And the only stories Caleb could have offered in turn were:
Trent’s breath ghosting warm on his cheek or Trent’s hand in his hair and his teacher’s voice telling him that he had to be good and not make a sound. The enemies of the Empire might do anything to him and so he had to learn to endure.
He’d learned to do that and Trent had praised him, called him good and strong and obedient, and Caleb had hoarded that praise in his heart because he never earned it half as easily on his feet as he did on his knees or bent over a desk.
One time Astrid had walked in on them and Trent had finished with Caleb and left him on the floor to recover while he took her next.
Trent had never had to tie him down but others had, the ones who had something he needed in exchange for an hour, two hours, a night of unfettered access to his body. Even if he’d agreed and had every intention of honoring those deals, no one ever truly trusted a wizard who still had his mouth or hands free. Even the ones who couldn’t tell he was a wizard had just liked having power and control over him, and grabbed as much as they could take.
Before meeting Nott, he’d put himself through that only for materials or information he needed to advance his goals, because he wasn’t allowed to lay down and die until he’d fixed his mistakes. He’d otherwise been content to starve untouched when it became necessary, and there were too many nights when it had become necessary. After meeting Nott, the sight of her gripped by hunger pains or shaking with weariness had suddenly become one of the most awful, unbearable sights in all the world because Nott was his little friend, his only friend, he wanted to take care of her like he had wanted little else for so long.
So sometimes, when things got bad, when the woods were empty of anything but lizards or the snows were especially deep, Caleb would wash his face in the nearest stream, then go into town and try to attract the right sort of attention. The ones who pulled him into alleyways or behind inns never bound him with ropes or cloth but they would still cover his mouth or pin his hands or hold his head no matter how starved and fragile he seemed, because it was one of the fundamental truths of life that people just liked having power over one another and would happily pay a few coppers for the privilege.
It was a principle he and Nott relied heavily on, when they were finally strong enough to start running cons together. He was so desperately, pathetically grateful that she’d made that suggestion, even if he tried never to think of why she might have been driven on to do so.
The worst part was that he still sometimes dreamed of those nights, got lost in a tangle of feverish impressions and half-formed recollections of too many hands and mouths, of unwanted heat inside and around him.
No, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he’d wake up hard from those dreams, and when he bit his fingers to keep quiet and brought himself to completion, it was with those memories still in his head, so that even that brief relief was tinged with sickness and shame.
Except one night, as he closed his fingers around his cock, biting back a whimper because even that slight sensation was enough to make him throb, Molly shifted in his sleep a short distance away, mumbling incoherently. Caleb’s gaze went to him on instinct, and he saw the tiefling’s tail twitching faintly as he dreamed. He wondered what Molly was dreaming about and somehow that thought shifted in his arousal-fevered brain into wondering if Molly dreamed like Caleb did about the things he’d done in the past. And somehow that set off a new rush of imaginings, thinking of Molly having sex, seeking it out, enjoying it and probably making whoever he was with feel so, so good…
He came hard and sweet and good, unable to swallow back a faint whine as his hips twitched and shuddered into the pressure of his fist. And when it was done, when Caleb had wiped his hand on a discreet patch of grass and rolled back over, somehow he found himself feeling relaxed for the first time in days.
Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies (3/?) [sexual abuse, noncon, dubcon, forced prostitution]
Trent’s breath ghosting warm on his cheek or Trent’s hand in his hair and his teacher’s voice telling him that he had to be good and not make a sound. The enemies of the Empire might do anything to him and so he had to learn to endure.
He’d learned to do that and Trent had praised him, called him good and strong and obedient, and Caleb had hoarded that praise in his heart because he never earned it half as easily on his feet as he did on his knees or bent over a desk.
One time Astrid had walked in on them and Trent had finished with Caleb and left him on the floor to recover while he took her next.
Trent had never had to tie him down but others had, the ones who had something he needed in exchange for an hour, two hours, a night of unfettered access to his body. Even if he’d agreed and had every intention of honoring those deals, no one ever truly trusted a wizard who still had his mouth or hands free. Even the ones who couldn’t tell he was a wizard had just liked having power and control over him, and grabbed as much as they could take.
Before meeting Nott, he’d put himself through that only for materials or information he needed to advance his goals, because he wasn’t allowed to lay down and die until he’d fixed his mistakes. He’d otherwise been content to starve untouched when it became necessary, and there were too many nights when it had become necessary. After meeting Nott, the sight of her gripped by hunger pains or shaking with weariness had suddenly become one of the most awful, unbearable sights in all the world because Nott was his little friend, his only friend, he wanted to take care of her like he had wanted little else for so long.
So sometimes, when things got bad, when the woods were empty of anything but lizards or the snows were especially deep, Caleb would wash his face in the nearest stream, then go into town and try to attract the right sort of attention. The ones who pulled him into alleyways or behind inns never bound him with ropes or cloth but they would still cover his mouth or pin his hands or hold his head no matter how starved and fragile he seemed, because it was one of the fundamental truths of life that people just liked having power over one another and would happily pay a few coppers for the privilege.
It was a principle he and Nott relied heavily on, when they were finally strong enough to start running cons together. He was so desperately, pathetically grateful that she’d made that suggestion, even if he tried never to think of why she might have been driven on to do so.
The worst part was that he still sometimes dreamed of those nights, got lost in a tangle of feverish impressions and half-formed recollections of too many hands and mouths, of unwanted heat inside and around him.
No, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he’d wake up hard from those dreams, and when he bit his fingers to keep quiet and brought himself to completion, it was with those memories still in his head, so that even that brief relief was tinged with sickness and shame.
Except one night, as he closed his fingers around his cock, biting back a whimper because even that slight sensation was enough to make him throb, Molly shifted in his sleep a short distance away, mumbling incoherently. Caleb’s gaze went to him on instinct, and he saw the tiefling’s tail twitching faintly as he dreamed. He wondered what Molly was dreaming about and somehow that thought shifted in his arousal-fevered brain into wondering if Molly dreamed like Caleb did about the things he’d done in the past. And somehow that set off a new rush of imaginings, thinking of Molly having sex, seeking it out, enjoying it and probably making whoever he was with feel so, so good…
He came hard and sweet and good, unable to swallow back a faint whine as his hips twitched and shuddered into the pressure of his fist. And when it was done, when Caleb had wiped his hand on a discreet patch of grass and rolled back over, somehow he found himself feeling relaxed for the first time in days.