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Chapter Text

Vynathr had not entered the Thousand Maws of Toto-Rak alone out of pride. Neither did he choose it out of stupidity. No, it was a desperate matter. Frixio, the Sylph leader, had been missing for some time. Long enough for Vynathr to get caught up in a series of pointless tasks, long enough that he had begun to believe the little being was dead, captured, or tempered. When he finally caught word of Frixio, it was to find that the Garleans had chased him into Toto-Rak and that he hadn't come back out. With a being as delicate as a sylph, there simply wasn't enough time to assemble aid to go in with him. Yda ran for reinforcements, but Vynathr had gone in alone.

Shockingly, it had worked out for him. The little beasts that grew in the old abandoned prison fell quickly to his arrows, and when he was forced into tight quarters with the larger beasts, his lance did the trick. But he did not get to the end unscathed. When one beast fell to his arrow, another would take notice, and while he was an experienced hunter, these were not hunting conditions. He could not take time, make off with what he had killed and come back another time, he had to act quickly, and the space was cramped and filled with muck and spiderwebs that made it difficult to fight. 

By the end, he was weary, bruised, scraped, and tired. The sight of the wall did not bring him elation, but rather fear—had he passed by Frixio? Was he too late? It was near impossible to navigate the strange, spiralling burrows of this place, and if Frixio had seen him, the little sylph may well have hidden in fear rather than called out to him.

Vynathr didn't have long to think about it. There was a man in the room, standing facing away, tall and broad-shouldered. A highlander, maybe, but his height was closer to that of a particularly tall Elezen, or a very small Roegadyn. Normally, Vynathr would call out to him, get his attention and ask for his aid, but something felt wrong. Getting closer revealed why—that man was dressed in the same clothes as the masked mage that had been behind the Ixali attacks on Gridania. That alone was enough to get Vynathr to approach with bow drawn and arrow nocked, but it proved pointless as the Echo rocked through his body and made him stumble, pain digging into his skull. The voice of Hydaelyn spoke in his mind, and the earth felt as though it were rocking beneath him as he tried to keep steady.

‘Darkness…’

Vynathr regained his footing, but it was too late. The man had taken notice and turned to face him, revealing dark skin, a short white beard, and an angry red mask not dissimilar to the face of an enraged animal in its carving. That furious mask seemed almost dissonant with what Vynathr could see of the calm countenance beneath it, but the detail was quickly lost in the urgency of the moment. The man was approaching, his dark aether flickering at the edges of Vynathr's vision as Vynathr was forced to bow his head and shut his eyes in an attempt to better bear the second wave of the Echo.

‘Hear… Feel… The presence of evil…’

The man held his hand out, and suddenly, there was silence. The overwhelming voice was gone, and Vynathr's lightheadedness was rapidly fading. He felt alone with this man in a way he hadn't felt alone in years. Vynathr couldn't decide if that was a mercy or a terrifying threat.

‘Who are you?’ The stranger took a moment to respond, seemingly considering his options, before speaking in low, calm tones.

“I am Lahabrea. And I am the enemy of your Hydaelyn. If you stand with her, you stand against me. Consider your response carefully.”

Vynathr didn't know what he'd expected, but it was not such a frank response. Nor such a bold declaration against Hydaelyn, the goddess worshipped widely across the realm. Vynathr has always held his reservations regarding a being with the ability and tendency to knock him unconscious at will, alongside his baseline distrust for the gods, but to hear it said like this remained startling.

Consider his response carefully, indeed. Did he wish to stand against a being with apparent control over the debilitating Echo that had seized him only moments before? Vynathr was almost tempted to step away, until he looked up and saw Frixio, bound and gagged in web. Distrusting of Hydaelyn he may be, but he would not back away from his task simply because she was being challenged by his enemy, or because said enemy was clearly powerful. Once again, Vynathr lifted his bow, aiming it at Lahabrea's face in lieu of signing a response in words.

“... I see. You fight not for Hydaelyn but for the duty that sent you to the elder. Very well.”

Lahabrea raised his hand, and darkness surrounded both Frixio and another point on the ceiling Vynathr had not taken note of before. Another existing being, or did Lahabrea create from nothing? It did not matter—Frixio vanished, and a creature leapt forth from the other mass of shadow, a strange, massive, mutated diremite. Vynathr leapt backwards to avoid it and loosed his arrow, only for Lahabrea to vanish and reappear on the other side of the thing.

“Meet Graffias—I trust you two will occupy each other whilst I handle the matter of the sylph. Farewell.”

With that, Lahabrea vanished, for good this time. Vynathr drew another arrow, but Graffias was faster, lashing out with its tail and forcing Vynathr to jump backwards and into a puddle of… something. The thick, green slime made him stumble, but he was still able to fire the arrow and begin stalking to the side through the slime. It was impossible to keep any real distance from Graffias what with that strange and sticky substance pooling around every wall of the chamber, forcing Vynathr to either trudge slowly sideways or head into the centre of the chamber. Either way, a bow would not help him here. 

Left with little option, Vynathr charged forward, using Graffias’s momentary startlement to shoot it in one of its many eyes before dropping into a forward roll, tossing his bow aside where he prayed it wouldn't be damaged as he drew his lance. The monster shrieked, turning faster than Vynathr had anticipated and barrelling forward. Vynathr once again leapt past, striking out with his lance, but Graffias was too fast, its legs quickly pulling out of the way as it turned and only serving to knock his lance aside. 

He managed to keep his grip, but the momentary imbalance was all Graffias needed. Its tail whipped forward, and Vynathr cried out as he felt its stinger plunge into his back, shortly followed by the creature’s fangs. It attempted to grab him in its claws, next, but Vynathr kicked his way free, stumbling as he went, only to be thrown onto his back by his own momentum when a wad of webbing stuck him by the ankle. 

His first instinct was to just keep trying to scramble away, though he logically knew that his boot was too long and too well-laced for him to simply wriggle out of it. He placed his hand against the ground and pushed, and felt the webbing start to give. But Graffias was clever, far too clever for an animal—it knew to target his knee with its next wad of webs, causing it to buckle beneath him and removing any leverage he might have had. 

Vynathr was immediately reduced to helpless scrambling. He'd been webbed face down, unable to use his weapons behind himself, and now that his knee was locked into place he could not roll over. His hands and singular free foot dug into the ground, trying to pull him free, but Graffias pressed its claw into his back just above where he'd been bitten, and its other legs began to carefully pull his limbs into place and web them down, forcing him onto his elbows and knees, each webbed down along with his wrists and ankles.

Vynathr was doomed. Graffias approached, looming over him, each leg so carefully and slowly stepping over Vynathr's until they were face to face. Vynathr snarled, and Graffias reared up, hissing and digging two of its many clawed legs into the clothing around Vynathr's torso and ripping chunks of it away, surely aiming to rip into his back next.

But it didn’t. Graffias paused there, seeming to consider its next move as thin, clawed legs slowly trailed over the exposed skin. Vynathr trembled, all his muscles tensed as he tried desperately to get free without wiggling enough to set off any further aggression. Perhaps, given time, it would be possible, but Vynathr could feel a weakness seeping into him from the bite he’d been given. When he felt Graffias begin to meticulously rip patches of his clothing away, layer by layer, with a clear targeted intent rather than any simple aggression, Vynathr gave up the attempt to not anger it and lurched away from the touch, throwing his weight forward and attempting to press his hands down and rip his arms free. The first attempt did nothing, but the next, he managed to rip one elbow free, though not the wrist. That only made it easier for Graffias to place one massive, clawed limb on his head and shove him down to the ground, forcing him to still even as he squirmed feeling the remainder of the clothing from his chest to his thighs be torn away, piece by piece.

Envenomated as he was, it took Vynathr a few moments to realize what was happening, even when he felt something prodding between his legs. Then it hit—this was no mere diremite, this was a banemite , an egg layer. Mutated as it was, it couldn't simply settle for whatever small prey it would normally parasitize, and judging by the deliberate way it had clawed away its clothing and the fact that it wasn't simply making a hole to fill with eggs, this banemite was intelligent. It wanted him alive.

No. No, no, no, no, this wasn't happening . Vynathr jerked in place, let loose an animalistic sound of anger and fear, and snapped his teeth, writhing in the throes of his second wave of adrenaline. This slowed Graffias down for a moment, then it bit him again, lower down on his back, fangs plunging into exposed flesh, and it lingered, pumping venom into him as Vynathr collapsed beneath it, crying out once more in desperation rather than anger. Please .

Vynathr struggled and jerked in place, even managed to cry the word ‘help’ in spoken Eorzean, but the sound was becoming weak, far from the booming sound his rare shouts usually carried. The feeling of something—surely the monster’s ovipositor—pushing into him caused the cry to choke off into a sob and he gave one final push, pitiable in its lack of strength. The venom was too much. His mind was clouded, his body sluggish and unresponsive to his attempts to escape. Graffias began thrusting into Vynathr and he managed a spasm of movement, but it died quickly.

“ Hh-a-hhnh-a-aah —!” 

What even was that sound leaving him? It didn't resemble any Eorzean words, but neither did it resemble the animal sounds he'd used for so much of his life. Why would he even try to communicate here? What was happening? Vynathr's mind slipped from him and he writhed, feeling Graffias’s body ripple against him in response, pressing all the deeper. It drew another pathetic, sobbed sound from him as he squirmed, his addled brain no longer certain what sort of release he was seeking, if he wanted escape or friction against his neglected clit. Either had his hips jumping forward at every little twitch. A moment of semi-clarity hit him and he pushed forward and away again, but it faded quickly, and his movement became rhythmic, back and forth and in and out and deeper and need and fear and confusion. He wanted out, he wanted in, he wanted .

By the time Vynathr registered he was dripping slick, he had a new reason to. Graffias was no longer just moving. It thrusted deep, then ground into him, slow and never once pulling so much as an inch away. A bulge began there, pressing slowly into Vynathr, and he pushed back against it, feeling himself clench erratically around the intrusion with how close he was. It pressed deeper, deeper, and then past some boundary, some wall the ovipositor’s tip had been just barely pressed into where everything was tighter. Graffias thrusted into him shallowly a few more times, rapidly, pushing the egg deeper and drawing a sobbed cry from Vynathr, then began the next egg, and the next, and the next, each pressing deep and making him break further, all in quick succession. Finally, another period of rapid thrusts, and the fifth, smaller egg pushed in, pressing against some sensitive place as Vynathr squirmed on the member inside him, and he came, his whines and cries momentarily silenced as his mouth hung open and tears gathered in his eyes.

But Graffias did not stop there. No, it lingered for a few moments, as if to make sure the eggs had truly been pushed into place, before it began to thrust again, back to its original pace. Vynathr squirmed, at first overstimulated and attempting once again to escape the touch no longer out of the fear of being taken in such a way but simply out of the overwhelming nature of feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm causing him to clench down out of rhythm and clashing with the sheer size of the ovipositor inside him. The sounds that escaped his mouth were ragged, desperate even in the clouded state of his mind. 

Then, the thrusts began to pick up speed again before Graffias pressed deep, ground against him, and Vynathr knew that there would be more eggs. He whined, pressed away from it, but that only delayed the inevitable, set Graffias back a few moments and into the rapid thrusting, its legs shifting to bring it forward a bit so it could thrust into Vynathr with more force. He cried out, fingers digging into the earth, but at some point, the fear and distress had left him for the moment—his cries were from pleasure, and when Graffias once more pressed into him and began to release its eggs, Vynathr did not try to escape, only twitching in place. This brought him close to another orgasm, but he did not tip over the edge by the time Graffias slowly pulled away, the ninth egg now deep inside him. One less than the last batch, he noted in another brief moment of semi-clarity.

The moment did not last. Graffias, somehow, was still not finished. It was thrusting once again, and Vynathr had nothing left to fight it with. He remained limp and his sounds became limited to quiet whines and whimpers, save for the occasional twitch and gasped sob when Graffias struck that perfect place within him. At some point, a slurred word left his mouth, but he couldn't be fully certain what exactly he'd even said, let alone if it could be understood. Either way, Graffias ignored it, unless the feeling of it once again beginning the process of depositing its eggs was a response. Vynathr squirmed, then, pressed back into it, shifted his hips to so slowly ride the ovipositor pushing eggs into him until his back arched just right to press against the pressure inside him and he came, felt fluid squirt from inside him, some of it with a flow weak enough that it clung, ran up from the hole it had come from to form a momentary stream that travelled to the lowest point it could access without having to run uphill on the other side- he felt it run over his clit and drip from it for just a moment, causing his hips to jerk in place.

Gods . By the end, tears were streaming down Vynathr’s face, and he had orgasmed once, twice, approaching his third. Graffias had alternated back to thrusting and was now reaching its fourth round of egg-laying as Vynathr pressed back into it, helplessly grinding in circles on the member pressed deep inside him. Finally, the last egg passed, and Graffias spent a few extra moments ensuring the eggs would remain in place, grinding slowly against him before it finally pulled out and remained out. Gone for the moment. Vynathr was left trembling, twitching, still feeling himself clench around nothing, slick dripping from between his legs. He could feel the weight of the eggs inside him, his legs vaguely throbbing from him being kept upright atop them. He couldn't move to get more comfortable, only swallow nothing in particular and feel how dry his mouth was. 

Slowly, Vynathr's mind was coming back to him. Where he was. What had happened. There was a vague burning heat in his back, reminding him of where he'd been bitten. He needed help. Maybe someone would come to save him soon. How long had it been? Would they even save him in this state? Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps he would have to save himself.

Vynathr sensed movement, and jerked in place, tensing up as he tried in vain to hide himself, to pull free. Even if it was his allies, he didn't want to be seen like this. Used. 

No luck. He jerked his head to the side, tried to look over his shoulder, and his stomach dropped. It was Graffias again. It approached him, apparently ready again, thin limbs stepping over his body as it positioned itself loomed over Vynathr's back. No. He wasn't ready, he wouldn't be ready, there were so many eggs inside him. He couldn't take any more. Graffias’s ovipositor brushed over him, stroking over his sensitive skin as it prepared to once more push in.

“That's enough, Graffias.”

Vynathr jumped, not having noticed the presence of the two men standing behind and to the side of him at some small distance. They wore the same dark robes as Lahabrea, with simpler black masks. These were not allies. Graffias stilled and one of them approached the monster’s side, the other circling slowly around in front of Vynathr. He could not tell which was speaking, with those masks hiding their faces, their mouths, until the one in front of him gestured with a hand and he realised that this was the speaker.

“You know that he cannot fit any more of your eggs inside him without damage. And we have uses for him. Step away, and we will find more prey for you to fill.”

Graffias chittered, clicked, and growled, but slowly, it began to step away.

“That's good. Go on. We will have your needs met if you will have patience.”

Graffias finally relented, skittering away into the dark, into some other part of the cave system. Vynathr gave a shaky breath of relief and pushed himself back up onto his elbows, lifting his head from where his entire upper half had been pressed into the earth. The masked man in front of him dropped into a crouch, tilting his head slightly as he seemed to examine Vynathr's exposed state.

“Well, look at you. Frankly, we'd half expected you to die. But you gave Graffias a bit of fun instead, didn't you?”

They hadn't even saved him for a reason, then. Just to mock him. Fear and shame and rage bubbled up in Vynathr's chest, and in a moment of reckless anger, he summoned up what little saliva he could in his dry mouth and spat at the ground, narrowly missing the other man’s shoes, before he lifted his head and snarled, baring his teeth and growling at the unaffected mask before him.

“Feisty. I take it you would rather we tell Graffias to come on back, then?”

