his senses, firmly beneath his own.
Tristan raised his head and gazed steadily at him through a shock of hair; his desire for Dagonet all too shockingly apparent in his striking golden eyes. Eyes that were normally coldly observant and which never revealed his emotions.
" I swear to you, my friend, by the gods, I am not playing with you, " he rasped, his gruff voice sincere as he tenderly laid his palm against the older warrior's scarred cheek. " I would never do that to you ... "
The Healer felt his heartbeat rapidly accelerate and his blood rush through his veins. A white heat began to burn fiercely within his loins as he slowly absorbed the sincerity of Tristan's words. With a trembling left hand, Dagonet cradled the handsome Aorsi's head, his fingers becoming entangled in the dark mass of shoulder-length hair.
Forgetting everything, he could only think of the enigma that was finally in his arms ... The man he'd yearned for over the past fifteen years ... His Scout ... His Tristan ...