Chapter Text
Torric’s requested bedtime snack was ready and waiting in his room, along with mundane food for what had originally been the prince and now was to be enjoyed by Meidron.
“Why did you offer a night in your bed as a bonus prize to the duel?” Meidron asked, casually smearing a piece of toasted bread with a soft white goat cheese and a fig jelly.
“I had originally meant it to tease the prince. You weren’t meant to overhear us at all. Once you had heard us though… I’ll admit to being curious about you after seeing your performance in the fights.
Strong men. Strong warriors…are very sexy where I come from. I judged you the way so many of the Praetorians judged me. A pretty boy meant for bedding. That you could fight, and well… It was a turn on. If you could truly fight and win five duels back to back…I wanted you. And my guardian said I need to be more assertive about what I want.
Now you tell me. Why aren’t you afraid of me? You don’t feel cowed by me or like you would immediately do whatever I want the moment I suggested it just because I suggested it.”
“That... Torric… ” Meidron’s voice caressed his name as he moved in behind him. “Is because as an incubus I inherently know your every secret desire.”
His free hand slid up the back of Torric’s neck, and into his hair, gripping it at the root, pulling his head back and pinning him between the table and his own body.
Meidron held up the piece of bread he’d prepared to Torric’s lips. “I know you need someone to spoil you, but you can’t relax enough to allow it. You need someone to force you to do it. No one else can because of what you are, what you represent.”
The incubus traced the outer edge of his ear with his tongue. “As an incubus I can become everything you need me to be. Take a bite, Torric . Savor it, enjoy it.”
Torric’s lips parted and he bit down onto the treat, eyes closed as he enjoyed the sweet and savory snack. Meidron’s velvet control was even sweeter, allowing him to relax in a way he hadn’t been able to since Andorel had rescued him.
Being told what to do. To feel dominated, controlled, that was what he had been trained for. What he craved. Being worshiped and obeyed was alien, wrong, vaguely disturbing, but this was right.
Safe.
Comforting.
He relaxed into the incubus’s arms, forgetting that Meidron was supposed to be interviewing for a position as his butler, and reveling in the feeling of being owned, even if it was an illusion.
A delicious, delicious illusion.
“Take another bite, Torric. ”
Every time he hit his name like that. A purring caress, dominance, ownership, and wicked control all mixed together. Sinful luxury.
His lips parted and he took another bite.
“Mmmm.” He subconsciously moaned, eyes closed. “I think I understand why your classmates all already consider the assistant position yours.”
“Forget about that right now, pet. You have been working so hard to please me all day.” He kissed his way up the back of Torric’s neck, from base to hairline. “Let me spoil you, my domivayn .”
He melted at the word, only Meidron’s arms around his body kept him from falling as his knees went weak. He whimpered.
“You need to give in.” He whispered, kissing his neck again.
“To give up control.” His breath was hot in his ear.
“To feel owned.” He roughly pushed his body against Torric's.
“Please.” He whimpered in the face of the incubus's dominance.
“We can stop whenever you want. You just need to say the word. What word would you like to use to tell me to stop?”
“Renethera?” Torric suggested with an evil, teasing smile.
“Good gods that would kill the mood. We’ll save that for an absolute stop immediately. But what if we are playing in here and someone walks in and you want me to stop but not in a way to hurt my feelings or subtly threaten me with death?”
“Mmm, good question.”
They swayed back and forth together to an unheard rhythm, Meidron’s free hand pressed flat against his stomach, the possessive feeling of the incubus’s arm wrapped around him making it difficult to think.
“It should be subtle. Something you can slip into conversation without anyone else realizing it is more than a simple order to your butler.”
“What about if I tell you to prepare a particular kind of wine? A sweet white to put a pause to our games but that we’ll continue when whoever is with me is gone.”
“A dark red to let me know you think your guest is dangerous in a bad way.”
“A rosè if they’re only dangerous to my bed that night.” Torric teased.
“I know I won’t be exclusive to your bed, to break the illusion for a moment, eminence. I don’t expect it. I truly am here to serve you. I may call you my domivayn when no one is around, but my role as your butler will be akin to a domivayn meets bodyguard. Only I’m not a slave and if I think your orders run counter to your safety I will ignore them and do as I believe best.