No. No no no no no. Vynathr shook his head, his anger immediately overshadowed by his fear. As the other man had said, he couldn't take any more eggs. Lightly, he felt a gloved hand trailing over the very base of his exposed thigh, and he jerked away from it, giving an animal sound that came out humiliatingly squeaky. The man behind him laughed, his voice deeper than the other.

“Ha! I say we keep him alive. This one's funny. Besides, he must've been good if Graffias was so reluctant to leave.”

“Hm… I suppose he would be entertaining. Besides, our Master did say he had something unusual about him. He might wish to study him alive.”

“Exactly! And besides, surely he won't mind a couple more rounds of use that won't kill him.” The hand returned, this time stroking two fingers over Vynathr's abused, sensitive cunt. Vynathr tried to escape the touch, but the most he could do was push himself forward and back onto his shoulders, and it only gave him a single instinct of reprieve before the gentle touch was back and all he could do was squirm and whimper.

“Are you proposing we have a go at him ourselves?” The man in front of him placed his hands on the back of Vynathr's shoulders, rubbing at the sore and tense muscles there. Vynathr gave a ragged sound, angry and exhausted at the fact that it felt good . “He does seem eager.”

“You read my mind. Come on, we can take turns.”

The one in front hummed, seeming to consider the option, then lifted a hand, summoning a bottle of water into it. Vynathr's gaze lifted to it, and his brow furrowed in confusion. What…? The man spoke, distracting him from the thought.

“Very well. But let’s try not to make his condition any worse, if we're going to do this. We want him to be able to handle any study our master decides to engage in.” With that, the man slipped his free hand under Vynathr's cheek, lifting his head for him and pressing the bottle to his lips. “Drink.”

Vynathr had half a mind to disobey, to spit and bite at the bottle and waste it, but then it was tilted, water hit his lips, and Vynathr found himself drinking, swallowing down everything he could get and lapping at the bottle for any drop he missed between gulps. Gods, he was so thirsty. How long had he been there? He felt something push into him from behind, softer than the ovipositor had been yet still firm, and he choked, water splattering out of his mouth and into the dirt beneath him, prompting him to open his mouth wider in an attempt not to miss any more.

“Look at him. I bet he'd suck you off just to get another drop.” The voice from behind spoke up and the man in front chuckled, pushing the bottle harder against his lips.

“He's practically doing that to the bottle already, look. You want it so bad? Suck on it.”

Once again, conflicting impulses ran through Vynathr, humiliation burning through his gut. He wanted to spit, he wanted to fight, but instead, he took the tip of the bottle into his mouth and sucked on it, his tongue running over it to guide every drop down his throat so he could swallow it again and again. But before he could have all of it, when he'd only had half , the bottle was pulled away, and the hand that had been on his cheek before pressed into his hair, pulling his head up as he whined with mouth open and wanting, feeling the man behind him thrusting into him over and over. Gods, he was so easy, and ashamed of it, but there was nothing he could do.

Please . The word echoed through his mind, a plea for more, a plea to leave him alone. But his hands were webbed to the floor, he could not sign it, he could not say it. The man in front of him seemed to consider, then freed himself from his robes, revealing a stretch of pale skin and an already half-hard cock. Fear filled Vynathr and he whined, squirming in place, but his mouth was still open, hoping in vain for the water to be returned even though he knew that drinking too much in one go would only make him feel worse later.

“Now, suck me. Bite, and I will kill you. But if you behave, your water will be returned.”

Reduced to this just for water. Vynathr closed his mouth for a moment, pressing back and away from the man, only to then feel the other all the deeper. A curse ran through his mind, and he broke under the pressure, opening his mouth and pushing forward again to run his tongue and mouth over the skin before him. He'd never done this before, he hardly knew what to do, but he knew that it would be easier fully erect, and he was too far gone to care about how desperate it made him look. Wanton little whines left him from the feeling of the man pounding into him from behind, and before long, the man before him was fully hard and guiding his cock into Vynathr's open mouth. The hand in his hair tightened its grip and held his head still as the man began to fuck his mouth, composure clearly loosened judging by the soft and breathy groans he gave as Vynathr swallowed around him. Shame still coursed through his veins, but he pushed through it, focused on just making it through the next moment.

The man behind him sped up then, and Vynathr could feel him bend forward over his back, one of those gloved hands reaching down and around to rub at Vynathr's overstimulated clit. The effect was immediate, Vynathr’s hips jerking first into the touch, then away, down onto the man’s cock as he clenched around him, the touch never ceasing, insistent and fast and too much until Vynathr came once again, crying out around the cock in his mouth, sobbing through the aftershocks as he squirmed. Vaguely, he was aware that more liquid was leaving him this time than before, more than just squirt, but he was too out of it to realize what exactly it was.

“Ohh, fuck.” The man behind him groaned and only began to thrust into him faster, harder, more uneven until he spilled his seed inside him, spurred on by the way Vynathr had clenched around him, moaning all the whole. The man in front took the opportunity to thrust inside him harder, faster, and Vynathr swallowed and whined around him until he came, too, spilling into his throat and hissing out a low, relieved curse.

“Fuck. … Swallow.” The man pulled out and Vynathr obeyed, gulping it down and panting after, squirming in place as he felt the other man's cum drip down his legs. He was so tired. The man in front lifted the bottle for Vynathr to drink from, but it took a few moments of catching his breath before he could, thankful that the man was being patient and letting him take his time unlike before.

Finally, the man in front sighed, finished getting himself dressed and presentable again while Vynathr had been drinking.

“There we are. He's quite a useful warrior, isn't he?

The other man laughed, then reached for the webbing on Vynathr's ankle.

"Let's get you free and to your new home then, shall we?”

The other man gave a winded affirmation, and the two began carefully pulling the webs away from Vynathr, leaving sore red welts behind. Vynathr just lay there, collapsing to the side once he was able to, still breathing heavily as the two began to put him in new bonds, this time of some strange magic, and picked him up. As they carried him into the dark, Vynathr felt his eyes closing, and by the time they emerged on the other side, his consciousness had slipped.

Chapter Text

The two Ascians had not been surprised when their charge fainted, strained as he’d been. He’d already been so limp and tired, so willing in his exhaustion. And so unable to control himself, judging by the fact that he’d wet himself when he came that final time, made even more of a mess all over his thighs—they’d have to clean him off before they presented him to their master. Vynathr drifted in and out of consciousness as they did so, melting into gentle touches as he was set in a tub, ears twitching as warm water ran over his legs to fill it. Ungloved hands made certain his head would not slip beneath it as they washed his hair, another pair of hands stroking over his open thighs to clean them. He was too unaware to worry, to do anything but lean into the touch, and he fell asleep once more long before they pulled him out of the water to dry him off. 

When he next drifted in, it was to voices talking. Two, the same familiar ones that had been present for most of his semi-aware moments. The third, someone else… Familiar also, but less so. Deep and pleasant, but flat in tone, unimpressed.

“You didn’t think to take the eggs out of him.”

“Well—no, sir, we wanted to leave that up to you. Graffias is a new creation. We don’t yet know how it might reproduce differently.”

The deeper voice sighed, then was silent for a moment.

“... Very well. I will remove these ones, but should all other anomalies be identified and accounted for, we could have Graffias use him again alongside a more typical control group.”

“Understood, sir.”

They continued speaking, but Vynathr faded back out, vaguely aware of the pleasant warmth of a bed around him.

When he finally awoke for real, it was in a dim room. Warm, too- there were no sheets to cover his naked body, but he wasn’t cold. More importantly, he couldn’t move. He was on some sort of strange bed, where there was only really enough room for his body in this specific position. His legs were apart, with a gap in the bed between them as if to provide easier access, and he was lying slightly propped up. Vynathr’s first, somewhat sleep-addled thought was that this wasn’t the bed he’d been in before, though he couldn’t clearly remember having actually awakened at any point—how did he know that he’d been in a different one?

It didn’t matter. He was naked, exposed, and strapped down with strips of leather, comfortable but unable to escape. His stomach was still full and heavy, pressing down on him with the weight of the twenty eggs inside, stuffed to the brim. He needed out. Vynathr turned his head to the side, following the faint light he could see from beneath a closed door, but at the movement, there was a faint click from behind him, the sound of someone setting something down, then footsteps. 

“You’re awake.”

The voice came low as the man circled around to stand before Vynathr, distinctive red mask on his face. Lahabrea. Vynathr struggled momentarily, brow furrowed, before he realized he didn’t need to fully free his hands to fingerspell. Unlike before, he could move his wrists and fingers, and that was enough, even if it was slow.

‘Where am I?’

Lahabrea’s head turned slightly to watch the hand struggle to convey the simple words in a timely fashion. It had been a long while since Vynathr had needed to fingerspell.

“Ah. I forgot you use your hands to speak. We will have to do something for that if you end up fully bound again.”

Vynathr glared, more with a sense of frustration than the venom he’d had before. He needed to know where he was.

“You’re not going to get a full answer, I’m afraid. But you are in my… Home base, as it were. And it will be your home, too. Do you know what I am?”

The question came unexpectedly, and Vynathr shook his head, taken off guard. Perhaps it would be safer to pretend he knew, not give the weakness of lack of understanding away, but he doubted he could keep up such a lie regardless, and he held a distaste for being false. 

“I am an Ascian.” Lahabrea lifted one hand to sign it, giving Vynathr something shorter so he would not have to spell it out. “All you will meet here are. And as I told you before, my name is Lahabrea.” This, too, came with a sign, most fingers tucked in save for two emulating the fangs on his mask, and his thumb sticking out to make the beginnings of an L. It looked almost exactly like the sign for a snake, save for the lack of slithering movement and the fact that the thumb stuck out. Vynathr could only hope that the similarity between this Lahabrea and a snake ended there. 

“And you are?”

Vynathr kept his hand still for the moment, then made the sign for his name, a V, followed by the letter Y in quick succession. He did not give the rest of the name, keeping to the shortened version, hoping for some shred of anonymity. If he escaped, he did not want to be found again by his name.

“Vy.” Lahabrea repeated it flatly, clearly not believing that was it, but Vynathr nodded, more signifying that that was all he was going to give rather than the idea that that was his full name.

“Very well. I will make this simple for you. You are going to stay here. The two who brought you in believe that you would do well as the subject of study, and when you are not busy with that, stress relief. Having stood against me before, we cannot simply let you go. But if you behave well, you will be given rewards. Perhaps beginning with free movement. Do you understand?” 

Vynathr’s eyes slowly widened as the Ascian spoke, a chill settling in his bones despite the warmth in the room. The terms were laid out so matter of factly—and Vynathr had not been given the option to refuse. Slowly, he began to shake his head, not for lack of understanding but simple denial. He knew what Lahabrea meant by stress relief. Oblivious to matters of sex as Vynathr could be, he had heard enough fellow adventurers joke about it in the past. He would be used. Used as Graffias had used him, as the other two men had used him. Was Lahabrea going to use him too? As if he had read Vynathr’s mind, the man responded.

“My focus will be on the matter of research regarding your aetheric abnormalities. I have seen the Blessing of Light before, but never in its early stages such as this, and only rarely in subjects captured alive.” Vynathr gave the beginnings of a sigh of relief, but Lahabrea was not done. “However, there is the matter of the eggs inside you. Normally, I would allow them to mature, as Graffias is a new creation and is under study. But with my studies on your aether, I cannot yet allow the possibility of an altering factor.”

… So he was going to remove the eggs? Vynathr could only hope as much, he did not want them inside him. The weight might be comfortable inside him, but the stretch of his stomach was not, it felt taut and unpleasant. More importantly, he did not want to find out what it might be like to birth spiders. Lahabrea approached, standing between Vynathr’s legs and placing a broad hand on Vynathr’s stomach, feeling how full he was. 

“I am going to have to remove these. And I assume that you do not want me to cut you open.” Vynathr jerked in place at the very thought, shaking his head rapidly and signing the word no for good measure. “As I thought. Then they will have to leave the way they came in.”

That wasn’t good either. Vynathr wasn’t eager for it, but he knew that it had to be done. Any other way was sure to be painful. For a moment, nothing happened, and then Vynathr realized he’d have to nod his consent. Ask for it. He didn’t know what Lahabrea was going to do, but it would have to happen, even if he didn’t want it. So after a shaky breath, he nodded, closing his eyes.

Lahabrea took his hand away, and there were a few moments of rustling cloth before the touch returned, starting just below his stomach and trailing down between his legs. Unlike before, this was slow, patient, and exploratory, allowing Vynathr to feel every touch with clarity. The hand was still gloved, but Vynathr could tell that it was a different sort than Lahabrea had been wearing a moment ago, thin and light rather than the thick leather he’d had before. It was an unfamiliar, smooth texture, but Vynathr felt he would be able to distinguish every little aspect touching him down there, despite the fact that touch to those parts was entirely foreign before Graffias had captured him. This thin material wrinkled easily, and those wrinkles made raised bumps of texture that made Vynathr’s breath hitch, but he tried to remain still, not make any sound, not look, not embarrass himself any further than he already was, even if he could feel himself starting to grow slick.

That goal was ruined the moment those thick fingers pressed into Vynathr and he tenses, whines as his back arches a bit. His hand tries to lift and cover his mouth, but of course, it is still strapped down. All he could do was bite his lip and try to muffle himself as Lahabrea’s fingers began to slowly push in and out, his thumb coming up to circle Vynathr’s clit. With shaky hands, Vynathr tried to sign, only hoping Lahabrea would take notice.

‘What are you doing?’

“Being careful with you. Trying to push deeper and pull the eggs out without you relaxing first might do you some damage. Bringing you to orgasm should induce a rhythm in which your body tightens and loosens, pushing the eggs out at a safe pace.” The voice came out as flat and matter-of-fact as the rest of Lahabrea's words had been thus far, and Vynathr had to concede that it sounded reasonable, though he held his doubts that it was truly necessary to make him orgasm. Save for one factor.

‘Why didn't they come out before?’

“Hm?”

Lahabrea didn't know what Vynathr was talking about. Gods… it was difficult enough to concentrate on fingerspelling those short sentences, let alone any more, especially on such a humiliating subject. Vynathr spent a few moments thinking of the simplest way to say it, though he was distracted by the constant stroking of Lahabrea's fingers inside him. At least it was slow…

‘They used me.’

Lahabrea let out a low sigh, and Vynathr opened an eye for a moment, watching Lahabrea lower his head before Vynathr closed his eyes, not wanting to see what he was doing after all.

“... Of course they did. And I assume they came inside you.”

Vynathr's face burned as he nodded, eyes squeezing tighter shut as if he could escape what was happening, what had already happened. In his tension, he tightened a little around Lahabrea's fingers, and they curled inside him to brush against that sensitive place inside him, causing him to arch up again and whine quietly.

“All the more reason to get these out of you. They would be a terrible control group, mixed with another factor like that. And you'll likely need contraceptives… Birth control after that, while I'm thinking about it.” Lahabrea grumbled before remembering a question had been asked. “The eggs likely didn't come out because they were actively being pushed deeper in. Which means more work for me.”

Vynathr heard the rustle of fabric, something low to the ground. Then a puff of breath against him as the only warning before the thumb circling his clit was replaced with something else. Vynathr's eyes shot open and against his better judgement, he looked down to see Lahabrea with his head between Vynathr's thighs, lapping at his clit with some strange material serving as a barrier, similar to that which made his glove. As Vynathr watched, Lahabrea took Vynathr's hardened clit between his lips and sucked, causing Vynathr to throw his head back and cry out, his eyes squeezing shut again as his hips jumped up as much as they could in an attempt to escape or lessen the pressure. Thankfully, that passed quickly, and Lahabrea continued using his tongue instead as his fingers pressed deeper, Vynathr now slick and ready enough to allow the probing touch. Vaguely, he was aware that he was rocking his hips, now, grinding just slightly against Lahabrea's tongue and down on his fingers, but the man didn't seem to mind, occupied with pushing his fingers deeper, as far as he could reach, then slowly pulled out and pulled away, wiping his mouth with his wrist and leaving Vynathr to keen softly at the loss. The material that had served as a barrier between Lahabrea's mouth and Vynathr's parts was taken away, and Lahabrea began to speak.

