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Last Breath	By : kalla Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 5528 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: World of Warcraft, Azeroth and the concept of Blood Elves and Trolls within the universe are not mine. No money is made from this story.

Chapter List
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Full Disclaimer:

World of Warcraft is not mine, nor are the concepts of Trolls and Blood Elves within the World of Warcraft setting. The Setting of Azeroth is not mine.
Tshion, my Blood Elf Paladin, IS mine.

Jelah, the Troll Mage, belongs to my boyfriend and is used with permission.

Part of this story is/has been Role-Played in game and out.
The title is inspired by Evanescence, "My Last Breath".

The chapter title is inspired by The Last Dance, "Once Beautiful".

I claim neither song to be my own.
This work is purely for archival/entertainment, and no money is being made from it.
V. Make Me See
There was heat below him, Tshion could feel that it was breathing. He could feel something clamped, tightly but not uncomfortably or unpleasantly around his cock. He felt like he was floating, but there was heat below him, breathing.
His arms ached.
“Jelah..?”
“Nn...”
Tshion leaned back, letting Jelah's leg down as he used the movement to carefully withdraw from the mage. The soft moan of loss made Tshion wince.
The paladin rolled to one side, planting his feet firmly on the floor, and regretted it once he stood up and felt dizzy. He turned to look at the troll, legs tucked under, arms supporting his forehead, fingers clenching and unclenching the pillows. He frowned when he realized the slender hips were moving, ever-so-slightly.
“Jelah?” Tshion tried again.
“Go,” Jelah whispered, “clean up a bit. Don't be long. Can't stand it.”
Tshion's heart sank; he thought he knew why. “I...”
“Wanted it this way. Go.” The mage turned his head. “Before I break.”
Tshion quickly headed for the bathroom. /I didn't expect him to take that to heart.../ Several moments later, he pondered his reflection in the mirror as he washed up, and smiled. He dried his hands, turned and put one leg up on the edge of the bathtub, sliding a finger along the cleft of his rear. /If nothing else, he won't have to deal with this, or wait on me once I'm out there./ He bent the leg he stood on, and slid one finger in just enough to tug at the ring of muscle, stretching it as quickly, and as gently as he could with such short time.
Biting his lip to keep any sound from escaping, he slid in a second, twisting and scissoring as his own flexibility allowed. Silently thanking the Light that he was much more relaxed now than he was when they got upstairs, he slid a third finger in with a touch of difficulty; difficulty that would evaporate when confronted with the contents of whatever Jelah had in that jar. It was good enough.
Trying not to blush when he realized he was hardening again, he left the bathroom to find Jelah in the same position, but with his hips lifted so he could find no friction against the towel on the bed. Tshion shivered and felt himself fill out the rest of the way at the sight.
Jelah's hips were moving, slowly. His eyes were closed, his face tight with either pain or concentration. His lips were moving, but no sound emerged. He seemed oblivious that his lover was staring transfixed at him.
Tshion decided that was a good thing. He tiptoed to the bed, and carefully sat down on it. Jelah's eyes snapped open, and glowed faintly. Slightly alarmed, the paladin recoiled. The mage's eyes were wild, a look that was both feral and hungry in them, with a touch of something like a cornered wild animal.
“Jelah... what...” He didn't expect the mage to move so fast, so when he landed on his back on the floor, he was momentarily dazed. The thick clefthoof rug saved him from the floorboards, but it was still enough to jar him a bit.
The troll had him pinned, but wasn't moving, his eyes searching Tshion's face, his face still, the paladin was certain, tight with pain. For a long moment they lay there before Tshion dared to speak, and even then only in a whisper. “The salve, Jelah.” The eyes flashed, and though the troll didn't move, he lifted one hand, the jar in it.
Jelah moved with deliberate, careful slowness, as though afraid to do so at all. Tshion watched and waited, barely daring to breathe. In all the years they'd been together through whatever dangers Azeroth and beyond could throw at them, he'd never seen the mage like this. Those eyes, dephthless amethyst eyes that bore the hint of fire, had never glowed like this, and the paladin could feel the heat of them as they raked over him as the mage delved his fingertips into the jar.
