Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Raistlin's Return	By : pip Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 2380 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Chapter Five
Raistlin screamed in fury when the spell failed entirely this time, and threw the candle across the room. Next, the spell book went the same way, ending up dangerously close to the fire. Dalamar felt relief again, this time the spell had not even taken any of his life. But as he watched Raistlin, he felt a long-suppressed anger rise in him. It was terrible to watch Raistlin’s loss of self-control, but he understood it also meant freedom. Raistlin was acting no better than a spoiled child. He would not stand for such indulgent behaviour; not after what he had been coerced into doing for Raistlin, and for what he wanted. Not when it was his life that had been stolen, for nothing. Barely aware of what he was doing, Dalamar grabbed at his Shalafi’s wrists, and turned Raistlin to face him.
“Stop this,” he said coldly. And something in his eyes or manner must have got through to Raistlin, because he did stop. The anger seemed to desert him suddenly, and he leaned upon Dalamar, his eyes full of frustration. Dalamar still held Raistlin’s wrists, and the perilous, consuming desire returned to him instantly at the sight of such unguarded emotion before him. He didn’t hesitate to press his advantage.
Such a simple thing really, to lower his head and taste those lips again. “I despise you,” he whispered vehemently, as he stole the kiss. He felt Raistlin’s lips move against his a little, and then that was what this was all about. Dalamar didn’t think he had ever known a sweeter victory. He held Raistlin to him as their kiss continued. Dalamar deepened it, feeling Raistlin give way beneath him – giving in to him – and he wanted to take so much more. Nothing mattered except that he have this. Nothing.
“That’s right,” he murmured against those lips, unaware of what he was doing. “Give in to it, Shalafi,” and there was a sudden feeling of regret when he realised he had spoken aloud.
He felt Raistlin stiffen in his arms, and a hand twisted in his hair as his head was pulled back. His heart began to race as he stared at his Shalafi, the fear and desire again at war within him.
“Why?” Raistlin demanded angrily. “What do you want from me?” Mistrust was evident in his face as he glared at Dalamar, his golden eyes burned with resentment and suspicion.
“There is no comfort here, apprentice,” he sneered, as he took the dark elf’s lips in a deliberately violent, punishing kiss. Dalamar was stunned; he barely had time to react before it was over.
Raistlin pulled back from Dalamar and stared at him. The façade of his reflective gaze was shattered, deliberately revealed. Dalamar saw into the cold, empty depths of Raistlin’s soul. The man who would have been a God. His own darkness was merely twilight in comparison, and he was terrified by it. “No comfort at all,” Raistlin whispered, his voice promising worlds of pain and empty victory.
Dalamar closed his eyes to block out the terrible sight in front of him. “Please…” he said, before he could stop himself.
“And you beg for what? Lies?” Raistlin suddenly laughed. An awful, disconcerting laugh. “No, apprentice, I would teach you even now.” He kept a tight hold on Dalamar’s hair, and remained silent until Dalamar looked at him again. He found Raistlin’s eyes cold and emotionless once more, and he visibly relaxed as Raistlin spoke. “We are all of us alone. They are lucky that do not recognise it.”
“You speak as if I do not know this, Shalafi,” he said resentfully. Memories surfaced in him, to taunt him again. Banishment. No human could understand the cruelty involved in that one simple word. The magic sustained him, but he still dreamed of home, of Silvanesti – and he always would.
Raistlin released his grip on Dalamar’s hair and instead took hold of his throat. “Do not pretend to yourself that you know or understand me, Dalamar. You know nothing.”
Dalamar pushed Raistlin away from him and laughed. Such self-pity deserved nothing but derision. “Come now. Except for your health, Shalafi, it isn’t as if you gave up anything you weren’t happy to do without.” He let the rancour show through his words, wanting to provoke Raistlin. It was about time he saw the truth in his actions, even in this situation.
