Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

8.7.

While Ithildin, all dressed up to kill, like an elven lord, or rather like an elven lord imagined by humans, was painstakingly working on his intricate hairdo, Kintaro was loitering around and ogling the focused elf like the cat wanting to eat the canary. He quite openly licked his lips in anticipation of taking off the precious hairpins one by one and disarranging all the intricately woven little plaits.

The hairdo was finished at last. After giving Ithildin the once-over, the nomad whistled in admiration.

"You lack only, you know, that hoity-toity look. Quick, remember that we all are lustful, disgusting savages, that we had raped and killed a whole lot of your kinsmen... There you go!"

"Get out of my way, you filthy mortal!" Ithildin punctuated and left in a swift and graceful gait, his cloak flying after him like wings.

Kintaro followed him with his eyes, stunned, and muttered, "You'll have to pay for that, doll-face. All night long."

In his turn, he donned skin-tight leather pants, a flashy silver-plated belt won at cards some time ago (wincing when the silver touched his bare skin), a red satin shirt unbuttoned almost all the way down. Then he let his hair loose and threw it back. A final stroke − some jewellery from Chevalier Ahayrre's casket, the richer the better, and who cared whether they matched or not – a thick bracelet inlaid with rubies, a chain with emeralds, half a dozen smaller wristlets, a ring that barely fitted on his little finger, and a string of pearls plaited into the lock of his hair on the temple. Unfortunately, he had to forgo earrings, because his earlobes became intact after each metamorphosis, and Kintaro was too lazy to pierce them anew.

The nomad looked in the mirror and made a face. A typical sexual adventurer, hunting for rich lovers. Just the right thing for his purpose, but what a fall from grace for the Essanti chief! Anyhow, the practical nomad wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.

...The Water Sorceress of the Second Rank Lalaith came out into her guestroom and saw before her a dream incarnate of every woman (and every bordello owner) − a tall beefcake with hair falling to his waist, his eyes full of lewd promises and a playful smile on his lips. Picturesquely leaning on the doorframe with his wide shoulder, he disclosed that he was trying to find the highly distinguished Dame Tallian who somehow forgot − of course, not of malicious design, but only because she was so busy contemplating all those lofty magical matters − to loan him the modest sum of a hundred gold pieces which she promised, and being a little pressed for funds at the moment, only temporarily of course, he would be reasonably grateful if the highly distinguished Dame Lalaith saw fit to direct his search to Dame Tallian... Here Kintaro got entangled in florid style which he wasn't used to, and fell silent, looking at Dame Lalaith with meaning and letting his killer charm complete the task.

Dame Lalaith came closer, in order for the magnificent male to see more clearly all her curves under the thin silk of her dress, looked at him invitingly and asked in a sweetest voice, "Let's discuss your money troubles, my lord, shall we?"

Kintaro returned from Dame Lalaith only in the morning, a little embarrassed by the blue morocco purse at his belt which contained exactly one hundred gold pieces. He had never taken money for sex before, and the very idea was deeply alien to him. However, he couldn't possibly refuse, or else he would have blown his cover. But what can you have of a cat but her skin (or 'a shoe off a dead horse', as they said in the steppe), and the money would come in handy when they went to rescue Alva. Besides, the idea of a gift freely given after a night of pleasure wasn't alien to him at all, and he had happened to get such gifts in dozens from his steppe lovers and Trianess nobles alike.

Alva himself got a few gold bracelets from his admirers, which, by the way, wouldn't have prevented him from mocking Kintaro mercilessly. Were he here, the chief would have enjoyed listening to his gibes, but alas, Alva was as far away from him as before.