Taskin enters the stable, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space. This is the last place he can think of to look for his lover, and he only considered coming here because one of the apples was missing from the basket in the kitchen, and he knows Kevian doesn't like apples. He only takes one when he's going to feed it to his horse. But if he strikes out here, Taskin is giving up - he's tired after a full day of classes, and this isn't helping. Kevian will come home eventually.

The smell of hay and horses fills his nostrils, and he spots a familiar knot of blonde hair bobbing up and down over a stall wall near the end of the aisle. Padding over silently, he watches in appreciation as the bigger man's muscles bunch and release, shiny with sweat, his shirt stripped off somewhere along the way. It is an unusual sight, Kevian mucking stalls; he pays their landlord to care for his temple-owned gelding, after all.

"Kev?" Taskin says curiously, leaning on his elbows on the stall door. "What are you doing here?"

Kevian looks up, brushing sweat-soaked hair away from a tense and frustrated face. "Just... trying to do something useful," he mutters, his voice low.

Though no stranger to hard work, Taskin doesn't usually seek out voluntary hard labor. And he can think of a few better ways to work out some frustration - most of them involving being just as hot and sweaty, but in the bed they share. All of them activities that Kevian has enjoyed exploring with him in the two months they've been here in Mythlight together. "Is everything alright?" he asks gently.

When he doesn't get an immediate response, he walks into the stall, grabs the pitchfork in one hand to still it, and rests the other on the younger man's broad chest, over his heart. Kevian sighs heavily, leaning into Taskin's touch. "I got another letter from the temple. I'm just not making any progress. If I don't have at least something to show for my efforts soon, I think they will recall me."

Taskin schools his face to make sure that nothing escapes, as he processes that. He's always been aware that their time together might be limited, but before today, Kevian has never mentioned a possible end date to his assignment at Mycom, and so Taskin hasn't had to think about it. And, in the beginning, it had just been something fun; a mutually fulfilling series of trysts between friends. He has to admit, with the possibility that Kevian will have to leave looming over him now, that at least on his end, it hasn't been 'just' anything for a while. They have never talked about it, though; he doesn't know if Kevian feels the same, or anything at all.

"I've been trying to get an audience with the archive curator since before we ran into each other at the gala," Kevian continues, his voice filled with frustration, oblivious to Taskin's inner turmoil. "But no one will even talk to me about her."

Taskin frowns, his brow furrowing in concern. "Why is that such a big deal?" he asks, genuinely puzzled.

Kevian hesitated for a moment before answering. "She is the gatekeeper for the truly rare texts - the ones some in the Empire would rather we not see. It's why I'm here, to try to get access to what she has and what she knows," he says quietly. "I've pretty much exhausted all the regular research I can do here."

Taskin can sense Kevian's desperation about this and files it away to think about later, to help him find a solution. "Let me ask around," he promises, giving Kevian a reassuring smile. "Maybe I can use my connections to get you an audience, or at least a couple of steps closer."

Kevian looks down at Taskin gratefully, relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said softly, meeting Taskin's gaze directly for the first time that day. "I didn't want to ask. Afraid of putting you in a bad position."

"Good thing you aren't asking, I'm offering," he replies lightly, but then leans in, using his shorter height to his advantage to tuck and tilt his head, pressing a lingering kiss to the underside of Kevian's jaw, and then another before he pulls back just far enough to stretch up on his tiptoes and speak quietly into his ear. "In the meantime, I can think of a better way for you to work off stress than this."

Kevian doesn't take the bait at first, casting a critical eye over his mucking job, so Taskin takes it up a notch; wrapping his arms over his lover's shoulders, he hangs from them, pressing his whole body against Kevian's. He presses several more kisses to the side of Kev's face and neck, and then just to make sure he has his full attention, he nips sharply where he was just kissing, tasting the lingering sweat in his mouth.

"Ow!" Kevian retaliates by swatting his hip once, with feeling, but with the way he drops the fork and his hands settle possessively on Taskin's rear, his plan is working.

