Morning light filters through the closed blinds, illuminating the room with a warm, comfortable glow. You begin to stir, shifting in—on top of—your bed and reaching up to rub your face. A long yawn cracks your jaw, and your eyes flutter and blink open, squinting against the light.

As your sleep-fuzzed mind begins to awaken along with your body, you remember the auction. You remember Mellygch and Mr. Aldrich. You remember Eleazar.

Your head flops back onto the pillow as you sigh, wondering what you're going to do. You don't know anything about the magus, and have no clue how to go about getting him adjusted to this side; what does that even mean, anyway? Well, you suppose, you can figure it out as you go along.

But first, breakfast.

And then you realize you have no idea what Eleazar eats.

With another soft groan, you rub at your eyes with a forefinger and thumb and look over to the magus. You see him lying on his stomach on the floor, his bestial skull resting on his crossed forearms—you wince and feel a stab of guilt at not finding someplace more comfortable for him, or at least offering the magus a blanket and a pillow. That stab becomes a twisting knife when you get another look at his back, and finally notice the deep-looking scars crisscrossing the coal-black flesh. Some of them look fresher than others, more like scabs than scars, and extend from Eleazar's shoulder blades down to the rise of the magus' backside.

His firm, round, bare backside, the flesh only tantalizingly hidden by the magus' thick tail.

What happened to Eleazar's loincloth?

You cough and firmly bring your gaze back up to Eleazar's horned head, and call out to the magus. It takes a few more increasingly-loud repetitions of his name before the amber lights of his eyes spark to life in his eye sockets. Eleazar sits up with a jaw-cracking yawn, and a sinuous, grey-fleshed tongue curls out of his toothy maw while the magus's limbs stretch and flex; he seems to be completely unaware of the show he's putting on. He finally turns to meet your gaze, his legs crossing before him, and his eyes glow a little brighter. "Good morning, Anon."

You clear your throat, trying to keep your eyes from dropping down between his splayed thighs, and return his greeting. Then, you ask him why he's naked.

"Hm? Ah." Eleazar glances down at his bare body, as if just noticing his nudity. "Forgive me. ‘Tis a bit embarrassing, but..." He hesitates while his gaze darts around the room. "I have been wearing that cloth during the entire duration of my captivity, and so it has grown, well, unclean. I wished to take the opportunity to free myself from it while I was resting, and..."

Well, you guess you can't blame him for that. You suppose you could find something that'll fit him after a shower.

His skull tilts to the side. "Shower?"

Oh boy.

You stretch and crawl out of bed, telling Eleazar to come with you. After grabbing a change of clothes from your closet, you lead the magus out of the bedroom and across the short hall to the bathroom. As he follows, the sheer size of this lad becomes apparent once more; he actually has to stoop down to pass through the doorways.

Eleazar jumps like a skittish kitten as you flip on the lights in the bathroom, and then looks around the small space in wonderment. He seems particularly fascinated by the sink and toilet. "A washbasin and chamber pot, I take it? But whence the water?" So, he doesn't know about indoor plumbing. Great.

With a blush and a little shimmy, you realize that you're about to have the opportunity to demonstrate how it works for him. Eleazar tilts his head again as you tell him to turn away, but finally does when you tell him you need to take a piss. It's a bit awkward with the magus standing right there, but eventually you can let out a long sigh as the soft tinkling of your relief echoes in the bathroom. When you finally finish up your business, you tuck your junk back into your jeans—you finally realize that you're still in your clothes from last night, and let out a low grunt—and call Eleazar over. With all the flourish of a showman, you flush the toilet.

"Ah!" Again Eleazar jumps at the sudden rushing of the water, and then watches in fascination as it swirls down the bowl. "How marvelous. I see no runes anywhere, and yet it drains itself..." The magus' soft humming as he ponders the wonder before him is oddly endearing, and you can't help letting out a soft chuckle as you move to wash your hands. You can feel the magus's curious gaze on you, and then hear very loud splashing and a groan of satisfaction as Eleazar relieves himself as well, followed by the toilet flushing.

Well, at least he's a fast learner.

You feel Eleazar loom over you, and move aside to let him use the sink after you. "To be honest, Anon, I did not know what to expect from humans. I had heard they were completely ignorant in the magic arts, but all of this..." He takes particular childish delight in pumping soap onto his hands, and then scrubs them under the running water.

You chuckle and tell him if indoor plumbing gets him that excited, then he hasn't seen anything yet.

"Right, you still must show me this 'shower'."

You gesture to the small tiled section in the corner, closed off by a thin curtain, and tell him that's it.

Eleazar studies it for a long moment, touching and prodding at the shower head and the handle in the tiled wall below it, and then he nods and lets out a sound of understanding as you explain how it works. "So it is like rain, only indoor, and that is what you humans use to bathe yourselves. Extraordinary!"

