Dalamar settled the tips of his fingers gently to the smooth wooden door before him. Shortly, he heard the soft command to enter and flowed quietly through the door. The dark elf paused, his dark eyes sweeping the room briefly in habit before settling on the form of his Shalafi. Raistlin was seated in a comfortable chair turned sideways to his work table rather than at his massive and ornate desk by the window. A large tome was open in front of him surrounded by vials, feathers and assorted other spell components and a sheaf of notes written in Raistlin's precise hand was tucked under one leaf. The scent of his medicinal herbal tea filled the room, overpowering the usual faint fragrance of rose petals and decay. Dalamar glided to a stop near his seated master. He folded his hands into the sleeves of his black robes and bowed slightly. "As you requested." "You have, of course, prepared as instructed." Raistlin's soft rasp was not a question. "Of course." Dalamar held back a quirk of surprise. It was unusual at this stage that the archmage still asked about his preparedness. "Very good then. A little history about today's endeavor. I have uncovered a Restorative spell. It is ancient and, as far as I can tell, it has never been used past the testing of it. Today, we, my apprentice, are going to attempt it. I have projects in the near future; projects that would be made simpler if my endurance were even somewhat greater." Raistlin took a sip of his tea. It wasn't time for his usual dosage; Dalamar guessed that he was using it as a bracer for the spell. "Is there any given reason why the spell was not completed or successful?" "None, though it is my understanding of this mage that he died shortly after devising this spell. Some sort of laboratory accident; though whether accidental or deliberate is unclear." Raistlin's thin gold lips quirked up slightly in a mocking smile. "Are you nervous, apprentice?" Dalamar raised his dark eyebrows and quelled a tiny tremble. "No, Shalafi, only eager. What more do I need to know?" Raistlin's mocking smile turned into something larger and kinder, acknowledging the shared yearning for magic. But there was a glint in the disturbing hourglass eyes that increased Dalamar's urge to fidget. The more experienced mage glanced briefly at the list of components in the book, his long gold fingers tapping the parchment. "The spell calls for normal herbs of healing, a couple of exotic species which I have, and other normal focusing ingredients. The final two components were listed in such an ambiguous manner that it took several rereads to decipher. The text as written calls for 'from the fairest, longest lived of the races on Krynn, the elixir of life, that which will continue the race under normal and joyful circumstances to be extracted by the spellcaster' and the other 'the elixir of life of the spellcaster wishing to benefit from the restorative nature of this spell.' He goes on to say that these must be combined with the above herbs and, after other non-important steps to create the potion, it is drunk." Raistlin's soft voice trailed off and his eyes locked to Dalamar's face. The dark elf frowned, "...elixir of life that continues the race under normal and joyous...." He fell silent running the words through his mind again, then he gasped and blushed, two spots of rose appearing on his flawless ivory skin. "You ... he means semen?? What a.... Really?" The man nodded, a strand of silver hair falling over one slender shoulder, his expression a mixture of delight in his apprentice's discomfiture, very vague embarrassment at the situation and a determination to proceed. "Really. I can see no other interpretation. More specifically elf semen or at least any sexual fluids. Since my student is my assistant and happens to be an elf, he will assist as any good student would. Will he not?" Dalamar felt his blush deepen, then retreat. "Have I a choice in this?" Raistlin shrugged, "There is always a choice. There are however, always consequences. I could indeed find another elf to service the need, however..." Dalamar took a breath, "A moment please...?" As his master nodded, Dalamar closed his eyes and took a meditative breath, looking within himself to see where his desires and fears lay. The lure of new, unlearned, untried magics called to him as usual, the thought of the rush of power and joy a correctly cast spell provided versus the incredible uncomfortableness of having his master, his Shalafi watch him... no the text said extracted by the spellcaster. That meant Raistlin would have to... And yet under the embarrassment, the desire to feel his master's touch this once, knowing it wouldn't be to hurt or harm; this thought sparked a small bright ball in his belly. He examined the desire, took a moment to be shocked at it as he'd never considered the thought before, then with an internal shrug, he accepted it and opened his eyes. One nervous gesture of brushing his dark hair from his face was all he allowed himself. "Master, I'm ready." "Excellent." Raistlin nodded as if there had never been any doubt and, Dalamar acknowledged wryly to himself, there really never was. "Come here, Dalamar." The archmage's soft voice sounded amused and almost affectionate. The dark elf advanced to the chair where Raistlin sat, stopping uncertainly by the arm. Raistlin lifted a hand and brushed it gently down the front of Dalamar's soft black robes, barely ruffling the cloth, then gestured him a few inches closer, repeating the movement with a solid caress that traveled from just below Dalamar's ribs down his left thigh. The elf's breath caught a moment in surprise before he relaxed into a comfortable stance. "Part your robe." His hands came up to the fasteners and pulled them apart spreading the fabric open, tucking the loose edges behind his thighs and hips, exposing smooth ivory skin over the firm muscles of his chest and soft black breeches. "The pants..." Dalamar's hands went to his waistband and the fastenings there. Another brief moment of hesitation, a final decision made and the breeches were opened, the fabric beginning to sag about his hips. "Good." Those disturbing hourglass eyes glanced up to meet his and then back down again. Swallowing and praying briefly to Nuitari that his hands didn't shake, he pushed the material down to fall around his knees. Raistlin said nothing else, just looked at the exposed flesh for several long moments; long enough for Dalamar to begin to feel chilled and uneasy. Then he lifted one long, golden hand and ran a single finger down the length of the elf's soft member. Dalamar gasped as blood rushed to his groin and he started to stiffen