The Man I Love

A/N: Finally next chap. up! Hope you'll enjoy it !

 

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The air was peaceful, the place quiet and lonesome; it had been a few weeks since he had decided to go out again, after his father became ill. The wind slowly caressed the tall grass at the sides of the long road; drifting away fresh and sweet scents. His raptor's footsteps were smooth and easygoing, Zeyhan and his companion were observing the majestic trees above them; gigantic wooden trunks that seemed distant, coming from another dimension, foreign to the creatures of the place.  The sun couldn't make its way through the dense foliage, so the forest was dark and cool, it felt quieter than usual though, and Zeyhan observed everything around him, sensing something was wrong. Just for precaution, he directed his raptor to enter the woods, getting away from the main road and possible unwanted encounters.

After being  for several hours out in the woods hunting for wolves and finishing tasks that had been given to him, he called for his raptor to head back to his camp, but just not soon enough. For only a few minutes. Not soon enough.

 A Dranei, tall and of hard molded complexions, made his way through bushes and tall grass, his dark armor glowed in a faintly black crimson light, his eyes drained out of life; pale blue, his heavy footsteps could be heard now that he was getting closer. He was being followed by a human and a Night Elf, who seemed just younger and weaker than him. They were chatting and having what seemed like a nice conversation until the Death Knight noticed Zeyhan, frozen out of fear just a few meters away. The talking stopped, their steps became slower, and Zeyhan’s heart beat went out of control. Three against one? He pleaded the Light to be merciful on him; but his plea was not heard. Mind spinning and spinning endlessly made a blurry vision in his eyes, he felt nervous, his fingers twitching and his legs unresponsive to the utter need of running away.

He noticed as the Night Elf looked back at his two mates and talked to them, almost whispering. The other men laughed, and began walking slowly straight up to Zeyhan.

 In a moment of pure luck, his senses hit him hard on the face, and he regained motion of his legs, foolishly giving the Alliance men his back and running away. His brain was not working; there was a big gap between his thoughts and the present moment which’s chain of events was developing faster than he had wished for.

 He ran as fast as his legs could take him, but it wasn’t fast enough, not at least for the Night Elf, who soon in his graceful Cat form, pounced over Zeyhan, who tripped over and fell to the ground.

‘’Wait! No!’’ He begged, turning round to face his captor. The pale purple Elf had already transformed back into his habitual form and was looking back at Zeyhan with a mischievous smile on his face; his dark blue hair falling over the Blood Elf’s face, tickling his nose and his lips.

 He could have confronted him, if it were not for the other two men staring from behind. He could never outrun nor win against three, no matter how strong he was. However, he feared not for his life, for he saw in the eyes of the men completely different intentions to the ones that he had imagined when he first saw them. It was not his life they wanted; it was not his blood their emotions craved for. Zeyhan gasped at the sudden realization; his spirit melting down and away from his body, his pale skin even paler, his body shaking helplessly as the other men drew closer.

 The Night Elf pinned him to the ground, and Zeyhan felt as roots grabbed him from below, forbidding any kind of movement from him at all.

          Zeyhan shuddered and blinked out tears of pain, tears of deception and broken spirit. Remembering was not what he wanted; reviving his darkest secret and most horrid nightmare had awakened in him hatred and rage, a feeling of weakness and failure. The darkness of the room and the silence Crikton made was not helping him forget about his memories, and he unwillingly drifted back to the day of his shattering…

        The Dranei and the Elf stood beside him, the human watching from a fair distance. They spoke, but for the Paladin their words had no meaning at all; they made no sense. The only thing he understood was the mischievous smile across the Death Knight’s blue face; his lips slightly curving upwards, his tongue slowly tracing his lower lip, and his eyes drifting from his Elf mate to Zeyhan on the ground. He came closer, knelt and faced the frightened elf, grabbing him by his neck and pulling him upwards. He then said something in a very low, deep voice to the Night Elf, and pushed Zeyhan towards the tallest of the men.

It seemed unfair in every aspect and sense; they were three, he was one, and they were bigger and stronger than him in every way; he had always been kind of short and small for his kind, but he hadn’t seen that as a major problem until that day, when he knew he couldn’t stand up for himself even if he tried. He was not surrendering, but his heart and mind told him quietly and in shame to do so; to just let go…

 The Elf, laughing at Zeyhan, grabbed him by the back of his neck and drove him just inches away from his face. He then, with his free hand, caught the Blood Elf’s right hand and shoved it under his tight leather pants, forcing the Paladin to touch him; guiding him until his member was fully groped by Zeyhan’s small, trembling hand.

‘Don’t, please…’ his weakened voice trailed off, begging for mercy he knew was not going to be granted to him. He tried in vain to struggle a few steps back, only to find the Dranei pushing him close to the Elf again. ‘Why are you doing this? Please don’t!’ he desperately looked into the three men’s faces; the Elf was overtaken by sudden, primal pleasure and just seemed to be focused on getting Zeyhan to slide his hand up and down his throbbing member, whilst the Dranei’s face was serene, watching in please as his mate touched Zeyhan and forced him against his will to do things he had never done before. Strangely, the human’s face, further away from where they were, was of slight disgust and pity; Zeyhan could have sworn the man watching felt uncomfortable at the situation, and wished to get away, so he aimed at him, and with the most pleading of his looks, shouted at him:

‘Don’t let them do this! Don’t let them…!’

