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He doesn't know who had found the letter, or who had delivered it to the captain. He'd been careful, relying on telepathy as much as possible, and sign language while carefully turned away when that had not been possible — and yet, the mundane threat of a break-in or pickpocketing had seemed like something worth worrying over. At least, not for this.
Captain Izek Strazni has his arm on one hand and a letter in another — one that contains the words Strahd von Zarovich, with a signature of Lord Elya Vrubel confirming it to be his even if the handwriting didn't already make it clear. As they stand outside, barely covered from view by the stairs leading up to the top floor of Blue Water Inn, there's a decision to be made.
"Come on. You don't want to go to the stocks. And you don't want me to show this to the Baron."
The last part, Elya can tell is an empty threat. He's Strahd's warlock — if Strazni wanted what would befall upon him and the party to befall, Elya would already be dead, or at the very least awaiting execution for the next time the Burgomaster feels he's owed a celebration. Referring to the Devil by name is nothing in comparison to that... but that would make things harder for Ireena. And there's no question about the fact that his friendship with her is the only reason he still stands here, and the letter being nothing more insidious by its true contents than a half-finished update on her wellbeing to her brother is why there's a choice to begin with: the captain caught the clever noble on breaking the law, and now there's a chance to gloat, to play the bard who's been so careful to make every single authority figure in town to dance according to his wishes.
"Suck me off, and we'll pretend I never saw this."
It's not a true choice if he wants to keep his foothold in the town.
So with his eyes trained on the captain, Elya lowers himself.
The wet, muddy surface of a ground in a cycle of freezing and thawing again greets him through his trousers when his knee touches it, and Elya elects to keep the other elevated to give him slightly more balance (and a shred of dignity, as if that will matter for much longer). He casts his eyes downwards, removing his rings and gloves one after another and pockets them, folds the ends of his shirt sleeves once over to reveal his wrists. There's nothing for him to tie his hair with, so he settles on brushing the strands most hanging before his face behind one of his horns... and he's out of time preparing himself.
He looks up at again and finds Captain Strazni eyeing him.
"Have you done this before?" the man asks, and Elya can't tell if it's accusation or surprise that he hears in his tone.
"Define this," he signs back, while he still has his hands free. "If you're asking if I've taken men to my mouth before — I have." He knows he isn't. "But never before to try to avoid jail time."
"You weren't going to jail."
Izek's tone is dismissive, but Elya is left no time to make anything of it once the man's hand comes to rest on the back of his head, and Elya watches the man's thumb press beneath the waist of his trousers.
There's no point in delaying in the inevitable.
Elya pulls his head free and occupies his hands with the closing's of Izek's breeches. To further sell the thought, to give himself more time to set the pace, he brings his face closer, lips parted and as close as he can be to the bulge of the man's pants as he can be without disturbing his work.
It works. Elya feels the shape beneath his hands shift, noticeable even beneath layers of clothing, and when the first buttons of Izek's outwear open, Elya's lips just brushing the bulge through Strazni's smallclothes while his hands working on sizing the man while trying to move his clothes further away — the less he has to deal with clothing seams and edges on his face when he inevitably finds himself pressed against skin, the better. One of his hands settle inside of Izek's trousers, outside of smallclothes, fingers curling around the man's balls, while the other strokes the shaft once before revealing it to the cold autumn air.
Oh, he's not fully hard yet. — Oh, he's large.
A moment of shock causes Elya's eyes to dart up to Izek and back before he's able to steel his expression. The man looks smug and Elya's pride takes over — Strazni knows, and he's hoping I react — as he pushes his mouth back against the half-hard member to buy himself time, tongue slowly introducing itself to the taste of the captain's skin. Izek pushes towards the wall, and Elya lets him, dropping his hands to his lap. "Open," he commands, and Elya does as he's told. His mouth falls into a loose 'O' shape, eyes as close to Izek's eyes as he can convincingly fake eye contact with, and he lets the cock to rest on his bottom lip in an imitation of submission. Izek pumps himself once, twice to the sight of him, then grabs Elya's jaw with the frozen-over prosthetic and forces Elya to face him fully, the tip of the large cock pushing closer to the roof of Elya's mouth as the angle changes.
