After the Hunt

BY : Michaelis Kristiansen
Category: +A through F > Dark Souls (series) > Dark Souls (series)
Dragon prints: 334
Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Souls, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Lothric's spirits were more terrible than usual that night, and there was no special bond needed between them for Lorian to feel it. The entire ride back to their temporary quarters was a taut silence; they laid in the hay-filled cart, and Lothric took no shame in coddling up into his brother's embrace, not minding that Lorian's brass-covered breast made for a terrible pillow.

Their evening was worse than usual. Lorian was to engage the next day in the proper sport of Lords and go upon a hunt, to slay some beast or two in stark proof of his strength and power, but first, Lothric was to do the same.

Of course, nobody would kid themselves into thinking he had the capability to do so, the twins most of all, but what had happened was beyond the pale. Lorian had to carry him through the woods until they found their prey, a mere kitten of a great feline tied up to a tree. Lothric hadn't wanted to do it in the first place, but he couldn't lift his sword, his arms shaking, dipping under the weight of the heavy platinum. Ultimately, it had been Lorian who delivered the poor creature its deathblow, with one hand on his brother's wrists, the other over Lothric's hands on the hilt of the sword so they could at least pretend Lothric had been the one to do it.

What angered Lothric most was that everyone about them patted his back as if he'd done a noble deed, as if the blood that sprayed back at him was earned. But, like most things, he took it without verbal protest; it stewed inside him as yet another mark in the base of his rapidly crumbling patience.

Lothric had no words for anybody when they reached their quarters; as they were sequestered off in the woods for the princes' combined hunts, they were staying in a shelter much different than the palace they knew as home. This was a hunters' cabin, with two bed mats, a fireplace, and a tub already drawn for them to bathe in with hot water, but only one tub for them both. The table was set with a meager spread, ale, cheese, cured meat, things that traveled well.

"You should get yourself cleaned up before the water cools," Lorian shut the door behind them, and with care, laid his brother before the bath. "I'll help you, of course."

"What of you?" Lothric glanced to him. "Do not try to tell me that you are fine. I know you're still in recovery."

Now that they were in private, Lorian began to loosen some of his armour. Off came the helmet and his greaves; soon he was down to only the silk under robes. Without the metal giving him bulk, Lorian's larger but still Irithyllian body was no longer hidden; the robes dangled about his long whip of a body, stretched like a man who'd been put in the rack. "I am much more concerned with you than I," Lorian replied. "I won't allow you to not be cared for."

"I suspected you'd say that, dear brother." Lothric didn't argue his logic. Neither of them were in the best position, but it was inarguable that Lothric had the worse of the line. After all, Lorian could at least stand with sword in hand. A pallid, gaunt thing like Lothric couldn't even play at knight, even though they'd try to make him anyhow.

"Out of your swaddling." Lorian slipped the clothes off of Lothric's body. "Can you get in yourself?"

"I'd rather not." Lothric replied, no bitterness, no sorrow, just the statement as it was. He was lifted in Lorian's arms, and then settled into the still hot bath.

As the water came up to Lorian's chest, Lorian gave a hiss, and drew away, but not before settling his frail twin into the tub safely, his brother's comfort more important. He then took off his wet undershirt, and wrung it above the tub. His chest was still marred in bright mallow pink scars from fighting the Demon Prince. He'd been truthful when he said he wanted Lothric to bathe first, while it was still warm, but there was also the unmistakable fact that the heat would seer his recovering skin.

"Might as well shuck off it all," Lorian peeled away his remaining clothes, and hung them by the fire to dry, before stepping back to the tub. "So I won't wet it any worse, eh?"

Lothric looked over his brother's nude form, and he gave a small quirk of the lip, something like a smile. "Really, is that your thought?" he asked, with a lilt in his breath.

"You best not be saying I am with ulterior motives." Lorian's hands dipped into the water with a rag, and save a puff of breath through his nose, he ignored the shock of the heat against ruined skin. He rubbed the rag against the cake of soap, getting it to a lather, and he began to bathe him.

"That is precisely what I am saying." Lothric's leg shook as he lifted it from the tub to let Lorian wash it; he had little strength, and was grateful when Lorian took him it by the ankle, and washed up his stick of a leg. Though he was of age, Lothric had never grown any sizable amount of hair; what was there was an invisible white fluff, nothing of what was expected of a man. He let his soaped leg fall back into the water, and he lifted up the other for Lorian to repeat the process.

"Hush." Lorian paused; he turned Lothric's leg back and forth, examining it. "We'll need to get out the salve. I think this one is new." One finger motioned to a sore midway up Lothric's calf. "At least it seems to be firm. I don't see it weeping."

Lothric's eyes turned down. "Must we excise it?"