Yet it didn’t help him with his fear when those eyes turned on him. The deadly calm in Raistlin’s expression was chilling. But Raistlin didn’t realise the turn of the conversation, didn’t realise that none of this mattered anymore. Dalamar smiled grimly despite his fear as one of those golden hands hovered over his chest, not quite touching. “You would do well to remember certain things, apprentice.” Raistlin drew out the last word out into a hiss, and it worked, but it did not stop the revolution in Dalamar’s mind. He saw the truth clearly, and he leaned into Raistlin, rejoicing in the feel of his reply.
“Go ahead, Master. Remind me. See if you can help yourself.”
There was a sudden flash of bright steel, and then Raistlin held a knife to Dalamar. The tip of the blade was placed over his heart, and he caught his breath when he felt the pressure increase, piercing his robes, just breaking the skin. He stared into Raistlin’s eyes; they were cold and deadly, and he was fearful of what he had done, but he was not sorry.
The blade moved; began to trace an agonising, scarlet path down his chest. He couldn’t breathe or move for a moment; the idea that his life hung upon Raistlin’s barely restrained fury caught his mind, and it made him feel alive. No, he was right, Raistlin couldn’t stop this any more than he could. And in spite of the pain that was inflicted on him, Dalamar began to laugh.
Raistlin watched him closely, and he felt the blade press a little deeper against him. At the reaction of his master he just laughed more. But before he could draw another breath the blade was at his throat. The strange, twisted laughter finally stopped and Dalamar paid close attention to the whispered words.
“You are very clever. But just to make sure you understand the position you are in, let me ask you a question.”
Dalamar waited uneasily, knowing that Raistlin had recovered his self-control, was no longer off guard. He trembled as Raistlin pressed against him. He couldn’t move, although he couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be, but this close to his Shalafi.
He was perfectly still, with the sharp edge of the knife grazing his skin, and so he didn’t jump quite so violently when he felt Raistlin’s lips move over the edge of his ear. Warm breath, their bodies so close, black velvet and heat. Raistlin breathed the question into Dalamar’s ear, and he strove to hear it through the pounding of his heartbeat.
“And you laugh at me,” he whispered incredulously. “One would think you wanted me to take your life, as I take everything else. I am so very close to exactly that, Dalamar. A movement away. And I wonder… would you stop me?” Raistlin let his lips brush against Dalamar’s ear again. “Do you wish it?” he asked, and then moved back to look into Dalamar’s eyes.
Dalamar’s heart was thudding painfully now, and he swallowed nervously. Both at the sensation of Raistlin’s nearly accidental touches and the question; a threat so seductive that he almost wanted it. His master held his gaze, and he unconsciously begged him to take that step, take everything. He closed his eyes finally, no longer afraid; only waiting, anticipating.
“I am yours, Shalafi,” he said in defeat, and he was surprised when he sensed Raistlin moving away from him, the cold steel leaving his throat. His eyes flew open and Raistlin simply smiled.
“Then you are lucky that I can stop myself, apprentice,” he taunted. Dalamar just stared in confusion, and swayed on his feet with the sudden loss of adrenaline. But the relief did not last long.
Raistlin came close to him again. He lifted a hand and ran his fingers gently through Dalamar’s hair, while his other hand finally did rest firmly over the wounds on his chest. “I have said that I enjoy your submission.” The pleasure and the pain were a contrast that refused to meet in Dalamar’s mind, and so he was again torn between one and the other. The caress and the cruelty. A low moan came from him at the deliberate teasing.
“If I were anyone else, Dalamar, I would enjoy more than that. Perhaps I would even enjoy taking everything you want to give.” Raistlin inclined his head until their lips met, and all coherent thought stopped. His arms wrapped around Raistlin and pulled him closer, unintentionally increasing the pressure of Raistlin’s fingers over the wounds he had inflicted. The sudden, fiery pain made him cry out into the kiss. Raistlin laughed a little and his tongue licked tentatively at Dalamar’s parted lips before entering his mouth to taste him.
The hand that had been tangled in his hair dropped down and brushed against the front of Dalamar’s robes, sliding over his stomach. Lower still, touching his arousal. Dalamar clutched at Raistlin as though he were drowning. He could sense Raistlin’s inexperience, but strangely it seemed to make what was happening all the sweeter. White-hot desire raged in him and he pushed against Raistlin’s hands again and again; into the intimate touch, and into the pain, moaning softly.
