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Hardin's head nearly collided with the stone edge of the doorway as Sydney practically dragged him through, into the bedchambers they now shared as often than not - but not generally at this hour. He hardly spared a moment to wince, the idle thought crossing his mind that perhaps his attention should not be placed solely on the "lesson" at hand; Sydney had been instructing him in spellcasting, when somehow his teachings had gradually turned to an entirely different and rather more enjoyable subject. If Hardin had not been enjoying this instruction so much, he might have noted that Sydney could have used his teleportation magic - but there was a certain additional appeal to making their way on foot, their impatience foiled by the need to wait... though Sydney grew careless as he tugged Hardin along in his wake, his own attention on the kiss that they exchanged - that they had been exchanging now for a minute or so, since they had abandoned their intended lesson for the afternoon. Hardin supposed he could have withstood a bump on the head for that.
Sydney may have been smaller and lighter than Hardin, but managed to pull him to the bed with little effort even so. No longer content to let only their lips clash, Hardin offered no resistance and simply dropped back onto the mattress, Sydney landing lightly atop him. With a small laugh, Sydney rolled them onto their sides, entwining them in a tangle of arms and legs and anticipation. Hardin's hands went to loose the cords of Sydney's leggings, albeit with reluctance - the feel of Sydney's hips grinding insistently against his own was almost too much to abandon, even for the promise of more interesting sensations to come. Sydney, in turn, pulled Hardin's already loosened shirt over his head with a ready smile. Unlike most teachers, he didn't object to an interruption in his lessons in the slightest - at least when it came to this student, and this manner of interruption.
"So," Sydney whispered as Hardin resumed his unlacing of the complicated leggings, "shall I be on top again this time, or would you like to..." His smile grew somewhat more sly. "...Do the honors?"
Hardin couldn't focus his thoughts quite properly at the moment, though he seemed to remember that there had been a reason why he was reluctant to be on top. He couldn't imagine what it might have been, however. And since it was something of a rarity, and Sydney had made the suggestion... "If it should please you," he murmured, his lips caressing Sydney's throat and his shoulders, as Sydney tossed his head in restless bliss.
Once he'd slid Sydney's leggings off his hips, he turned the two of them over somewhat more gently, pressing Sydney down into the mattress beneath him. This too would be a welcome change, after a few too many of Sydney's ambushes. Often they'd been born of boredom during the colder months, in the least likely - and usually not particularly comfortable - places. Sydney's legs wrapped around his waist in an especially compelling manner, and Hardin groaned faintly already as he felt Sydney's hard warmth pressing into his stomach. Sydney's hands were by contrast cold as they rose beneath Hardin's arms to clutch at his shoulders and pull his upper body down as well, close enough to claim another kiss.
It was that sensation, the cold sharpness of metal upon heated skin, that reminded Hardin of why he so rarely pleasured Sydney in this way rather than the other way around, and he drew in a deep breath, tensing. "Sydney...?"
Once again Sydney was oblivious, as he was occupied with nipping at Hardin's neck. "Hardin...?" he teased, replying in kind.
As much as it pained him when already his body was taut with anticipation, Hardin shook his head and shrugged off Sydney's hands as he rolled onto his back again. "On second thought, I will leave it to you."
"Mmm...?" At his side, Sydney leaned above him on one elbow, puzzled, disheveled, and slightly dazed. After a moment, the laugh he gave told Hardin that he'd picked up on his thoughts. "Ah, yes. Forgive me, I too had forgotten... I might try a bit harder to control myself this time, now that I've been reminded."
"That is precisely what you said the last time, if I remember correctly," Hardin pointed out, recalling the stinging gashes in his back - even Sydney's tremendous skill with restorative magic could not banish the memory of pain. "Best that we carry on as usual - for you're far less dangerous when your hands are occupied with balancing yourself atop me."
"That's not quite fair, though, is it?" Hardin brushed the pale hair out of Sydney's eyes as Sydney moved to sit atop him, straddling his thighs. "I quite enjoy the way you please me from above, my friend," he continued with a sly grin, leaning forward to offer a playful tap to the tip of Hardin's nose with one of those dangerous fingers. "And I happen to know that you enjoy it a great deal as well. Variety is a good thing, is it not?"
