Truth and Curiosity

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Eomer's arm ached from raising and lowering the whip. The rhythm mesmerized him. The vibrations traveling up his arm as the whip connected with flesh thrilled him. His cock throbbed in time to the smacking sound of leather on flesh. His own cuts and welts burned as another layer of sweat trickled over his sensitive skin.

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And his mind rebelled at what his body so enjoyed.

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Was that him or his lieutenant? He could no longer tell one from the other. As if in a dream, he watched the whip connect with Tael's pale skin, watched the leather thong flicker and dance with a life all its own. Tael's back was marked in a perfect chevron from his shoulders to his hips. Eomer could see the little ridges of the younger man's spine as he lay prone on the floor taking all his Marshal had to give. Eomer snarled and the whip ceased its dance. The blood in his veins continued to sing.

"Get up, boy," Eomer gasped as he tried to step away from his lieutenant. He wanted to turn his back on the arousing sight of Tael, prone on the floor and covered with sweat and fine red whip lines.

Tael stiffened. Not since he was a young boy, living as an orphan in his mother's brother's house, had any one called him a boy and he resented Eomer's use of the word. He sat up and placed his palms on his thighs. "I am no boy, Lord Eomer. "

If he felt any discomfort, Tael did not show it as he glared at Eomer. The marshal kept his own gaze steady, trying to see within his lieutenant's soul. He'd marked himself and now another in one night. What sort of monster had he become? Was it not enough that his own pain had brought him a sweeter release than a hundred nights with any woman? Must he also torture his own men? How could he lead them and feel this lust? Would they ever trust him if they discovered his terrible secret? Could he ever trust himself? His hand ached from holding the whip and he forced open his fingers, letting the whip fall to the ground. The implement of his destruction rolled at his feet. "Forgive me, lieutenant, I meant no insult. You should go now, please."

Tael wiped his hair out of his dark brown eyes and tried to understand the man he'd come to admire so much in the short time he'd served him. Lord Eomer was unlike any other man in the Riddermark. He was sometimes harsh and grim, but he was fair and honest. His temper was quick, certainly, but none of his men could say he'd ever lost control when he was angry. This was a side to Eomer that Tael had never suspected. As he stared at Eomer, he realized that maybe Eomer had only recently discovered this particular aspect of his own nature and that his reaction was the result of fear. "Lord Eomer, I do not wish to leave you now." As soon as the words left his mouth, Tael longed to take them back. He saw the flash of anger and resentment in Eomer's brown orbs and tried not to flinch.

"Do you not understand?" Eomer paced in a tight circle. His chest heaved with effort and his long legs seemed to want to carry him beyond the tent's confines. "Do you see what I have done? I cannot. I will not," he stopped his circling and came to stand in front of Tael. "Why did you ask this of me?"

Tael saw the strain in Eomer's leggings and felt his own response. The whipping had been nothing to him. No more, assuredly, than any his uncle had ever given him. No more, even, than the one who had taught him to covet pleasure mixed with pain. "I thought that you were a kindred spirit, my lord. I saw the marks on your body and thought that you might..." he trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words to say that would diminish Eomer's internal conflict.

Eomer blew a harsh breath from between his white lips. "You thought that I might enjoy hurting you?"

"Nay, my lord," Tael swallowed. "I thought you might love me."

Taken aback, Eomer stared down at his lieutenant through newly opened eyes. "Is this your idea of love?" Eomer's hand swept broadly, encompassing Tael and himself and the whip.

Reaching around Eomer, Tael retrieved the abandoned whip and ran the damp ends through his fingers. Then he held it up to Eomer. "This is my idea of trust."

At first, Eomer stared at the whip as if it were a poisonous snake. But when Tael did not move, he reached down and took the hated instrument. With his other hand, he cupped the back of Tael's head and pressed the younger man against him. "And this?"

Tael inhaled Eomer’s scent. He pressed his face against Eomer's arousal and moaned softly. "Lust."

Eomer’s knees shook as Tael’s warm breath fanned his crotch. "I admit that I am confused and disturbed by what has happened; by what is happening. I do not understand any of this. But, I know that your trust in me leaves me humbled."

