anoki: Islay initiated as his king’s Blade. “Do you fear me, my soldier?” Seik asked, circling behin
anoki: Islay initiated as his king’s Blade. “Do you fear me, my soldier?” Seik asked, circling behind the swordsman and letting his gloved hand slide around to the back of Islay’s neck in the process. “I seek truthfulness from your lips and will accept no less the rest of your days. You will hold nothing back.” He slid a small dagger from the prim cone of his sleeve, an assassin’s weapon and let it glide temptingly against his knight’s jugular; his hand was steady and precise, the threat of accidental damage did not exist. “I do not fear you any more than a man can fear one with your power my king.” Islay replied in a husky drawl. “I have a healthy respect for your might, but I do not fear the man I serve.” Warm digits slid along his nude back, a slight shiver coming unbidden. Seik could easily kill him then, in this dishonorable position. Naked, vulnerable, there was nothing Islay could do if his king decided to spill more of his blood. The blade kissed his skin lovingly and Islay knew it hungered for his life. It was the choice of its master whether it would be fed this night or not. “That is good.” Seik replied, the dagger brushing down the mighty chest and following the severe dips and rises of his abs – he pressed close behind his warrior, his free hand cupping Islay’s chin in his palm and cradling his head back the king’s stomach. The tip of the dagger scored the sensitive plane just above the soldier’s loins. It wrote in a fine line, expertly controlled, a quartered circle whose ends curled into left-facing hooks. Once it had left it’s shallow mark, the tip teased the intact skin below as it traveled down the man’s bared organ, lighter than a virgin woman’s kiss, and circled it’s crown. Through all this the dark eyed man remained still, as if movement would result in punishment. He felt the path of the blade, skin remarkably sensitive under the tip of the finely honed edge. The skin flinching and dancing attractively under the blade’s path. Finding his head pressed back into the other man’s body, his face cradled by the lean curve of the wiry man’s body, Islay took in a slow, shuddering breath. His king’s scent filling his nostrils in a way only intimacy such as this could ever have offered. Stomach muscles clenched; the only sign of pain from the blade’s bite. A single soft groan muffled into Seik’s clothing. Before the kiss of his blade, Seik observed the man’s length give a twitch, a sort of salute for his marking. Seik belongs to necro aka sixwingedrose on tumblr Islay is mine -- source link