"Come upstairs with me," he suggests in a voice that expresses absolutely no regret for his actions. "Can't you think of a better way to work off your frustration?"

Kevian chuckles softly, but shakes his head. "Maybe," he says, his voice low. "But I'm going to finish the stalls first."

Taskin isn't interested in waiting until his lover finishes a task he pays someone else to do. When Kevian tries to pry him off, despite the way he is pressing hot kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, he resorts to drastic measures and bites him again, sinking his teeth into the tender area just where his neck and shoulder meet. It draws a surprised hiss of pain from the cleric. "Now," Taskin says plainly.

"Alright, if that's how you want to play this." Kevian bends his knees, and the way his body suddenly drops out from under Taskin's leaning form makes him topple forward. Before he can fall too far, he's caught, and it knocks the breath from him. Then he gasps as his lover stands, hoisting him along; he's been almost effortlessly flung over Kevian's shoulder. The taller, broader man clamps an arm down over the back of his thighs to hold him steady and then lands a playful swat to his upturned bottom as Taskin scrambles for purchase against his back. "Settle down, I've got you."

Kevian is gentle and calm, and diffident enough in his everyday manners that Taskin often forgets how much bigger and stronger he is until moments like this. Not that Taskin is weak, but he is slender and agile and fast, not muscle and brute-force strong like his cleric. The couple of inches of height Kev has on him don't hurt, either. He surrenders, and Kevian carries him up the narrow stairs and all the way into their rooms, through the first room, and into the bedroom. The space is small, with a large bed taking up most of it. Kevian stops at the end of the bed and only then gently slides Taskin to the ground, taking a moment to look down into Taskin's flushed face and eyes that are surely dark now with the anticipation he can feel coursing through him.

He smirks, a glint of mischief in his gaze, and then without warning, he sits and grabs Taskin, maneuvering him effortlessly over his knee. "You really are a brat," Kevian says, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. "You think you can just go around teasing me like that? And then expect me to let it slide?"

And with that, he delivers a firm smack to Taskin's rear, the sound ringing loud and clear in the cozy room. Taskin gasps, more from surprise than anything else. Kevian delivers a matching swat to the other side and then rests his hand over the bloom of heat, sending a thrill racing through him. "Well?"

He wiggles just to test Kevian's hold and, finding himself held fast, laughs and says, "Yes."

"Hm." Kevian hums, and then his hand is in the waistband of Taskin's trousers and underwear, and he slides them over the swell of Taskin's upturned rump and down to his knees in one smooth motion; the cool air on his newly exposed flesh momentarily steals his breath away. "We'll have to fix that, then."

The first swat landing on bare skin makes him yelp, the feeling sharper and hotter. Kevian lands another to even it up on the other side, and then another, taking up a steady rhythm of hot, stinging smacks. Taskin feels warmth spreading and a delightful mix of embarrassment and excitement igniting within him. He squirms, pushing down the urge to protest, enjoying this far too much to end it quickly.

"Let me know when you are ready to reconsider your answer," Kevian says. Another smack, and he lets his hand linger just for a moment near the junction of his thighs, making Taskin’s breath hitch slightly. "No rush. I can do this all day," he continues, his tone playful but resolute. Each word is punctuated with a swat, these falling lower on the tops of his thighs, the proximity to his most sensitive places deepening the intimacy of the moment. Taskin can feel his body responding, warmth flooding both sets of cheeks as the rhythm continues - a steady cadence of firm smacks against his backside.

As it continues, Taskin finds himself lost in the sensations. Each spank stings just enough to draw out a whimper, yet each is coupled with that familiar thrill that heightens everything. Kevian keeps him teetering at the sweet spot where the sting is on the edge of pleasure, keeping him anticipating the next touch as much as he dreads it.

"Are you ready to apologize?" Kevian's voice remains steady as he delivers another blow, speeding up just slightly. Taskin can feel his rear getting warmer, a pleasant soreness starting to settle in. He bites his lip, breathy gasps escaping as he feels himself teetering on the edge where pleasure stops and just before it starts to hurt. He can't help but squirm, secure in the knowledge he won't be able to get away.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" he finally gasps out, helpless laughter mingling with the first undertone of submission. "I promise, I won’t tease you anymore!"