"Is that all you feel?" Tael ran his hands over Eomer's thighs. He longed for his lord to demand any service.

Eomer tried not to stare at the red welts covering Tael's back. He also tried not to think about how they got there or how much he enjoyed it. When did it happen? When did he learn to mix pleasure and pain? "I feel pleasure. I feel pain. I feel guilt."

Tael climbed gracefully to his feet, standing tall and proud next to Eomer. Side by side, they were of a similar height. Tael was not as broad in the shoulders as his marshal, but then he was several years younger than the twenty-eight year old. Stepping away, Tael moved to the tent flaps and secured the cords so that none could enter unexpectedly, as he had done. "There is no need to feel guilt, my lord. The marks you have placed upon my back are badges of honor; I bear them with great pride." He moved then to the center of the tent and bent down to unlace his boots. He knew Eomer was too astounded to move and he used that to his advantage by explaining what he understood about what had happened between them. "There comes a moment when the lines between pain and pleasure become indistinct. Once you cross that point, the pain ceases to matter. All that matters is control. To control, one must be in control. One must trust in oneself and be trusted in return." Tael unlaced his breeches and slipped them over his hips. His cock was thick and hard, darker at the base where it nestled in a thatch of blond hair. He placed his back to the tent pole and braced his legs. Slowly he lifted his hands, trailing his fingers over the fine hairs covering his abdomen and chest, before raising them completely over his head. "One cannot have love without absolute trust." He clasped the tent pole above his head, forcing his hips forward so that he was as gracefully arched as an elven bow.

Eomer stared at his lieutenant, the handsome, eager boy he was familiar with, the beautiful, implacable man he was not.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to trust me. And I want you to trust yourself as I trust you, my lord."

"Trust myself?"

Tael nodded.

Brown eyes locking onto brown, Eomer moved slowly forward towards his underling, who right now, naked and unashamed, was so much more than his equal.

He placed his right hand still holding the whip upon Tael's shoulder, and then slid it around his neck so that he cradled Tael’s head in the crook of his elbow as the thongs of the whip spilled down the boy's chest. He pulled himself in against his lieutenant, pressing his hips to him, and Tael groaned appreciatively as the rawhide of Eomer's breeches and the leather ties that barely contained his swelling cock slid against Tael’s own rigid arousal.

Eomer's nostrils quivered, taking in raw male scent, then in a swift sudden motion he claimed Tael’s lips. Tael had showed him such strength he expected a spirited response, and was surprised to find instead his assault was met gently, the lieutenant's tongue snaking around his own, soothing and slowing him until the two men were almost still against each other and only then beginning to build the pace back up to a point where the marshal was even more aflame than he had been before. As their mouths began to duel in earnest Eomer reached around and ran his free hand over his partner's ass, savoring taut curves before pressing them apart so his fingers could tease the tight ring of muscle nestled within. Tael hissed softly and jerked against Eomer, sending delicious thrills spiraling through both their cocks.

The smile that colored Eomer's kiss at having thus pleased him sobered as his hand now traveled up Tael's back, fingertips meeting the marks where the lash had danced upon smooth skin. Raised, distinct marks. Such force gone into them to make them so. His own force. Eomer lifted his mouth from Tael's, aghast.

Tael looked at him coolly, even though his chest rose and fell rapidly and his skin shone with a light sweat from their contact.

"I told you, my lord, they are badges of honor. My honor for you. My trust. My love."

Eomer's hand dropped from Tael's back, and he brought it around to rest on the darkly-stained leather thongs still draped over the boy's flesh. Fingertips worried at the knotted strands, a thumb grazed Tael's dark nipple beneath, a wide palm slid down over the sculpted planes of the lightly furred belly and felt warm life beating within. Waiting. Inviting.

Eomer's blood thrilled through him. In his mind he could hear the hiss and swish of the whip. He replayed the small groans he'd torn from Tael's throat. He even allowed his mind to drift over his own reaction to the whip's kiss and his mouth grew dry. He gave himself and Tael token resistance. "You speak of love and trust, but you do not know me any more than I know you."

Tael's eyes roamed over the welts covering Eomer's shoulders and chest and stomach. His lips twisted into a knowing smile. "We know each other quite well, my lord."

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