Page 8 of Misfit (Starshine)

“ A re you alright, Arlon?”

“I’m alright, I’m alright.”

Fawn cupped his chin, pulling his face up. A frown tugged at her lips. “You don’t seem alright.”

Arlon groaned and closed his eyes. That frown was hard to bear right now, because dammit, he was trying .

In spite of the pillow, his knees ached where he knelt, but the ropes binding his thighs and shins didn’t allow him to unfold.

More ropes pulled his arms behind his back.

They were no less constricting, chafing his wrists as he squirmed against them without thought.

“I asked for this,” he said.

“And as with any other time you conduit, you’re allowed to stop ,” she said.

Arlon vainly tried to sink into the embrace of the ropes rather than fight against them. “I need to learn how to conduit, right?”

“It is important that a caster knows what they’re putting their conduits through,” Fawn said. “But if you’re not comfortable with conduiting, we can find other ways to teach you.”

Arlon pulled his chin from her grip as he shook his head. Tapping out sounded tempting, but if he wanted to gain mastery in any school, he had to at least try.

“Stubborn,” Fawn said, amusement coloring the word.

“Fawn, this is all I have.”

His tone emerged sharper than intended, and Fawn didn’t miss it. She knelt in front of him as she cupped his face. Her thumbs were gentle, stroking his cheeks in a comforting caress. “What do you mean, a’marra ?”

Arlon swallowed, his frustration making his voice tremble as she forced him to meet her eyes. “I-I don’t have anything outside of this place. Not anymore.” He let out a long breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts enough to speak. “I want to be good at this. I need to be good at this.”

Fawn was quiet as she considered him. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”

“I-I know.”

Fawn tilted her head curiously before an idea seemed to light in her eyes. “What do you find so enjoyable about casting?”

He thought on the question as he shifted in his ropes, trying to settle his knees more comfortably against the soft pillow underneath them. Finally, he said, “I like being in control.”

Fawn hummed, her hands stroking down his neck, across his shoulders to the ropes that circled his forearms. “Then command me.”

He blinked in surprise as gooseflesh shivered across his skin in the wake of her touch. “What?”

“Command me,” Fawn said again as her hands stroked over his collarbone, just teasing at the v of his shirt. “Because let me be very clear about something, Arlon. Casters only have as much control as their conduits give them.”

Arlon’s mouth went dry as he studied her face. Her desire was written plainly across her features, but her touches remained innocent, waiting for his command.

“Stroke your hands under my shirt.”

Fawn shifted closer to him, one of her knees brushing against his as she shared his pillow. Obligingly, she moved to the hem of his shirt. Her hands teased under the fabric, moving over his stomach to travel up through the hair on his chest as she thumbed over his nipples.

In spite of his unease, pleasure shivered through him. “Keep going. Use your mouth, too.”

Fawn obeyed, her nails scratching gently down his chest as she leaned forward to kiss his exposed collar.

Arlon groaned, bowing over her to bury his face against her neck, breathing in the lingering scent of juniper soap.

Even while bound, her touch was a conditioned thing, and he relaxed by degrees as she nipped along his neck and chest.

“May I lift your shirt?” she asked.

“Yes,” he breathed as he gently kissed her neck, just over her pulse.

Fawn shifted back, lifting his shirt up until it bunched under his bound arms. It exposed his chest, and she kissed the skin just over his heart before moving to tease one nipple with her tongue.

Arlon groaned as his trousers grew tight. He’d chosen to remain clothed for this conduiting lesson, but he was starting to have second thoughts about that particular demand.

“Touch my cock.”

Fawn’s fingers trailed down his stomach once more as her mouth moved to his other nipple.

She cast her eyes up, giving him a mischievous look as she rubbed his cock through the fabric of his trousers.

As firmly as she handled him, it wasn’t enough to do anything more than tease him, and she seemed to know it.

“Fawn,” he groaned, straining against his ropes as he tried to press into her hand.

“That was not a very specific demand,” she teased before she toyed with the laces of his trousers. “Do you want me to loosen these?”

“Yes,” he hissed, the ropes biting gently as he tried to roll his hips to meet her.

“As you command,” Fawn said before she pulled his laces, plucking them loose until the bulge of his cock was contained by nothing but his underthings. Fawn cupped him again, and the touch was only slightly more satisfying as she traced the outline of his hardening cock.

A low growl emerged from his throat. “Such a tease. If I had my hands free?—”

“But you don’t,” Fawn reminded him as she moved her hands to drape them over his shoulders. One of her knees slipped between his bound legs to rub his trapped cock. “So how would you like me to continue?”

Arlon groaned, and even as tightly as he was bound, he was able to grind against her knee. “I want to feel your hand around me. I want you to stroke me.”

Fawn slipped a hand down between them, and Arlon groaned as she freed his length from his underthings.