We of the Butler’s Club looked up everything we could about you after you revealed yourself as a former slave, so that we would know how to treat you once your guardian sent you to find an assistant. All young Luminari have one. Though there was no guarantee you would end up on our doorstep, we had to prepare.
So when I say I know what you need, and how I can serve you, I want you to understand that I understand the importance of the word domivayn to you.”
“Shut up and stop breaking the fantasy then. I need to quiet my brain.” Torric replied with a smile.
The professional posture and demeanor melted away and once again the incubus took over spoiling him as a noble lord was supposed to spoil his domivayn.
Meidron’s lips hovered right next to his ear, so close he could feel how hot his breath was. “Good. Boy.” The words were darkly seductive, not purred, but caressed.
For the second time in as many minutes Torric’s knees went weak and he had to be held up.
-*-
He sat on Meidron’s lap on a couch while the demon smeared cheese on bread and fed it to him bite by bite, or olives, ordering him to eat and drink, and not just ordering it, but hand feeding him.
“I know what you really want.” Meidron purred in his ear. “But first you need to tell your scary as fuck guardian who will kill first and ask questions second, when she smells your blood or however she senses it that what we are doing is sex and not an attempted assassination.”
Torric laughed, sending a message to his ‘guardian’ using the System.
Do you understand what it means to spill blood during sex?
Are there other ways?
Well that was going to make things easy.
I’m about to have sex with someone who isn't afraid to hurt me during sex, but he doesn’t want you to kill him, either.
He is wise to seek permission first. I understand wanting to fuck again so soon after such a poor performance on the prince’s part. You didn’t bleed a drop, though neither did he.
If I tried, I think he might have fainted. Will you leave us alone if you sense blood? He is auditioning to be my assistant/body servant.
I will not pay attention until one pint is spilled. If it reaches two I will investigate in person. Depending on what I find he will not like it.
Thank you!
“Don’t spill more than a pint, pint and a half of blood max and she won’t care. Don’t hit 2. Do I need to tell you how far is too far?”
“Darling, I’m an incubus. If you have to tell me anything that I don’t already know and understand before you beg for it, my ancestors would descend from on high to beat the shit out of me. In a not fun way.”
“You still treat me like I’m normal even without pretending to be my master.”
“Didn’t we just cover this? Knowing what you need means more than sexually, though most of my kind are and use it strictly for that. Desire is about so much more than sex. Though… we’re good as sex. It's a cultural pastime. I promise to only skirt the line of your boundaries, not cross them, if you trust me.”
“I’m sure you understand what violating that trust means?”
“Death, maiming, torture. Trust me, I prefer my skin intact and body unmaimed. Now are you ready to play?”
“Yes.”
Meidron’s lips traced the back of his neck. “Then let us begin.
-*-
When they finished, Torric laid partially on top of Meidron, the incubus lazily tracing patterns on his back with one finger, the nail sharpened to a point that didn’t -quite- draw blood.
“Mmmmmmm,” he purred with drowsy contentment. His time with Liam had been lovely, but Torric now understood why many legends on Praetoria had considered sex with incubi and succubi to be highly addictive.
“I know I don’t need to ask, but did you enjoy yourself, my pet?” Meidron asked, kissing the top of his head.
“Maybe you don’t have to work as hard as I thought you would to replace the prince as chief in my bed.”
The incubus laughed. “I am happy to serve you however you like. Even if that means supplanting your sweet prince, for you are far sweeter.”
“Stay with me tonight?” He asked, rubbing his cheek against Meidron’s chest. “You’ll have to leave when I have breakfast with the prince, though.”
“I would be delighted to sleep in your bed. When it comes time for your meal I’ll slip over to my dorm and bathe and change.”
“If I do make you my butler how will that work? You’re in a different year than I am and have your own room in a different building.”
“With your permission I would move into your room here, and the headmaster will transfer me into most of your classes. I can’t fly so I can’t join your aerial combat class, but the rest I’ll transfer onto.”
“You’ll even come to my healing class? Do you have healing magic?”
“No. I’ll probably end up being one of the test subjects you practice on. It isn’t uncommon. High lords and ladies often bring their own butlers or maids who are also students and they share classes for the majority of the time.”
“But what about your classes? You’re in what year? This’ll ruin your education.”