"Indeed, until you begin to filet me like a fish," Hardin muttered. Sydney had no need of his compulsion to be very, very convincing. Tempted as Hardin was - particularly because Sydney spoke the truth - and eager as his body was to get on with whatever Sydney might suggest, Hardin forced himself to remain firm. "Variety is not quite as important to me as keeping my blood where it belongs - inside me."
Sydney only laughed and with a swift motion, rolled them over to place Hardin atop him again. Though the position was certainly appealing, and Sydney's playfulness threatened to charm him into agreement, Hardin did manage to keep his wits about him. "If you can think of a way to ensure that your hands will deal me no unintended damage - then by all means."
"If you intend to be so banal as all that," Sydney told him, looking up at him with a sigh that was a bit too purposely dramatic, "we might take a moment for the armory. I have always said that leather suits you."
Given the sparkle of mischief in Sydney's eye, he knew as well as Hardin that it was a rather ridiculous suggestion. "That would certainly solve the problem, but that manner of leather might make this somewhat awkward," Hardin pointed out, humoring him. But maybe there was some more reasonable idea hidden within the absurd. "Perhaps we could... wrap your hands in something."
"Hmm..." Sydney frowned thoughtfully, then raised a curious eyebrow at him. "Or I could remove them."
"Gods, no!" Words could not convey how much that idea disturbed and repulsed him; enchanted metal or not, those arms were a part of Sydney, and he'd no sooner have asked a more normal lover to lop off arms of flesh and blood.
Obviously he was still being teased, for Sydney laughed again at the horrified look on his face. "Well then, we have little choice, do we?" he said lightly, tugging Hardin closer by way of his trousers. "For you will please me in this manner, one way or another - else I shall not let you go."
At the feel of Sydney's stiffness pressing against his own, the infectious carefree laughter, Hardin almost forgot his convictions, but he shook his head again. "Not unless I can be certain you will not forget yourself. Otherwise I would be pleased enough to do this in our usual way - or as you suggested, we might simply lie here until you have tired of your own stubbornness." Hardly a sacrifice, in Hardin's mind, if he must endure lying in Sydney's arms for the rest of the afternoon.
"Surely there must be some way you can be convinced," Sydney purred, stroking down his friend's chest with the tips of the claws.
The sensation had always been both eerie and intoxicating, but Hardin refused to let himself be entranced by it again, and turned his head, avoiding Sydney's eyes as he rolled them onto their sides once more. He would not look into those dark, intense eyes - he simply would not. He would lose himself, and then Sydney would lose himself... and then he might very well lose some part of his anatomy, if Sydney got a bit too excited.
Sydney's claws continued their gentle, teasing exploration of his body, and Hardin found himself fighting to concentrate on anything else, anything at all that would keep him from falling under Sydney's spell - which for once had nothing to do with the Dark. Perhaps he could buy enough time to settle down, or for Sydney to become impatient enough to abandon this sudden whim. His eyes scavenged what he could see of the room beyond Sydney's head, falling upon the small round table, the hearth, the patterns of the stone floor, the chest that held Sydney's clothing. The very end of some garment was hanging out, and that provided Hardin with a bit of distraction, as he sought to determine what it was, for he could not recall Sydney wearing anything in that shade. A silk scarf, he thought - one of the swatches that Sydney used in his rituals of dance...
And suddenly he was inspired.
Sydney's hands halted mid-caress as he picked up on the thought. Hardin glanced back at him, considering the matter, and Sydney's dark eyes held a look of disbelief. "You cannot be serious..."
Hardin nodded. "Completely serious." He met Sydney's intense gaze firmly. "Would you allow me to do this?"
Sydney hesitated, then the same mischievous smile spread across his face, just as it had earlier. "I did say I liked variety, did I not?"
"Then we shall try it," Hardin agreed, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. "Lie back and relax for a moment..."
-----
"...I can hardly believe you are doing this, Hardin. Not only to conceive of it, but follow through as well..."
Hardin kept his eyes down and said nothing, merely tugged the knotted cloth tighter around Sydney's right wrist. "Whatever brought such an idea to your mind, anyhow?" Sydney continued, both curious and amused.
