Ascent into Empyrean

His first day was almost enough to make Lathan wish he had been bought for parts.

Though technically none of the workers, except him, were slaves, that didn't seem to make a difference to the overseers, who wielded their whips with enough enthusiasm to have Lathan ducking instinctively every time one of them walked past. The other drudges ignored them and it took a good few hours before Lathan realised that, despite the whistle and crack, the whips rarely, if ever, made contact. It was about power, he concluded. Reinforcing who was in charge and showing who was boss. In Silvermoon, the aristocracy made the point with exquisite fabrics and lavish embroidery. Here in Sludge Fen, they did it with whips.

Still by the time night fell, he was more than ready to collapse in a heap of righteous exhaustion. Who knew that digging could be such hard work.

"My hands," he groaned, holding them cupped in front of him the better to examine red blistered skin.

"No work means no pay, so you'd best be fit by tomorrow," a goblin said busily, poking around in a large leather carryall. "The Venture Company has no time for slackers."

"Show me," said Untarg, one of the orc workers.

Lathan held his hands out. The orc tipped them sideways to the fire and pursed his lips. "Zug zug," he muttered quietly, then, "Soft skin, like a 'uman. Mok, Adam!"

"Yeh?" It was a human that replied. The Venture Company employed all races, alliance and horde, they didn't seem to care so long as each worked hard and cost little.

"You do anything for 'im?"

The human wandered over and squinted down at Lathan's hands. "Sure," he said, after a moment. "But it'll cost ya."

"Oh." Lathan felt the colour rush up his face. "I'm sorry, I don't have any money." He was pretty sure they all knew he was a slave. None of them were wearing shackles or had an ogre guarding them.

"Never said with money." The human reached out and rested his fingertips against Lathan's lips. "Half an hour in the bushes and I'll fix yer hands up right and proper."

"Oh," Lathan said again, suddenly aware that the entire work-gang was staring at him. "I – um."

Adam shrugged, half-turning away. "Up to you. But they ain't gonna feel no better tomorrow."

Lathan knew that. He also knew that if he did what Adam wanted, then he'd end up doing it again. And again. As employees rather than slaves, the other drudges had brought supplies with them. Even the poorest had sleeping rolls and tough clothing. Not so Lathan, who had nothing but a single thin blanket and the ripped shirt and pants he was wearing. They were not going to last for long and without money he had no way of getting more. Unless he sold his body. Which begged the question, was he prepared to do it?

He never had before. Even in Silvermoon, when the worst of the addiction bit. But then he'd had other things to fall back on. Odd-jobs, cheating, stealing. Now, here, he had nothing but his body and little choice but to sell what he had.

"I'll, um, I'll do it," he said, having to clear his throat halfway through, and stood up. The human swung round with a broad grin and slung an arm round Lathan's shoulders. It was odd, being half a head taller and yet still so powerless. Somehow, Lathan thought, the physical inequality should have counted for more.

"Blot go too," the ogre said, lumbering to his feet.

"I don't think so," Adam said. "I'll keep an eye on him. Promise."

Blot's brow furrowed as he thought about it. "O-kay," he said finally. "But no break elf."

The human laughed. "Got it. No break elf. Coming with, Untarg?"

Lathan balked; he'd agreed to one, not two; but the arm around him was uncompromising. The orc glanced up, looked between them and shook his head. "Sleeping now," he said. "Next time, maybe."

"Spoilsport." With a smarmy grin, Adam rubbed his hand against the back of Lathan's head. "Guess it's just you and me then, elf."

*

They didn't have to go far from the fire for privacy. Even on a starlit night, the darkness was profound enough that entire herd of kodo could have hidden unseen in the bushes. Lathan squinted at the ground, wondering if there were any stones ready to leap out and attack unsuspecting knees. Though, to be honest, it looked well cleared, as if the area was often used for the purpose.

"There's a coupla whores work out of the mine," Adam said, settling his ass back against a convenient rock and unbuckling his pants. "They come down a few times a month, but it ain't regular, you know, and a guy needs it regular." He sighed heartily as he shoved his pants down round his thighs, and gestured to Lathan to come over.

Lathan shuffled towards him and dropped to his knees, his mind and gut churning with nerves. It had been years since he'd done this, and then only with friends. Taking the human's soft dick in his hand, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to the soft skin. It twitched slightly and began to firm up. His next kiss was wetter and more open-mouthed and garnered him a small hitch of breath from above. Lathan smiled, privately; maybe he could do this, after all.

Settling back on his heels, he cracked his neck, put one hand firmly against Adam's hip and guided his rapidly hardening dick to his lips. If he remembered rightly, wetter was better, and to that end he slurped it in with as much enthusiasm and spit as he could muster.

"Fuck." Muttered and from above, accompanied by fingers in his hair. Lathan shook them off, taking the time to push them away before getting back to business. It wasn't that didn't like being held, he just didn't want it from someone he didn't know. That was about trust and that was earned. His choice.