“Pet. My entire point of coming here was not to become a diver but to get employed by someone like you. My education led me here, to this moment, to you. I don’t really care about the rest of it. I’ll learn alongside you to be the best butler I can be.”
“Don’t you want to be more than just a servant?”
Meidron laughed. “Did you want to be more than just a domivayn?”
“Yes, actually. But once I realized that was where my fate lay I accepted it. You have to understand. Domivayn are prized, treasured by their owners, but overall we are basically just pets and have no rights or privileges beyond what our owner gives us. We aren’t respected. It isn’t a goal to achieve willingly. It is only a position you take up when it is that or the slow death of starvation, or worse.”
“I always wanted to find someone to serve. I just wanted to find one person that I could devote all my time and energy to. Incubi have to have a mate of some kind. We’ll literally die without regular sex, starving just as much as you might if you didn’t eat. Some of my people establish large harems and go into the route of some form of ruling. I would prefer to have one special person who I can support behind the scenes.”
“You want to be the power behind the throne, rather than sitting upon the throne yourself.”
“Yes. I want to be the power behind your throne. To give you what you need, when you need it. When I say I want to serve you I mean it very earnestly.”
“Because I’m Luminari.”
“Because you’re sexy as fuck. Being Luminari is just an extra bonus.”
Torric chuckled. “I’m not used to being in a world where beauty is so prized. In Praetoria the more physically attractive people found you the lower your station usually was. Pretty people usually end up being pretty weak unless they are one of the Chosen.
“By Chosen you mean a ranker.”
“Yes. Those Chosen by the gods. The System does not often bless Praetorians. It finds them incompatible as most Praetorians lack the channels needed to absorb and interact with the System's magic. The Chosen are treated as well on Praetoria as you treat one of the Luminari on this world. That I could have been one of the Chosen but my power had been bound by a curse was part of why I was considered so worthless on Praetoria and not worth helping. Of course, being nonhuman didn’t help.”
“That planet is backwards as fuck. If you had access to the System they should have done everything possible to break the curse and give you back your power. Especially if rankers were so rare on your planet.”
“If I was weak enough to be cursed then I was too weak to be worth helping by Praetorian standards.”
“When were you cursed?”
“Young. I don’t know when. They said that I had been found cursed in the badlands. By my size and mental development they guessed I was around 2 years old,, but I grew and developed mentally far slower than the humans of Praetoria. I couldn’t walk when they rescued me. Couldn’t feed myself. Couldn’t talk. I'd been on the planet for 5 years by the time I could walk and talk as well as a human child of 4 could. Another mark against me when it came to weakness. I needed so much help when I was little. And for far longer than I should have needed help with.”
“You were a literal infant then, when you were taken. I’m so sorry, that had to have been terrible. And the fact that someone had taken a Luminari infant, bound their power, then abandoned them to die is unconscionable. If almost anyone else had found you that day your life would have been so very different. You should have been protected. You should have been treated as the precious gift you are.”
No one had said that to him when he was a child. No one had told Torric he was worth protecting. That he was a treasure. That he was anything but a burden. Hearing it now, in this bed, the words hurt in ways he hadn’t dreamed they would. They pressed against old scars, pried open wounds he’d trained himself not to feel.
He wanted to laugh, to scoff, to call it a pretty lie that Meidron was using as pillow talk. And yet he wanted to believe the other man more than he’d ever wanted anything. Both urges tore at him until all he could do was bury his face against Meidron’s chest, clinging like he was still that abandoned child in the badlands, only this time, someone was holding him as he choked back his tears.
Silene grew, then Torric sighed heavily, pushing down the emotions that had risen unbidden, unwelcome. “It wasn’t an easy life, but once I signed the slave contract and began training as a domivayn my life at least had purpose. I had a method to survive.”
“When did you begin training if you don’t mind me asking?” Meidron asked gently, stroking his hair tenderly.
“When I was roughly 10 by Praetorian standards I was sat down by the orphanage matron. She told me that it was obvious at that point that I would be unable to take care of myself as an adult. That I was less than worthless in every way but one. I could become a bedslave, either in a brothel or as a domivayn. I had to decide then and there. If I refused to be a bedslave then they would turn me out on the streets that very day. They didn’t want to waste vital resources on someone who would die young.”