"I will be gentle," Lorian replied; his deft nails pressed to either side of the welt, and he pushed. Lothric's body went taut, his shoulders bracing against the tub; his teeth clenched, and a whine shot through them. Dark yellow pus, streaked in rich red, flowed out of the wound, over the back of Lorian's hand. Lorian gave a sigh when it was done, and simply flicked the sickly juices off, washing his hand, and then the wound. He was far too used to this to have any other reaction. "Are you well?"

"By some definition," Lothric returned, his breath noticeably dulled. "Ah. Pathetic, aren't I."

"That is not a word I would ever use to describe you." Lorian gave one of the other's thighs a tap. "Can you stand, long enough for me to get these?"

Lothic's hands braced the sides of the wooden washtub. He pulled, trying to lift himself; he managed, but on legs that shook like a shoddily built tower.

"Here, here. Embrace me." Lorian leaned in, and Lothric collapsed upon him; Lothric's arms threw about his neck, and he laid over his brother's broader chest. Meanwhile, Lorian washed up the backs of his thighs, and over the curve of his ass. He drew the other's ass open, and applied the rag back there, sweeping it over his hole, then down to his balls. "Your thighs are clean though, no new sores that I see."

"Clean and smooth as butter," Lothric replied. Draped over his twin, he gave a whisper into his ear. "As I know you know."

The breathy voice sent a chill running up Lorian's spine, and he felt a tensing somewhere that he knew he shouldn't. "What are you saying, brother?"

"I am saying I don't yet wish to return to the bedstead, but I know that I will get cold otherwise," Lothric's spider fingers crept through Lorian's silver hair, nails working over his scalp. "I am saying that you know what I am asking. The day's been so horrid. Can I not have something I wish for once?"

Lorian let Lothric lay back into the water as he stood. His club of a prick stood half-hardened off his body, the verbal teasing enough to start its rising. "Have you ever thought that this is perhaps not something brothers should do?"

"Have you?" Lothric was coy. Lothric gave a chuckle as Lorian slid into the bath, ignoring the pain of his wounds; this was worth it. Lorian settled in Lothric on his lap; Lorian's hands were then parting Lothric's thighs, tracing up and down them, fingers working into the skin, soft and lacking in any true definition.

"I have long ceased caring," Lorian replied. "I pondered it once, but decided that if it is something wrong, it pales in comparison to other atrocities that come to mind." One of his large hands placed against Lothric's soft prick, where he began to massage it with his palm; it often took Lothric a while to harden, but he didn't mind. His lips placed one soft kiss against Lothric's cheek, and then he said, "We are connected, you and I, and I do this willingly. You are my all."

Lothric's chest lifted with his increasing breaths, and his long fingers wrapped about Lorian's cock. "Let me," he said, and he moved the massive prick up between his thighs. He had little strength, but this was something he could do, and he adored to do. He squeezed the long shaft between his thighs, and then slowly, so slowly, he worked them like the bow singing on a violin.

Here, with his brother's breath panting in his ears, Lorian's hands gliding up and down his chest and belly, over his nipples, his hand occasionally settling to the root of his prick, he felt as if he truly had some power. The way Lorian's cock hardened from mid-way to full on erection as he glided his thighs back and forth, the way it would pulse, the way he could see the blood pumping in that long, thick, prominent black vein-- oh, a shiver ran through him.

"This is as much for me as it is you, you do know," Lothric turned his head to give Lorian a peck on the cheek, and he slid down his body, shifting his weight; he let his balls press against his brother's hard cock, gasping through his open mouth.

"Aah-- ye, yes, I--" Lorian's mouth fell open and a moan fluttered out, his voice unable to form words for a moment. "Aah, I'll be paying you back twicefold for this."

Hand squeezing about Lothric's lazily thickening shaft, Lorian tugged it slowly from base to tip. Lothric replied by placing a hand on the underside of his brother's cockhead, and the other at the tip; there was certainly enough length to still stroke him off with his thighs while he handled it with his fingers. Lothric's willowy forefinger and ring finger went to one side each of Lorian's crown, and spread; his middle finger scratched light against the exposed piss-slit, knowing well that it'd reduce Lorian's brain even further into the throes of lust.

"Ahh- Ff, fnn." Lorian's hips began to pop. The water sloshed around them. He tugged faster at Lothric's cock, in a frenzied mindlessness brought on by his own impending orgasm. Lothric gave no mercy. His legs moved. His hand tugged, flicking foreskin up and down. His other hand slicked the dewdrops of pre oozing out up and down that sensitive head, giving just the slightest edge of his claws into it.

Lorian's free hand clapped to the stone floor for lack of anything else to do. His prick pulsed. He bit down upon his lip, and he cried out through his teeth wordlessly-- "Nnngghhh!!"

Back arched nearly to a crescent shape, it shot through Lorian as a bolt of lightning. His mighty cock gave a few jolts, and he spurt out one, then two, then three thick, shimmery ropes of seed. It dotted over Lothric's knuckles, and floated on the top of the water. It utterly stank of musk, the scent near overbearing.