 The man just seemed to stare back at Zeyhan, whose incomprehensive words, flooded in fear and desperation, were begging him for something; but he could do nothing, and he just looked away, ignoring the begging elf.

Soon the Night Elf pushed Zeyhan’s head down, forcing him on his knees, and lowered his own pants, setting his cock against the pink velvet lips of the unfortunate Paladin. The blue haired man stared into Zeyhan’s eyes, threatening him with his shiny yellow orbs; his factions tensing as he pushed his manhood inside his mouth. He grabbed the Blood Elf by his head and pushed deeper inside him; the elf gagged and almost threw up, feeling the tip of the Druid’s dripping member at the back of his throat.

He begged for help, he tried to wiggle away but was only held harder by the man standing in front of him. His eyes began to fill up with tears, tears of fear, of shame, of anger and rage, of impotence.

He gagged once again as he tasted the salty, tangy pre-cum slowly sliding down his throat, killing him. After being forced to suck on the Night Elf’s cock and to swallow every bit of the other man’s orgasm, he was pushed backwards abruptly and caught by the Death Knight, who had been eagerly waiting for his turn, his dick already hard under his dark, cold armor.

‘Please…’ he begged again, in vain for all that mattered. ‘Don’t do this…’ he trailed off once again as he was pinned down on the ground, facing the grass, and was having his own pants removed. He struggled with all his strength when he felt a cold hand slide down and fondle at his own private parts. Zeyhan felt disgusted at the situation, disgusted at the failed attempts of the Dranei to turn him on, to actually try to manage to get him hard; he was too concentrated on the unfortunate situation that destiny had prepared for him instead. Seeing it was no use trying to harden up the Paladin, he then lowered his own pants, forcing Zeyhan to lick his blue, big round fingers. They tasted like mud and blood, but not as bad as the dick that had previously corrupted his mouth. After feeling his fingers wet enough, the Dranei removed them from Zeyhan’s mouth, and instead shove them right past the elf’s tight little hole with no previous warning. The intrusion hurt as hell, and Zeyhan couldn’t manage to hold from screaming. Instantly the Night Elf slapped him hard on the face, forcing him to shut up and make no noises.

 The Death knight’s two fingers scissored inside Zeyhan and, soon, without holding up any longer, he pulled them out and replaced them by a much larger and longer object, which also hurt at the rough penetration. Zeyhan whimpered, not being able to scream; tears now rolled uncontrollably down his face, his voice escaped him; he begged for mercy no more, and numbly let the Dranei ride him.

 The Paladin was holding his body with his two forearms and elbows pinned on the ground, his butt slightly raised up, his waist being held by the man grinding feverishly against him with all his strength. He buried deep inside the fair haired man and thrusted in and out of him; blood beginning to drip.

 What worse thing could have ever been done on another being than the utter humiliation of rape? Submitting him against his own will to be touched and forced to touch by not one, but by two men. He shook uncontrollably, helplessly crying and sobbing, his pride slowly being drained out of his body; slowly fading, together with his spirit and his will.  

As the movements began being faster and faster, Zeyhan felt with the utmost ignominy that his own body was reacting to the other man’s manhood pressing against a spot that made him feel completely disgraced at the situation. He was actually getting as much pain as he was getting pleasure from this strange spot within him, and he felt as his loincloth began to tighten up as he got hard under it.

 He hated himself for actually letting his body feel aroused and tempted to pleasure by his rapist; but he couldn’t help it, he had never been engaged in sexual relations with other men and he had never felt that before.

 What seemed like an eternity had only lasted a matter of minutes and soon enough the Dranei was shaking as his orgasm shook through his body and filled Zeyhan’s insides with his seed. He pulled out, a mixture of semen and blood dripping from his cock and from the elf’s hurt butthole.

 The broken Paladin was only able to helplessly weep in shame and disgrace as his pride and honor rode away in the back of the men that were now barely visible in the cold darkness of Ashenvale’s forest.  

He lay down on the grass for hours and hours, not able to stand up because of the tearing pain on his back, but also because he had no will within him to do so; he had no intentions and no meaning to raise up and ride home. Why would he? What would he do; did he have to tell his family about that incident? No… it was unbearable to think of it. His mind spun, his heart beat was so slow and low it was almost there, and his senses became numb as he fell into a deep slumber of darkness from which he didn’t want to come back.

So, curled up, hands and knees against his chest, he cried.





His senses came back to him, and he suddenly woke up weeping and sobbing in the darkness of Booty Bay's Inn. Crikton stared at him, obviously noticing something was wrong with his friend. He approached towards him and sat on the bed, heading a friendly hand to pat Zeyhan on his shoulder, but the elf moved quickly away, trembling. 

A deep scar had been re-opened within him, something that he was not prepared to share with his dearest friend, a secret so dark and disgraceful that he was determined to take with him to his grave. This memories oppressed him, forbidding the Paladin to be able to interact and establish contact with others; forbidding him to kiss Crikton back, for as much as he had desired his friend for so many years from now; it was not going to be easy trying to forget about what happened and pretend that everything was okay, nor it was not going to be any easier attempting to open up and finally let everything out of him; telling every single moment about it, hoping that it would bring a kind of relief to him if someone else heard and reassured him.