“That is…awful.”
“They didn’t start my sexual training until about a decade ago, but I began my social training the day I signed the slave contract. The auction house paid for my training and upkeep, in return they’d sell me when it was determined that I came of age.”
“They made you sell yourself into sexual slavery at the age of 10?” Now Meidron sounded downright horrified. “Convinced you that your only hope of survival at such a tender age was to sell yourself? Then they had the audacity to make you believe that not only was it your only choice, but the best choice you could have made?!” Outrage layered his voice.
“They didn’t make me start having sex with people for years. It’s not like they preyed upon my childhood.”
“They absolutely preyed upon your childhood. They may not have raped you at 10, but taking a 10 year old and telling them that they had to become a bedslave or be cast out of the only home they’d ever known to die on the streets alone is unconscionable.”
Torric closed his eyes, shame and relief warring. He wanted to argue. He wanted to cling tighter. Both urges scared him with their intensity. “It terrifies me, Meidron. That I agreed so easily to everything you wanted tonight. That it would be so easy for someone else to break me because of my training.”
“Then let me be the one to protect you.” The answer was simple, but the conviction in it pressed deep. “I don’t want to break you, Torric. I want to hold what’s already broken, and keep it safe. And I will definitely make sure no one hurts you or takes advantage of you.”
The words were dangerous. They probably weren’t supposed to mean anything beyond the moment. And yet they struck him like a blade in his ribs, because some part of Torric longed for them to be true.
He buried his face against Meidron’s chest, hiding the heat, need and fear in his eyes. His voice came muffled: “Don’t say things like that unless you mean them.”
He wanted to believe him. Gods, he wanted to believe. And that was what terrified him most of all.
Meidron kissed his temple softly. “I’ve never meant anything more. Your soul aches. You want me, and fear me. You want the life that has been offered to you as a Luminari, but you fear it. You’re afraid that this is all a dream that is going to be ripped away from you. But it isn’t a dream, Torric.
This is real. Renethera being ready to kill anyone who so much as looks cross eyed at you is real. Prince Liam wanting you is real. My desire for you is real. The devotion being offered to you is real. No one will take it from you. No doubt countless worlds are arming themselves even now to take revenge upon Praetoria for what they did to you. No one, and I mean no one, will hurt you again. Or enslave you.”
Torric sighed. “You promise that so easily, but such promises are not so easily kept. I am weak. Worthless except for the blood in my veins and the striking looks on my face. I can’t fight back. I can’t defend myself. The wrong person wrapping their fist in my hair and ordering me to my knees to service them will get no resistance. You can’t be everywhere with me. Nor can Renethera. What happens then?”
“You are not weak, Torric. And were never worthless. Not even if you were just another nameless beastkin without the radiance of your Luminari bloodline, even without your devastating ethereal beauty, you would still not be weak or worthless. The only ones who deserve that title are those who starved you of love, who twisted you into believing that the only thing of value that you had to offer to your world was your body. That is the greatest lie they ever told you.
Never confuse being untrained with being weak. True weakness lies in those who preyed on a child and convinced him he was only flesh for purchase. Those people were the rot, the filth. They were the worthless ones. Not you.”
Torric’s throat worked as he swallowed back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, but no sound came. Meidron’s words clawed inside his chest, ripping him up from the inside out, dragging loose every memory he had tried to bury. Being told how useless he was.. Being told he was too slow, too broken, too dependent, too weak. Being told that the only reason he was fed, clothed, allowed to sleep indoors was because one day someone would buy his body. Meidron’s voice had cracked through all of it, laid bare the truth he had never dared imagine: that maybe the filth hadn’t been him at all.
He wanted to reject it, to deny it, to laugh bitterly in Meidron’s face. But the warmth of the demon’s hand in his hair, the steady heartbeat beneath his ear, the utter conviction in that voice, it was undoing him. His breath hitched, uneven, as tears pressed hot against his eyes.
“It’s ok to cry.” Meidon’s voice was soft, his tone gentle. “I won’t think any less of you for it.”
Torric bit down hard on his lip, as if pain alone could dam up the flood threatening to break free. He hated crying. Hated the way it made him feel raw, exposed, like the helpless child he had once been. And yet the more he fought it, the more Meidon’s words burned inside him, searing their way through the armor he’d built over years of silence.
