Niall Mac Nechtan, Lord of the Tuatha Dé Danann, Steward of the North of the blessed kingdom of Mag Tuired, travels to the lands of the barbaric Kirinches to investigate a mysterious murder that has taken place in his lands. Carried away by the prev...
There was a bowl placed at the tent entrance, with a wick burning in oil, and the tent was lit up. Faolan was given a wineskin, and he threw back his head and took a long sip. He exchanged a few words with his men and pulled down the flap. Niall exhaled loudly.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to share you," the barbarian said and handed him the wineskin.
He was so calm and behaved so casually, as if they had just a round of sex in bed and decided to rest before the second one! Niall turned away, unable to express with words how not in the mood for such friendly gestures he was right now.
The barbarian shrugged and took another sip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and began to take off his pants. Oh Lugh, Nuada and Dagda, he really was going for the second round! Niall darted towards the oil lamp, intending to overturn it and set fire to the tent. The barbarian grabbed him without difficulty and threw him back onto the skin. Niall rolled onto his side, stretched out his whole body and reached one of Faolan's sabers lying at the entrance, inside the tent, with his bound hands. He had noticed them while the flap was pulled back.
Faolan chuckled and continued to take off his pants, revealing his narrow hips and long beautiful legs. What Niall was worth in a fight, with or without a sword, he had already figured out. When the Sidhe cut the rope on his wrists, the barbarian also paid it no mind. But it was nice to see his face change in an instant, once Niall reversed the saber and pressed the point under his ribcage, right towards the heart.
Nevertheless, the barbarian didn't lose even a moment. He jumped at Niall, grabbed the blade with his bare hands and began to wrench it out of Niall's hands. A few minutes and cuts later, the saber flew to the side, but they continued to wrestle until Niall flinched and froze, realizing that he was provoking another rape, not postponing it. The barbarian was already hard, and he leaned over Niall with the clear intention of taking his legs up on his shoulders and fиcking him again.
"You can't even lose with dignity!" panting, Faolan barked, apparently hoping to taunt Niall into resisting. "To aim the blade at yourself, not at me, and why — because a man had f&cked you? It's not even shameful for you Sidhe, from what I've heard."
The next moment, Niall Mac Nechtan did something completely unexpected. He laughed in the barbarian's face. And he laughed and laughed, unable to stop, until Faolan slapped him hard on the face.
"You insolent brat! You savage!" Niall hissed, wiping the blood from his lower lip. "Nothing could be worse than what you did to me before you f&cked me! Do you have any idea what it's like to lose magical power? Let me gouge out your eyes, cut off your tongue, cut off your arms and legs, then I'll f&ck you and sneer at you: oh, why are you so upset about being f&cked, why do you want to kill yourself, there was nothing too terrible done to you!"
There was so much hatred in his voice and his eyes that a shadow ran over the barbarian's face, and he leaned back a little, not as much interested in sex as before. Maybe he had hoped that, having lost the fight, Niall would fall into bed with him just as easily as he himself fell with Niall. Perhaps this would have happened, had he not cut off Niall's braid.
Actually, the loss of magical power was not such a worthy reason for suicide. After all, there were ways to restore it. But Niall, even in a fit of suffocating rage, retained enough reason not to tell the barbarian that he had not tried to kill himself. A serious wound and a loss of blood was enough for Morrigan, Lady of Blood, to feel that one of her subjects was in danger. And yes, the barbarian could've taken him for dead and leave.
"Yeah, right, let you use your magic, so you could put me under a spell again!" Faolan's mouth twisted with contempt. "Let you use dirty tricks again in a fair fight! What, you don't like being paid back in your own coin, shidda yarat?"
"With my own coin?" Niall exclaimed. With unexpected force, he pushed the barbarian away, rose to his knees and yelled in his face, "You stupid vile creature, you screamed under me from pleasure, not from pain! You writhed and wiggled like a bitch in heat, and came all over my bed, twice! And what did I get, except for a brutish scuffle? You didn't even last five minutes!"
Faolan threw him on his back and glued his mouth to Niall's. Niall tried to purse his lips, but quickly gave up and opened them to meet the barbarian's greedy tongue. It would seem that the guy had already got what he wanted, had already f&cked the arrogant Lord of the Tuatha Dé Danann, but his ardor did not recede at all, only intensified. It turned him on much more when the "freaking Sidhe" opened his legs for him voluntarily. Voluntary was, of course, too strong a word, but Niall seethed with anger and hatred, looking for a way out, and if he didn't resist, it would hurt much less.
It was almost pleasant. Almost. They growled in unison, squeezing each other with their arms, leaving bruises, their hips, foreheads, shoulders collided, and flesh slapped flesh. Faolan brought him to a climax with his hands and mouth, and Niall howled and came, feeling more strongly the flow of the barbarian's hot seed out of his ass, not the flow of his own seed into the barbarian's hot mouth.
When Faolan offered him the wineskin again, Niall did not refuse. Trying not to look at the neck, not too clean, he put it to his lips and took a careful sip. Merciful Danu, what a swill! Wincing, he took another sip. And another.
Only then did he remember Sencha, and his stomach turned cold.
"And... my servant?" he said with difficulty. "What did you do to him?"
"Spoils of war." Faolan shrugged and took the wineskin from him. "Even I can't take away a warrior's prize."
Niall's throat tightened, and he felt nauseous. It was terrible to imagine what fifteen men could do to the boy. But wouldn't he have heard something — screams, sounds of a fight?
"At least order not to kill him," Niall asked in a numb voice. He wasn't very good at asking. "Although I don't know if he would want to live after this. He had never lain even with a woman, much less with a man."
Faolan glanced at him quickly, with something akin to curiosity. He took a sip of wine and said casually, "I thought he was your catamite. I gave him to my brother, the redhead who held him. I thought that after you he would have nothing to surprise the boy with."
"Merciful Danu, he is twice his size!" Niall covered his face with his hand.
"But he won't be too rough with him. And definitely won't share him with anyone. What's the matter? I thought you Sidhe don't give a damn about mortals. Did you want to be the boy's first?"
"I prefer older partners. And bigger. Although, you know, it's nice to be someone's first," and Niall grinned with meaning, looking into the barbarian's eyes.
The barbarian grinned back and tumbled him onto the bearskin again. Niall groaned, closed his eyes resignedly. And opened his legs.
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