Raistlin’s tongue lapped at Dalamar’s lips one last time, and then he moved to bite painfully at his neck, while his hand continued to stroke the dark elf’s now hardened length. “I would enjoy you,” he said, sighing against the soft, bruised skin of Dalamar’s sensitive throat. The feel of his breath made Dalamar shiver, and Raistlin laughed again. “But I never sought such pointless, guilty pleasures. Speaking of which, isn’t there something you are forgetting, apprentice?”
The words broke through into the lust-filled world Raistlin had created, and Dalamar opened eyes he did not realise he had closed. His pupils were dilated with passion, and his eyelids kept trying to slide closed again at Raistlin’s continued attentions. Finally he managed to focus on his master.
“Shalafi?” he asked breathlessly, sounding as if he were begging – which he was.
Raistlin said nothing. He raised his head to kiss Dalamar again, but only briefly. Then he leaned in to his ear, this time letting his tongue trace the outer edge, ending on the pointed tip. Dalamar gasped at the exquisite sensation as Raistlin whispered a single word. “Jenna.”
Jenna. The one word had the effect of ice water on his senses. He stood, shocked, staring at Raistlin, who had ceased touching him. He knew what was meant – he was out of control, not Raistlin. The point was made, and he conceded it helplessly, lowering his head.
As the soft, cruel laughter began to mock him, a riot of confused emotions filled Dalamar. Guilt, shame, anger. The desire was still there as he stared at his Shalafi. But the bitter hate had returned, burning brightly within him at the way he had been tricked. How did he twist everything so perfectly to his own purposes? How would he ever find a way out of what he had become? I do not want this, he thought, the words at last sounding loud and clearly in his mind; and something within him changed.
He looked at Raistlin, and for the first time he felt truly free. The spell was broken; Raistlin no longer possessed him. He was still the Shalafi, and always would be. But the strange, consuming fascination he held was gone. Dalamar’s eyes narrowed, and a cold mask slipped into place.
“Enough,” he said. The word sounded final to his ears, and it must have sounded that way to Raistlin too, for he stopped laughing.
“Enough?” The ever-intelligent eyes looked him over, seeming to dislike what they saw. “Oh, no, Dalamar. I don’t think I will allow you to back out now. You have come too far with me. You are mine, and as your Master, I will decide what is enough.”
Dalamar’s icy expression did not change, and he replied to Raistlin without responding to the challenge. “I do not want this. It is finished.”
Raistlin looked at him in amazement, but quickly concealed it. He reached out to hold Dalamar’s face in one hand, looking deeply into his eyes. “Don’t deny what you want, Dalamar. I know what your dreams are, remember?”
The fact that Raistlin was still trying to win made him angry. But outwardly, Dalamar only smiled coolly, while he removed Raistlin’s hand and pushed him away. His self-loathing vanished in the act of denying Raistlin’s touch, and he was finally able to say the words that he wanted Raistlin to hear. “You no longer know me, Shalafi. I am not the novice you once knew, daring to brave your darkness for the knowledge it brings. I have power, position and influence; and I demand respect, even from you.”
“How dare you?” Raistlin hissed. Dalamar had never heard such deadly fury in Raistlin’s voice, yet he felt strangely unaffected by it. The fear he used to feel was gone completely, and all he saw now when he looked at Raistlin was desperation. He raised an eyebrow in cool disdain as Raistlin’s hands reached out for him.
“Do not touch me,” he said warningly, ice in his voice, and Raistlin froze. Dalamar reached out to grab Raistlin’s robes. “You will not steal from me, Shalafi. And if you attempt to control me again, believe me when I say I will kill you, war or no war. Do you understand me?”
It felt good to be free, and Dalamar was only dimly aware of the sudden fear that flashed on Raistlin’s face as he released him. He was right to be afraid, yet Dalamar suspected it wasn’t his threat that worried Raistlin, but the fact that he would be unable to take what he wanted.