“Your cervix is too deep for me to reach by hand in this form when you are aroused. A good thing, normally, considering your size, but it means I am going to have to transform. I will make certain that I do not do any damage, but I must remind you to remain relaxed.”

Transform? Vynathr absently attempted to sit up before leather straps reminded him of his situation and he looked down, watching as Lahabrea stepped away and removed that strange thin glove he'd worn and threw it in a small bin alongside the other thing he'd used. Vynathr's confusion was quickly remedied in place of fear as Lahabrea raised his now ungloved hand and it changed, darkness slithering along it until it was coated and now larger with longer, dully-clawed fingers. It looked monstrous and Vynathr started to try to escape on instinct, jerking against his restraints and trying to close his legs. Lahabrea returned to his place and placed his non-transformed hand on Vynathr's stomach.

“I am going to be gentle, but you need to behave. Remember, this is the easiest way to get those eggs out of you.” 

Vynathr stared at the monstrous hand Lahabrea held at his side, hyperventilating for a moment before slowly trying to calm down as he once more nodded and closed his eyes. The probing touch returned, slick and notably warmer without that strange material covering it, and it seemed to subtly pulse inside him, but the finger was not as painfully thick as he'd expected, and it was soon joined by another to gently rub against his walls. The pressure prompted Vynathr to clench down a few times though he realized that despite that, he was growing a little more relaxed, looser. Eventually, Lahabrea seemed to decide that that would be enough for the eggs to safely pass by and pressed deeper until his fingertips pressed against Vynathr's cervix and began to stroke. 

It was overwhelming, intense, the heat and power of that simple touch filling Vynathr's body and causing his muscles to lock up as his breath hitched, but despite himself, he didn't try to escape it. He couldn't . Instead, his hips shifted, rocking against the pressure, delicate but needy as his head pressed back against the bed and his mouth opened to let out soft pants and near-silent, choked sounds of pleasure. It was too much, and yet so good. Then Lahabrea seemed to remember his other goal of making Vynathr orgasm and pressed his slick, warm thumb against Vynathr's clit. Just that instant, that little bit extra was enough to bring Vynathr to climax and he jerked in place, giving a choked-off cry as he felt himself rhythmically clench and twitch against Lahabrea's touch. 

Then Lahabrea used that rhythmic tensing and loosening to push his fingertip into the cervix between waves, and Vynathr's back arched off of the bed as he cried out once again, louder, frozen in the sheer intensity of the feeling. Unlike before, when the eggs had gone in, there was no venom to dull the sensation, to make him loose and confused. This hurt, but in some intense way that flooded him with pleasure and heat that masked it. Desperate, pained and pleasured sounds left him with abandon as Lahabrea pushed through, working him open. His other hand carefully, gently pressed on Vynathr's stomach until finally, an egg pushed through, then another, and Lahabrea pushed his finger deeply to pull another two, three, four, five, slow and rhythmic, his finger pumping in and out. Then he stopped there, finger stilled, and waited for Vynathr to come down before speaking.

“You are not full enough for your body to push these out on its own. I am going to speed the process, but it will hurt.”

Vynathr was too shaken and dazed to do anything but give a weak sound of affirmation. There wasn't anything he could do, after all. There was a moment where nothing happened, then slowly, there was a feeling of something entering. It felt almost liquid, but not, and Vynathr struggled to identify the aether smoothly, slowly filling the gaps between the eggs, then more, filling where the other eggs that were removed had been, then more, causing Vynathr's stomach to bulge, feeling tight, too tight. Just when it felt like it might be too much, Vynathr's body tensed and he cried out as his muscles began to work to remove what was inside him.

Luckily for him, this wasn't birth. The eggs were small, and with each push, they came out one by one, the pain of fullness and the intensity of the contractions quickly fading. Lahabrea's fingers stroked gently inside him, easing each egg out and stimulating his cervix in a less painful way as his thumb circled his clit to allow for pleasure to mask the pain. All Vynathr could do was squirm and mewl and take it, his body twitching and trembling beneath the powerful sensations, until he climaxed again partway through. The eggs kept going, passing over his sensitive places, and the stimulation on his clit didn't stop, even as he moaned and cried out, overstimulated tears gathering in his eyes.

Finally, the majority of the eggs had passed, and the strange aether inside him began to slowly flow out, taking the last of the eggs with it, the bulges of them moving so distinctly that Vynathr could count them. As Lahabrea pulled his hand away, Vynathr opened his eyes and watched as the outermost layer of shadowy aether on the hand sloughed away, taking Vynathr's slick with it, and Lahabrea's hand slowly transformed back to normal. Finally, Lahabrea looked over Vyn, no longer so fixated on his task, seeming to take in his appearance anew, his slick, trembling thighs, his heaving chest, his tear-streaked, reddened cheeks and lips flush from biting.

“I can see why they wanted to use you so badly.” Lahabrea finally said, after a long moment of silence. Vynathr's sex-addled, still-needy mind took a moment to catch up, then his brow furrowed, and a rare, half-formed attempt at a word left his lips, voice raw from all his whimpering and cries.

“ Wuh ?”

“I used precautionary measures to ensure that any residues Graffias may have left behind would not make contact or affect me, and even so… Perhaps there are pheromones to consider. But I felt no such urges when first you arrived, unconscious. You were only a subject. Are only a subject, and yet… Here we are. I can only conclude that it is your own nature that makes you appealing.” Lahabrea elaborated, but Vynathr only felt more confused. It must have shown in his face, but Lahabrea ignored it, apparently considering his explanation satisfactory. He seemed to consider for a long moment, then sighed and began to pull open his robes, revealing a broad, muscular but soft physique. Vynathr's eyes widened, though he already had figured from the start that Lahabrea had been about to make use of him as the others had done. What was it that made them all want to so badly? 

“I suppose if I use protection, there's no harm. You are already requested for this purpose, and I doubt they'll be so careful…” As he spoke, he grabbed another one of those thin barriers, similar to the one he'd used for his tongue, and rolled it onto his cock, already hard from having eaten out and fingered Vynathr so thoroughly. With Vynathr already so slick, no further preparation was needed, and Lahabrea guided himself into him, pressing in deep. He was larger than the other Ascian who had fucked him before, but gentler, taking a moment to ensure Vynathr was ready before he began to thrust, slow at first. 

“ Ah— !” The sound left Vynathr unbidden, delicate and soft, and Lahabrea leaned forward, kissing Vynathr to smother his whimpers. He sped up a bit, then, and Vynathr shifted, moaning into the kiss, overwhelmed but too tired to truly fight it. It felt good, and Vynathr had been left needy when the eggs had stopped, but he was sensitive and exhausted. With how many times he'd been brought to orgasm in the past hours, between Graffias, the Ascians, and this, he wasn't even certain he had it in him for another one, but he couldn't exactly stop Lahabrea. 

At least Lahabrea was being patient. Or perhaps he was taking his time for his own sake. One of his hands slid up Vynathr's torso to gently grab at his chest, feeling the softness over muscle there, and Vynathr whined softly, wishing he could move, even if only to cling for support. He was vaguely aware of Lahabrea's other hand sliding into his hair, but at that point, he was slowly growing close, and judging by Lahabrea's faltering pace, he was growing close as well. Finally, Vynathr hit his peak, whimpering softly and clenching down, and Lahabrea came as well a few seconds later, though the barrier he wore stopped any fluid from shooting into Vynathr. He hated that some small part of him wished that that barrier wasn't there.

Lahabrea lingered for a few moments, breathing heavily, before he pulled away and removed the barrier, tying it off and wiping himself clean. Then he got himself dressed and silently walked over to grab something before returning to clean Vynathr off, though Vynathr did not miss the fact that some of his slick was kept as a sample. He couldn't bring himself to care, and instead laid back, breathing slowly, letting himself be taken care of. At some point, he felt close to drifting off, until Lahabrea placed a hand on his cheek to wake him and silently held a bottle of water to his lips, letting Vynathr drink at his own pace. Then the hand on his cheek left, returning with two pills in hand, and Vynathr shut his lips tight, giving Lahabrea a distrustful look.

“Contraception and birth control. If you don't want to end up pregnant from the others, you should take them.”

He'd heard of the former from alchemists, but the second was alien to him. Besides, Lahabrea could be lying… But what did it matter if he was? Vynathr was trapped. If it was some kind of aphrodisiac or poison, either could be slipped into his food at any time. So after a long moment of hesitation, he opened his mouth, taking the pills and accepting the water to wash them down.

“Good.” Lahabrea returned to his task of making sure Vynathr was cleaned up, then undid his bonds. Immediately, Vynathr moved to sit up, a rush of energy hitting him, but Lahabrea pushed him back down, and Vynathr hit the bed with a soft, painless thud, growling all the while but not yet kicking or truly lashing out. He understood that there was nothing he could truly do, that running on impulse wouldn't help him. He had to bide his time.

“Unless you want to be hit with a sleep spell, do not try to run. You will only hurt yourself. Understand?”

Vynathr bared his teeth and gave a low, angry animal sound, but after a long moment, he let it fade, settling into a glare instead. Slowly, Lahabrea let him sit up, but Vynathr did not run. Once he was satisfied that Vynathr was not about to be foolish, Lahabrea stepped away, returning with a black, silk robe to drape over Vynathr's shoulders, letting Vynathr handle getting his arms into the sleeves and pulling it tightly closed. Vynathr did not miss the fact that he was not given any underclothes, but he was covered, and it did help him feel a little better. He watched as Lahabrea moved away, picking up the sample he had taken from Vynathr's slick and bringing it over to some strange contraption. He placed it inside and returned to the bed.

“While that sample is tested for any abnormalities in your health, you have three options to take in any combination or order you feel best. Food, a bath, or sleep.”

… He wanted all of those. But his stomach churned with nerves, and he wasn't sure he could handle any food he ate now. He would only feel worse by morning if he slept before the others, even if Lahabrea had done well cleaning him off…

‘Bath, then food, then sleep.’ He hesitated, looking at the floor. ‘Please.’

“Very well. Can you stand?” Carefully, Vynathr pushed himself off the bed and onto his feet, taking a moment to hold on and steady himself before he nodded, returning to his holding onto the front of his robe as if it might fall open.

“Good. Follow me.” With that, Lahabrea turned, opening the door, and Vynathr flinched at the sudden light. His eyes had long adjusted to the dimness of the room, and it had felt natural, whereas this brighter light stung his eyes for a moment, though he managed to follow as told and quickly adjusted.

The air was cooler here, and the halls were tall with arched ceilings, reminiscent of those Vynathr remembered from childhood visits to Ishgard, but different. Wooden, for a start, but that wasn't all, even if he couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly it was. Paintings and the occasional bookshelves lined the walls. At one point, they passed by a large room with a fireplace and furniture, with several more bookshelves at each wall, where there were a few Ascians sat around. Vynathr hesitated when he spotted them, but eventually came out from his momentary hiding spot to follow Lahabrea, and one of the ascians glanced over and waved. Vynathr could not shake the feeling that this was one of the ones that had taken him before, but their masks covered their full faces, so he couldn't tell. He ducked his head and tightened his hold on his robe, feeling exposed as he hurried along and out of sight.

Thankfully, it didn't happen again. They passed more rooms, but none of the other Ascians seemed so familiar, and the most he got were curious looks as he passed or the sound of mutters behind him. Somehow, that was favourable. They arrived at the bath and Vynathr stepped inside while Lahabrea remained out. The room was large, tiled in white, and the bathtub that was built into the floor was already full and filling the air with steam that clouded the mirrors.

“Your food will be brought to you by someone else to this room in one hour. Should you have any needs, there is a bell you can ring.” 

Vynathr nodded, trying not to show his fear at the thought of someone else. Though Lahabrea wasn't exactly kind, had used him just the same, he'd been better than the other two, more patient and careful, and hadn't mocked him. There was no guarantee that the next wouldn't be worse. But Vynathr resisted the urge to ask if he would see Lahabrea again, and let him close the door, locking it behind them as if that would help. The Ascians could teleport wherever they liked, but… it made him feel better.

The next few minutes were spent looking around for everything he would need. A clean robe, a fine-toothed comb, hairpins, ties, two rags, and a towel—he could see there were a variety of soaps by the tub, and the bell was near them, so once he had them all ready, he had no excuse to procrastinate further. One hour. Normally, it was generous, but like this, he was nervous about removing his robe at all, let alone trying to relax and get clean. But it was what he'd asked for. Cautiously, he pulled the robe open to expose his chest, shoulders, and back, then froze, waiting for any sounds. … Nothing. Reluctantly, he dropped the robe entirely, then hurried into the water, submerging himself and curling up against the wall until his heart rate slowed.

No one was coming. It was fine. Slowly, his tension eased, and he let the heat of the water seep in, and breathed in the heavy steam. There was a slight flow to it, he noticed, new warm water always flowing in one side so the old, dirty water would be carried out the other. It felt… pleasant, a constant, grounding sensation. Finally, Vynathr felt able to sink a little deeper and let his hair get wet. He could tell that he'd been bathed before he'd awakened in Lahabrea's lab, but he couldn't trust that it had been thorough in the way that he liked, so he ran a wet hand through his hair to feel it. It actually felt… softer than normal. He didn't know how to take that, and sat up again to peer at the bottles by the tub. He couldn't read and had only recently begun to learn his alphabet with the Arcanist’s guild in Limsa Lominsa, so he knew there wasn't much use in looking at them, but he could try to sniff at them, see what products had been used. There was bar soap, but that more closely matched the smell of his skin than his hair. Strange… What actually matched the sweet scent in his hair was a bottle of thick liquid. When he rubbed it between his fingers, it bubbled up, just like soap. 

Liquid soap? Strange, but he supposed it was plausible. Poor as he was, he rarely had access to bar soaps gentle enough for his hair at all, let alone a liquid. If that was the case, he could safely assume his hair had in fact been washed. Any more would strip it. With this in mind, he rubbed the drop of soap he had on his fingers over his skin instead, then dipped one of the rags into the water and scrubbed at it until it was foamy before washing himself properly. Bathed he may have been before, but Lahabrea's… activities had left him sweaty and slick between his legs, enough so that he would rather properly wash and risk the soap being too harsh than stick to only rinsing with water and risk it lingering. He rinsed himself off, then the rag, then set it aside, grabbing for the second rag to wash his face and ears with. The soap was gentle and scented, and he spent a moment just breathing in the smell after his face was rinsed. Finally, he rubbed water into the roots of his hair just in case, gave his body a second wash between his thighs and under the arms, and it was time to get up.

Except he didn't want to. The water was still warm. To justify his procrastinating, he began to comb out his hair, then carefully dry it without getting the towel wet, gently scrunching his hair in the fabric rather than scrubbing so as to better encourage his curls without them tangling. Finally, he rose from the water and dried off fully, put on the robe, and began to do his hair more carefully, combing and braiding along each side before pulling the braids alongside the majority of his hair into a neat bun so its curls would dry into more defined, neat shapes when he took it down, though some strands remained free, framing his face in tighter, whispy curls that had escaped the braids and were not quite long enough to reach the bun in the back. Just as he pushed the last pin into place, a knock sounded at the door, and Vynathr jumped before hurrying over, once more clutching the black silk at his front out of the irrational fear he would be seen.