"Is it really so strange as all that?" Hardin's attention was mostly on the length of silk as he threaded it through the slatted headboard of the bed, pulling it taut so Sydney's hand was held above his head. Nodding in satisfaction, he wound it around the wooden slat once more for good measure.
"In truth, such a practice is not unusual at all," Sydney noted. "Except that in this case, it was your suggestion, which makes it a bit... unexpected." Hardin was an attentive, eager lover, quite willing to try whatever Sydney might suggest, yet his tastes as of yet had always tilted towards the mundane.
"I swear I've never done such a thing myself before," Hardin replied, somewhat self-conscious as he climbed across Sydney to the other side of the bed. Gently taking the mage's left hand in his own, he raised it just as Sydney's right arm was raised, and wound the remainder of the translucent fabric around the wrist. "...I cannot even be certain I'm doing this correctly. There were men in the PeaceGuard who frequented brothels during our lengthier travels," he explained, "and... afterward, boasted about their experiences. Some of them enjoyed doing such things as this, though I always found the idea filthy. Why would any woman submit to such humiliation?"
"Those who work in such places often find their pleasure in the coin, rather than the acts they are asked to perform - their submission is in fact merely an act," Sydney pointed out as Hardin knotted the end of the scarf just as he had the other. "Yet some women do truly enjoy this. Some men as well - I've known a few." Personally, he felt rather uneasy at being held in such a way.
"Hmm." Hardin frowned thoughtfully, pondering Sydney's words as he finished knotting the end of the scarf just as he had the other, then sat back to survey his work. After a moment, he abandoned it in favor of surveying Sydney instead. "Do you?"
"...I'm not certain yet." It gave him a feeling of vulnerability he hadn't felt in many years, in all honesty - particularly as he'd already been stripped of his clothing - and he did not like feeling vulnerable.
Gods, but he looks so... small, and helpless... and oh, so beautiful. Sydney could plainly hear the thought in his friend's heart, and he had to fight the urge to squirm a bit under Hardin's intense gaze, the urge to bend his knees and turn so that his nakedness was not so visible. No, he would lie still. He was shameless, he was proud - he was Sydney Losstarot, 'blasphemous' prophet of Müllenkamp and Keeper of the Dark, oracle of the ancient gods, he reminded himself irritably. He was far from helpless, even with his hands bound.
He'd not managed to get Hardin's trousers off before they'd begun this little game, but it was clearly evident that at least he was enjoying what had been done so far. "So then, shall we find out?" Sydney suggested, eager to simply get on with this experiment rather than thinking too much about it.
In lieu of an answer, Hardin knelt beside him, on the edge of the bed, and after a moment's calculating look, placed a hand on the inside of Sydney's left knee. His fingers traced slowly up the inside of Sydney's thigh, stopping just before it reached the heated point between Sydney's legs, just before metal met skin... and then stroking back down the leg to the knee. Sydney's fists clenched helplessly above his head; as he had told Hardin in the past, his enchanted limbs could sense the touch of another, but they could not feel, not in the same way as the flesh. Hardin shifted to kneel between Sydney's legs as he gently parted them, resting a hand on each thigh, and Sydney gritted his teeth. This was going to be torturous, wasn't it...?
Indeed, when he looked up to Hardin's face again, Hardin's expression almost appeared as stoic as ever. ...Almost. Just barely visible, there was a turning up at the corner of his mouth, betraying a look that Sydney did not often see on him - a barely suppressed look of mischief. Under the circumstances, Sydney was not at all sure how he felt about that.
Soon Hardin's hands did move on to the parts of Sydney's body that could feel his touch in earnest, reaching up to caress the soft skin of Sydney's stomach, and then the chest. As he found the two small, hardening points of flesh, his thumbs rubbed against them gently, coaxing forth a gasp as he leaned down to place kisses along Sydney's throat and jawline. Hardin had braced himself, though, and only his fingers and lips touched Sydney's skin, which Sydney found entirely unsatisfactory. He needed more contact, and instinctively he tried to raise his arms to pull Hardin down on top of him, to cover himself with his friend's warmth and weight - only to find that the silk bindings kept his hands held fast above his head.
