Commissioned by Knightlord
Jah’lih tossed a couple of extra deadwood logs into the fire. It made it grow brighter and burn hotter, a heat that both he and his unexpected companion were appreciative of.
“How can it be dis cold at night in Voldun? Even de Isles don’t be gettin’ dis chilly.” Ri’lael complained from the other side of the fire. Sitting atop his bedroll in naught but his skin and his skimpy loincloth. His hands held out in front of him at the fire, getting it’s heat. Like most deserts, while Voldun was hot during the day, the temperatures dropped sharply at night. Ri’lael had spent years in the hot and humid jungle region of Zulduzaar without venturing beyond it’s borders.
“Perhaps ya’ should have better studied de place, before ya went sneaking off after me.” The prelate shot back grumpily, seemingly still quite miffed by Ri’lael’s decision to tag along. He rolled his eye’s at the young Darkspear’s complaining.
“Ya not still upset about dat, are ya? It be fine!” Ri’lael shot back. He sounded bratty and naive as he did, his inexperienced youthful manner shining through with each disrespectful word he uttered towards his protector.
“Of course I be upset and it was NOT fine! Ya’ could have been injured or killed! I might nevah’ have known what happened to ya! Or worse I’d find ya dead on de journey home!” Jah’lih raised his voice enough to express his thoughts but not enough to disturb the depths of the sand sunken temple from which they had made their camp. Only the loa knew what lurked in the darkness, undisturbed by time and the touch of the living. “Ya’ truly disappointed me, Ri’lael. All me teachin’ and ya’ still be steppin’ out of line.” he added.
Ri’lael pouted sadly, crawling towards Jah’lih’s side from his own bedroll. He placed his hand upon Jah’lih’s much larger own and met his gaze with that adorable youthful face of his. The hardened expression of the prelate softening a little as he laid eyes upon him. “Forgive me, Fa’da. I not be wantin’ to make ya’ worry or angry. I be wantin’ to spend time wid ya’ on a journey like we always be talkin’ about.” The Darkspear boy spoke as he stroked the back of Jah’lih’s palm affectionately. Ri’lael called him by a name that started as a joke, but quickly developed beyond that. Jah’lih’s lectures passed down to the druid in-training sounded fatherly in the way he delivered them, which led Ri’lael to call him as such. It quickly became his preferred way of addressing him in both a respectful and loving way. “We always gatta’ be pretendin’ back in Dazar’alor, but we don’t gotta pretend out here… ya’know?” he spoke sincerely.
Jah’lih had disapproved of being referred to as Fa’da at first. He wasn’t his father after all, even if he was responsible for him now. Yet with time he grew used to it and eventually fond of it. He certainly hadn’t expected to find it appealing in a sexual setting either, but something about Ri’lael addressing him as such while they made love was incredibly enticing.
The warm glow of the fire sent an orangle line tracing the appealing form of the Darkspear boy’s body from Jah’lih’s perspective. His eyes were big and impossible to resist. The boy was a magnet for peril and danger, and he was such an annoying brat. Yet at the end of it all, he was Jah’lih’s brat.
Jah’lih moved the hand from under Ri’lael’s to rest atop the small blue hand of the boy’s, patting it with a gentle squeeze at the end. “I know dat, Rilly. Yet dat ain’t gonna happen if ya keep bein’ reckless and puttin’ yaself in danger. I might not be ‘dere next time. I ain’t be lecturin’ you ta bore ya’. I can only protect ya’ so much, ya’ stand a bettah chance if ya’ heed me words.” Jah’lih spoke more softly, moving his hand up to rest at the back of the Darkspear’s neck, a gentle squeeze as it lingered there.
“I-I’m sorry, …Fa’da.” Ri’lael said more honestly and sincerely. Even the brat knew when it was time to be serious and heartfelt. It clearly devastated him to have upset and worried Jah’lih with his antics.
“Don’t be sorry. Be bettah.” Jah’lih added with a firmness in his words, withdrawing his hand and rolling onto his back inside his bedroll. He felt guilty for giving him a hard time about it, but it was important to him that Ri’lael not take such risks. It had been the gentle caring hand of his little friend that had comforted him through both the death of Rezan and the King. His heart could not bear to lose Ri’lael as he had lost them as well, he doubted he could pull through it a third time.
Ri’lael looked like a scolded ravasaur hatchling, he knew he had gone too far this time as he crawled back over towards his bedroll. He was searching for words to make things better but none came to mind, he simply felt sorry and he had already said that. He remained silent and drew back the cover of his bedroll. Yet he was stopped short of climbing back in after hearing Jah’lih’s voice.
“Roll dat up and toss a’nudda log on de fire, boy.” The Zandalari ordered, pulling back the cover of his own bedroll to reveal a Ri’lael sized spot beside him. The spot was welcoming but not as welcoming as his impressive and extremely naked muscular form revealed beneath. He had pulled it back just teasingly enough for Ri’lael to see the tail of the serpent tattoo that adorned the base of his cock. “Then take ya loincloth off and join me. Ya need a more practical lesson in showin’ me respect and doin’ as I be tellin’ ya.” The prelate added, he wanted to offer a smile but he remained stone faced as he watched Ri’lael’s reaction.
Ri’lael’s mouth seemed more full of saliva suddenly as he gazed at fire lit form of Jah’lih. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Troll was always so jacked and muscular or if that was a recent development. That stern look only drew him in more as he did as he was told, tugging on the string at the side of his loincloth to let it fall away from him to the sand. His little blue cock bounced adorably from side to side as he crawled back over to Jah’lih’s bedroll. There was only silence, expressions and body language did all the speaking.
Ri’lael peered searchingly at Jah’lih, like a young cub waiting for permission to drink at the watering hole. Permission came when the prelate tugged the Darkspear towards him by his neckbrace pressing his lips against the boy’s own. In moments Ri’lael found himself straddled atop the Zandalari, locked in a passionate kiss that neither wanted to end.