“Your food is ready.” The Ascian before him was unfamiliar in voice, and Vynathr let out a slow breath of relief before nodding. 

“You will eat in your bedroom. Follow me.” The other man turned away and Vynathr followed, shutting the door to the bath behind him. The path was less long than the previous one and luckily didn't take him past any more open spaces. Soon enough, the man was pushing open the door to a bedroom, and Vynathr cautiously entered, looking around in curiosity despite himself. So many books… Did they not know he couldn't read?

“Your tray is on the bedside table.” The man behind him spoke flatly, and Vynathr barely avoided startling visibly, looking over to him, and then to the table in question. Warm soup and bread, a glass of water beside it. Vynathr walked over to it, then turned, pulling his hands away from his chest to sign uncertainly.

‘Thank you.’

The Ascian didn't respond to it, head turning slightly away before returning to focus on Vynathr.

“One more thing.” Vynathr was not able to hide his flinch this time as the man gave a sharp gesture and the sound of moving chains registered to the side. Vynathr scrambled away from them, but the wall stopped him from getting far enough before the cuff could close around his ankle. He froze for a moment, then dropped to his knees, trying to fit his fingers beneath it. It was padded on the inside, but he couldn't get it off… The ascian watched him apathetically. “It’s long enough you should have full mobility in this room, but you cannot leave it, whether by this door or the window. That is all. Eat well.”

With that, the door shut, and Vynathr was left to struggle with the cuff on his ankle, his food momentarily forgotten.

Chapter Text

It was a matter of hours before Vynathr gave up on the cuff on his ankle. He ignored his hunger all the while, occupied with trying to slip his fingers beneath it or pull it away. There was no keyhole on the cuff, nor on the other end of the chain. There did appear to be a release mechanism on both ends, but nothing worked to get it open, including prying at it with the silverware he'd been given. He'd even tried to smash both ends and the middle, with his fists and objects he'd found, before eventually throwing said objects at the window and walls in frustration.

Next came his less logical attempts to escape. First, he tried for the window, but it would not shatter nor open, giving harmless sparks of magic at every attempt. It was strangely clouded, too, so he could not see outside. The door turned out to be much the same. He wrestled with the handle, kicked at the latch, the handles, the center. Nothing. At some point, Vynathr's attempts devolved into him running from one side of the room to the other, smashing himself into the door and the window in turn, over and over until he was bruised and stumbling. 

Finally, he fell to screaming rage, throwing object after object into the walls and floor, toppling first the wooden chair, then the small tables by the window and bed, then the bookshelves, cabinet, and dresser, and finally the bed itself. As helpless as he'd been, one would be foolish to assume such a massive, muscular man to be unable to do damage to a normal room, he knew this, but the lack of any weaknesses in his prison did not make him docile. The plate of food smashed against the wall, the bedpost was torn off, and Vynathr grabbed one of the plate shards to stab at the window repeatedly, ignoring his bloodied hand, first with his whole body weight, then slowly with less and less force as he grew tired, sinking to his knees by the window and stabbing for what must have been yet another hour.

Eventually, though, he had to stop. He rubbed his face, idly smearing blood onto it, and considered the food scattered on the floor. His stomach twisted and ached with hunger, but in all likelihood, there were shards of glass in there thanks to the shattered plate and cabinet. He couldn't risk it, even with his misery and hunger. Next, he looked to the bed. He'd flipped the frame on its side, sending its remaining posts crashing into the wardrobe, and the mattress had toppled out and ended up upside down. But it was safe. Carefully, he crawled over the wreckage he'd made, tugging his ankle chain free from the mess as he went, and settled on the edge of the mattress, checking over his feet for splinters or shards. There was one in his right heel, which he pulled free, ears drooping in regret as he did so. That would only make escaping that much more difficult—if it was even possible.

“Well. Looks like you had quite the tantrum.” An unfamiliar voice spoke, and Vynathr startled, scrambling back on the mattress until his back hit the wall, then grabbed his chain in one hand for his weapon and got to his feet, ignoring the pain. A man stood slouching before him, one who had not been there a moment ago. He was Garlean, something that brought wariness, but he wore no mask nor dark robes. Vynathr hesitated, his breath stilling. Was this another Ascian in different garb? He had, after all, appeared from nowhere as the other Ascians had. 

’Who are you?’ It was a question he had a feeling he'd be asking a lot. The other man smiled faintly, looking Vynathr over.

“I am Emet-Selch. Another ascian, as I'm sure you've guessed. And you are our new prisoner? Or plaything, as the others tell me.”

Vynathr growled in response, holding his chain a little tighter. There went any hope of an ally, not that there had been much to start with.

“A feisty one, I see. Say, do you intend to use that chain as a weapon? Because I'm not so sure it will do you any good. Why don't you just… sit down? I'll get that cut in your heel taken care of.”

The man stepped forward, broken glass crunching under his boot, and Vynathr tried to step back before remembering he was already up against the wall. His last recourse was to step forward and bare his teeth, holding his chain a little in front of him as a silent threat, though the way his other hand clutched the front of his robe betrayed his fear. He was still weak from the process of those eggs getting stuffed inside him and taken out, and he'd already spent his adrenaline rush on tearing up his room. If this Emet-Selch was as strong as Lahabrea, though he didn't look it at a glance, Vynathr wouldn't stand a chance.

“Mm. Not very chatty are you… Or well-behaved, for that matter. Very well.” Emet-Selch raised a hand over his head and snapped his fingers, and Vynathr's feet were swept out from under him. He landed on the floor with a grunt, then stared in shocked silence as the room rearranged itself, furniture repairing and sliding back into place, the glass on the floor and ruined food vanished. Powerful, then. That didn't stop Vynathr from struggling and kicking when Emet-Selch approached to pick him up and push him onto the now-upright bed, though it made no difference. Vynathr was picked up and lightly tossed down seemingly without struggle, despite having a near fulm in height over the other man, and he quickly gave up any attempt to fight in favor of scrambling backwards only for Emet-Selch to grab his chain and pull him back in.

“Behave. You do want your food back, don't you?”

Vynathr obediently stilled, both hands clutching his robe as he looked at the other man, heart rapidly thumping away in his chest. Helpless at the touch of another so soon. He'd thought he'd be allowed to rest… Perhaps he'd ruined it with his making a mess of his room. Perhaps he would be punished. When Emet-Selch moved, Vynathr gave a full-body flinch, prompting the other man to give him an unimpressed look.

“You hurt yourself, I'm only going to heal it.”

Lahabrea hadn't started with the goal of doing anything to him, but it still happened… Regardless, he could do nothing. Vynathr nodded, sitting up to watch as Emet-Selch placed careful hands on his foot and worked some strange magic to seal the wound. It was almost like conjury, but… not. Fuller, somehow. Or perhaps it was simply at a higher level than he'd ever seen. Vynathr wasn't sure how he felt about that. An ache remained, at first, deep within, but after another few seconds of magic, it was gone. Then Emet-Selch's hands worked upwards, over tired and bruised muscles, and the ache faded from each source of pain no matter how small, ending with the cut in his hand. Like nothing had happened. Was that what would happen if Vynathr did manage to hurt one of these Ascians? Would they simply heal it and carry on? The conflicted feelings only heightened, a mix of intimidation and calming now that he knew nothing was truly happening.

That calm started to crumble as quickly as it had come when Emet-Selch finished but didn't leave. Instead, the man looked up from his work, slowly, seeming to take in Vynathr's appearance in more detail, before finally giving another small smile.

“With that taken care of, what do you say we get you some food?” 

Oh. That was it? Vynathr's ears perked up and he nodded faintly, fingers idly fidgeting with the silk he wore. Emet-Selch sat back, giving a hum of thought, then summoned a platter into his hands. Vynathr moved to take it, but Emet-Selch drew it further away, wagging a scolding finger at him.

“Ah-ah-ah! You know what happened last time you were left alone with a plate of food. You made a mess of it and got yourself hurt. We can't have that. I'm going to feed you myself.”

… What? Vynathr cycled through emotions, first confusion, then offence, then anger.

‘It was not the food which set me off—’

Emet-Selch pressed a hand against Vynathr's, not outright forcing him to stop signing it, but conveying the intention as well as pressing a finger to a speaking person's lips might. Vynathr glared, unimpressed, and snatched his hands away, but did not speak up, not sullen enough to risk his food being taken entirely.

“The decision is final. Now, hands on the bed. No moving save when I tell you to.” His voice was not as deep as Lahabrea's, not as resonant, but Vynathr was suddenly aware that the commanding nature of it couldn't be ignored. Firm. There would be no arguments. This, more than the command itself, brought all his fear rushing back. He hesitated, reluctant, angry, nervous of pulling his hands away from his chest even though he knew the robe would show nothing, but Emet-Selch stood firm, waiting patiently. At the silent, expectant quirk of the man’s brow, Vynathr crumbled, too tired and nervous to disobey despite his anger. He lowered his hands and clutched the sheets, waiting for his next command.

“Good. Hold still.” With that, Emet-Selch began to climb into Vynathr's lap, and Vynathr froze, feeling the other man settle over him, their hips almost pressed together as Vynathr leaned back on his arms. Never had Vynathr longed quite so badly for more layers to wear. Emet-Selch, by contrast, seemed utterly unbothered, straddling Vynathr's lap as he looked over what was on the platter and carefully pressed the fork into a small piece of meat—thickly sliced, smoked sausage, by the look of it. One of Vynathr's favourites. Despite himself, he felt his mouth water.

“There. Open up.” Emet-Selch commanded neatly, holding the fork aloft, and Vynathr obeyed, opening his mouth and tilting his head back slightly to accept the morsel, biting onto the edge of it to pull it into his mouth hungrily once it was in range. He heard a chuckle, but he didn't care, occupied with enjoying the food. One of the best he'd ever had. Possibly the best. It was hard to tell through the hunger. The second he swallowed, his eyes snapped to Emet-Selch, who was prepared with another piece of meat for Vynathr to accept. Vynathr tried to bite for it, but Emet-Selch pulled it away, drawing a low, frustrated sound from Vynathr's throat.

“Ah-ah. Be patient.”

Vynathr obeyed, opening his mouth even as he gave Emet-Selch a baleful stare until the next morsel was placed in his mouth to appease him. Hunger and humiliation warred within him, almost taking turns within his mind. The need to obey and get his food like a dog begging for treats against the simple fact that he did not want to, that he was being made to act docile and obedient. His cheeks burned with it, but he didn't fight, his pounding heart making him far too aware of the fear Emet-Selch had inspired with words alone.

The sausage was finished relatively quickly, one slice at a time. Then came a bottle of wine to wash it down, pressed to his lips. In the midst of drinking, Emet-Selch pushed carefully, forcing just the tip of the bottle into Vynathr's mouth. Vynathr immediately stiffened and choked at the reminder of how the two ascians before had forced him to suck on the bottle just for a drop of water. 

“Careful. You wouldn't want to spill.” Emet-Selch pulled the bottle back, but paused, seeking to consider it for a moment. “There's a drop about to fall.” With that, he held it before Vynathr, who stared blankly for a moment before he realized what he was being asked to do and his face flushed all the deeper. Telling him not to spill, then showing him a drop on the side of the bottle—even if it was not quite so close to falling as he claimed. Vynathr hesitated before he finally decided he didn't want to find out what might happen if he disobeyed, and leaned forward, running his tongue over the side to pick up the drop.

“ Good boy .” Vynathr's breath hitched, unbidden arousal stirring in his stomach. That wasn't fair. He didn't want this. Why were some words bringing that feeling to him? Emet-Selch set the bottle aside and gently ran a knuckle over the corner of Vynathr's mouth, catching another escaped drop of wine from when Vynathr had choked, then pressed the same knuckle to Vynathr's lips.

“Open.” 

Gods, he didn't want to, but that unwanted feeling mixed with his fear left him with no choice. He hesitated, then opened his mouth, and Emet-Selch slid his finger in, pressing down against his tongue for a moment.

“Suck.” 

Vynathr sucked, not allowing himself to hesitate this time, and in a stroke of mercy, Emet-Selch pulled his finger free, even as he met Vynathr's glare with half-lidded eyes and a satisfied smirk.

“There you are. No wonder they liked you. You're sweeter than I thought.” Emet-Selch said it so neatly as his gaze slid away to consider the platter he held, as if he was merely speaking of the weather. Vynathr's conflicting emotions, by contrast, only rose, and his glare faltered, his anger becoming overpowered by the rest. Fear and arousal—he could only hope that the two wouldn't become inextricably linked over time, considering how much he'd been feeling them together in the past hours. In an attempt to distract himself, he sat up a bit, trying to get a peek at the platter.

“Oh, still hungry, are you? What would you prefer?” Emet-Selch lowered it, allowing Vynathr a better look, and Vynathr found himself somewhat mollified for the moment, occupied with looking at his options. Small cubes of sharp cheddar, crackers, chunks of pineapple, grapes, apple slices, and raspberries, all arranged in something of a spiral of sections with a banana in the center. All of it was tempting.  Hesitantly, Vynathr pulled a hand from the sheets, glancing up to make sure he wouldn't be in trouble for it, before pointing at the outer edge of the spiral, where the cheese was, and slowly following the spiral with his finger in towards the spiral.

“All of it in order?” Vynathr nodded, and Emet-Selch shrugged. “Fair enough. There's a lot, but I'm sure you don't mind. Hand down, now.” Vynathr obeyed, opening his mouth with hardly a thought, though the blush on his cheeks had not gone down.

“Good boy.” There it was again. A small sound left Vynathr's throat, but he didn't think it was noticed, as Emet-Selch seemed occupied rewarding his obedience with more morsels. It took a few cubes for Vynathr to realize that he was no longer using the fork, instead feeding Vynathr by hand, but Vynathr couldn't exactly protest with his hands at his sides. He ate the cheese and crackers hungrily, hesitating only for a few moments when Emet-Selch pressed his fingers to Vynathr's mouth, allowing him to lick up the salt and crumbs. It was already too late for his dignity, after all, even if the humiliation still burned in his stomach.

Emet-Selch set the platter down next to Vynathr's hand, then, a silent reminder that he was being made helpless to even feed himself. A small chunk of pineapple was picked up and Vynathr ate it obediently, only to stiffen as he felt Emet-Selch's other hand brush over his torso, sliding under his robe to settle on his stomach. It trailed no lower or higher, simply resting there, idly rubbing. Emet-Selch didn't acknowledge Vynathr's reaction, only pressing his fingers to Vynathr's lips. They were wet from the pineapple juice, but Vynathr didn't process what he was being asked to do until a drop fell from them and onto Vynathr’s chest, at which point he remembered the order from before and opened his mouth to suck the moisture away. Emet-Selch bent down, fingers still pressed into Vynathr's mouth as he licked up the drop from Vynathr's chest and sucked at his skin, causing Vynathr to tremble as heat flooded his face and his already existing arousal built, his breath coming faster, deeper. He could feel Emet-Selch's tongue and lips work against his skin, far more than could be claimed as necessary, and when he pulled both his mouth and fingers away, Vynathr looked down and could see a mark left behind.

Vynathr looked up at Emet-Selch with wide eyes and nerves in his stomach, only to see him neatly wiping his mouth as if nothing had happened. That was too much, somehow, and another small, weak sound left him unbidden. He almost wished this Ascian would move past this game and just fuck him like the rest. So he would move on and go away, Vynathr told himself, but there was something wrong with it. He felt too ashamed for that to be all. That shame only deepened when Emet-Selch finally took notice of his predicament, though Vynathr felt certain that he'd been aware from the start.

“Hm? Is something wrong?”

