Enthusiasm

He liked the way he arched against him, how their sweat made them slide together, the way his muscles twitched and tightened against his body. He liked how he just shined, absolutely shimmered beneath him in the moonlight spilling through the hastily-shuttered burgundy curtains, a thousand auburn diamonds carelessly pressed against the stripped bed’s white sheets, droplets shining around his gasping lips. Llendes liked the way he would press his head back, the great pillar of his throat flexing, glistening and beaded, the lateral throb of his voice box, all straining under rough, husky groans as he rocked beneath him. He liked to push him to the point and almost, teasingly, over, then back again, over and over, toying with him like wine in a crystal goblet, grinned as he saw the way he gritted bared teeth, the way the sweat-slicked tendrils of his hair clung to his neck, saw him shudder and arch, twist and swear. He liked the way his voice would crack then, how he would almost beg; he liked the blood dripping down his own back from the nails in his shoulders, as Martin glared not quite directly at him; he enjoyed how he could always see the weakness, submission, behind that glare. He liked how he would be silent as he came, pressed against him tightly, how he could hear him breathing as he set his head on his chest, how he rocked him and rocked the bed and rocked the floor. Llendes liked the way he moved, writhing and shining in the moon with his moaning filling the darkness of the room

He liked the fireball, as it hissed behind him past to opened door of Martin’s bedchamber, putting a black scour on a shocked Blade’s helmet. He liked seeing that same blade the next morning, how she flushed and blushed, rushed away, trying not to run. He liked the odd look in Jauffre’s eyes, chuckled as he caught Martin’s scent on him, his cracked grin daring yet stopping Jauffre from asking. He always enjoyed seeing Martin the next day, for he inevitably left his bed empty; he liked the purple and blood-crusted bitemark he reprinted on his collar every time until it was a scar like a birthmark. Llendes always looked for the way he wouldn’t look back, how he wouldn’t quite meet his Blade’s eyes, as if he didn’t know they knew. He liked the way he would rub at his wrists and pretend that his swollen lips didn’t hurt him when he smiled. He grinned, watching him sit awkwardly as he perused the potential of Camoran’s Paradise.

Llendes enjoyed seeing him in armor for the first time, seeing how even as he prepared to stand against all of Hell raging at his doorstep that he still would not stand straight while looking him in the eye, blue to red, not as straight as he did when he turned his back to him and addressed his soldiers, as he led the charge as the gates roared from the ground beneath him. That was a part of him he wanted to see as well, empowered, with all his being thrown into his sword. His eyes trailed after him long after he had been obscured by the fire of the Great Gate.

He brought the Great Sigil Stone back too late to save Jauffre, but found his gold-armored, blood-decked Martin immediately. There was only time to shove him against the wall in the Cloud Ruler hall, pin him there with his eyes for a second, before he turned to let him open the portal of Mankar’s paradise. He didn’t remember much of that Paradise besides the verdant lawns and strange captives- he had his own paradise to get back to. From that amusing Kathutet’s proposition to rudely killing Mankar as his children spoke, and fetching that obnoxious little amulet back to Cyrodill, Llendes thought of little but Him.

Back in the Imperial City, he found Martin in satins and ermines, and as the Amulet of Kings was fettered to his neck and the Dragonfire roared in its hearth, he caught his eye as he was crowned King, watched the King look away, then look back, and felt a thrill down his spine as he stood straight and stared back, blue no longer drowned in a sea of red. He liked seeing him in those satins after he was taken to his dead father’s chambers, how he turned and leaned against the bed, laughing.

He liked taking them off even more, and he loved seeing his King chuckle and push him down onto that bed, wanting him just as much as ever.