Serano wasn’t prepared for the blow at all. He didn’t even try to dodge or block, so Romlyn hit him square on the jaw. His relaxed stance could not brace him against the impact, so he even stumbled backwards a little.
He awkwardly touched his face and stared at Romlyn in disbelief.
Romlyn himself wasn’t sure what had happened; just that he had done something incredible foolish.
“Go on. Hit me one more time.” The altmer’s voice was calm, his expression unreadable; the only thing that spoke of his anger were small flames licking at his fingers. The sword was still inside its sheath, though, so Serano had not yet decided to tear his head off.
Honestly he was surprised that the altmer hadn’t ripped him apart. Yet.
The only possible course of action was to throw himself on the floor before his lover’s feet and beg for forgiveness. Maybe he should also take his clothes off while he was at it; maybe he could prove that it held certain advantages for Serano to allow him to keep his head attached to his shoulders.
But he wouldn’t back down; he just couldn’t.
When he prepared to strike his lover a second time, the altmer moved first. With two big steps Serano crossed the distance between them and caught Romlyn’s raised fist before he had a chance to react. He was being turned around; a light kick to the back of his knee forced him to lose his balance, so that Serano could easily shove him to the ground. It only took seconds, but suddenly Romlyn was on his hands and knees with the body of his lover draped over his back. One hand was still holding on to his right fist, the other hovered over his throat, ready to strike him with a fireball.
“So tell me, what are you going to do now?” The altmer’s voice was filled with mirth.
He was trapped. Serano was panting lightly somewhere above him close to his ear. He pressed his weight down onto him, so that Romlyn could feel the outline of a slowly hardening cock straining against his thigh.
If the last ten days hadn’t happened, Romlyn would waste no time rubbing his backside against it. It was the easiest way to get back into Serano’s good graces: Maybe they would fuck right there on the floor, without any lubrication, until he howled from pleasure and pain, until the wooden floor had abraded his knees so bad that he bled; and afterwards Serano would feel like he had taught Romlyn his place, and one warm healing spell later they would pretend the argument that preceded it had never happened.
It was the only thing he could do. He could barely move, at least not in a way that could potentially harm Serano. This was it.
And afterwards Serano would leave, and this time the Stormcloaks might get him for real.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”
There must have been something about his choice of words that made Serano pause. Or maybe it was just the way he had said it: Immediately before biting hard into the tense, burning fingers near his throat. Serano gasped in surprise and lost control of the spell for a second. Bright orange flames shot up in front of Romlyn’s eyes, and he pressed them shut by pure instinct. He thought it would be painful, but the spell quickly diminished when Serano managed to rein it back. He barely felt the heat before the magic died completely.
“Have you lost your mind?!”, Serano screamed while inspecting the bite marks on his hand. “If my control had waned I could have blown your head off!” Seconds later Romlyn was hit by a powerful wave of healing magic that was entirely unneeded and only succeeded in making him feel strangely lightheaded.
“Are you okay? Let me see your mouth.”
The change in attitude from vicious, arrogant bastard to gentle, concerned healer was so abrupt that Romlyn wasn’t sure how to react. He barely fought back when Serano pried his mouth open and twisted their bodies around – which was certainly no easy feat in their position – so he could take a look at the damage. After a few moments the altmer breathed a sigh of relief and started stroking Romlyn’s cheek absentmindedly.
Then his expression turned serious again. “Do you even know how lucky you were? You can’t just bite a mage when he’s casting! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”
Alone (M!DB/Romlyn) (9/?)
He awkwardly touched his face and stared at Romlyn in disbelief.
Romlyn himself wasn’t sure what had happened; just that he had done something incredible foolish.
“Go on. Hit me one more time.” The altmer’s voice was calm, his expression unreadable; the only thing that spoke of his anger were small flames licking at his fingers. The sword was still inside its sheath, though, so Serano had not yet decided to tear his head off.
Honestly he was surprised that the altmer hadn’t ripped him apart. Yet.
The only possible course of action was to throw himself on the floor before his lover’s feet and beg for forgiveness. Maybe he should also take his clothes off while he was at it; maybe he could prove that it held certain advantages for Serano to allow him to keep his head attached to his shoulders.
But he wouldn’t back down; he just couldn’t.
When he prepared to strike his lover a second time, the altmer moved first. With two big steps Serano crossed the distance between them and caught Romlyn’s raised fist before he had a chance to react. He was being turned around; a light kick to the back of his knee forced him to lose his balance, so that Serano could easily shove him to the ground.
It only took seconds, but suddenly Romlyn was on his hands and knees with the body of his lover draped over his back. One hand was still holding on to his right fist, the other hovered over his throat, ready to strike him with a fireball.
“So tell me, what are you going to do now?” The altmer’s voice was filled with mirth.
He was trapped. Serano was panting lightly somewhere above him close to his ear. He pressed his weight down onto him, so that Romlyn could feel the outline of a slowly hardening cock straining against his thigh.
If the last ten days hadn’t happened, Romlyn would waste no time rubbing his backside against it. It was the easiest way to get back into Serano’s good graces: Maybe they would fuck right there on the floor, without any lubrication, until he howled from pleasure and pain, until the wooden floor had abraded his knees so bad that he bled; and afterwards Serano would feel like he had taught Romlyn his place, and one warm healing spell later they would pretend the argument that preceded it had never happened.
It was the only thing he could do. He could barely move, at least not in a way that could potentially harm Serano. This was it.
And afterwards Serano would leave, and this time the Stormcloaks might get him for real.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”
There must have been something about his choice of words that made Serano pause. Or maybe it was just the way he had said it: Immediately before biting hard into the tense, burning fingers near his throat. Serano gasped in surprise and lost control of the spell for a second. Bright orange flames shot up in front of Romlyn’s eyes, and he pressed them shut by pure instinct. He thought it would be painful, but the spell quickly diminished when Serano managed to rein it back. He barely felt the heat before the magic died completely.
“Have you lost your mind?!”, Serano screamed while inspecting the bite marks on his hand. “If my control had waned I could have blown your head off!” Seconds later Romlyn was hit by a powerful wave of healing magic that was entirely unneeded and only succeeded in making him feel strangely lightheaded.
“Are you okay? Let me see your mouth.”
The change in attitude from vicious, arrogant bastard to gentle, concerned healer was so abrupt that Romlyn wasn’t sure how to react. He barely fought back when Serano pried his mouth open and twisted their bodies around – which was certainly no easy feat in their position – so he could take a look at the damage. After a few moments the altmer breathed a sigh of relief and started stroking Romlyn’s cheek absentmindedly.
Then his expression turned serious again. “Do you even know how lucky you were? You can’t just bite a mage when he’s casting! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”