Vynathr shook his head even as Emet-Selch gave him a knowing smile. He wouldn't admit that there was anything. Couldn't. That would mean legitimizing it. Emet-Selch seemed to accept this, picking up another chunk of pineapple and holding it to Vynathr’s lips. Vynathr accepted this one a little more hurriedly, and Emet-Selch pulled his fingers back, but Vynathr managed to dart his tongue out to make sure no more drops would be falling. He couldn’t handle that. 

“Desperate, are you?” The teasing response came a moment later, and Vynathr pulled away as if stung. That had been a mistake. Emet-Selch’s smile had only grown, and Vynathr wanted very badly to crawl into a hole and disappear. He shrunk away, but Emet-Selch only leaned forward, the hand on Vynathr’s stomach trailing up over his chest and sliding behind his neck to keep him from getting any further. His voice dropped low, almost a whisper, something about his tone lending a different meaning to his words.

“Let’s get you something bigger, then.” Emet-Selch reached over with his other hand, grabbing the banana and using his teeth to peel it so he didn’t have to stop touching Vynathr. He pressed the tip of it to Vynathr’s lips and Vynathr frowned, hesitating. He’d received enough bullying with a bottle between this and the moment with the other two before to recognize that this offer was meant to be sexual, that the food was meant to be, for lack of a subtler term, phallic. But… The rest of this already was, he knew, even if both of them were pretending it wasn’t. This was just more outright. Besides, he was hungry and tired and frightened and had already obeyed too much to start picking a fight now. The pressure against his lips became a little firmer, a silent question, and Vynathr opened his mouth, accepting the feeling of the fruit just slightly grazing over his teeth before he delicately bit off the tip, chewed, and swallowed, stoutly refusing eye contact all the while. 

It was perfectly ripe. Sweet. He knew well that it could be a matter of an hour and no longer before a banana was no longer at the perfect ripeness, and something about the fact that his food had been so carefully selected bothered him. Why ensure his food was just right when he didn’t wish to be there anyhow? The hand on the back of his neck moved slightly, sliding into his hair and pulling on it gently, and Vynathr’s thoughts left his mind in an instant as his eyes snapped to Emet-Selch’s face and his mouth fell open in automatic obedience. Nothing else. At least he hadn’t made another sound, that time.

“There you are. Try not to get distracted. Focus on me .” The order came soft but firm, and Vynathr shivered, gripping the sheets a little tighter. Emet-Selch resumed feeding Vynathr, and Vynathr resumed eating, not daring to look away, his heart beating fast in his chest. Forced to keep his eyes on his captor like this, he could see every movement of the other man’s eyes, could see how focused he was on Vynathr’s mouth. Vynathr could hardly swallow one bite before he was forced to take the next, one after another, until finally, Emet-Selch’s fingers pressed the last bite past his lips and pulled away, letting him gulp it down and breathe. At this point, Vynathr had thought that he would be released, but Emet-Selch remained focused on him, watching his parted lips, watched as he struggled to catch his breath. He only seemed to move on when Vynathr was able to breathe more normally. 

At the realization that he was picking up another piece of pineapple, Vynathr practically wilted, giving a small, weak sound. Such an innocuous food, but he knew that its nature would mean he would have to either suck on Emet-Selch’s fingers again, or feel that tongue on his chest if he was too slow to catch a drop. The sound drew Emet-Selch’s attention, and he looked down at Vynathr, tilting his head slightly.

“Problem?”

Vynathr lifted his hand, then hesitated, waiting for a nod of permission before signing his response.

‘Can you save the pineapple for last?’  

It was, after all, only food in the end. If he was still hungry, he would take it. But hopefully, he would be full by the time he got there. After all, it was a decently full platter. Emet-Selch seemed to consider this, then nodded, setting down the piece he held and picking up a grape instead.

“Very well. Since you were so polite. Mouth open, hands down.” Vynathr obeyed, knowing what was expected by now, and accepted the grape popped neatly into his mouth. Compared to the messy, sexual nature of the pineapple and banana, this was a relief. A moment of, as far as he could tell, safety. Like the other foods before it, there was a decent amount of these grapes, and Vynathr felt more secure in the knowledge that he would probably be full before he got to the pineapple. 

“You know, if you keep acting so well, I might give you an extra treat at the end. Do you like cake?” Vynathr's gaze, which had slid over to one of the bookshelves, returned to meet Emet-Selch's. Where was this going? There was already enough on the platter to fill him. … Perhaps it was for another time. Vynathr nodded.

“Oh, good. That's what you'll have when we're finished, then. But only if you’re good and finish all of this. It's only healthy to ensure a bit of balance between treats and healthy foods, after all.”

When they were finished? Immediately after, and he'd have to finish all of this first? He wouldn't be able to handle that, and he had a feeling that it wouldn't be offered in the first place if Emet-Selch wasn't going to do something upsetting with it anyhow. Vynathr began to shake his head, but his jaw was caught in Emet-Selch's hand and he was once more forced to meet his eyes.

“I'm sorry, did I tell you you could say no?”

Vynathr flinched, shaking his head as much as he could and attempting to pull away.

“That's right. I didn't. Now, behave, or you won't be patched up the next time you or someone else decides they like you better with some pretty bruises. Open. Up .” Emet-Selch released Vynathr's jaw to allow him to obey and Vynathr once more attempted to get back, only for the other man to grip his hair roughly and force him to stay still. Vynathr keened, fighting against it for a moment, before the panicked part of his brain calmed enough for him to remember that he'd already resigned to this. He couldn't fight it. He wasn't strong enough. Play nice, escape later… Vynathr took a few deep breaths and opened his mouth.

“There. Now, since you've been disobedient, I'm going to take back what I said before. No more choosing what order you take them in.” With that, Emet-Selch plucked up a piece of pineapple, and Vynathr shuddered, leaning back though his mouth remained open. Emet-Selch tugged Vynathr’s hair slightly, getting him into the position he wanted, then rested the pineapple against Vynathr's lower lip, the hand in his hair ensuring Vynathr could not move forward to take the chunk into his mouth. Vynathr tried anyhow, pulling as much as he could, sticking out his tongue, but Emet-Selch only let him get tiny tastes, forcing him to sit and wait. He could feel the juice beading along its lower edge, about to drip onto his chest like the one before it.

“Is this what you're so afraid of? Making a mess of yourself for me to clean up? Or is it perhaps that you're frightened of looking desperate?” Vynathr shivered, feeling the pineapple drip onto his chest. Emet-Selch did not move, still focused on Vynathr's torment as the drop rolled down his chest and onto his stomach, soon joined by another.

“Don't be. Frightened, that is. I already know what you are. You are mine . And you will accept what I give to you. Now, take this, chew, and shallow.” The chunk was finally pushed past Vynathr's lips and Emet-Selch was careful to run his juice-slick fingers over them, as if to make sure that Vynathr's mouth was a mess. He tried to lick his lips to clean it up, but there was only so much his tongue could catch when some droplets had already made it down to his chin. This chunk was quickly followed by another, squeezed slightly to make even more of a mess, and the third and final one, luckily handled more quickly. Emet-Selch then bent down, his slick fingers once again pushed into Vynathr's mouth for him to clean while the other hand pulled Vynathr's robe further open to further expose his torso. Vynathr jerked away and lifted a hand to try to cover himself back up, but Emet-Selch pushed that hand down and Vynathr felt magic pulse over his limbs, locking them in place. He tried to bite, but the magic stopped that, too.

Then, of course, that tongue returned, pressing against him, catching every drop of the mess Emet-Selch had made and blamed on Vynathr. Vynathr squirmed and tried to get away from it, but there was nowhere for him to go. When he felt the press of teeth at his stomach, he squeaked at the momentary pain, but it was followed with that tongue to soothe it, the gentle pressure of Emet-Selch's hand at the back of his waist, and Vynathr felt a weak sob leave him at the strange mix of feelings he was helpless in the face of. Emet-Selch noticed the sob, looked up at Vynathr's face for an instant and noted the single tear running down his cheek before going at him with seemingly doubled intensity, his now clean fingers pulling free of Vynathr's mouth in favour of rubbing over Vynathr's exposed torso, causing Vynathr to arch his back in reflex. Vynathr could feel himself growing wet at the attention, and all he could do was hope Emet-Selch wouldn't notice. 

Slowly, the touch worked upwards. One hand remained at Vynathr's waist, squeezing at the slight softness on his side, but the other moved up to his ribs, thumb brushing against the underside of his chest while that tongue worked up to the center of his sternum, then over his chest, catching every drop of juice that had fallen and stopping on the opposite side of Vynathr’s chest from before, sucking another mark into the soft flesh. He lingered there, and Vynathr shut his eyes and took a moment to catch his breath as much as he could while crying, before the hand on his ribs suddenly slid upwards to cup his small breast, something he didn't particularly think of either way, and roll his nipple between thumb and forefinger, something he very much did . 

“ Ha-ah! ” The sound left him pitched and unbidden, and his head jerked back as he tried to squirm away, unsuccessfully. Emet-Selch's head lifted, and though Vynathr kept his eyes closed to avoid seeing the other man's expression, he could practically feel his eyes on him, watching as he struggled and squirmed. Then that mouth was on Vynathr's jaw, licking up the last of the mess there, slowly working up to Vynathr's own mouth. When they met, the patient way Emet-Selch had gone at him before was replaced with hunger, his tongue pressing against Vynathr's as if to devour every cry and whimper that left him. The hand on his chest offered no mercy, the stimulation constant and quickly joined with more as the hand on his side slid up to tease his other breast. Vynathr's squirming slowly shifted from attempts to escape to rubbing his thighs together, his hips twitching in thoughtless attempts to get some stimulation as tears rolled down his cheeks and onto his throat. His fingers dug into the sheets, he felt so close and yet so far away, and knew he'd never hit the peak the others had brought him to from this alone. Please .

The mercy never came. Instead, Emet-Selch broke the kiss and his hands pulled away, one digging into Vynathr's hair and the other returning to stroke over his stomach. His tongue worked over his throat, his cheeks, catching every tear that fell as Vynathr whimpered softly, need still burning through him unsatisfied. He kissed him again, slow and lingering, and when he pulled away, Vynathr chased it, a soft sob leaving him as he was denied and he let his head fall forward in shame. When the hand in his hair pulled, Vynathr followed the guidance, opening his mouth for the apple slice pressed to his lips. Apple was his favourite of all, but like this, he couldn't even enjoy it, shame drowning out the taste. Why had he done that? Why had he been so easy? Soft kisses pressed to his cheeks to catch his tears as he was fed another slice, and all Vynathr could do was squirm and press his legs together again in a halfhearted attempt to get some relief.

“Poor thing.” Emet-Selch's voice dripped with false sympathy and Vynathr tried to turn his head away, only prompting another kiss right by his ear. “My poor, naughty, needy little pet. Do you need some help? Something inside you, maybe? Something to fill you up again until you can hardly take it?”

Vynathr whimpered, his hips rocking against nothing as another slice was pressed into his mouth. He hated how badly he wanted that. How much he wished Emet-Selch would stop this and just take him, and worse, how much he wished he wouldn't , how he wanted both this and something inside him, how much Emet-Selch's continuing actions and words fed his arousal and need. He could do anything, just then, and Vynathr would take it with need and misery in equal measure. But all he did was feed Vynathr another slice.

“I might indulge that. Or perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll make a mess of you without ever touching you where you need it. Let someone else handle you afterwards. After all, you are awfully far beneath me.”

An image entered his mind of Emet-Selch doing just that, and Vynathr hated how his rocking in place sped up a little, how the next image of him being shared amongst one of the groups in the common rooms came utterly unprompted save for the mention of someone else. The next slice came and Vynathr took it without a thought, along with the next, his obedience automatic and absent. Gods, he needed.

“Look at you. About to bring yourself to the breaking point with nothing but a few words. Are you so desperate?”

They were at the raspberries, now. Vynathr couldn't tell if he was full or not past the burning arousal. After the first one, the bottle of wine returned, and Vynathr drank like he was in the southernmost deserts of Thanalan. He was only allowed a few gulps before it was pulled away and he whined, taking the next raspberry eagerly.

“You'd take anything in your mouth, now, wouldn't you? Desperate for something to fill you in either hole. I could fuck you with that bottle and you'd take it.”

The filthy words were only met with another moan past the third berry being pushed past his lips. At some point, the hand in his hair had left in favour of rubbing his stomach again, but Vynathr didn't care. Another berry, then another, each eaten so quickly. Finally, Vynathr realized he was full, but Emet-Selch didn't stop until the platter was empty, even as Vynathr tried to half-heartedly pull his head away.

“There you are. Ready for your reward?” A few filthy images ran past Vynathr's mind, things he would never normally think, until he remembered. The cake. He shook his head slightly, but that hand in his hair returned, rough as before, and Vynathr moaned weakly, hating how he liked it, hating how his mouth fell open.

“Good boy. Take it .” 

“ Ah-! ” Vynathr squirmed, rubbing his legs together as the slice was pushed into his mouth, bit by bit. He tried, as much as he could, to swallow around it, but there was only so much he could take at a time. Emet-Selch didn't let so much as a single crumb fall, carefully pushing it all in, his other hand finally slipping down between Vynathr's legs to give him some relief. Vynathr came as the last bite was swallowed, and it was only afterwards as he lay on his back that he even realized the cake had been chocolate. Emet-Selch rose, placing his fingers in his own mouth to taste Vynathr's slick, then brushed off his clothes and picked up the platter and bottle.

“There. Do try to get some rest—I imagine tomorrow will be eventful. Farewell.”

He began to walk to the door and a small burst of energy prompted Vynathr to roll over to face him, knocking against the footboard of the bed for attention. Emet-Selch turned, raising a brow.

“Hm?”

Vynathr froze, not even sure what he'd been about to say. It took him a few seconds to scramble for something, until he remembered something suitable, and signed.

‘Tell Lahabrea I take Sharlayan medicine.' He would, after all, prefer if he could still have that, and he figured there was a chance Lahabrea would allow it. 

Emet-Selch looked at him for a long moment, expression unreadable, then shrugged.

“Very well.” With that, he left, and Vynathr collapsed onto the bed, once more alone.

Chapter Text

When Vynathr woke, the first thing he registered was how comfortable he was. Bundled up in thick, heavy blankets, laying in a plush bed. He'd never experienced one so nice before, as the only beds he'd ever laid in were cheap at best and makeshift at worst. This was nice, even in its unfamiliarity. Slowly, his eyes opened, then fell closed again, registering the sunlight which filtered in through the window and deciding that that was too much light for such a comfortable moment, even if said light didn't fall directly over his eyes.

Then he realized someone was in bed and was suddenly far more awake. An arm around his waist, hand splayed over his thigh which had escaped the confines of his robe. Vynathr tried to carefully shift away from the touch, but the hand only moved to grab his thigh a little more firmly.

“Finally awake? It's about time.” Vynathr froze at the low, playful voice behind him and rolled over, almost falling off of the bed in his haste to get away from the touch. His widened eyes met the now somewhat familiar gaze of Emet-Selch, who smiled at him calmly as he moved to prop his head up against his wrist. He was wearing less than before, only a loose, open white shirt and a pair of dark pants, but Vynathr could only feel relief that he was clothed at all.

“I can't blame you, though. Sleep is such a lovely thing even when you don't need it, and you… Well, you certainly did. Poor thing, I'm sure you were exhausted by the end of it. You look frazzled even now.”

It could hardly even be called false sympathy. Emet-Selch didn't even bother to pretend he was anything less than pleased with himself as part of the source of Vynathr's troubles, making his words seem more mocking than anything else. Vynathr carefully, slowly scooted back and off of the bed, standing up and adjusting his robe to cover himself better as Emet-Selch sat up.