The dick in his mouth was firming up nicely, resting solid and oddly reassuring. He worked the underside with the tip of his tongue, pulling back and pressing forward again, gauging how deep he could take it, teasing his gag reflex. Deeper than he'd' have thought, probably deeper than he should. His throat wouldn't be thanking him tomorrow. But that was then and this was now and he was starting to get into the groove. The taste flooded his mouth; bitter, salty, and familiar; he embraced it.

Muscles jumped under his fingers. Lathan twisted his hand, cupping Adam's hipbone and pressing his thumb into his groin. Not hard, but hard enough to give the illusion of power, of restraint. And speaking of, those balls brushing his chin needed some treatment. Lathan cupped them gently, rolling them back and forth, fluttering his fingers across the soft skin behind.

Some men liked that feeling and Adam was no exception. His dick leapt free of Lathan's mouth, slapping up against his belly. Lathan chuckled and chased it down, holding the base and swirling his tongue around the tip and under the foreskin. Adam was panting, his hands pressed back tight against the stone, his eyes wide open and staring blankly down at Lathan as though this was the best blowjob he'd ever had.

Lathan fluttered his eyelashes, did his best to fill his expression with heated lust and sucked him back in. Now he knew where he was heading. Sliding two fingers into his mouth alongside Adam's dick, he wet them thoroughly then pressed up behind Adam's balls, rubbing back and forth, exploring further and further until he found the rough skin around his hole. Circling it carefully, he waited for Adam to react. He got a slight thrust of the hips, which he chose to interpret as favourable, wet his fingers again, and this time homed in on his target, pressing firmly in with the tip of a finger.

Hands pressed against his head, one each side and Adam began shifting restlessly as though he needed to thrust but didn't want to impose. Releasing Adam's hip, Lathan cupped the human's ass urging him forward and worked his finger deeper. A deep groan came from above and Adam began to thrust, shallow and careful, his hands never impeding Lathan's ability to pull away. And it was good. The rhythm, the slide of dick against his lips, the musky scent of turned on male. Lathan found he was getting hard in reaction. He rocked his hips. His soft cotton pants provided virtually no friction, but it felt good. If he'd had a spare hand, he'd have jerked off. Frustrating.

Something hard pressed up against his leg. Lathan paused and glanced down. It was Adam's booted foot, rubbing the outside of his thigh. The invitation seemed pretty clear, but Lathan checked, pulling off Adam's dick with a wet pop and saying, "Are you sure?"

"Hey, you wanna hump me leg while you blow me, I ain't gonna complain," the human said, and yeah, okay, Lathan could see how that'd be a turn on. Not that he cared.

Happily straddling Adam's leg, he went back to work, sucking Adam down and finger fucking him at the same time. Only this time he could join in, working his dick along the side of Adam's leg, using it to pull the cloth tight across his groin. Fuck, it was almost enough, but he kept getting dragged out of the moment. There were too many distractions, too many things to co-ordinate. His own pleasure was getting lost in the rush.

There was only one thing for it. He released Adam's dick again, ignoring the human's whine of protest, and said, "Fuck my mouth."

"Oh, crap, yes!" Apparently Adam didn't need telling twice. He practically force fed his dick back into Lathan's mouth, shoving it deep and almost making Lathan regret his decision. "Sorry," he muttered, and then, "Fucking hell," as Lathan opened his throat and took him in all the way.

That was better. With Adam controlling his head, Lathan could ride the feeling, enjoy the burning stretch of his lips, and counterpoint it with the ache in his balls, the delicious tug of fingers in his hair and the insistent rub of fabric over the head of his dick. He was going to come. He was going to come humping a human's leg while he sucked him off. It really should be humiliating, but Lathan was past caring.

Sucking air in through his nose, he took Adam down all the way, swallowing around him, and had the satisfaction of feeling Adam shudder. A moment later Lathan was coming hard, and so was Adam, filling Lathan's mouth until some overflowed and dribbled down his chin. Maybe humans tasted better, or maybe it was the heat of the moment, but Lathan was greedy for it, swallowing eagerly and chasing down the remnants, licking his lips for the final drops and finally sitting back to rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. His lips felt bruised and used, but good.

"Damn that's pretty. Never had an elf before."

The human was looking damned pretty himself, all heavy lidded and sated, breathing hard and with his softening dick hanging over the top of his pants. Lathan smiled. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy working for the Venture Company.


*

As Lathan predicted, that pretty much set the pattern. By the end of the first week Lathan had a strong pair of boots and incipient mandibular arthritis. By the end of the second, their workgang was the most closely-knit and productive at the dig, Lathan was sporting a smart new leather vest and a broad-brimmed hat to keep the sun off, and was beginning to wonder if putting a cushion in the bushes for his knees gave the wrong impression.

The rhythm of the work was soothing in a mindless way. From dawn 'til dusk he laboured, sometimes digging, sometimes hauling the massive drums of sludge the pumps extracted from the fen. With Adam's help, his hands quickly hardened, his body toughened up and he grew accustomed to the sun and the work both. Food was plentiful, if simple. Evenings were spent round the fire, singing, talking and drinking. In truth, everything would have been fine, if it hadn't been for Blot.