"Ohhh, dear brother." Lothric lazed back on Lorian's chest as his elder brother began to calm, puffing in afterglow. "Phenomenal." His hand moved to his mouth, where his pink tongue danced over his knuckles, licking up the semen; it could be identified only by its wetness on his moonskin. "I care not if the world snuffs out, you know. I care not about much. But I care greatly for you, and I care greatly for your fervour."

Lorian's head was spinning as the orgasm began to finally drip away. But words were still difficult, and he replied by motions only. Out of the tub he rose, holding Lothric in his arms, and he walked, somewhat jel-legged, to the fireplace. He laid his frail brother down on the blanket before it, and he neatly folded him in half, pushing Lothric's knees up by his face. He was firm with his motions, but not forceful; he held his hands on Lothric's thighs, using his lanky arms to keep him spread as he moved down to his treasure: Lothric's exposed pucker.

It was a dusky tearose pink against chalk white skin, and in this stretched pose, it struggled to remain fully closed, giving small flashes of dark guts. His prick would certainly taste them, but for now, he wished to have it with his mouth.

"You are alright, yes?" Lothric asked. "Dear brother, don't push yourself."

"You could not stop me if you tried," Lorian replied, perhaps literal, perhaps not. He moved in; his lips ran down Lothric's shaft, brushing against it; he then gave a kiss to each of Lothric's testicles, tight in his coinpurse of a sac. Then, the tip of his tongue moved up the hole. Then down. Then up again.

"Oh. Oh, my--" Lothric's hands wove into Lorian's locks, and he pet mindlessly through the silken strands. "Ohhhh yes, brother, yes. Yes. Only you shall know me, brother. That I promise."

That sent an excitement through Lorian that he himself could barely understand. He knew it was taboo, unacceptable, but he didn't care. Or, rather, he cared, but in a much different way that brothers usually would. His tongue worked faster, going up and down the hole, softening it up. Then his tongue ran rings around the wrinkled skin.

Their souls were intwined so firmly they could not seperate. He wanted their bodies to be as well. It was beyond the banality of sex; it was a ritual, they both knew, that connected them. flesh to flesh, mouth to mouth, tongue dancing with tongue as they had each other in the way married men would. Lorian could see no bride other than his brother. Lords often had no say, but he knew that this was not for argument.

"Oh Lorian. Yes. Dear brother, yes," Lothric's legs moved, laying down over Lorian's back like a scarf. His hands freed, Lorian moved them; one cupped his twin's balls, and he massaged them in his palm. The other stroked Lothric's sucked-in belly, fingertips dancing theatrical over hairless pale skin. Lothric's hands pressed against Lorian's head, pushing him in. "Aah. Ah, ah, ah--" His voice rose up, never growing loud, but lilting with the exultation of an overwound nightingale box.

As Lothric's ass softened, Lorian began to slip his tongue inside. Bit by bit, he lapped at it, and then, he was flicking it in and out, in and out, lavishing love over the sweet pucker. Lorian breathed in deep; Lothric's musk was a sickly sweet smell, scented like curse and disease even when freshly washed, but Lorian adored it anyhow. It was his brother's smell, and in the end that is what he loved.

Lorian's hand left Lothric's balls, and slipped downward; one finger wriggled inside, and thrust slowly, until the joint was buried, and then, the knuckle. Lorian's tongue rolled about his digit, and he crooked his finger. It pressed against that sacred bead deep in his twin's guts, and he pushed it back and forth, like rolling out a small dough bun.

Lothric's legs were tightened bow strings. His ass lifted up off the blanket, forcing Lorian's head to follow in order to keep up with his rimming. Suddenly, Lothric came like a mirror cracking: it was a heat that shot out from his prostate, to his prick, then it spiderwebbed through his body like a slowly shattering surface of glass. He barely even felt his seed shooting over his belly, and he didn't bother to touch his cock. He kept his hands twined in silver hair, pushing his brother's face tightly into his body, as if he were fearful Lorian would pull away, though he knew inside that he would never. Lothric's ass spasmed. His hole flickered around the finger, under Lorian's tongue. It sucked on Lorian's finger, as if it could milk it free of its seed. Then, he collapsed.

Lothric panted for breath, eyes blurry, unfocused, dizzy as he stared at nothing. His mouth hung open and he gasped for air, his weak body pushed far by the effort of orgasm. His heart thudded so loudly he could hear it in his ears, and little else. But still, he felt disappointment when Lorian's mouth moved away, Lorian's finger left his body.

Lorian's lips kissed on the tip of Lothric's prick, cleaning it; his tongue dipped up Lothric's bony chest as he lapped up the speckles of seed, crawling over him.

"B-brother. Dear brother," Lothric struggled to speak, the air still hard to grasp. But as he did, Lorian paused.

Lorian's eyes moved up to meet Lothric's, and patiently he waited for his precious twin to speak.

"I am ready for the mattress," Lothric said, as smile began to crawl over his thin lips. "At least, if you can rise again, I am."



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