“Do you expect me to believe this?” he asked with a soft laugh. “A few moments ago you were begging for my touch.” Dalamar looked at his Shalafi. Oh yes, the desire was still there, but it was lessened and he could easily deny it.
“And do you really think I will let you go now? No, Dalamar, I enjoy tormenting you,” he continued softly. “You suffer at my hands so beautifully…” He paused for a moment as if wondering how to continue. Dalamar’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at Raistlin’s sudden change of tactics. Would he really go so far, just to ensure his mastery? Dalamar was disgusted, and looked away. “You know me,” Raistlin insisted, and he forced Dalamar to look at him again. “You accept me for what I am, as no other ever did. And you know exactly what you invite when you submit to me. How could I not begin to want that?” He wondered at the earnest tone, was he finally hearing the truth from Raistlin at last? “And I know that this is what you want too. Admit it.”
“Once, that was true,” he said simply, forcing Raistlin to continue.
The cold look returned to Raistlin’s eyes when he realised what Dalamar was doing, “Then let it be so again!” he said brusquely, regaining his usual confidence. “I would have you to take, to torment, and to hurt – in any way I see fit.” He spoke possessively, and it was almost a threat, but it was still the truth, and Dalamar saw for the first time exactly what Raistlin had gained from the relationship they shared. He was a way for Raistlin to exorcise his demons. But more than that, with him Raistlin could take what he wanted without ever admitting his true desires. Suddenly he understood just how much Raistlin actually needed him, and his old weakness began to return at the thought.
Raistlin saw this and moved closer. He felt his Shalafi’s hands as they took hold of his, and the electricity was still there between them. “I know there is something; why else would you withstand my cruelties? I will give you recognition if that is what you desire.” Raistlin’s words were unconsciously seductive as he pleaded, tempting beyond what Dalamar thought he could endure. “But I can only be myself,” he said, more forcefully. “And I – Although I hide things from you, it is all part of the roles we have taken.” Raistlin shook his head. “I won’t let you end this, Dalamar, not now when I have so little.” He realised that this was as close to begging as Raistlin would ever come. What would it be like with all this in the open, he wondered? But it was not enough, and it was much too late.
“You know how to tempt me, Shalafi,” he said, and he saw Raistlin smile suddenly, maliciously, as if he thought he had won. Dalamar shivered involuntarily. Raistlin used the truth the same way he used everything else. He continued quickly, “but it will not work now. There is something else, you see, something that you, Raistlin Majere, overlooked.”
Raistlin looked at him, his gaze full of uncertainty, and Dalamar caught his breath at the sight of it. He almost felt pity, but then reminded himself of everything he had endured. Raistlin had brought this upon himself with his coldness and his vicious cruelty. A little knowledge of the truth occasionally would have made everything so different, would have made what he was about to say a lie. He shook his head, surprised that he actually felt sadness.
“I do not need you,” he said, and for a long moment they stared at each other in silence. And when the inevitable bitter anger passed, Dalamar finally saw regret in Raistlin’s eyes. For once Raistlin was the first to look away.
“Then it is over,” he said softly.
It was a statement rather than a question, but Dalamar answered him anyway, unwilling even after everything to be so cold and disrespectful as to leave without another word. “It is enough,” he said quietly. And it was.
Dalamar turned to leave, his heart heavy, but Raistlin whispered his name and he looked back.
“If we are successful, if we win the war, I will be forced to leave Krynn again.” Dalamar simply nodded. “It will be as if I were never here.” He looked away. “I mean to say I, can’t take anything with me.” Raistlin sighed, and then visibly straightened up, resuming his usual show of cold composure. He looked at Dalamar, and his eyes were once again unreadable. “Especially not life,” he added dryly. Dalamar smiled in understanding and relief – everything would be restored. He left the room silently, his heart feeling lighter already.
Raistlin remained alone.

Finis

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.
I tried to lead this back towards canon (I always wanted Dalamar to win through), and so hopefully their final conversation in ‘Dragons of Summer Flame’ will still make sense.
As usual, comments and/or constructive criticism very much appreciated. Review or email me: pippychick_uk@yahoo.co.uk
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Raistlin's Return