You start to tell him it's really not as cool as all that when Eleazar slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against him. He seems oblivious to the burning flush on your cheeks as your face rests just below the middle of his firm chest, and it takes all of your willpower not to take a peek downward at what the naked magus is packing. "Come, young master Anon! We are both in need of a 'shower',"—you take a whiff of the air surrounding you both, and your face grows hotter when you realize how right he is—“and this is the perfect opportunity for us to get to know one another!"

Pardon?

Eleazar seems confused by your reticence. "A nice, long bath with friends is considered the best arena of socialization back in Eyghlewhyn. Is it not so upon this side?"

Not exactly. At least, not where you live.

"Well, no matter. Come, undress yourself, Anon. There is no need to be shy." His clawed hand pats your shoulder, and then the magus goes to start playing with the shower controls.

You bite your lip, glancing from the humming magus to the bathroom door. Taking a shower with Eleazar isn't exactly an unpleasant idea, but there's a little problem; and you aren't thinking about the one the sight of the naked magus is causing in your pants. How exactly are the both of you supposed to fit, you ask him. The shower is barely big enough for just you to turn around comfortably, never mind the both of you trying to squeeze in there together.

The magus chuckles, and gives you a glance with his shining, flaring eyes. "'Tis no matter at all, Anon." His delight at having managed to get the shower on and the water at a comfortably-warm temperature is apparent in the way he eagerly hops in. "I realize that the dimensions of this 'shower' aren’t quite adequate for the both of us, but such things are mere trifles to a magus such as I." You blink and rub your eyes. Is your vision getting messed up, or are the walls of the shower expanding to accommodate Eleazar's bulk? He turns and holds his hand out to you as one of his eyes blinks out for a moment—a wink?—while steam begins to fog the mirror and fill the room. "Come."

You sigh and nod, grabbing the only washcloth you own and a bottle of body wash. If it'll make Eleazar happy, then why not? You're both men—you finally take a peek between Eleazar's legs—so it's not like it has to be weird, right? You undress, stripping out of your day-old clothes and trying to hide your own crotch from Eleazar's curious gaze, and will yourself with all your might to not spring a boner as you step into the shower with him. Again, the tiled walls seem to stretch, and the arc of water from the shower head even extends to splash over you both. How is he doing that?

Eleazar answers with a warm chuckle and another blink-wink. "I told you anon, such things are trifles to one with my talents." He accepts the soap-covered washcloth from you, and the lights in his eye sockets flicker out as he begins washing himself with another low moan. Operation Contain Your Boner fails spectacularly as you take the opportunity to look the magus over while rinsing your own body. The steam curls around Eleazar's tall, imposing form, and warm water runs down his chest and stomach and over the puffy lips of the slit just above his heavy, low-hanging ball sack. You feel guilty for ogling the magus while you two are supposed to be 'socializing', so you clear your throat and try to think up some way to strike up conversation that won't be too awkward. "Anon, would you mind washing my back?"

You sputter as your train of thought comes to a crashing halt.

The magus is looking at you, reaching over to offer you the washcloth. He has to have noticed the erection you're sporting—the lights in his eye sockets dart down to your crotch, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment and shame—but he makes no comment on it. "I cannot quite reach, and so I would appreciate your assistance." If it weren't for the blasé tone in his voice, you'd think he was mimicking the setup for a cheesy porno.

Do they even have cheesy pornos in Ellie-wherever-the-fuck?

You nod and agree with a hoarse croak, and take the washcloth back from Eleazar. The magus turns his back to you, and leans back into your hand as you reach up to scrub at his broad shoulders. This close to him, you get an even better look at the scars across his back, making deep furrows in the dark flesh and breaking up the thick trail of hair running down to the tip of his tail. You try to dab at the wounds as gently as you can, and hear a low groan from Eleazar. Before you can even think about it, you ask in a quiet murmur how long he was kept for the slave auction.

Eleazar's skull tips back to look toward the ceiling as he hums in thought. "Time moves strangely on this side, so it is difficult to say for certain. At least two fortnights, perhaps three."

You have no idea how long a fortnight is off the top of your head, so you just nod and keep scrubbing large circles from Eleazar's shoulders down to the base of his swaying tail. And how did someone like him even become a slave, you ask.

Eleazar's voice grows soft and distant. "Those who considered me their enemy took advantage of my weakness, and took everything from me. My fortune. My titles. My freedom..." The magus grunts and pulls away from your hand, and turns to face you. The eternal smile of his skull-head looks oddly strained as he holds out one clawed hand. "If you would like, I shall return the favor of washing you, Anon."

You can only nod in agreement and hand the washcloth off to him, biting your lip. You want to apologize for bringing up any bad memories, but the magus just directs you to turn around and begins scrubbing at your back when you do so. His large hands are gentle as they rub slow circles over your bare flesh. The warmth of the water seems to sink into your muscles as Eleazar begins to hum soft, murmured words. What is he doing?

