Binding us
Where the pain is, that is where the new light comes in. Forthwith, something must be done. Unburdened are all those eyes, which do not see the future, yet, they are weighed but something, that is hampering them each day of their life, that is the question, what is next? Where do we really go from here? He was sleeping by his side, incasing him in his loving embrace, it was so restful, that he was forgetting everything else, even the condition he was in. Albeit, he was healthy and feeling good, he was not free. All what has befallen him, it has to make some sense, to have that purpose in his life. Again and again, there were the visions. Open your mouth for me to fill you. The slimy substance is the one that is incapacitating you against me. It calms you, it gentles you, it quiets you down. But only for me, I would never leave you without any defense. It shall all pass when you are tame. I am to prepare you for me, it is all the demanding process, and give in yourself. Give yourself to me.
You shall be immortalized traditionally by the cut that shall leave the faint imprint, to last even when it is hurting you, no Turgon’s potions which are lighter, for there are the few who truly last, truthfully are there to soothe you, not just subdue, to feel that breeze upon the skin as the caging irons you are put into. The yoke that may never subside in its longing for the lost freedom. To remit, to relent. It never was in his destiny. This was some kind of preordination he couldn’t battle. It was the futile attempt, the endeavor that could cost him much more than just the delivery from the bane of his own life, that shall be revealed, not to be so. What was the curse, it could end up to be something much more, if not even the blessing in disguise, what he damned then, it could grow to be what he prayed for, the one you have disdained to the last drop of tear. This was the anathema of all the living and those who didn’t even start to feel it.
Why it had to be? Why he has to look so deplored, bemoaning, for he grieves and mourns. He was crying in his sleepless dream, the hardest tears are of a man, he suppressed his growing sadness. Someone licked it away, endearingly. You can kill me, but what is to remain to you then? Such a silver beauty is yours, and you may try, but you will regret it as soon as you do it. I may permit you, while you feel my heart, the mellowness of the comfort in my Elf grasp, the peacefulness which you shall never have without me.
There shall stay the hole in your heart, where I could stand to refill it.
So, he is shackled to him, his hands are in the steel shackles and he draws him to him, with him, hauling him for the rest of the boundlessness that didn’t pay attention if all the realms shall become the battleground for the love that takes some time to ripen, and it was doing so, to mellow beautifully, the newest virtues.
- Oh, you slept well, as I can see – the trivial poniard was in the woken man, resting in his left hand, while the right was pressing the humanoid Dragon down, he stole it from him, during the night, from one of his wardrobe, it was the quickest and easiest to slink and just grab it whilst both Dragons slept, after it, he prepared himself, he waited and watched how the sun is to rise out, it was the only thing he could wait for, after the dreamlessness, the dreamless slumber, only the visionary taxed head is remaining, staying to frequent him on and on, he was leaden with the purport like ever before that he felt, he could get the sense of it, and now, this was his moment, he was conscious of each grain, of each particle, of each trace that is breathing, the fragments that are brought together, being pieced, that is the carving in the sands, of the eaves that were calling to him to stop this unbecoming and useless attempts in vain, presently, he is going to slay him. Yes, he was the Dragon slayer also. He only bided his time, and it was his to take the life of which he is denied.
- Oh, yes, when you hold me like this, you cannot speak anyhow, but with the thoughts, isn’t it? And there, I may slither in. Don’t you have faith in it, you are unsure how to proceed, oh my, so that is quite convenient tribulation and trial, it is pretty obvious that you are oblivious, my boy – he was planting his both masculine arms behind his brilliantly vivid locks, the luminescent curls of the silvered nape. – That is more like it, now, go ahead. Go for it. I am fore and afore of your thorns in a backside and I could have bequeathed you more than you would ever dream, but you may do it yourself. To free oneself from me, in doing so, you are condemning your soul, whether you are patient or not, it makes the difference, all what you have to do is to stay trustful and poised, for once you think that you have nothing left, rethink it back, and then, the Dragon is all what shall be standing in your way. And you shall be burned, and even if the dragon leaves you on your own, you are probably, much more likely, in all the likelihood, to meet the dying, with no doubt – the menacing poniard was shaking, it didn’t strike him. It isn’t that Exalior has the death wish, as young as he was, one of the Princes from the Dragon House, he would fight for his life, but he longed to give the possibility to a man for which he knows that has no lots of prospects to hang on, this was the way. - And what did you do with your life? It shall be of your making. Whatever you choose. Remember, you do have a choice. – Mmm, mmm,mmm – he ventured and ventured, exerting himself, slaving and sweating away, overworking his human body, for it did have its restrictions, all what was coming out, it was for his own good, even when he was something that is incomprehensible. He got like this thanks to the Dragon. – That is not the intelligent answer, if you ask me – he is to be strangled, just by one hand, the swollen eyes are inflated, bloated. He wanted out from all this tumult he was cast in unprepared.
