Maric had done an admirable job of ignoring Dara throughout the day's ride, at least outwardly. Inside his head was a different story. He couldn't stop running through every interaction they'd had, trying to piece together some puzzle that he didn't even truly understand the nature of just yet.
Even after spending all day thinking about it, he still didn't know how he wanted to handle Dara. Part of him insisted that he had to discipline the slave. It didn't matter if his behaviour was intentional rebellion or just poor training. He simply could not allow such disrespect.
So why couldn't he leave it at that? Why had he spent all day grasping at alternatives? Every interaction with Dara he'd had so far had only revealed more flaws, and in the moment it irritated Maric that Dara wasn't being what he was supposed to be, yet some part of him objected to the idea of actually changing him. He told himself that he didn't want to be wasting all his time and energy thinking about a slave of all things, that Dara had become a great annoyance, but the idea of replacing him with a generic bed slave who would simply do his job held no appeal.
In short, Maric had no idea what he actually wanted.
Well, there was one thing he was sure of. He wanted Dara, naked and flushed with pleasure, as soon as possible.
Dara was still in the wagon when Maric went to find him when they stopped for the night at an inn. He had laid his ratty old jacket out and he looked like he was trying to find some way to curl up on it in the small space.
As Maric looked down at him, he found himself smiling. "Oh, you think you're sleeping out here, do you?"
Dara's startled eyes leapt to Maric and he opened and shut his mouth a couple of times before answering. "I wasn't sure what you would want, your highness."
"I thought what I wanted from you was clear." Maric tipped his head in the direction of the inn. "Come on."
Brayan was already talking to the innkeeper and making sure everything was as it should be, so Maric collected his room key and led Dara upstairs.
After all the worrying he'd done that day it was almost a surprise when Maric locked the door to their room, turned around, and found Dara waiting for instructions just as soft and timid as ever. Perhaps he'd built the whole thing up too much in his head. Dara could be more difficult than most slaves, but he was far from wild and out of control.
Maric wrapped his arms around Dara and pulled him close to his chest, dipping his head to breathe in his scent. He exhaled a long sigh against Dara's throat. "What have you been taught?"
"Your highness?"
"From what I understand you were in training, intended for me, until you were at least fourteen. You should have retained some of that, but you're strangely lacking."
Dara tried to lean away, but he was stopped by the cage of Maric's arms around him. Perhaps that had been unnecessary. It was true, but that didn't mean it was helpful. Maric loosen his arms so that Dara could lean back enough to look him in the eye. It was still odd the way he did that.
"I, well—" Dara's fingers twisted in the hem of Maric's shirt. "You're right, but after I turned fourteen — and that was nearly ten years ago now — after that, I was more or less left to myself. I did jobs, but I didn't have any training. I didn't have a master. Or, well, I did, of course, but that was you, and you..."
"I wasn't there."
Dara made a quiet sound in the back of his throat. "The life I adjusted to was a very different one. I'm very good at taking a beating and not much else, I'm afraid."
Well, now Maric felt guilty, and a little annoyed that he felt guilty. But mostly just guilty. Dara had been tortured for years because Maric hadn't been there to protect him, and now Maric had finally come along to rescue him only to gripe at him for not somehow managing to emerge from years of torture and neglect as a perfectly well trained slave. As a prince he didn't have to be fair, but he had always strived to be.
"We're just going to have to work with what we have," Maric said as he began popping open the silver buttons on Dara's uniform shirt. "And I'll be more than happy to do that."
Dara was like a scared cat, Maric decided as he ran a hand over the bare skin of Dara's back and Dara pressed in against him. Nervey and defensive until you found the right place to scratch, then as needy as any other. At least while you were petting it. If you walked away and came back to it two minutes later, it would be looking at you with as much suspicion as ever.
Perhaps that was the best way to think of him generally. A poorly trained and frightened animal wasn't being bad, it was just being. Sure, training might be the solution, but punishment wouldn't cure fear.
In practical terms Maric wasn't really sure what that meant, though. A pocket full of dried meat wouldn't fix this situation.
Maric tugged Dara's pants and underclothes off, and then raked his eyes down the slave's naked body. Dara was just as hard as Maric and his fingers fidgeted at his side as though he were fighting the urge to touch himself. Maric did it for him, a long, slow stroke that sent a shudder through Dara's body.
Maric bent down, scooped Dara up, then carried him over to deposit him on the bed.