‘Why are you here?’

“To keep you company. And because I forgot to do something last night. I know we gave you this lovely room and plenty of books, and I'm sure you'll get some nice toys as well, but I dearly love being the first, so I wanted to give you a little gift.”

Vynathr’s brow furrowed and he took another slow step back, wary of where exactly this was going. More torment, surely.

‘What do you mean by a gift?’

Emet-Selch gave a short chuckle before shaking his head, tutting as if he didn't know exactly what he was doing.

“So suspicious. I only want to give you some clothes. You look lovely in that robe, I assure you, but it's hardly befitting the finery of our estate. On days where the others make no indication that they'll need the easy access, I'm sure you'll want something to wear, and I want to make sure it's something nice.”

Vynathr hesitated, fiddling with the collar of his robe. On one hand, he'd very much like proper clothing. Something thick and layered like he usually wore. Comfortable. But on the other, he sincerely doubted that Emet-Selch was going to give him that. No, he was probably going to be made to wear something degrading or revealing.

‘What are you going to make me wear?’

Emet-Selch rose from his seat, approaching slowly, and it took conscious effort for Vynathr to remain where he was. It was probably foolish to try to keep his pride during this when he'd already been so thoroughly degraded, but he couldn't escape, and he needed something.

“A lot of questions today, hm? Why don't you just let me dress you? Sit on the bed.”

Vynathr narrowed his eyes and did not move. That was definitely foolish. Emet-Selch’s smile did not falter, and for a long moment, he simply stood there, before eventually reaching up to pluck away the pins in Vynathr's hair, which Vynathr did not move to prevent, too occupied with his confusion. The reasoning behind the sudden switch in focus became clear when Emet-Selch suddenly dug his fingers into Vynathr's newly freed hair, pulling on it roughly and dragging Vynathr down onto his knees, then into a sudden kiss. Vynathr gave a startled sound and attempted to pull away, pressing his hands against Emet-Selch’s torso in an attempt to push him away, but Emet-Selch did not allow it, forcing Vynathr to remain in the kiss, feeling the pressure of Emet-Selch's knuckles against his scalp contrast against the sting of his pulled hair. Finally, Vynathr stopped fighting and gave a weak, frightened whimper, fighting with that unwelcome thrill in his stomach at his treatment. Emet-Selch pulled away from the kiss, hand lingering in Vynathr's hair for a few moments longer before releasing him.

“Get in the bed.”

Vynathr nodded shakily, hurrying to get into the bed and immediately crossing his legs and pulling his robe closed in an attempt to hide, as if that would make him any safer. Emet-Selch allowed him to cross his legs, but his hands were grabbed and forced down to his sides, pressed to the bed.

“Now, what did I tell you before? Hands down. And tell me what you think of a dress.”

Vynathr tried to pull his hands away, but Emet-Selch kept them in place, forcing him to fingerspell. He kept it short for his own sanity, far too focused on the fact that his chest was nearly exposed and Emet-Selch was entirely too close.

‘I will wear them.’

“You’ll wear them? Well, we won't settle for just wearing them. Do you like dresses?”

This was ridiculous. Vynathr knew that what he wanted didn't matter here, but he nodded anyway, not wanting to take any longer here than he needed. He did like dresses, and he wanted Emet-Selch off of him. 

“Good. What about a black dress?”

Vynathr nodded again. He would have done so regardless of the colour, but black was, luckily, his favourite to wear. In matching with these dark-robed Ascians, he supposed, much to his dislike. Emet-Selch smiled at him, slowly releasing Vynathr's hands and trailing his own up over Vynathr's body, drawing a shiver from him.

“ Good . Then hold still, and let me dress you.” Emet-Selch began pulling Vynathr's robe off, silk gliding over skin, the man’s fingers just barely grazing over Vynathr's back. Vynathr felt his breath come faster and heavier, fear and something else locking him in place as Emet-Selch delicately guided his arms out of their sleeves and kissed his wrist. 

“There you are. So well behaved… Lean back and lift your hips for me.”

Emet-Selch pressed Vynathr's hands against the bed for him to lean back against, and Vynathr obeyed, feeling much like there was some form of miniature lightning buzzing through his veins. Emet-Selch pulled the robe over his hips, grazing his fingers over Vynathr's back and thighs, then pressed his hands against him, pushing Vynathr back down onto the bed and lingering there, applying that pressure for just a moment longer than was necessary, pulling away with a momentary rocking motion as if to make Vynathr roll his hips. He couldn't tell if it was on purpose or not, but he sincerely doubted Emet-Selch's intentions, so he settled on the former as Emet-Selch pulled the silk over his legs just a little too slowly.

When he was fully naked, Emet-Selch slipped a hand under the leg that Vynathr had crossed over the other, lifting it and pulling it aside to force his legs to uncross, leaving Vynathr open to look at, to touch… He tensed, fully expecting just that, but Emet-Selch seemed to ignore it entirely in favour of guiding a sheer silk black stocking onto Vynathr's leg, pulling it up over his knee to his upper thigh. There was lace at the top, but it was finely crafted, soft and flexible rather than itchy or uncomfortable. Emet-Selch's fingers ran under the lace in a circle around Vynathr's thigh, straightening it out and ignoring the way Vynathr's breath hitched at the touch to his sensitive skin there. He hated this. He hated that feeling burning under his skin, the fact that he wanted more touch than this. 

The other leg was next, gently lifted under the knee, one hand guiding the stocking up while the other held Vynathr's leg in place, his thumb seemingly idly stroking over Vynathr's inner thigh. Once again, the stocking was pulled up with both hands after it went over the knee, resulting in that grazing touch sliding up his thigh before those hands so carefully smoothed out the top of the stocking. Vynathr could feel his face growing warm as he frowned down at Emet-Selch, more bothered with his own reactions than the actual touch he was receiving. Why was he like this? Was the fact that he had been toyed with by this very man only the night before not enough? 

He just wanted this farce to end. That was all. If Emet-Selch would just use him like the others, this would be over faster. If he pushed him over and made a mess of the stockings he'd just put on, Vynathr could stop expecting it to happen and just take it. It wasn't that he wanted it, he told himself. Emet-Selch's gaze rose to Vynathr's face and the other man smiled at him, knowing and smug, and Vynathr felt his breath stop as he became very aware that Emet-Selch had not actually been ignoring his reactions at all.

“What is it you need?”

Vynathr shook his head, his mind stalling and providing no words as he attempted to squirm away.

“Is it this?”

Emet-Selch hooked one hand behind Vynathr's waist and trailed the other up over Vynathr's thigh, then between his legs, pressing the heel of his palm against Vynathr's cunt and then dragging upward resulting in friction between his palm and Vynathr's clit until his fingers teased just over his opening. Vynathr's hips jerked in place, upwards to try to get away from those fingers, but that only caused more friction against his clit, drawing a whine from Vynathr as he shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to find some way to move that didn't feel so good , so wrong.

“No? More, perhaps?

Emet-Selch pulled his hands away, drawing a ragged sound from Vynathr as he jerked in place in a doomed attempt to escape. Then he hooked them under each of Vynathr's knees and pushed, forcing his knees up to his chest and causing Vynathr to fall onto his back, almost exactly how Vynathr had anticipated just a moment ago, and yet still taking him by surprise. He leaned over Vynathr, pressing close against him, smirking down at him, and Vynathr gave a weak sound, pressing away and into the bed as much as he could.

“Are you so filthy-minded that I cannot so much as dress you without you trembling under my touch?”

Vynathr flinched, squirming underneath Emet-Selch as he pressed even closer, his clothes grazing over Vynathr's skin. The heavy, thick, stiff fabric of his pants between Vynathr's legs, the texture noticeable everywhere it touched next to the lighter, cool, loose fabric of his shirt lying over Vynathr's chest. Vynathr could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate, panic and arousal meeting in some horrible concoction that made him jerk in place, hands grasping and pushing at the sheets unsuccessfully, his every movement only making the pressure against him more apparent, only heightening his mixed emotions.

“Do you think I did not notice you growing wet just from this? Didn't notice every hitch of your breath, every tremble and shiver? What is it you want? For me to fuck you like this before you can even start your day?”

His hips rocked against Vynathr's, grinding against him through his clothing, and Vynathr was mortified to realize that the other man wasn't even hard beneath it. This was all for Vynathr's benefit. He was the only one feeling like that. He whimpered, shaking his head as his hips jerked against the stimulation and he clenched around nothing. Gods, he hated that he wanted. His hand twitched, then lifted to sign feebly, fingerspelling as he knew he couldn't sign the word properly with Emet-Selch pressed against him.

‘Please—’

Emet-Selch grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the bed as he grinned down at Vynathr.

“Please what? Please keep going? Please fuck you properly so you can stop ruining my pants? Please breed you before your birth control has even set in? What is it you want?”

Vynathr shook his head, whimpering in fear even as the words filled him with need. He could feel his eyes filling with tears yet again. How many times would these Ascians make him cry? How many times would he catch himself pressing up into something he didn't want even as he tried to escape?

‘Please stop.’

Emet-Selch leaned in, kissing Vynathr hungrily as his steady movements slowed, then stopped. Finally, he pulled away, and Vynathr looked down to realize that Emet-Selch had gotten half-hard from the stimulation and that his slick was all over the front of his pants. Vynathr slowly closed his legs, then crossed them for good measure, very aware that his expression was probably absolutely miserable even without the tears and the way his breath caught with every inhale and exhale. That was, after all, how he felt. Torn between the need for more and the need to escape. Emet-Selch smiled down at him, then snapped his fingers, replacing his pants with a different pair and summoning a black silk dress into his hands before reaching up to wipe Vynathr's tears.

“Poor thing. Very well. Let's finish getting you dressed, then. Arms up.” 

Vynathr took a few moments to catch up with the sudden change in atmosphere, then nodded weakly, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. Emet-Selch pulled the dress onto him, then guided his arms down before adjusting the dress to lay correctly over his chest. It was elegant, but it covered less than the robe, leaving his sternum, back, thighs, and sides exposed. One of Vynathr's hands immediately moved to pull the front shut, the fabric loose enough to do so without further exposing his sides, and Emet-Selch chuckled, taking his other hand to pull a long, sheer black glove onto it. It went up to his upper arm, with lace to match his stockings on either end and lacked fingers and the palm, using a loop of fabric as a ring to keep it in place instead. Then Emet-Selch switched hands and Vynathr did too, keeping his chest covered all the while. 

Finally, Emet-Selch stepped back to admire his work, and Vynathr frowned down at his glove. He liked it, and he almost liked the dress, too, except for how exposed he felt. Pretty in concept, but in practice, it was far too much. Then again, that was probably exactly why it had been chosen. Emet-Selch's eyes travelled up and down Vynathr's body, and Vynathr clutched the front of his dress a little tighter. Logically, he recognized that he'd gone swimming wearing no top at all, even in front of others. He didn't normally care a whit if someone saw his breasts, they were just his body, and if he really needed to, he'd typically just use a long strip of fabric wrapped several times over his chest to cover what very little softness he had there over the muscle, and that was fine. But this place… these people. They made him feel like prey. Like if they saw his thighs, his chest, anything , they would take him. This dress, these stockings and gloves… They felt like they were there only to make him more appealing. To give the mind freedom to wander over what might be beneath them when they hardly hid anything in the first place. Emet-Selch moved, drawing Vynathr free from his thoughts.

“Ah, I almost forgot. I must note that this fabric is expensive, so do try not to ruin them, but…”

Once again, Emet-Selch uncrossed Vynathr's legs, then began pulling something up over them. A pair of silk black panties, sheer like everything else save the dress, with lace along the top. Once it was in place, Emet-Selch stroked between Vynathr's legs over it for just a moment, then moved to adjust Vynathr's stocking, ending with a kiss just above it on his bare thigh.

“Do try not to ruin these. Slick is an absolute nightmare to get rid of, as I'm about to experience while I try to clean my pants thanks to your neediness.”

The fact that it was Emet-Selch who had chosen to do that didn't even enter Vynathr's mind. He felt himself go red at the thought instead, hating that he wanted to shift and squirm at the memory. Instead, he crossed his legs once more and nodded, his gaze lowered to the floor.

“Say, since you've been so good already, why don't we give you a little something extra? Close your eyes and lean your head back.”

Vynathr hesitated, but obeyed, and a moment later he felt Emet-Selch's fingers run over his throat, moving his long hair over his shoulder to better expose it. Then something soft was slid around and Vynathr felt a clasp close, then get tightened.

“There. Get up and look at your present.”

Vynathr hesitated, then rose to do as ordered, his eyes widening as he caught sight of what exactly he had been given. A collar. Black, thin enough it could be moved on his throat, but thick enough it couldn't be mistaken for any other sort of adornment. The leather was soft, but strong, and Vynathr could stick two fingers under it, possibly three, but he certainly couldn't remove it. Black lace lined the sides of it, and at the very front of the design, there was a metal ring, where Vynathr knew any ascian could grab and pull him by it, or even put him on a leash. The thought made something in his stomach flutter, a faint heat flickering there as he slipped his fingers out from under the collar. He swallowed, and the collar bobbed slightly with the movement. This was degrading . 

He turned away from the mirror intending to demand that the collar be taken off, only to startle as he realized that Emet-Selch had snuck up right behind him, taking advantage of his distraction with the collar. Vynathr stepped back, but this only made him bump into the vanity, and Emet-Selch stepped forward, reaching up to stroke a finger over the collar with just enough pressure for Vynathr to feel it through the collar, drawing an involuntary shiver from him.

“It suits you. Elegant, dark… Perfect for your place here. Owned by servants of darkness. It's nice, isn't it? And it lets me do this.”

Emet-Selch hooked a finger into the metal ring and pulled, gently but firmly. Vynathr resisted for a moment, but a sharp tug reminded him of the magical and physical strength the other man might set loose if he made trouble, and he followed the guidance, allowing Emet-Selch to pull him into a kiss. Slow, lingering… If it weren't for the fear, and the way Emet-Selch’s knee pressed between Vynathr's thighs, Vynathr might have liked it. As it was, he had to grip the vanity to steady himself, his breath coming faster once again. Gods, this was too much. Emet-Selch didn't seem half so bothered when he pulled away.

“There you are. Now, is there anything else you might like for your good behaviour?”

Vynathr lifted his gaze, confused. He could ask for something? Emet-Selch simply smiled back at him, giving an encouraging nod, and Vynathr clenched his hand nervously for a moment before signing.

‘Must I wear this collar?’

“I'm afraid it is necessary. After all, we want to make sure everyone knows that you're property not meant for damage. Someone disposable wouldn't get this, but we aim to keep you for a long time. Now, come on, ask for something more reasonable. Another book more in line with your tastes, perhaps? I haven't any clue if you've even looked at these shelves, but you can never go wrong with reading.”

The suggestion is met with Vynathr giving a blank look.

‘I can't read.’

The response was automatic in its truth, a simple regrettable fact. He wanted to read if it would distract him from all this, but he didn't have a choice. Emet-Selch seemed appalled by the fact, raising his hand to his chest like an affronted maiden as he stepped away, allowing Vynathr to close his legs once more.

“You can't? Why, that's a travesty! ... Though I suppose I should have guessed, what with your terrible fingerspelling."

Vynathr frowned at Emet-Selch, though he couldn't argue. He did struggle with it, and was often forced to make it up as he went and hope he was understood. Surprisingly, he generally was.

"Honestly, the illiteracy rates in Eorzea are a travesty. Tell me, at least, that you're interested in learning?”

Hesitantly, Vynathr nodded, and Emet-Selch clasped his hands together, clearly pleased.