"Peace, Anon. 'Tis only a relaxation spell. Meant to soothe the aches and pains of exertion." His rubbing grows slower, almost becoming a massage as the washcloth glides up and down your back. "Do you like it?" His voice is quiet, almost shy.

Yes, you purr, leaning back into Eleazar's touch. Your eyes slip closed and your head falls back. You begin to lose track of time while listening to the running water and the magus's low humming. When he finally pulls his hands away you collapse backward against his chest, and Eleazar has to grasp your shoulders to support you.

"I suppose it worked," he says with soft, warm laugh.

Yeah. You look up at him, captivated by the dimly-shining lights of his amber eyes. The two of you lock gazes for a long moment before you jerk yourself out of your thoughts and push yourself away from him with an apology.

"Not at all, Anon. Please, forgive me." His voice cracks as Eleazar hands the washcloth back to you and turns away to rinse off. You begin scrubbing yourself, keeping your gaze firmly on the tile between your feet, and the both of you finish your shower in silence.


You drop onto the ragged couch in the living room—it's more like a main room to the apartment with the front door right next to the small kitchenette—with a sigh. Things finally began to ease between you and Eleazar as your shower came to an end and you dried yourselves off—the magus declined using your only towel in favor of magicing himself dry with a gust of warm air. After throwing on the pair of shorts and the old shirt you had grabbed out of the closet, the problem of Eleazar not having any clothes reared its head once more.

You glance over to the magus, watching him examine everything in the room in fascination as he murmurs and mutters to himself; once more, he seems completely ignorant of his nudity. You don't think anything you have would even come close to fitting his bulk. His chest alone is wider than your entire body, and the firm muscles under the dark flesh are bigger than any you've ever seen.

"Anon?"

And that's not even getting into his strong-looking hips and thick thighs. That long tail swaying behind him would make finding pants for him pretty much impossible. Your gaze moves back between his thighs to the low, swinging orbs of his balls; those are bigger than any you've ever seen before, too.

"Master Anon?"

You jump and let out an embarrassing yelp when you feel a clawed finger poke your shoulder. Your cheeks burst into a hot flush and you jerk your eyes upward to meet Eleazar's own gaze. Yes, what is it?

"Forgive me for intruding upon your thoughts," he says in that blasé tone of his again. "But I realize you have not yet had your morning meal. I was concerned that you had forgotten in the wake of certain events."

You thank him for the vote of confidence, and tell him you’re sure his concern has nothing to do with the rumbling in his own stomach.

The lights in his eye sockets dim when you give the lithe expanse of his abdomen a poke in return, and from his stammering you think he'd be blushing as well if he could. "Of course not. As your- As I am bound in servitude to you, it is my responsibility to look after your well-being..."

You rise up off the couch and pat his arm, letting out a warm chuckle. You thank him for worrying about you, but you're a big boy and can take care of yourself. With that, you make your way to the kitchenette, trying to think of what you can fix for the two of you. You set coffee brewing in the coffee maker—one of the few luxuries your tight budget allows—and take a tentative look into the fridge. Eggs would be easy enough to fix, and luckily you still have a few left over. Combine them with some shredded cheese and that slightly-wrinkly bell pepper in a token attempt at being healthy, and you'd have yourself a pretty good breakfast. You pull your haul out, and tell Eleazar you're going to make an omelet for you both.

The magus tilts his head in confusion, and then his eyes lock onto the pepper in your hand. The lights in his eye sockets flicker and dim. Why is he staring at you like you just grew a second head? "Anon, have I done something to insult you? If I have, then you have my humblest apologies." You ask Eleazar what he's talking about, and he gestures to the vegetable you're holding. It's just a bell pepper, you tell him. It's supposed to be tasty. After a moment of hesitation, he asks, “Are such poisons truly a delicacy on this side?"

What.

Before you can reassure Eleazar that despite how old the pepper looks you aren't trying to poison him, your phone buzzes. You grab it from the tiny table in the kitchenette, where you left it last night before heading to the auction—the technology of the human side is forbidden in the places owned by Others, something about it interfering with their energy or something—and check your texts. Oh, great, one of your friends from college is dropping by to hang out with you. But you're not sure what kind of joke he's trying to pull by asking, "Dude, where's your apartment???"

Right where it's always been, you reply, and then set your phone back down with a roll of your eyes. You glance over at Eleazar, wondering how you're going to explain a naked Other standing in the middle of the living room, when your thoughts are scattered by your phone's buzzing again. You glance at the text, blink, and then do a perfect sit-com double-take.

"Ha ha, man. Seriously, I been up and down the hall five times already and can't find you. You change your apt number or something??"

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Pub: 29 Dec 2020 21:44 UTC
Views: 452