His legs were free, however, and he was still able to wrap them around Hardin's waist, only to discover that he met little skin; Hardin still had not removed his pants, he remembered. "John..." he murmured, but his friend ignored his plea, instead detaching himself easily, as he had only the legs to deal with. Slowly and methodically, his hands worked their way down Sydney's torso again, once more stopping just before the point of throbbing desire between Sydney's legs. As much as Sydney squirmed, Hardin did not indulge him with a touch, and Sydney could not suppress a sound that sounded embarrassingly like a faint whimper.
Hardin looked down at him and chuckled. "I never thought to hear such a sound from you."
"I never thought you were such an accomplished torturer," Sydney shot back in a whisper through gritted teeth. He was afraid if he spoke louder, he might make an even more humiliating noise. And the look on Hardin's face... usually it was him driving Hardin near to madness with a smile. But then, Sydney also knew there was far more to Hardin than he ever permitted to reach the surface.
And at the moment, he cared very little. "Touch me, Hardin..."
His friend indulged him, but with only the faintest of a stroke along his length. Sydney moaned as his need flared higher, but found no relief. "Hardin...!" he growled, and was rewarded with another soft touch, this time just a little longer - a caress, rather than the mere brush of his fingers. Even so, it was not nearly enough to satisfy, only enough to taunt, and once again, Sydney tried to reach out only to find that he could not.
A strangled noise of frustration escaped his lips, and Hardin looked at him in surprise. His eyes mirrored the desire Sydney felt, and without conscious thought, Sydney once more struggled against his bonds, trying in vain to pull Hardin into his arms. "You want it badly," Hardin observed.
Sydney nodded impatiently. Hardin never would have dared to tease him like this if his hands were not bound - had he forgotten who he was dealing with? "If you don't hurry, Hardin, I'll simply call upon the fire and burn this silk to ashes - and in my need," he added, his voice lowering meaningfully, "I would not be surprised if I forget these hands of mine once more..."
Hardin started to laugh, then met Sydney's eyes. One look confirmed that while Sydney's threat was half a joke... it was only half. Possibly less than half. A wise man, Sydney thought as Hardin's laughter trailed off, and then coherent thought vanished as those warm, gentle hands did precisely what he wanted them to do.
The motions of Hardin's hands started off teasing at first, brushing along Sydney's length with little weight, then slowly stroking more firmly, and eventually surrounding him in a careful fist as his right hand went under the mattress, seeking one of the small vials of oil Sydney kept stashed away. Gasping in pleasure, Sydney let himself be lost to it for the moment, thrusting into Hardin's hand. It was not the same, though, without the touch of flesh all along the length of his body, and he groaned as his legs drew up alongside Hardin in anticipation.
Finally finding the oil, Hardin shook his head as he let go and settled back to finally rid himself of the rest of his clothing before they went any further. Carefully measuring a few drops onto his hand, he rubbed his fingertips together before setting the vial aside, and then went to grip Sydney's buttocks, both forefingers probing the depths between his legs, stroking in time. The feeling of penetration made Sydney's arousal stronger still, and his eyelids fluttered closed as his hips moved involuntarily beneath Hardin's touch. The Dark whispered in his ear; he could feel the nearly unbearable need in his friend's heart as well, and opened his eyes again in surprise as Hardin indulged that need, touching himself lightly while one finger continued to stroke Sydney within. Another strangled sound of frustration emerged from Sydney's lips as he found himself unable to do anything further to ease the ache of longing.
Satisfied, Hardin decided he had drawn it out long enough, and he stretched himself out atop Sydney, hands slipping under the metal-plated shoulders to hold Sydney in a tight embrace. At last, skin met skin from shoulder to hip, and the firm weight of his friend's body against him at last was such a relief Sydney could almost have cried. By way of a reward, he squirmed beneath Hardin, covering his chest with desperate, grateful kisses that made the larger man groan loudly. One hand rose to tip Sydney's chin up, and their parted lips met in bliss, coming together over and over hungrily.
Just as needy as his mouth, Sydney's hips pressed up against Hardin's, meeting with the pressure and warmth he craved, and Hardin could stand it no longer; he backed away, but only so that he might position himself to slide into Sydney, pulling out a bit as Sydney's body tightened against the invasion, then pressing in harder. Sydney trembled beneath him, and his arms jerked involuntarily against their captivity as the motion of their bodies grew quicker, more intense.