“It’s not-” his voice cracked, broke, fragile as spun sugar glass. He swallowed again, but the tears escaped anyway, hot and relentless, soaking into Meidron’s chest. His fingers dug into the bare chest beneath his hands, as if gripping him could stop the whole world from coming apart.
Meidron didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away or try to hush him. He simply held him, steady and unyielding, his hand stroking slow circles into Torric’s hair. A fortress of warmth, immovable, refusing to let shame dictate the moment.
The humiliation Torric expected over his tears never came. Only the quiet strength of being allowed to break, even if only a little bit.
He cried until he couldn’t any more, his eyes reddened and swollen from his tears, Meidron never releasing his comforting hold upon him, his hand never ceasing his comforting caresses.
“Let me get you some water and a cool cloth for your eyes, pet.” He finally said as Torric’s shuddering sobs slowed.
Torric sniffed, mortified by how small and broken he must look, but his body was too wrung out to protest. He nodded weakly, his voice barely a rasp. “Okay.”
Meidron shifted carefully, the bed dipping as he moved away, but his hand never left Torric’s hair until the last possible moment. He returned swiftly, the cool press of a damp cloth brushing gently against swollen eyelids. Torric flinched at first, then melted, too exhausted to hold up his walls.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” Meidron murmured, his thumb sweeping away a lingering tear with impossible tenderness. “Not your tears. Not your fear. Not anything.”
Torric tried to laugh, but it came out hollow, thin. “If you knew how weak I feel right now, you wouldn’t say that.”
Meidron stilled, his gaze sharpening. “Weakness is refusing to feel. Weakness is clinging to lies so you don’t have to face the truth. You, Torric, are stronger than anyone who ever tried to break you, because you are still here. Still breathing. Still fighting, even if it feels like you’re crawling over broken glass to do it.”
The words cut through him like the glass Meidron had just referenced, sharp and painful, but they warmed too, like sitting in front of a comforting fire after being trapped outside in the cold for hours. Torric turned his face away, ashamed of the heat rising in his chest. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It isn’t simple,” Meidron admitted softly, setting the cloth aside to cup Torric’s cheek. “It’s the hardest thing in the world. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
The truth of that, raw, terrifying, beautiful, settled in his chest like a spark searching for dry tinder. He wanted to shove it away, to bury it under sarcasm and disbelief, but instead he found himself leaning into the hand that held him, letting the warmth seep in.
“Stay,” he whispered, the single word torn from a place deeper than he’d ever meant to expose. “Just… stay with me tonight.”
Meidron smiled faintly, not triumphant, but tender. He brushed a kiss against Torric’s damp temple. “You already invited me into your bed tonight. I would not abandon you now, or any other night.”
Torric’s breath caught, his chest tightening. The reassurance was so simple, so certain, that it almost hurt worse than silence. He wasn’t used to promises being given without strings, without conditions. Everything in his life until recently had been a transaction. He had had to give up piece after piece of himself to survive.
He searched Meidron’s face for even a flicker of mockery, some sign that this was just another pretty lie whispered in the dark. But all he found was calm certainty, as though the demon had spoken something as immutable as the laws of gravity.
“I don’t know how to believe you,” Torric admitted, voice barely audible. It was the closest he could come to confessing just how much he wanted to.
“You don’t need to,” Meidron replied softly, brushing a thumb over his damp cheek. “Belief comes later. For tonight, just let yourself rest. Let me hold you. That’s all.”
The gentleness in those words unraveled something inside Torric that his tears hadn’t touched. He exhaled slowly, trembling, then curled closer until his forehead rested against Meidron’s throat. His body sagged, exhaustion and fragile trust tangling together as his defenses faltered.
For once, he didn’t feel like prey waiting for the teeth to sink in. He didn’t feel like property waiting to be bought. In the quiet shelter of Meidron’s arms, with the steady heartbeat beneath his ear, he felt, perhaps for the first time he could remember, like he might actually belong to something. To someone. And not in the way of a slave. Not as property.
Sleep pulled him under as Meidon held him and he realized the most terrifying part of all wasn’t that Meidron might be lying. It was that he might be telling the truth.