They still had the undertone of resignation they had earlier. Damn it to all the hells, what did the mage know?
Fingertips touched him, probed at him with shocking gentleness, and the surprised “hn” punctuated the eyes reaching his face again. “Prepared,” the mage said softly. Tshion blushed slightly and nodded. The butterfly kiss to his forehead confused him.
“Jelah...” Tshion watched as the fingertips dipped again into the jar, and then brushed against the troll's darkened shaft. The hiss made the paladin wince. /Too long... he's so far gone.../
The other hand released his wrist as the mage leaned back, and moved to hook one of Tshion's legs in the crook of the elbow, lifting it without effort. The soft half-sob nearly made the elf tense as he felt the head of the troll's slick cock press, then slide in. Without waiting, Tshion pushed back. The sob turned growl as Jelah hilted himself at once.
The mage rolled his hips once, then leaned over the paladin, both hands pressed into the fur beneath them. Tshion shifted his leg up to the troll's shoulder.
For the first time since Tshion had begun sleeping with the troll, there was no grace. Even when Jelah had been deep in the throes of desperate need, he had always been graceful in his movements. Not so, now; it was little more then age-old, primal rutting – completely without control.
Tshion reached up, pulling Jelah against him, one hand digging nails into the troll's back, the other just curling around the slender body. Half-words were already spilling from the mage's lips, some of them in Orcish, some in Darkspear, some in Thalassian, a few in Common, and a few even in Darnassian. Tshion recognized the languages, but could not decipher more than a few words. The tone said more than enough.
Tshion bit his lip, and decided quickly. He bent his head and began to murmur back. “Don't stop,” he whispered. “You won't break me.” The troll's arms slid under Tshion's back, pulling him closer. “Yes,” Tshion hissed. “I told you I wanted to feel it. -Make- me feel it. I want to know when it's coming. I want to know I've pushed you beyond your limits. I want you to fill me completely before you explode, and I won't let you go until you are empty.”
Whether it was Tshion's voice, his tone, or the words, it was clear to Tshion that his decision before leaving the bathroom was the right one. Mindful even now of the deadly tusks, Jelah's teeth bit down into Tshion's shoulder, muffling the cries of frantic desperation. Despite his fear, the pace that the mage set was getting to him, his own cock trapped between them, and the friction there, as well as the feeling of fullness was getting to him.
He strained to hold on, to hold on long enough to feel Jelah's completion. “You're so close, you can't bear it,” he whispered against Jelah's ear. “I can feel you twitching, muscles aching, tightening.” Jelah's answer was muffled and unintelligible against the paladin's shoulder. “Yes,” Tshion hissed, his own lust starting to cloud his mind again, “there. Right there. Anar'alah, Jelah, don't hold it back! Damn it, let -go-!”
Tshion realized his voice was rising in pitch, his encouraging hisses turning into pleading cries. White noise started to hiss against his ears, his blood singing, his body screaming for release. The mage, damn him, was slowing down, fighting for control again. Tshion turned his head and bit the mage's ear.
And the world exploded.
Jelah's body arched, driving himself into Tshion, and the paladin gasped at the sudden, all-encompassing -heat- as the mage spent himself, hissing the elf's name over and over again. It was more than the paladin could take. Whimpering Jelah's name, he surrendered to the white noise once more.
It was here. Whatever It was, It was here. This was where he needed to be, but where was here? It looked like Grommash Hold, but it was too large, too open, too hot. Voices. There were voices. Frantic voices. His arms hurt. Why did his arms hurt? Combat. He was in combat. Something heavy hit his shield. He swung, and was parried. It was here. He had to be here. He had to do something. He had to stop something. He had to...
“Tshion?” Liquid-gold.
The paladin opened his eyes, meeting quiet pools of amethyst. “Jelah...” He tried to sit up, but found that there was a troll on him. “Are you-”
“Fine,” Jelah leaned down and kissed the paladin's forehead.
/Butterfly kisses.../ Tshion shivered slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Ve~ery.” The word was more purr than anything else.
Tshion shifted and realized that the mage was draped over him. He also realized he was clean. “How long...?”
