No Peace – Alternate Ending

The following is brief excerpt of and an alternate ending for the piece No Peace. It was written with no intent of following storyline, but rather as a response to an off-handed comment one of the authors of this site made on a blog.

Before Tirmanel could react, Inítrí grabbed Tirmanel’s ponytail, arching Tirmanel’s head back. His left arm slipped under Tirmanel’s shoulder and lifted him to his feet.

Tirmanel’s breath was caught in his throat. Inítrí’s bare chest pressed against his back, cold like granite as the essence of frost was in Inítrí’s veins. Tirmanel could feel a trickle of blood sliding down his own chest where Inítrí had dug in with his nails.

“We are always alone.”

Tirmanel struggled against Inítrí’s grasp, but the paler death knight seemed stronger than the last time they had sparred. All his attempts to free himself did were to deepen the scratches across his chest.

Inítrí twisted Tirmanel’s head to the side, exposing Tirmanel’s neck. Tirmanel tried to duck his head forward, uncertain of Inítrí’s next move, but his hair was still held tight. He grunted as Inítrí bit into the meat of his shoulder. His sense of pain deadened, he was still aware of the damage being done to his flesh. He could feel the blood welling up from the bite and sliding down his back.

Using his ponytail as he would reins on a horse, Inítrí turned Tirmanel to face him. The hand that was digging into Tirmanel’s chest now flew up to his throat, Inítrí’s thumb pressing hard, cutting off Tirmanel’s air.

Attempting to free himself again, Tirmanel reached up to drag Inítrí’s hand away, but lost his strength as Inítrí’s eyes met his. Always unusually bright, now they burned as if Inítrí was consumed by a fel fever. Tirmanel’s arms dropped to his side and he offered no resistance as Inítrí drew him close, locking his mouth to Tirmanel’s.

Tirmanel could taste his own blood, the pressure on his throat increasing as he tried swallowing down the coppery taste. His vision was starting to dim, his limbs growing heavier.

Still holding onto Tirmanel’s hair, Inítrí allowed Tirmanel to collapse to his knees. The hand that threatened to choke Tirmanel into unconsciousness moved to the buckles of Inítrí’s belt and pants.

Freed from the confines of his clothing, he swelled to full size in front of Tirmanel’s face. Tirmanel started to struggle again, but Inítrí’s hand returned to his throat. Gasping for air, Tirmanel’s mouth was instead filled with Inítrí’s member, the grip on his hair forcing him to take the entirety of the shaft.

His vision grew dimmer still, hot white flashes of light now danced under eyelids he could not keep open. Just as he thought he would finally drift into nothingness, Inítrí halted his assault and withdrew himself.

Tirmanel felt himself being lifted to his feet, stumbling as he was turned to face the wall and shoved towards it. He barely got his arms out in time to stop himself from falling face first into the votive rack against the wall. He stood, panting, arms braced against the wall, the heat of the candles warming the blood on his chest.

The dots in his vision started to clear and Inítrí was behind him, hair once again in his grasp. Tirmanel felt teeth again in his back and shoulders as Inítrí undid Tirmanels’ belt, letting his pants fall to the ground.

Nails dug into his chest again, blood flowed freely down Tirmanel’s chest and back. Without warning, Inítrí entered him, forcing Tirmanel to push against the wall lest he be driven into the flames dancing below him.

Sensations were overwhelming. The smoke from the candles began to choke him, the heat of the flames made breathing hard, the coldness of Inítrí’s frost-infused form behind him made no sense to Tirmanel’s oxygen-starved mind. Hot and cold. Bites. Scratches. Blood.

Inítrí made no sound as he violated Tirmanel, his breathing easy and paced, his thrusts slow and measured, more like the swing of a blacksmith’s hammer than of an act of pleasure.

The darkness threatened to overtake Tirmanel, memories of his meeting with Naerityah swam through the shadows. He fought to focus on her face.

He hated her.

Her face as she looked up at him from the ground, seconds before he would have destroyed her.

He loved her.

He flew through the air again in his memory, driven backwards by Arioch’s interference.

He hated her.

She looked at him.

He loved her.

No fear on her face.

He hated her.

Was that forgiveness?

He loved her.

She faded from his mind. At the edges of his awareness he sensed a shudder passing through Inítrí, heard a slight catch in his breath, the only indications that he was finished.

With a final bite, Inítrí pulled away, leaving Tirmanel braced against the wall. Tirmanel’s blood was smeared in dark ribbons across Inítrí’s chest and mouth. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Inítrí chuckled once again, “Suffer well, brother.”

Tirmanel heard the clinking of Inítrí re-donning his armor, footsteps fading into the distance, and once again his was the only beating heart in the stronghold.

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