Trigger warnings & Author's notes
May contain: violence, extreme domination, degradation, sadism, non-consent/coercion, slavery.
It was my intention to publish ch 5 and 6 together, but I'm still working out some stuff with the plot in ch 6 so I figured I'd go ahead and drop 5 while I wrap things up. This one is pure smut -- this was actually the first scene I'd ever written. It's a little hard to go back and read because I'm so critical of my own writing/iffy about sex scenes when I'm not feeling it myself. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, but now I'm like, "is this even sexy? Is it pure cringe?!" I guess this is why people have beta readers. :') Anyway, hopefully you enjoy it as much as I once did. Ch 6 should be along in a few days if all goes well.
Anonymous & MarcLuciFer: Oh my god, I'm so fucking flattered by the kind words, thank you both so much, and thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! You guys are awesome.
Chapter Five: establishing the status quo
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Mile grunted and tried to push the general off of himself, only to be met with the resistance of a brick wall. He doubled his efforts and pushed harder. Symond laughed slightly but made no move to let him up, causing the other to scowl and refuse to meet his gaze.
The former leader of the rebellion was growing increasingly frustrated with the regular sparring matches the general insisted upon. Not only was he freshly recovered from an injury, but they both knew from past experience that Mile couldn't match the older man's strength even at his best. It felt like the man was taunting him.
Mile had grown accustomed to his presence in the villa. When Symond was home, he insisted that they have meals together. Left with little choice, Mile begrudgingly complied, spending the time poking at his food and avoiding engagement with the man. Symond would speak to him -- he would tell him about things, mostly books he had read or people he encountered. Mile half-listened to the one-sided conversations, but Symond was careful not to speak about the only thing Mile had any interest in: the state of affairs within the kingdom. The fallen rebellion. Mile found the situation to be entirely frustrating. And then there were the sparring sessions. The goddamned sparring sessions.
Symond, ever observant, noticed the flash of frustration cross Mile's features. "You are getting stronger," he offered, which resulted only in the deepening of Mile's scowl.
"Fuck you."
An eyebrow shot up on the general's face; Mile generally made a point not to speak to him these days. He must really be getting under the rebel's skin to cause the younger man to react as such. It was a brief glimpse of the feisty youth that had caught Symond's attention all those years ago. He decided to push him further, hoping to bring out more of this.
"An exceptional idea," he mused and leaned down until his lips were right next to Mile's ear. "But you're going to have to beg for it."
Mile's eyes widened in surprise at the man's words. Despite the fact that they had coupled a handful of times in the past, the general had made no advances on him since his capture months prior. This man was responsible for destroying his world and killing his friends and had thrust him into a life of, what? Servitude? Slavery? He hated him with every fiber of his being.
"F-fuck you," Mile managed to sputter out, flustered and oblivious to the fact he was repeating himself.
"Hm ..." Symond leaned down and placed his lips against the side of Mile's neck and blew warm air along the exposed flesh. Mile swallowed hard, willing his body to ignore the sweet sensation that both men knew drove him mad. Symond doubled his efforts and began slowly trailing kisses along the side of his neck.
Mile bit his lip to try to stifle his pleasure. The position they were in, coupled with the teasing attention Symond was giving him, caused an immediate reaction in his body. Mile felt a chill rise along his spine and goosebumps erupt over his skin. He hated this man. Why was his body betraying him? And so quickly?!
"Beg," Symond ordered, more firmly.
"Fuck y-- mmph!"
Anticipating the response, the general grabbed his chin and captured his mouth in a kiss before he could finish the sentiment. Mile tried to turn his head to the side to escape the affectionate attack, but it seemed as though Symond had anticipated this as well, and held him steady. Mile closed his eyes as Symond began kissing him deeply and passionately. It was such a powerful kiss, Mile felt himself getting swept up into a whirlwind of lust and gave up the struggle, even as he felt Symond release his hold on his head to instead pin his arms at his sides. Symond's tongue explored Mile's own, caressing and teasing, encouraging it to join in. Mile let out a frustrated groan against the other man's lips, his arousal undeniable now as his cock began to harden against the other's thigh.
"Mm," Symond purred in approval into Mile's mouth before pulling away, leaving Mile gasping with a sudden intake of air.
"F-fucking hell," he panted, his thick accent coming in strong. The general smiled at this.
"Beg, Mile." He pushed his hips into Mile's, grinding their erections together with agonizingly slow thrusts.