“Worried.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pass out on you.”
“Worth it,” Jelah purred again. “O~oh worth it.” Tshion blushed. “Relaxed?”
The paladin moaned softly. “Yes. Oh, Light yes.”
“Again?”
“After that? Can you?”
“No.” Jelah sounded like he was pouting. “Sleep.”
“We're on the floor...”
“Warm... with you.”
“We need to not wake with kinks, Squishy.” Jelah hrmphed, but flowed to his feet, and offered his hand down to the paladin. With a pang of nostalgia, Tshion reached up and took it. He was prepared this time for the strength in that grasp, and in the tug that aided him to his feet, but he still took the extra step forward and pulled the mage into his arms.
The returned embrace was much more fierce than Tshion liked. “Jelah, what is it that's bothering you?” he asked against the mage's chest.
“Nothing... to worry... you.” Tshion sighed, and turned his head to press his lips lightly against Jelah's heart. The mage's arms tightened.
They separated reluctantly, and Jelah vanished into the bathroom. Tshion turned toward the bed, and chuckled. The towel was gone and the pillows were back to normal. He must have been out for at least several minutes. When Jelah emerged, he brushed his fingertips across Tshion's face on his way to climbing into bed.
Tshion headed into the bathroom, wincing slightly as he lifted his arm to close the door. He turned to look into the mirror, and saw that his shoulder was bandaged lightly. He shook his head, smiling slightly. The bite was worth it.
When he returned to the bedroom, only a small lamp was burning, just enough light for him to find his way to the bed. He settled, and the light winked out. At once he was enveloped in warmth.
If nothing else, he could always count on the mage to want afterglow cuddles. Or sleepy cuddles. Or anytime cuddles. He folded his arms around the troll and for a moment they shifted until both were comfortable.
Tshion tilted his head and kissed the troll's forehead, savoring the sleepy mage's presence. Yes, this, this was worth fighting for.
Morning came with indecent speed. Tshion opened his eyes as the first light of pre-dawn touched the horizon, the grey light filtering in through the eastern-facing doors to the balcony. He turned his head to look at Jelah, but the troll was … gone.
/He never gets up before sunrise unless I drag him out of bed.../
Tshion got up and checked the bathroom. The door was open, and the room was empty. He turned to look out the doors, and realized one was open. He pulled on a robe and stepped outside, shivering in the cold that precedes sunrise. Padding barefoot around the circular balcony, he found the troll facing south, naked, face upturned, eyes closed.
Tshion tilted his head. He didn't like this at all. Then again, today's events were going to change an awful lot of things, very quickly, and the blood spent would devastating.
Troll or not, Jelah was not fond of blood spilled for stupid reasons.
Not that taking down Garrosh Hellscream was stupid, but the fanatics and the Kor'kron would gladly sacrifice themselves to the cause, no matter what.
Without trying to be quiet, he moved closer to the mage, reaching out to lay his hand on Jelah's arm. The troll started, his head snapping around to look at the paladin. Tshion opened his mouth, but found himself crushed against the troll's chest.
“Don't... want... this,” he said against Tshion's hair.
“I know. There's too much at stake to not act, though.” The paladin cleared his throat, and tried to bring back that cheerful smile that he was so used to. “We've been through worse, Squishy. You can't tell me that Deathwing's got less than an orc.”
“Old God.”
“Pfft. C'thun fell over easily enough. Yogg-Saron was all talk and bluff. We managed those without the personal involvment of half the world, remember. Going into this, we have the support of not only Baine, Sylvanas, Lor'themar -and- Vol'jin, but all of the Alliance, Thrall, and others like us, striking in different areas.” Tshion ran his hands over the mage's back and frowned at the cold he felt. He was liking this change in Jelah less and less.
“Getting late. Go soon.” Despite the words, Jelah didn't release the paladin, but pulled him tighter.
“We'll be all right, Jelah. We'll be all right.” Tshion nuzzled Jelah's chest, and the mage finally let him go. “Come on. I want to check over my glyphs before we go; I think a few of them may be fading.”
Reaching down and pulling the mage's hand into his own, Tshion led Jelah back inside, where both of them pulled armor off racks, checked over their travel gear, double- and triple-checked their weaponry, and at last, headed downstairs to meet the others.
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Last Breath