Dara shifted further back on the bed, body propped up on his elbows, naked and vulnerable and aroused. Maric took a moment to remove his boots, but he left the rest of his clothes on as he climbed onto the bed to join Dara.
Now that Maric was watching for it, the fear was clear in Dara's eyes as Maric pushed his knees up and apart. He didn't try to pull away, but his arms drew in against his chest.
"Dara, relax," Maric said, rubbing Dara's knee. "This won't be like last time. I know you're not ready to be penetrated."
Dara nodded, but he didn't relax.
"Here." Maric gave Dara's cock, which was now slightly less hard, a firm stroke and leant his face down towards it. "I just wanted you in a better position for this, you see?"
As Maric's lips wrapped around Dara's cock, Dara let out a heavy breath and leant his head back. His cock was already returning to full hardness in Maric's mouth.
Maric moved his head, slow at first, and then faster as the muscles of Dara's ass began to clench involuntarily and his hands fisted in the bedsheets.
He seemed like he was close — flushed and squirming and so hard — and Maric was ready for a proper taste of him, but as he kept going Dara hung on the edge, refusing to be pushed over.
Maric took his mouth off of Dara and let his hand take over the task for a moment. "You can finish. I want you to."
"I—" Dara met Maric's eyes for only a moment before his gaze lept away. "Yes, your highness."
Maric swallowed Dara back down, expecting a quick resolution now, but several minutes later all Maric had succeeded in doing was making his jaw sore. He pulled back again. "Is there a problem? This doesn't seem to be working for you."
This time, Dara wouldn't look at him at all. "I'm sorry, your highness. I'm trying. I just — I don't know. It feels good, and I want to, it just — isn't. I can't."
Maric let out a long sigh. He was frustrated with the situation, but he knew he couldn't blame Dara for it. He was trying his best and he clearly wanted this as much as Maric did.
"You're just nervous," Maric told him. "At this point that's quite understandable, and the best thing for it is not to put more pressure on you. If you can't, you can't. Maybe next time you will be able to."
Dara nodded. He swallowed thickly and his arms wrapped around his chest again. "Thank you, your highness."
"You may not be able to finish, but I'm certainly ready to." Maric lay down next to Dara and gestured to the noticeable lump in his pants. "Why don't you take care of this for me?"
"Yes, your highness," Dara said as he rolled onto his side. His fingers worked open the buttons on Maric's pants with excessive care and then he pushed down Maric's underclothes and wrapped a hand around him.
Maric shut his eyes and let out a slow breath as Dara's hand began to move. This was what he had been waiting for.
"Speed things up," Maric said when after a minute Dara's movements were still slow and careful. "My efforts may not have gotten you anywhere, but I'm ready to finish this."
"Yes, your highness," Dara murmured, and it irritated Maric, though he didn't really know why.
It didn't matter, though, because Dara had complied, his grip firmer and his hand moving more quickly, and now all Maric could focus on was pushing up into the warm vice of his hand. He wrapped an arm around Dara's body, pulling him close and pressing his face against his neck to breathe in his scent, and finally Maric's body tensed and he reached his climax.
Maric let out a long sigh and kissed the side of Dara's face. He felt raw and exposed to reality, and in that moment it seemed absurd that he and the man who lay beside him were truly, meaningfully, different.
When he finally sat up and looked down at Dara, the spell was broken. Dara didn't look upset or afraid, but he was tense and alert, ready to follow whatever instructions Maric gave him next. There was none of the affection Maric had been starting to feel for him reflected back in his eyes.
Maric turned away and began to clean himself up. "There's a washroom through the door. Tidy yourself up and get dressed, then we'll head down to dinner."
"Yes, your highness," Dara murmured, and Maric kept his back turned to conceal the bitter surge that ran through him.
He shouldn't be cross with Dara for this. He knew it wasn't fair. Dara was behaving completely appropriately and it would only confuse him if Maric tried to correct him. Besides, how could he order someone to have feelings for him? All Dara could do was get better at faking it, and Maric didn't want that.
Maric had been drawn to Dara's vulnerability; not because he wanted to take advantage of it, but because it had felt like something real. He had hated to see Dara cry in response to his advances that first night, but at least he'd felt like he knew where they stood. But now... now Dara was shutting himself off, working hard to please Maric, and nothing was clear anymore.
But maybe that had been inevitable. Maybe what he had been seeking was simply something a prince could not have. Especially not with a slave.