- Lose yourself to me, my human – he sounds so entrancing…
I could be your prospect for a prettier and bettered life. If you steal it from yourself, all what remains is the broken man you ended up to be. The rest is in his unbolted brains. If you do it, you will never know how it would be. With me at your side, and one more Dragon, we are not hybrids or intersexual, I am a humanoid. And the Beauty is also of the younger generation, which is conquering the purple skies, outshining even the gentlest violet flower, not to be renamed by anybody, save with herself. So, what are you doing, at this right present moment, is defining you!
- Let me care for you. Relieve yourself with me. Not unto your being – Daario could sparsely breathe out, and when he did it, it was through his nozzle, down his throat. Feeling so unwell, that he was believing that he is to have a high fever. – Let it happen, boy, you cannot oppose me. Do not take it out on me. I am not your nemesis. Reflect about it, lay it down, and everything can be solved, even…ungagging you – this did the trick. Daario backed away. Very steadily, ploddingly, so that the Dragon doesn’t have any idea that he backed down as well. The poniard was back where it belonged, and he waited for it. Exalior sighed. Oh well. Like he colors with the hand, the webby gag was out of his mouth and he could even take a deep breath, ah, that is the rush, the real one, removing the leftovers of the slimness. – What the fuck was that?! – Oh, you are already biting my tongue.
- No, really? – Daario was still straddling his Lord Master, Liege, wait? What?! – It is Dragon’s saliva. – Saliva!? – She spat on you, and that was it – the nauseated look on his boy is what he looked forward to, but he doesn’t want to make him indisposed. – It is something with which she may sanitize your insides, but not heal, the healing is done by your own body, we did our duties, we are not direwolves of healing tongues, neither brutes as Valinor ones – he was having a boyish smile, laid back. – You are carefree for someone who may be even throttled by bare hands, even without a weapon I handed back – but before Exalior replied, Daario touched a hickey, a blemish, the rinsing of it by licking. Oh, it didn’t hurt, it wasn’t bleeding, it won’t be seen if he scarfed his baring neck, or if someone doesn’t throw a glance, in the end, it was light, it was there, as a remainder of the ownership. – You flowered, don’t you know that? You look so beautiful – Exalior is wrapping his human into his drawing appeal. Daario was lost in space and time, leaning his murdering hands upon the chest of the Dragon, looks up!
Even his purplish eyes were the welcoming sight. He didn’t know how to maturate this…whatever it was, between them. He had a lot of women, even many men, but this one, has manhandled him, without disrespecting what he was, deep inside.
What he craved as well.
It wasn’t the pride, what was stressing him is that, when the squelchy gag was off, he did feel that emptiness, it was like, he wasn’t disburdening or delivering himself, but it was the bluntness, the sheer and absolute blank and empty space. Devoid and depraved, he was divesting himself from something or it was the Dragon that was doing it to him? Whichever it was, he wanted it back, but not with the Dragon of his to spit on him. There were some remaining fragments, and Exalior could read him, far more overtly. Positioning the larger hand over the human lips, gluing them as they were. It looked radiantly. As it was the part of his face, like it was always there!
*
- I told you that the mouth goes in the way. It is for the better, when it is taped shut, leastways – kissing him on the sealed mouth – and now, let us have that bath, what do you say? Even food.
*
Pulling him close into self. Bonding themselves with one another, Beauty that is outside was well pleased for no weather or any other climate can ever ail her. Enwrapping themselves in lace.
When the tears are to become the cheeriness. He can respire normally.