at the shock of heat brought about by the soft stroke of that fever hot fingertip against his cool flesh. Raistlin repeated the stroke, watching as the cock filled and lifted, stroking long, single, light strokes from the dark hair at the base to the expanding head. Dalamar felt like his cock was being painted with stripes of heat and the delicate feathery touch made his nerves sing. His breathing began to deepen and sweat broke out on his forehead and back. One last stroke across the full head emerging from the foreskin made him gasp again, clenching his hands in his robe. The archmage brought his full hand into play then, grasping the elf's cock at the root and dragging his fingertips down all sides of the firm column until they slipped off the crown, allowing the cock to bounce back upright. Dalamar fought back a groan, closing his eyes, allowing only his breath to make noise. Then he couldn't stop the sound as heat enveloped him. He glanced down seeing those slender gold fingers wrapped firmly around the flushed ivory of his cock. The warm feeling was astonishing and he tried to restrain the urge to thrust into that heat, his hips twitching gently. Another moan slipped out with the panting as a scalding thumb circled gently over the head, dipping to rub briefly at the slit to encourage the droplet forming there. Then the heat was gone. Raistlin released him to take a vial from the table. He watched as the man poured a small amount into his palm, the oil sheening his skin to liquid metal. Then his master's hand was back, wrapped firmly around him again with that incredible warmth; pulling firmly from base to tip and pushing back down again, exposing and covering the head with the foreskin as extra stimulation. Raistlin looked up again, eyes glittering in the candlelight and then back to his actions. His other hand came up and briefly cradled Dalamar's tightening balls. The heat of this new sensation, the shock and surprise of it, made him thrust strongly into the firm grip on his cock, crying out. Even so, he was surprised when he wasn't reprimanded into stillness. The slick hand continued to pump and the cradling hand began a light massage as if testing for fullness, the amount waiting to be released. Dalamar really didn't care right then, wishing those strong, delicate gold fingers would never stop, knowing that they would stop too soon and it would never happen again. The man leaned forward slightly as if to check his progress or to change the angle and a wash of breath flowed over the now wet crown, adding to the sparks of fire running up his spine. "Soon, soon..." He gasped thrusting again into the fabulous grip. The mage nodded. "I know," he whispered. The panting became more rhythmic and, absently, Dalamar noted the loss of heat from his balls. Then his world splintered as the stroking hand added a twist on the pull. Fire shot up his nerves and a long string of pre-come drooled out. Four more strokes like that and lightning struck. He cried out with a choked moan, feeling the grip on him change once more. Ecstasy raced through him and his knees threatened to buckle. The steady, firm grip around his cock; the fingers squeezing rhythmically angled his cockhead down and into a widemouthed vial, catching the spurting semen. The archmage's voice a musical chant incanting in the background as Dalamar sighed and trembled, the gentle squeezes of his cock being milked sending sparkles of pleasure through him, before his spent member was released. Raistlin carefully placed the dish on the table and, with a small square of soft cloth, wiped the excess oil from Dalamar's flesh. "Shalafi?" "I believe it is my turn now." Raistlin reached up and parted his black velvet robes from the waist down, untucking a soft shirt from his pants, he opened them. Dalamar flowed to he knees, tucking his robes beneath him for padding from the flags. The man's penis was hard, springing from the open material at a touch. He was the same gold color all over, Dalamar absently noted, the curls at the base the same silver as his other hair. He reached out and gathered the hard cock gently in his hand, again liking the contrasting colors, ivory to reddened gold. If he'd thought Raistlin's hands were warm, it was nothing compared to the heat of his cock. The long, slender column pulsed in his hand and he gently ran his thumb up the throbbing vein on the underside, hearing the mage sigh with pleasure. Mirroring the long painting strokes that he'd so enjoyed, he delicately feathered his fingertips over the flushed flesh. A clear drop appeared from the slit in the head and Dalamar smeared it around, shining the metallic skin. Raistlin let out an almost subvocal moan, shifted above him, and the vial of oil appeared in his field of vision. Dalamar poured a small portion of the clear, unscented oil into his palm and wrapping his hand around the cock, stroked firmly upward. Raistlin's hips followed the firm pull, another breathy moan escaping, and another droplet shining the crown. Three more tugs and more pre-come to lubricate the way, Dalamar leaned forward on impulse and swiped his tongue gently over the head. The musky herbal taste exploded in his mouth, a full fledged cry coming from the man. Licking his lips and marveling at the metallic aftertaste, he leaned in again, swirling his tongue over the crown, allowing Raistlin to pump through his fist. The elf glanced up. His master's head was leaning back against the chair, skin lightly sweating and glistening, his eyes glittering slits, watching as he panted. Holding the look for another moment, Dalamar then bent and closed his lips around the flush head, his pumping fist gently meeting his mouth. Raistlin cried out again, twitching and shuddering. The man fumbled on the table and another wide-mouthed vial was thrust at him. Dalamar sucked lightly on the musky cock and the slender hips rose and fell another few frantic times. "Ah... Ahh... Now... N-..." Raistlin arched up and froze in ecstasy and Dalamar quickly aimed the erupting cock into the vial, massaging and pumping gently. The archmage collapsed back breathless and shakily took a sip of tea to ward off coughing. Taking the dish from Dalamar, he again murmured the incantation and set it onto the table next to the other. "Good, very good." Still faintly breathless, Raistlin took another soft cloth, handing one to his apprentice, cleaned himself and straightened his clothing as Dalamar did the same. A moment of silence followed, tinged with awkwardness. "Thank you, Apprentice. You may retire for the rest of day." Dalamar quietly took his leave, shutting the laboratory door gently behind him. ~End~ |