With the majority of his weight resting on his forearms, Hardin's hands were free to tangle in Sydney's sweat-damp hair, to touch his cheek and graze over his parted lips. It was maddening to Sydney that he could do none of the same, that he was helpless to fully take part in their lovemaking to any real degree without taking drastic action. Exciting, certainly, and intriguing to see what Hardin would do with Sydney largely immobilized - but maddening all the same. Sydney was accustomed to being the one to set the pace, to bring his lover's desire to a peak with careful, calculated touches, even when he had been on the receiving end. This time, it was all Hardin's doing. It was not unpleasant by any means - he had occasionally thought that Hardin's hands alone would have been a match for any other lover - but still somewhat disconcerting, and incredibly frustrating.
All the more frustrating was the vaguely distant look in his eyes; Sydney recognized the signs that his friend was scrying, watching them from above, from beside, from any angle that caught his fancy. Considering his own talent, Sydney could pick up the images and the accompanying reaction to them from within Hardin's heart with little effort, and it was even more disconcerting to see how helpless he appeared, bound as he was. For a moment, his pride nearly prompted him to do as he'd threatened earlier, thinking to whisper the words of a simple spell to free himself, but the words and his pride were both forgotten at a sudden rush of pleasure between his legs, as Hardin reached down to take him into his hand again.
Sydney gasped, knowing he would not last much longer. His body twisted involuntarily, preparing for the release, and his arms fought against the smooth, sensual bonds of silk, needing to brace himself and finding nothing to cling to - or rather, that he had nothing to cling with. The best he could manage was to twist his wrists upwards, to take hold of the scarf that bound his hands above his head, and grasp it tightly in his fists. "John..." he breathed.
"Sydney..." Hardin murmured in response, his voice lowered by passion into only a faint rumble.
A tremor overtook Sydney that seemed to shake his entire being, and his fists clenched tighter as Hardin went deeper still, touching just the right place within him. His body arched against Hardin's as the first wave of pleasure overtook him - and he threw his arms around Hardin, clutching at his back and shoulders to ground himself. Caught up as he was in the moment, he vaguely recognized it as strange, but had neither time nor patience to consider how or why.
Hardin's voice raised in a shout at Sydney's touch, and crimson drops dappled the sheets, but although Sydney expected Hardin to pull away, instead Hardin's arms wrapped tighter around him, nearly crushing him against the mattress as he rocked closer still within. Sydney threw back his head, gasping for breath as the sensation pushed him over the edge from agonizing frustration to bliss.
Once his own passion was spent, Sydney lay there on his back, dizzy and disoriented, for quite some time. Hardin had rolled over to lie beside him - and his breaths remained ragged, shallow, and his eyes were still closed. It was the small, slow trickle of red making its way across Hardin's shoulder that finally brought Sydney back to himself, recalling suddenly what had happened in the last moments. Forcing his muddled mind to cooperate, he muttered the words of a curative spell under his breath. The pain he sensed in Hardin's mind was eased away by the soothing magic, and Sydney chuckled almost sheepishly. "My apologies," he murmured, his hand caressing Hardin's shoulder harmlessly this time. "And after I had said I would behave..."
"No matter," Hardin mumbled under his breath, still breathing heavily. "I think... I'm becoming accustomed to it."
Hardin's usual dry humor was a relief, and as his friend's body relaxed at his side, Sydney raised his arms again, this time that he might offer a less painful embrace. Dazed as he was, he was somewhat surprised to see the silk still knotted around his wrists, and he stared blankly at them, wondering what had happened. It only took a moment for him to puzzle through it; the tattered edges of the fabric, which had been cut to ribbons, were just at the length where he'd been gripping the scarf with his bladed fingers.
...It had been worth the try, he supposed. With a faint sigh, Sydney severed the remnants of his bonds with his claws as well, and tossed them aside before turning over, resting his arm lightly across Hardin's chest. "We will not be doing that again."
Hardin murmured his quiet agreement, and the two of them lapsed into exhausted silence.