Mile squirmed beneath the general in a half-hearted attempt to escape the sensations. Symond almost rolled his eyes. The rebel was a stubborn shit. Still, he knew he'd get what he wanted, and the younger man's resistance made him want it all the more. It was a front. Surely Mile knew that, as well.
Symond understood that Mile was in the midst of reckoning with his pride and loyalties. After all, he currently had the man in the most vulnerable position he'd ever been in. He could appreciate the inner turmoil Mile was currently experiencing. The pleasure he was feeling at the hands of the general was at complete odds with the fact that the man had caused the fall of the rebellion and claimed him as a prisoner of war.
"Baby," Symond purred as he leaned down to nuzzle his face against Mile's throat. Mile winced at the pet name; the man clearly knew how to play him like a fiddle, and he felt his resolve faltering as the general painstakingly pried off the protective armor he had placed around his emotions. Mile bit his lip as the other began licking and kissing up his throat and along his jaw. At some point he had moved his right hand up to the base of Mile's neck and was firmly holding it there, idly stroking with his thumb while slowly grinding his hips into Mile's.
Mile clenched his eyes shut and panted softly. He needed Symond. He needed the general to pin him down and take him, to claim his body as he'd done in the past. Symond hadn't demanded anything of him in those instances, he had simply taken what he wanted, which, fortunately for Mile, was also what *he* wanted. This experience was new, and Mile didn't know what to make of it. He felt ashamed and exposed, but simultaneously aroused and desperate for more. In this moment, Mile forgot the world. Symond was all there was. He swallowed his pride and willed himself to speak.
"Please," he almost whispered. The general stopped moving entirely.
"Please, what?" Mile frowned, never opening his eyes.
"Please fuck me, sir."
"Oh -- good boy." Symond, taken by surprise, cupped Mile's face and stroked his cheek with a calloused thumb. The "sir" had been an unexpected but entirely welcomed touch. He sat up and began to unbutton his own shirt, feeling uncomfortably warm now. He noticed Mile finally raising his gaze to observe him attentively. Those striking green eyes had gazed upon him so many times before, but only a handful of occasions in the they way they did now -- filled with desire. How Symond loved that look on his former rival's face. He smiled at the younger man and reached back down to stroke his hair. Mile found himself blushing slightly at the general's attention and averted his gaze again.
God, what was up with him? Symond had made him feel so exposed by ordering him to beg. He felt like a high school boy about to lose his virginity. It dawned on Mile that Symond held all of the power in this encounter. He hadn't considered that in the past when the man fucked him, *he* actually carried some of the power in the dynamic. Although it was Symond doing the topping, Mile was completely comfortable with the roles they had assumed in those instances, and he got what he wanted. This was a new dynamic with an uncomfortable new role, and the general held all the cards.
Mile felt the fire of arousal flare up inside him again at the thought. In the past it had been so easy to tell himself that he was forced to submit; perhaps that was how he dealt with the shame of the situation. Sleeping with his enemy. Allowing the man to dominate him. Symond was no longer allowing him that out. He was chipping away at any power Mile had between them and establishing a true dominant and submissive dynamic. Mile inwardly kicked himself when he had the sudden, invasive thought that perhaps that wasn't such a terrible thing.
Symond sat on his haunches, straddling Mile and studying the other's face. He could practically hear the gears in his head turning as the younger man seemed to grapple with the situation. He found himself smiling again. When had he allowed himself to become so smitten with the rebel? Symond swooped down and captured Mile's lips in another quick kiss and then began to undo the buttons on Mile's shirt, followed by his pants. He quickly tugged them down and tossed them aside. Mile propped himself up and looked at him. The general raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"I -- please kiss me," Mile stuttered out. Symond immediately obliged, reaching behind his head to grasp his hair tightly at the base of his skull as he pushed his tongue into Mile's mouth. This was such a stark change from the confidently brash young soldier he'd fucked in the past who had fought against him and slung insults at him. He enjoyed fiery, hard to pin Mile, but he found that he enjoyed breaking through that aspect of his personality and exposing timid and submissive Mile even more. He wondered if anyone had ever succeeded in doing so before.
Mile returned the kiss this time, gingerly at first but gradually becoming more aggressive; his tongue meeting the general's in a sloppy, passionate dance. With a quick tug Mile's boxers came down and were discarded to join his pants. The kiss seemed to go on forever, their tongues wrestling for control. Amused, Symond noted that Mile was still trying to grasp onto whatever small amount of control he could over the situation. He would have to put a stop to that.