The bard can hear how heavily he's breathing around it. All the composure on the world can't hide that from the other. "Look at you," Izek starts, and finishes the sentence by pushing his cock through Elya's lips, allowing the tiefling's head to fall from his grasp in the same motion — half an inch more, and Elya would've been choking. A moment of stillness as Izek lets a low mumble that could've been a chuckle and Elya rights himself, waiting to see if the other is done manhandling him. When the hand doesn't return, Elya begins sucking.
Strazni looks for degradation, that much is clear now. There's nothing to be gained from the act of an innocent virgin, or from the pretence of desire, so he doesn't try it — his lips close around the tip of Izek's prick, and he brings one hand to assist him. He's gentle, still in how much he takes in, how much he sucks around the cock, with but an inch or two of it being pleasured by his mouth at a time. Tongue circles around the tip in his mouth, tracing the rim of the foreskin as his hand begins pulling on it, stroking it back and forth, and he feels the growing hard as it fills his hand. The captain is large, and as Elya begins taking him another inch deeper, he finds himself needing his other hand — he'd be defenceless without it, less stable in how he's crouched in front of the other man. But, the better he tries to make this for Strazni, the less likely he's going to find himself pulled and pushed again.
Once both of his hands are on the cock before him, one still moving the foreskin while the other holds it by the base, Elya withdraws to steal a moment to breath. He doesn't move his tongue from where it connects to his bottom lip and he pulls apart barely far enough for the bridge of spit between them to collapse. His hands never stop their motion when he looks back up to Izek.
"So, this is less embarrassing for you," the man speaks the moment their eyes meet, "to suck a cock of a man your barely know than spending a day in a pillory."
He wishes he didn't feel shame at the statement. There's no tells on if Izek wants a response. Elya makes a slow gesture of lowering his head, and leaves it to Izek on whether it gets taken as affirmation or acceptance. He starts meeting the threshold of how much he can take comfortably at once, and pulls away, focusing on mouthing the shaft from the sides, tongue diligently pressed and massaging it each time he does, until he's ready to take it in again, trying to push deeper this time.
The moment he lets out the first sound that resembles a light gag, Izek's hips respond for the first time. The head passes to Elya's throat, and he only barely recovers in time to hear the satisfied moan the man lets out. The bard places one of his hands on Izek's hip, trying to have some control over the pace, as inch by inch the captain feeds his cock to him in shallow thrusts, each pushing it just slightly deeper than the previous before settling on a consistent rhythm fucking his mouth.
The sound of skin on skin fills the cold air, broken up only by the wet sounds of interrupted breathing, and the space below the stairways creates soundscape undeniable to anyone who would open their room doors right now. He wonders if anyone would even care, or if this sight is a familiar one for anyone keeping their ears and eyes open on the streets of Vallaki. Would anyone even be surprised that it's him, Vargas's favourite, the fiendish bard, on his knees for his captain of the guard?
He regains enough of his composure to distract himself from his thoughts and begins putting more effort in as Strazni finds a rhythm he can work with. He bobs his head, withstanding Izeks hand in his hair as he does, and lets his hand rise until he's close enough to lean on Izek's abdoment with his whole forearm. Izek, for the moment, seems lost in his pleasure, and Elya can't help but comment on it.
Do you do this often? he mirrors the question back to him.
He shouldn't have.
The hand on his hair tightens, as Izek growls. "Shut the fuck up, slut." Izek begins moving Elya's head as the thrusts suddenly get more vicious, the temporary control that Elya had lost and Izek's desire to show off his pwoer is renewed. The first thrust alone goes almost to the hilt, and Elya chokes on it. "All that fucking— so called power—" Izek speaks through his thrusts, "and as soon as someone doesn't fawn, you're on your knees behind a tavern sucking cock." Captain Strazni's hips meet him at a pace he can barely keep up, and his cock meets the back of his mouth more often than not. He still tries to stroke, suck, remember to keep his tongue moving across the bottom of the cock, even as second by second it becomes clearer what he should be focusing on is not choking. Izek pulls Elya's head back, mouth entirely off his prick — mixture of saliva and Strazni's leaking cock gathers at his lips and tongue, drawing viscous lines between them. "Warlock of the Devil, blowing a nobody for cheaper than a rentboy."
Through the haze, Elya looks through his lashes at him and sends out two calculated words:
Yes, Sir.