The Venture Company practised a very simple system vis a vis equipment – you break it, you pay for it. And Blot was, for some unaccountable reason, the clumsiest creature Lathan had ever had the displeasure to run into. Not a tool was safe; all fell apart in Blot's massive hands. Likewise, he stumbled through wagons, upended barrels and, on one occasion, managed to get himself jammed in the inlet pipe of the main pump. That mess took half a day and the dedicated attention of four workgangs to sort out, and as a result, a furious Tinkerer Sniggles put Blot on notice. If he didn't clean up his act and repay everything he owed, he was fired. And that, by default, meant so was Lathan.

"I'm not going back," Lathan said. They were watching dinner cooking while Adam, who'd turned out to be a decent healer in a pinch, did his best to patch up Blot's numerous cuts and bruises. "It's all right for you, no one's going to cut you up and use you for parts."

"You know, my dad always swore troll's blood was brilliant in potions," Adam said. Coming to end of his bandage, he added, "Hold this," and waited for Blot to stick his finger in the right place. "But I've never heard anything about elves."

"Aphrodisiac," Untarg grunted. He was smirking, lips curling around his small tusks. After declining the first night, he'd become a regular. The hat now on Lathan's head had once been Untarg's.

"I'm laughing. Honestly," Lathan said. "On the inside." He poked the fire, shifting a smouldering log from one angle to another. "But seriously, I'm not going. There has to be some way I can get out of this."

"You could see if the boss would buy you?" Foggle suggested, his long green ears twitching as he spoke about his beloved Venture Company. "They buy contracts all the time. My brother got bought out only last year. A whole hundred golds they paid for his business."

"I'm not a business, Foggle, I'm a person."

"They'd never let you go either. You'd spend the rest of your life working for 'em whether you wanted to or not."

A general murmur of agreement spread round the fire at Adam's comment. Lathan silently concurred; he had no great desire to exchange one master for another, but at least the Company seemed fair. Up until you get ill or injured, he thought. And then what. He'd probably end up rendered down for glue.

"I guess you could hire out to the other gangs. Some of 'em are just waiting for a go. Especially if you'll fuck."

Lathan jerked in surprise and stared at Adam, who shrugged and had the grace to colour a little. "I'm just sayin'. It'd be one way of making some cash."

That was true, as far as it went. But, though goods were exchanged, what he did in the evenings was more about giving friends a helping hand. Or mouth. Approaching the other gangs, letting them fuck him, that would be purely a business transaction. It would make him money. But enough to make it worthwhile? Lathan pondered the question. It certainly wasn't a decision he was prepared to make lightly or quickly.

"Blot want money," the ogre muttered as Adam put the finishing touches to his bandages. "Blot pay and Blot go home." He sighed, long and heavy. "Blot miss home."

"I know you do, Blot." Lathan reached out and patted him on the arm. While not what you'd call a friend, he'd grown almost fond of the big oaf over the past weeks. The ogre was as stupid as a clod of soil, but left to his own devices he wasn't mean. He'd even taken Lathan's chains off after Lathan promised faithfully not to run away.

After dinner, and after turning Untarg down when he proposed a sojourn to the bushes, Lathan unrolled his blanket and settled in for the night. In deference to his lack of bedding, the others had allowed him to sleep closest to the fire, and though that did put him under siege from smoke and the odd floating ember, at least he didn't freeze.

That night was no exception. Sleep came quickly and Lathan soon found himself immersed in dreams. Though in truth they were more like nightmares. Sassi's death played and replayed behind his eyes, as it often did, sometimes accompanied by Lathan's own demise either at the hands of the guardians or, more recently, on the end of a knife wielded by a particularly terrifying troll.

It was the voice that woke him – quiet, but insistent, calling his name from the shadows. Frowning, he rolled over, peering into the darkness to try and make out who it was. Out by the perimeter, he could see something glowing palely in the moonlight. Blot? He glanced over at the ogre's sleeping roll. It was empty, confirming his suspicions. But what could he want? Surely Blot hadn't managed to get himself in trouble again.

Keeping the blanket around his shoulders, Lathan stood up and picked his way through the sleeping bodies towards the pale form by the rocks at the edge of the camp.

"Blot?" he called quietly, once he was far enough away not to wake everyone up. The shape by the rock didn't move. He crept closer, nerves fluttering. "Not brave," he murmured, as much to bolster his own spirits as anything. "Not the brave one. Don't let it be a ghost. Don't let him be dead."

He wasn't. But he wasn't Blot either. As Lathan drew close enough to see clearly, he realised that, what he'd mistaken for the ogre, was actually just a blanket, artfully draped to give the impression of a large body. That was just confusing. And creepy.

Nervously, he twitched the blanket aside, almost expecting to find someone hiding behind it. But there was nothing. Nothing but bushes, trees and more rocks, and the grunt of night hunting lions and the strange rustle of who knew what wildlife that haunted this part of the Barrens. Still, Lathan eased the blanket free of its anchors. If someone was going to abandon it, he wasn't going to see it go to waste.

He was halfway back to the fire when the real Blot appeared, grabbed him by the waist and slammed a huge fist into the side of his head.