“Wonderful. We'll start teaching you tomorrow, then. You need something to do when we're not bothering you, after all, and I refuse to allow illiteracy to linger in this place. But in the meantime, is there anything you did want?”

Vynathr thought, running over what he knew as he shifted to stand a little more comfortably, his hands once more fidgeting with the edges of the fabric which lay over his chest. He doubted he could get a cloak if he asked for one. It would defeat the purpose of the dress that had been chosen. Better to save that request. He also doubted he could get anything sharp. But… They'd let him use hairpins during the night, even if he'd forgotten about them when he'd been struggling with his cuff. Perhaps he could use one to pry open the mechanism if he could figure out how it worked.

Then again, Emet-Selch had removed and taken his pins when he woke… Maybe he wouldn't if it was a gift. And the pins he'd had were small and weak, bendable. Not the best for prying open release mechanisms. Maybe a gifted one would be stronger. There was only one way to find out.

‘A hairpin. A long one with a pretty design.’ He hesitated, wondering if he should make an excuse. Well, it was hardly an excuse if it was true. ‘I like to keep my hair partially up.’

“That's all? But of course. Hold out your hands.” 

Vynathr obeyed and Emet-Selch summoned two pins into his hands, long as he requested, with different designs. They were beautiful, silver with gems encrusted into them, one featuring emeralds and the other some deep black gem Vynathr didn't quite recognize. Vynathr spent a moment marvelling over both his success and quite possibly the finest objects he'd ever held in his hands before getting up and heading to the mirror, setting down the emerald pin and using the other to put his hair up, leaving half of it free to flow over his back or frame his face as he typically did. The other pin, he picked up once more and simply held in his hand, looking over it.

“You can leave whichever one you don't use here. I simply figured you might like options. Now, are you ready?”

Vynathr lifted his head, looking back to Emet-Selch and not setting down his pin. Perhaps he could use it for self-defence. No, best to save that for after he tried to pick his locks with them, or after he knew more about his surroundings and could use them for a proper escape. He didn't want them taken away before he could use them.

‘For what?’

Emet-Selch smiled at Vynathr, who squeezed the pin he was holding between his fingers to ground himself, running his thumb along the gemstones.

“You'll be seeing Lahabrea about your medication. I can't have you all day, after all.”

Ah. Vynathr swallowed, trying to settle his nerves. Lahabrea was not as frightening to him as the concept of utter strangers, but he still had hardly rested and was not ready for more touch, more of the intense treatment Lahabrea had given him even if it had been mostly necessary. Maybe he could delay it, at least.

‘Could I eat first?’

Emet-Selch smirked up at Vynathr and he instinctively took a step to the side away from him since he couldn’t back further into the vanity. Ah.

“So eager for me to feed you again? I'm sorry, pet, but we haven't the time for that. I'm sure someone there will feed you. Perhaps Lahabrea himself.”

Vynathr swallowed, nodding. He hadn't expected Emet-Selch to tease him like that, but he probably should have. Was there anything he could do without being teased? Some measure of indignance sparked and Vynathr set his hairpin down, frowning at Emet-Selch.

‘I can eat by myself. You had your fun yesterday, let me eat and I will be quick.’

Emet-Selch only smirked back at him, unaffected by the glare that had quelled many before him. Of course his usual tactics wouldn't work on an Ascian, especially after he'd let himself be dressed up and played with like a doll.

“No. You had your chance before and you threw a fit.”

‘That hadn't been about the food—’

“I've already made my decision. Behave, or it will be worse.”

Vynathr lowered his hands, glaring at the other man before striding towards the bed and sitting, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.

‘I will go nowhere.’

He'd expected another verbal response, but he received none, and it was only after a few seconds that he caught the faintest sound of an approaching footstep, causing his ear to twitch. Then he felt a gloved hand on his cheek, lingering, almost soft in its touch as Emet-Selch's voice came with a dramatically put-upon sigh.

“Must I bring out threats so early in the morning? I was trying to make this easy, you know.”

Vynathr had been about to sign his response, but he was interrupted by the hand on his face moving downward and grabbing him by the ring in his collar, tugging him roughly forward. His eyes flew open as he was dragged off the bed and onto his knees, his hands instinctively grabbing for Emet-Selch’s wrist as he tried to push him away. Once again, he was reminded of the other man’s impossible strength, not budging so much as an inch under all the force he could exert when normally, Vynathr was the one called upon for feats of strength. He bared his teeth, hissing at the other man, who simply chuckled in response.

“So dramatic. Have you not learned your lesson from being put in your place some three or four times? Let me try a little something new.” Another tug of the collar and Vynathr was brought mere inches from Emet-Selch’s face, unable to pull away or lunge forward as he felt the fingers hooked in his collar ring get exchanged for a hand around his throat, choking him with just enough force to make him struggle.

“Behave, or I will be forced to place you in cuffs and set you somewhere for anyone to use for a day. If you wish to eat so badly, surely you’ll happily take whatever the passerby choose to shove down your throat, and you can wait another day for your medication. Unless, of course, you settle down now .”

Vynathr was released with a shove and fell backwards, heaving for breath and shaking from adrenaline. He’d never been in a dangerous situation for so long. In the past, he’d always found an opening or made a nuisance of himself if he had to until something gave. He kept giving in to the same instinct here, to growl and glare and fight, and every time, he was cowed back into submission with a few words and the occasional physical reminder of the utter power his captors held.

“Will you behave?”

There was nothing he could do. Another deep breath, then Vynathr got up, wrapping his arms around himself as he nodded and stared at the floor.

“Good boy.”

Emet-Selch snapped his fingers and the cuff on Vynathr’s ankle opened, the movement unmissable. It took everything Vynathr had to not break into a run then and there.

“Follow me.”

Chapter Text

Once again, travelling through the halls was stressful. Before, the only notice he'd been given was a wave, but this time, one of the Ascians saw fit to whistle playfully at Vynathr, who immediately rushed forward to get out of their view. Emet-Selch stopped in place, turning to shoot a smirk at the Ascian who had whistled, one in a group of three, then beckoned to Vynathr with a crooked finger, and Vynathr hesitated before slowly creeping back into view, still trying to hide his chest.

“I do hope that was aimed at our new pet and not myself.”

“Of course, sir.” The other man replied with a hint of nervousness in his voice, and Vynathr felt his stomach sink at the realisation that this was one of the men who had used him before in the cave, mixed with some satisfaction at his nerves. Vynathr carefully moved to stand behind Emet-Selch a bit, though he knew that the man was unlikely to lift a finger to protect him from the others.

“Good. Say, you three are of the Twelfth, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Might you be the ones who brought this lovely specimen in?”

“I am, yes, and Ometz.” The man nodded to another one of the Ascians, who nodded respectfully at Emet-Selch. So Ometz was the name of the man who had been in front of him before, the one who Vynathr felt certain had waved at him. Was Emet-Selch so highly ranked that they would behave this way towards him?

“Wonderful. I'll have to thank the two of you. Is there anything you might want?”

The man glanced at the other two, clearly uncertain, before Ometz spoke up.

“We might appreciate having him to toy with, today. Lahabrea said that we had to wait for his permission, but…”

Vynathr froze, clutching his dress all the tighter as his breath stopped. Emet-Selch had threatened him with something not too dissimilar, but he'd settled down as he was told—surely he wouldn't do this?

“Did he, now?”

Emet-Selch glanced back at Vynathr, shooting him a smirk. Vynathr startled, rushing forward to pull on Emet-Selch's sleeve for his attention so he could sign to him.

‘Please don't give me to them. I behaved. I will be good, please take me to Lahabrea.’

He heard one of the Ascians snicker at his desperation but did not look back, staring imploringly at Emet-Selch. Lahabrea was more patient and had given him the illusion of choice, and he needed that. He had been reluctant to leave his bedroom at all, but he would do anything to avoid or even delay being degraded by those men again. Emet-Selch smiled up at Vynathr, seeming to consider his options before summoning up a small orb of darkness and speaking into it.

“Lahabrea. Your men wish to toy with your pet Vy, but he has begged oh-so-nicely to be brought to you instead. I rather suspect I could get him on his knees in order to see you. What would you have me do with him?”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Lahabrea spoke, his voice flat and calm as before.

“Bring him to me. He has made his request and my men are aware that they must wait for my order. They can have him another time.”

Vynathr felt his breath rush out of him, relief paired with a budding sense of gratefulness that he wouldn't have to take those men again so quickly. He could feel their eyes on him, their disappointment and hunger, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they got him. The thought filled his head for a moment, shared roughly between them to work out their frustrations, not a care in the world for his fear or needs. He shivered, and told himself that the reaction was one of anything but want. 

Hopefully, they would forget their resentment by then. He doubted it, but he could hope. Carefully, Vynathr took a step away from Emet-Selch, recollecting himself and signing before crossing his arms over his chest and holding onto the fabric there once more, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor to the side of him.

‘Thank you.’

“Aw. He says thank you , Lahabrea.” Emet-Selch practically cooed into the darkness, with no response from the other side. “We'll see you in a moment.”

With that, Emet-Selch allowed the darkness to dissipate, then turned to face the men who had asked for Vynathr.

“Apologies that your request could not be fulfilled immediately. I will see what I can do to convince Lahabrea after he is finished with him today.”

The men nodded, one of them shrugging, but Vynathr could sense frustration within them, even if they hid it. The thought of them taking that frustration out on him brought a shudder from Vynathr, but he tried to hide it and his fear.

“Worth a shot.” The one who had whistled said lightly, sitting back a bit from where he'd leaned forward in anticipation.

“Indeed. Is there anything else?” The three glanced amongst themselves, seeming to consider their options, before they seemed to center on Ometz for a leader, and he responded.

“... No, sir. But if we think of something later, can we ask?”

“Certainly. Come along, pet.”

Emet-Selch began to walk towards Lahabrea's lab once more, and Vynathr followed, ducking his head so he wouldn't have to look at the group as he left. Regardless, he could feel their eyes boring into his back, every exposed inch of skin.

The walk to Lahabrea's lab wasn't much further, and soon enough, Emet-Selch was knocking at the door. Lahabrea opened it, and Emet-Selch lightly pushed Vynathr forward.

“Here he is. Say thank you to him in person, why don't you?”

Vynathr frowned, feeling his face go warm.

‘Thank you.’

“Good boy. Enjoy your science or whatever it was you planned to do, Lahabrea. And do let me know when you plan on letting your boys have their fun.”

Lahabrea sighed softly, then nodded.

“Tomorrow. The samples indicated there was nothing wrong with him, and the birth control I chose works properly within two days. Assuming he takes it daily.”

“Oh, good. Well, I'll see you later.”

Emet-Selch walked away, giving a rather distinct wave as he went, and Vynathr turned to look at Lahabrea nervously.

“Come in.”

Vynathr obeyed, moving towards the bed Lahabrea had had him on before, though he did not sit down. Lahabrea closed the door behind him and then approached.

“Sit. And open your mouth.”

Vynathr gulped, trying to settle his nerves, then obeyed, accepting the pill Lahabrea gave him and the water that followed. Lahabrea set the water aside, then picked up a small device and rested it against Vynathr's wrist, where he knew his pulse could be sensed. What was that for…?

“Tell me of the medicine you take.”

Vynathr released his breath, then nodded.

‘It is a supplement made from intensifying the effect of a type of fruit. It makes me more masculine.’

“Testosterone?” Lahabrea moved the device to press against Vynathr's throat.

Vynathr recognized the word distantly. Ah, that had been what the scions had first mentioned when they had offered him this. They'd noticed that he was a man born in a body associated with a woman, though he still considered his own body his and thus a man, and had offered him testosterone. He hadn't understood, so they'd reworded it to the description he'd given Lahabrea.

‘Yes.’

“That explains your heightened levels. Then I was right in giving you the type of birth control I did- the other variety might have reversed the effects. I assume your scions provided to you?” Lahabrea pulled his device away and wrote something down as he spoke, and Vynathr nodded.

“Then I will have to have their records retrieved to get your correct dosage. The Sharlayan method is inconvenient, but less so than a gel, and less intimidating than a needle, so I assume that is what you would prefer to stick with.”

A needle? Vynathr wasn't particularly afraid of them, but he would prefer eating genetically modified pomegranates over taking a needle, regardless—they were sweet and pleasant, even if the alterations caused a hint of bitterness to contrast the sweetness, he didn't mind. He nodded once again.

“Very well. I will send a familiar to retrieve them until I am able to produce my own.”

‘Thank you.’ Vynathr hesitated, considering stopping there. Asking questions and making requests invited danger with Emet-Selch, but would they with Lahabrea?

“What.” Lahabrea's voice was flat as ever as he wrote something down once more, and Vynathr flinched, clenching his hand into a fist and stretching it back out before responding.

‘I have been here for a night, encountered four of you, and I still don't know what you are or what you want from me aside from… this.’

Vynathr plucked at his dress and stocking, hoping he could indicate what he meant without having to outright say it. Lahabrea looked over the board he had been writing upon and set it down to the side.

“We Ascians are the enemies of Hydaelyn. Of the false narrative she has set and her actions upon our home and people. She claims that she is a god, the voice of the land, but she was only a woman, once, albeit of a different sort from you. The same sort of being, ancient and powerful, as myself and two other Ascians that remain. She became a primal. The second to ever exist and the first to feed upon the aether of the land rather than the safe stores given by others. She sundered our world and made most of us mortal. Made you and all mortals mortal. We work to undo it.”

Vynathr slowly scooted away, unsettled by the tale. He could tell there was a lot more to it, but he didn't like what he'd already heard. He could ask further another time. He wasn't sure he trusted the words, but surely knowing their claims would help him should he ever escape.

‘And what do you want with me?’

“Knowledge. I sense within you Hydaelyn's blessing. Unfinished—three aspects of the blessing remain. Never have I imprisoned a Warrior of Light before their blessing was completed. So much as a single aspect of the six is enough to shield you from the opposing element, but will an unfinished blessing protect you from darkness at large?”

Lahabrea raised his hand, brushing the two clawed fingertips of his glove over Vynathr's throat. Vynathr froze, leaning his head back and shivering slightly, fear stirring within him at the other man's words and the implicit threat of his hand at Vynathr’s throat. Something else stirred as well, but he refused to pay it any mind, knowing that now was not the time.

‘What do you mean?’

“The Blessing of Light protects you from the influence of a primal, but will it protect your mind from subtler things? What of its vulnerabilities? It could crumble in its unfinished state.” 

Lahabrea's hand moved closer until his palm pressed directly to Vynathr's throat and Vynathr swallowed, knowing Lahabrea could likely feel his rapid heartbeat. 

“I can feel your light pushing against my hand as I speak. A ready protection against whatever threat I might pose. An abundance of aether, an open faucet pouring from Hydaelyn herself. And yet just weak enough that I can shut it off when I choose. Push her influence out from inside you if only for a moment.”

Vynathr felt the dark push through him and shuddered, not having realised how bright the light had slowly built within him in response to the threat until it was gone. Lahabrea then pulled away, allowing the light to come rushing back. Vynathr reeled, unconsciously pressing against his hand for balance as his breath he had not realised he had been holding returned.

“That is what I wish to experiment with. Your blessing’s light and its responses to my darkness. Whether it will weaken or shatter against the slow and constant push of Ascian after Ascian passing by your unfinished defences, or remain steadfast. And if it is the latter, perhaps we can use this open flow, its borders not yet sealed, to syphon from Hydaelyn and use her aether for our own purposes. I noted no abnormalities when first you arrived, before your encounter with Graffias, save for the fact that your blessing was open. I thought this to be an error on Hydaelyn's part and took you in to better understand what may have broken your seal without my notice, but now, I understand that the seal was not broken, but rather never formed in the first place. You are a unique opportunity. One I can only hope will yield informative or useful results.”