It only took her skin brushing his for him to harden fully.

He pursed his lips to stop the sound of need that threatened to escape him as he vainly tried to thrust up to meet her.

But her strokes remained slow and steady, spreading the precum that had started to bead on the tip of his cock.

“Faster,” he ordered, and Fawn obeyed. As her hand sped up, Arlon buried his face against her neck, lips pressed against her skin to muffle his moan. He jerked and shuddered in her grip, sweat beading on his brow.

“You know control, a’marra ,” Fawn said, lips murmuring against his hair. “Would you like me to show you surrender?”

“Yes,” he moaned, his end creeping ever near.

Fawn smiled against his hair, her hand expertly bringing him to the brink of pleasure.

And then she released him.

Arlon didn’t recognize the ragged sound of disappointment that escaped his throat. He was ready to grab Fawn, pull her against him and not let her go. But he couldn’t. The ropes held him helpless, and he had no choice but to sink into them, trembling.

“Fawn…”

Her chuckle sent shivers down his back. “Would you like me to keep going?”

“Yes,” he panted, only to groan as Fawn wrapped her hand around his aching length again. This time, lube coated her hand, and he couldn’t think of when she had grabbed it. He also couldn’t bring himself to care, not with how good she felt as she tugged his length in firm strokes.

He tensed as she brought him to the edge again, only to pull her hand away once more.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he sagged in the ropes, chest heaving. “Fawn, please.”

“Please, what, a’marra ?”

He bit back a groan as one finger circled the swollen head of his cock. “Make me cum.”

Fawn hummed as her hand wrapped around his length again. He shuddered, eyes rolling closed as he strained to try and meet her. His thighs burned, his arms aching, but the ropes had become an afterthought. He kept his face against her neck, his breaths puffing against her skin as she toyed with him.

She played his body like an expert, hand speeding up and slowing down to keep him aching for release.

He lost track of time, his attention focused on the feel of her hand, the gentle encouragements she murmured into his ear.

It took him a second longer to realize that the quiet “please, please, please” was coming from his own lips.

“That’s it,” Fawn purred. “Let me see it, Arlon.”

Her hand sped up, moving with purpose. In his ropes, his body went taut, mouth dropping open as his end rushed out of him. He let out a choked sound of pleasure, shuddering as he came over her hand. It seemed to last forever, and when it finally abated, he slumped into the hold of the ropes.

Fawn pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “Well done, a’marra. ”

He let out a breathless laugh as Fawn circled behind him and started to untie him. Once she freed his arms and legs, he spread out on the floor of her room, just enjoying the freedom.

Fawn settled on the rug beside him before she pulled the glowing focuses from around his fingers. She presented them to him and said, “Congratulations on conduiting for your first spell, Arlon. Though I’m curious to see what sort of spell we made.”

He took the rings as the knot of emotion he’d carried through the spell tightened. He let out a long breath as he closed his eyes, holding the focuses against his chest.

Fawn’s hand was gentle as she stroked through his hair. “How are you feeling?”

Arlon swallowed, his throat suddenly tight as an emotion he wasn’t sure what to do with welled up inside of him. Bridgette’s frank observation from the other night floated through his head.

Was this what love felt like?

It was a difficult realization to grapple with. For a time, he had thought he loved Vian, but the man had proved him so very wrong. He wasn’t sure if he could trust the emotion that flooded him now.

Fawn drew him out of the troubling thoughts as she stroked his cheek. “Arlon?”

He let out a frustrated breath and said, “I don’t understand why this is so hard for me. Because I-I liked that, I just…”

He trailed off, unsure how to finish that thought, but Fawn finished it for him. “You just have a hard time believing you’re truly safe here.”

His next exhale shuddered out of him as that truth sank in.

“You’ve been taught that letting your guard down will get you hurt,” she said, her fingers stroking comfortingly through his hair. “That vulnerability will be punished, but to be an effective conduit, you have to allow yourself to be vulnerable.”

Arlon let out a helpless sort of laugh as he moved to bury his face against her lap. As usual, she saw the reality of it all easier than he did. Knew him better than he knew himself. What was that if not love?

“Fuck.”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard. This was your first time. Once you have enough good experiences to eclipse the bad, I think you’ll find conduiting… freeing.”

“Maybe,” Arlon said, though he hoped she was right.

He knew what conspace looked like. Had shot Fawn into it a few times now, seen the perfect bliss on her face.

And part of him wished to know what it was like to have every worry, every thought shut off.

Magic would be so much easier to make without the weight of the heavy thoughts he was carrying.

Fawn leaned down to press a kiss against his cheek, and he could feel her smile against his skin. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You look so beautiful on your knees, a’marra. ”

That same indiscernible emotion welled in his chest. He felt full with it, fit to break.

“I think I’ll always prefer casting,” he murmured, “but… I’d kneel for you again.”