Izek grabs his face by both hands and pulls. Elya's mouth and throat are suddenly filled with half a foot of cock, and he dares not move a muscle on his jaw as it all pushes down, not even as the motion and Izek's half a step backwards cause him to fall forwards, losing his balance once and for all. Izek keeps his head locked in place, but Elya is on his knees, hands scrambling for purchase from the damp, cold earth and every braincell in his body not overtaken by the feeling of a foreign object pushed into his throat is focusing on breathing from what little he can with his nose pushed against Izek's abdomen. His struggle to breathe is audible, every attempt in or out broken by the cock and the saliva of failed attempts. All he can do is try to straighten, line up his throat as liquids run cold on his chin and down his neck.
The invasion of his senses makes the second take a lifetime, and it's still too fast when Izek begins to move. The motion brings with it more saliva, more precome, and a whiny breath that sounds too much like a moan.
"Say your title."
Right H-
"Out loud."
Elya blinks. ...I can't.
"Try to."
More confused than anything, Elya stares at the man — the entire time they've known, he's never said a word outside of telepathy or sign, and now he wants him to—-? Izek's eyes are expecting — not cruel — so Elya settles on making a noise that could be a wor—
The moment a sound leaves his throat, Izek fucks it back in, and Elya figures out meaning of this. It just needs to sound like he's trying to speak.
The — thrust — right — thrust — honourable — thrust — lord — thurst — Elya — thrust — Vrubel goes the pattern, until Izek pushes all the way back again and keeps Elya there before h even gets to the "of Ivyheart" part of his honorifics, and the captain takes a moment to simply savour how his throat trying to swallow, trying to breathe, feels convulsing around his prick. "I would've fucked you if I'd known you were this eager to save face."
The almost doll-state Elya has found himself falling into is taken away from him in a moment of panic, and he jolts — he's not an inch prepared for that, he's not experienced, and it sounds just enough like the idea tempts Izek that he can't ignore it. All that there is for Izek to observe, however, is another noise around the cock and a perk up, and the cock stretching his jaw twitches in response.
"Oh, you'd like that. Of course you would. So eager to have someone show what you're really good for." It no longer sounds like Strazni is talking to him, but the boot coming to press on Elya's cock tells otherwise. Elya tries bobbing his head again, sucking on the cock with what little air he has, and the speeding pace of Izek meeting him tells him the man is close.
Elya is suddenly yanked again, this time by the shoulder, and in a split second, he finds himself facing the wall, legs spread apart by Izek's hand and leg, and his trousers are yanked down with enough force that something lets go. His ass and little else is exposed to the cold air for a split second before Izek buries his cock between his cheeks, down towards his thighs. "I don't have time to prep you." He begins thrusting, fucking the little bit of Elya's thighs visible for friction, top of his shaft making contact with Elya's cock and cockhead caressed by the silk of Elya's trousers. Elya's face is pressed to the wooden wall, and his noises are something between gasps and moans as the friction keeps him teetering on the edge of pleasure, just on this side of dissatisfaction. Captain Strazni's hand presses against the back of his neck, fingers wrapping around the front — not choking, but keeping a firm enough grasp to remind him of the possibility every time Elya's adam's apple bobs in the spaces between his fingers.
Izek's mouth comes to right by his ear, and Elya except more words. Instead, Izek teeth brush against his ear, in a motion that's almost gentle compared to every other bruising, forceful touch he's done so far today, and finally, with one hand on Elya's neck and the other on his waist, Izek comes, coating the inside of Elya's thighs in his seed where few will notice but Elya will not be able to ignore.
The hold lets go, and Elya finds himself on the ground.
Hair messed, saliva and precum covering his lips, cum between his legs, and gasping for air.
An image of debasement, and he makes little effort in hiding it.
Izek steps back, pushing his cock back to his trousers, lacing them at the top of Elya's periphery. The man pushes his hair back, straightens his clothes. Elya pushes himself upwards slightly, into a loose sitting position against the wall, but doesn't make eye contact with Strazni until he sees the letter fall to the ground — neatly folded, carefully dropped. Izek's eyes are unreadable to him.
"Don't do that again," the captain of the guard tells him as he turns on his heels and walks away, leaving Elya to gather himself alone. "Next time, you're not getting off that easy."
Even Elya doesn't miss the desire in the man's voice.