It was more words than Vynathr had otherwise heard from Lahabrea thus far, and paired with the threatening touch and the fact that he didn't quite understand, he was beginning to regret his begging to be brought to Lahabrea. As if sensing that confusion and fear, Lahabrea distracted him with the summoning of a small, multicoloured orb in his hand. He held it up to Vynathr, allowing him to see the colours swirling over its dark surface in complex formation, then summoned up a new layer over it with six points for lines of light to connect, forming a web over the orb and filling the gaps with light.

“This is you. A representation of your aether approximated by what I could sense when touching your throat with the light pushed away. And this is what a fully formed blessing might be represented by. But you…” Lahabrea pressed his thumb against the web and three points faded away, leaving the web loosened with gaps for his thumb to push through. “Your defence lacks. It allows your own aether to burn more brightly, more power of your own at the cost of your shield. And these points where the lines should connect… There is a chance we could tether them to something new.”

Lahabrea pulled his thumb out of the gap and held the orb out to Vynathr, who accepted it, cupping it in his hands and gently pressing his fingers over the strings of light. If that orb was him… was his aether so dark? Was he so vulnerable, or was this an exaggeration for the sake of his understanding?

‘... What are you going to do to me?’

Lahabrea did not react for a moment, looking upon the orb in thought, before he took it back from Vynathr and allowed it to dissipate, stepping just a little too uncomfortably close in the process.

“I will not shatter your blessing, if that is what you're afraid of. For the moment, my goals are twofold. Firstly, I must observe the effects of your time in this place amongst Ascians. Constant exposure to intense levels of our aether paired with your constantly being made vulnerable and open to influence by the activities of Emet-Selch and my own underlings. We will see if your light will hold up or even strengthen against it, or if your Mothercrystal will abandon you. And if the Blessing of Light remains, then I will next see if I can connect you to something to syphon that excess aether. You will be kept alive. Preferably well and cared for. Should you wish for things to increase your comfort that do not interfere with my work, I will do my best to indulge them. But only if you act within reason. No more destroying your room. If you must put up a fight, keep it limited.”

Vynathr hesitated, pressing his hand to his throat where Lahabrea had touched him before. The feeling remained there, a sort of tightness and energy buzzing through his veins. He wasn't particularly trusting of Lahabrea, still, but at least he had claimed he'd had a reason for touching him like that. At least he held a pretence of not bringing Vynathr fear and turmoil for amusement alone. Vynathr swallowed and nodded.

“Good. Now, before I begin my work for the day, I must ask. Is there anything that you need? Anything that has not yet been supplied to you today?”

Vynathr hesitated, fidgeting for a moment before nodding. Perhaps this would go better with Lahabrea than it had with Emet-Selch.

‘I have not eaten.’

Lahabrea seemed surprised by this, if only subtly, lifting his head slightly to meet Vynathr's eyes as if to gauge his truthfulness.

“... Strange. Typically Emet-Selch is far too eager to feed those under his care.”

Vynathr crossed his legs at the reminder of the night before, hoping that the movement was subtle enough to avoid any notice.

‘He did last night, but this morning, he said that I had slept in and we did not have time.’

“I see,” Lahabrea responded lowly, looking over Vynathr for a few moments. “Then I will take care of that in a moment. But first, lay down.”

Lay down? Vynathr hesitated, shifting uncertainly before he did as asked, trying to get comfortable as much as he could. Lahabrea then gently but firmly pressed one hand into the bed and cuffed it there, leading Vynathr's other hand to shoot up and sign urgently.

‘What are you doing?’

“I am going to take readings of your aetheric levels, which requires you to hold still for a detailed scan. If you truly did not have the time to be fed, then I assume Emet-Selch did not take the time to do anything more direct aside from his usual games, either, which means that you have had a night of only ambient exposure to dark aether.”

Vynathr frowned and Lahabrea began to guide his wrist back down before Vynathr pulled it away.

‘He slept beside me.’

Lahabrea met Vynathr's gaze and stared for a moment in silence before continuing to push Vynathr’s wrist to the bed and strapping it down.

“Unless he also slept inside you, the effect should be minimal, but I will note it just in case. The effects of aetheric influences are strongest and fastest when the related physical matter is present inside the body, such as in your mouth.” He then moved on to start strapping down Vynathr's ankles, leaving him in the same position he'd awakened in the day before.

“Observing your aether during your intake of nutrients should show me your aetheric sensitivity. And my familiar should be arriving with your medicine shortly after we finish, so the two factors shouldn't interfere with each other.”

Vynathr wanted to listen, feeling some genuine curiosity at the idea—he’d never thought to consider aetheric sensitivity in the context of his food, somehow—but the mounting apprehension of being tied up like this made it difficult to focus. He spent a few moments shifting his arm, testing his bonds a bit as Lahabrea walked away and returned, then looked up as Lahabrea moved some sort of Allagan-looking machine hanging from the ceiling. What was that? Probably the device meant to take his readings, he supposed, but he didn't like it. He was distracted from his thoughts as Lahabrea settled behind Vynathr and hovered a grape over his lips.

“Open up.”

Vynathr froze, feeling his heart start to beat faster as the constant warmth in his face he'd been feeling on and off all of this time doubled in intensity. The feeling of it shouldn't have that effect, he knew, shouldn't make something in his stomach tighten, but it did. Gods damn that Emet-Selch for making something so innocent as a meal seem threatening. He refused to acknowledge any other feelings. Lahabrea paused there, then pressed the grape against Vynathr's lips a little more firmly, and Vynathr opened his mouth, eating the grape neatly. Lahabrea took another moment in silence and Vynathr tried to glance up and behind himself, but was distracted by another grape, which he accepted before returning to craning his neck. Lahabrea was staring into some sort of monitor, brow furrowed, and Vynathr felt some of his apprehension fade in favour of curiosity before Lahabrea turned away from his monitor, focusing more closely on feeding Vynathr. 

Vynathr tried his best to ignore the gaze focused on him, accepting the grapes pressed against his lips. His apprehension mounted with every bite, every brush of fingers over his lips. Still, Vynathr tried his best not to express it even as his eyes roved over the room in determination to look anywhere but at the man craning over him, feeding him one bite at a time. By the end of the ten grapes, Vynathr was wishing he could sink into the earth, but Lahabrea was far from finished. An apple followed, still whole, and Lahabrea held it over Vynathr's mouth at some small distance as he carefully sliced into it, rocking a small knife against it with minimal force so as to not accidentally slice into his own palm. A drop of juice fell from the blade and Vynathr opened his mouth to catch it, pushing his head back and feeling some small, nonsensical thrill at the thought of preventing a mess, catching it inside instead. He told himself that it was only because he wished to avoid being humiliated by someone else using their tongue to clean it off of him as Emet-Selch had done. Lahabrea fed the slice to him and Vynathr took it readily, hunger tight in his stomach warring against the flurry of other feelings to block it. Slice by slice, Lahabrea worked his way around the core, then offered Vynathr the knife, letting him run his tongue carefully over the flat of it to catch the last hints of apple before he moved on.

Then there was pineapple. A food he normally liked, one which would normally hold no significance for him save for the simple fact that Emet-Selch had used it to torment him with the mess it tended to make. Vynathr's breath caught and Lahabrea's gaze snapped upwards to something on his monitor, allowing Vynathr to accept this one and the next with little fuss save for his own pounding heart. Lahabrea wasn't toying with him, he was only feeding him. He had to hold onto that hope.

The third pineapple chunk was pushed into Vynathr's mouth, but Lahabrea's fingers did not pull away. Instead, they slowly pushed into Vynathr's mouth, pressing against his tongue, and Vynathr froze.

“... It's not the food.”

Lahabrea muttered the words to himself seemingly unprompted, drawing a soft, confused sound from Vynathr. Lahabrea looked down at Vynathr, that sharp analytic gaze pinning him down, and Vynathr shuddered, trying his best to lean his head back away from the fingers in his mouth.

“Your aetheric activity had an abnormal jump the very moment I placed food against your lips. I attributed this to hunger, but it persisted as I continued to feed you, and seemed to only increase. Even now, it is strong when the only thing inside your mouth is my finger. This means that your aetheric activity is responding to something other than the food, rendering any attempt to measure your response to said food useless. Now it is only the question of what, exactly, this aetheric response is.”

Lahabrea's free hand came to rest upon Vynathr's jaw then slid slowly downwards over his throat, one finger slipping beneath the collar Emet-Selch had given him, and Vynathr whimpered softly, the warmth in his face deepening out of simultaneous arousal and humiliation even as apprehension shuddered in his lungs. Was he truly so easy to affect? Perhaps his fear and arousal had become tied as he'd worried. Or perhaps it was nothing more than the memory of what had happened only the night before. Either way, Lahabrea seemed to have noticed it, trailing that warm hand over Vynathr's skin before pulling his finger out from under the collar.

“This is not exactly ideal. Your reaction renders my attempt to gauge your aetheric sensitivity useless—we will have to find another way. And yet...”

His voice was so soft, yet so… analytical. Like Emet-Selch, he was too perceptive for Vynathr's reactions to escape his notice, but at the same time, he did not seem to devour Vynathr with his gaze as Emet-Selch did. He looked for every detail, but he did not drink them in to sate some desire. Either way, Vynathr was thoroughly pinned by his eyes, picked apart, and the feeling only heightened his mixed emotions.

“Perhaps this is worthy of investigation. What could bring your very aether to rise at every touch?” The hand that had slid over Vynathr's throat moved further, pressed flat to his sternum. Those strong, warm fingers spread over him, just shy of his breast, as the other hand played with his mouth, sliding digits firmly over his tongue, back and forth. Vynathr shuddered, barely suppressing another weak vocalisation. 

“Rapid heartbeat, rapid, shaky, but deep breath, dilated pupils, lowered ears. Bodily tension, clenched fists, trembling. All consistent with fear, which could explain the aetheric response. And yet…”

Lahabrea pulled his fingers out of Vynathr's mouth, then slid that hand into his hair, holding Vynathr in place as he kissed him. Vynathr gave a small sound but did not fight it too much, only beginning to squirm and try to audibly protest (if only in the form of whimpers) when Lahabrea's other hand slid to the side, pulling aside the silk dress to toy with Vynathr's chest, rolling his nipple between thumb and forefinger to draw out a helpless keen. He wasn't generally particularly sensitive to such things, at least from what he could tell with his private explorations, but this situation did plenty to enhance the little reaction he had. Lahabrea's tongue dipped into Vynathr's mouth for only a moment, then he pulled away, leaving Vynathr panting.

“At the same time, you exhibit signs of arousal. Flushed features, vocal responses to not only stimulation of erogenous zones but stimulation to the mouth, and subconsciously shifting hips. The two emotions hold an overlap, one you appear to be trapped in.”

Vynathr had not even realised that he had been moving his hips. He immediately resolved to stop, but Lahabrea's hand slid down between his legs, pushing aside both his skirt and the panties beneath it, and that resolution was ruined before it began. Vynathr squirmed, a delicate whimper leaving him as he tried to press his thighs together to drive away the touch despite the binds keeping him in place. The touch was slow but insistent, thick fingers working against him and gathering his slick.

“I wonder…”

Please. The thought filled Vynathr, but he only clenched his fist tighter as he tried to quiet himself, panting and choking back his moans. Lahabrea regarded him silently for a long moment, then pushed a finger in and curled it, pressing against Vynathr's g-spot and forcing a mewl out of him. So much for silence. It seemed every time Vynathr resolved to refuse to react in some way, Lahabrea would immediately force that barrier down, not allowing Vynathr to taint his data with his attempts to keep his dignity. Or perhaps he was simply skilled at this. Vynathr certainly couldn't tell, fully occupied with the way Lahabrea circled his clit with a calloused thumb and used the other hand to guide Vynathr's head back so he could almost experimentally press his teeth to the crook between Vynathr's neck and his shoulder. Vynathr's breath came faster with that quiet threat, but somewhere the fear blended with need just as Lahabrea had said, and he registered his hips rocking against Lahabrea's hand just a little bit faster, vocalisations leaving him with every gasp for air.

He was close. Faster than he'd gotten there before, but perhaps it made sense—he’d been left needing by Emet-Selch not long ago, brought past a group to ogle him and make him fear and anticipate, and now this. He felt the heat mounting in his body, every muscle winding tight, pressure building for release. And then, at the last moment, he registered some small sound and Lahabrea faltered, lifting his head to look at something on his screen. The reaction was immediate, a broken, trailing cry leaving Vynathr as his release came, but only partially. Ruined. Lahabrea looked down at him and Vynathr turned his head away, another small sound leaving him this time in mixed disappointment and resentment. 

Lahabrea didn't look particularly pleased, himself, but pulled away regardless, only to walk around Vynathr and drop to his knees between his legs, once again, pulling aside the panties once again to make way for his tongue. Vynathr inhaled sharply, then allowed his head to fall back, once again rocking his hips against the stimulation as a weak whimper left him. His movements were cautious, shy, his need for something more fulfilling than the ruined round before warring with the beginnings of overstimulation and a slight concern that he couldn't quite kick regarding the thought that Lahabrea would be irritated by the movement against him. Regardless of the concern, Lahabrea didn't seem to mind, taking his time, his hands slowly stroking over Vynathr's thighs. Slowly, the intensity built, pace and pressure rising before Lahabrea slid his hands down, grabbing Vynathr's hips and pressing his tongue inside him, holding him down as his back arched.

“Ah—!”

Lahabrea only doubled down from there, his tongue sliding back out and over Vynathr's clit once more before he pressed his lips around it and sucked, drawing out another cry. One hand slid away from his hips to press two fingers inside him instead and Vynathr whimpered and arched once more, feeling Lahabrea's breath against him deepen, faster, hot and heavy. 

Gods, he wanted more. Even held down and made to cry out and take the stimulation that bordered on too much, Vynathr wanted more, wanted Lahabrea to fuck him again, to bite his throat and mark him rather than simply teasing at the idea, cover every place that Emet-Selch had sucked marks into his skin. His moans rose in pitch as he turned his head away, rocking his hips as much as he could when they were pinned down, his hands clenched into fists so tight he could feel his nails press into his palm. Shame warred with want, and when Lahabrea pulled the fingers inside him away, Vynathr did not miss the fact that he did so to pull his robes open and stroke himself with Vynathr's slick. 

Please, please, please, please. The word filled Vynathr's head with every breath he panted out, rapid in time with his twitching hips. Need shuddered through him, and he had never wanted to say a word aloud quite so badly before. But he couldn't. All he could do was whimper, gasp, and cry as he felt himself rise closer and closer to the edge. Finally, he came, felt liquid gush from him as tears filled his eyes. Lahabrea was not long after, judging by his groan, and for a long moment after, neither moved, catching their breath. Finally, Lahabrea rose, magicking away his own mess and getting dressed before cleaning Vynathr up as well, taking much the same pattern as the first time, wiping him clean, moving his clothes into place and giving him a bottle to drink from. 

After, he returned to his place behind Vynathr, feeding him the rest of the fruit he'd had prepared. Having already thoroughly been worn out, Vynathr didn't have the space of mind to get complicated feelings about the act, and simply ate, accepting his food without any fuss or hesitation, and leaning into the touch when Lahabrea gently pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face before undoing his bonds and helping him sit up.

“I assume you would like to go back to your room,” Lahabrea said lowly, and Vynathr considered this for a long moment before nodding. The day was not over, but he was tired, and perhaps he could get a bath later. Lahabrea nodded back at him, then stepped back, allowing Vynathr to get to his feet before leading him out of the room.