Kevian pauses, stroking his hand lightly across Taskin's hot bottom. "You say that now, but just to make sure you don't forget too quickly…" he lifts his right knee, tipping Taskin sharply forward and lifting his bottom into an even more perfect position. Then he targets a set of heavy spanks to the sensitive, barely pink undercurve of his rear, each one perfectly placed to deepen the spreading heat, ensuring he will feel it long after this moment has passed.

Taskin kicks and cries out at those, and then again at the following final series of swats Kevian lands all over his sore bottom, intensifying the burn all over. The mix of sensations dances along the edge of too much, flirting with the line of painful but stopping just short, each smack sending ripples of heat through him and into his core. He can't do anything but gasp, and kick, and wiggle, lost in the sensation of being dominated by his lover.

And then it stops, and Kevian's hand is once again stroking gently across his quivering cheeks. He hangs across the younger man's knees, mind blank with bliss, unable to move a muscle as Kev's gentle hand maps every inch of Taskin's bottom, as if both proud of his work but also carefully making sure he left no lasting injury. That is as much Taskin's undoing as the spanking itself had been, that care, and when his lover lifts him off his lap and kisses him deeply and possessively, hands roaming all over his body, he has no interest in doing anything but surrendering himself completely to Kevian's touch.

He loves the way his lover can be both gentle and dominant at the same time, and it makes him feel alive in a way that nothing else can. Later, when they've finished and Kevian has cleaned them both up and tucked him beneath the sheets, wrapped tightly around him as Taskin floats in the aftershocks of their night, he can't help but think about how much he enjoys this side of Kevian's personality. It is different from the gentle and soft-spoken man he is by day, but it is just as attractive in its own way. It rarely comes out - Taskin is usually the one indisputably in charge of their lovemaking - but when it happens, he loves being able to submit himself completely to Kevian's will, knowing that his lover will take care of his every need. And he drifts off to sleep, Kevian's murmured endearments in his ear, Taskin acknowledges a fact to himself - that he would do anything for this man - anything at all.

-------------------------

"I have not had this much trouble getting my colleagues to answer a simple question since I arrived," he complains the next day when he joins Kevian for a quick lunch outside the library.

"Hm?" his companion makes a polite, inquiring sound to request he extrapolate on his words, even as he's pulling meat and cheese out of the basket he is carrying and laying them out between them. They're on the edge of the wide stone front steps today, because Kevian arrived first, and he loves the warmth of the sunshine beating down on him. When Taskin picks out the place for their almost-daily lunch rendezvous, he usually has them over in the grass underneath one of the tall trees that offer welcoming shade.

"Your issue with the archivist," he says, and resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Remember, I said I'd ask around?"

"Yeah, vaguely," Kevian looks up from the food and grins at him. "I was a little preoccupied right after that, if you recall..."

Oh yeah, he remembers. He's not sore by any means, and his buttocks weren't even pink this morning when he twisted his whole body to get a look, but he was still a little tender when he sat down at his desk to do some work. He is seriously considering whether his office chair might need a cushion. Refusing to blush, he fixes his lover with the sternest look he can manage, with that part of last night fresh in his mind.

"Can you focus, please?" he tosses his hair over his shoulder and lifts his chin. "I'm trying to tell you what I found out. We can talk about…that…at home."

"Of course, forgive me," Kevian sounds earnest and polite, but Taskin would swear he could hear the undertone of a laugh.

"Fully two-thirds of them act like they have no idea what I am talking about - quite convincingly. 'What archivist?', 'Desily who?', 'I think you've been had'," Taskin mimics their different voices, and then breaks a roll in half rather violently. "The last third knows exactly who I'm talking about, but they mostly find an excuse to end the conversation as quickly as possible. A few warned me off - told me if it's in her part of the archive and I can't access it with my credentials as a teacher, I should forget about it."

Kevian leans over and kisses his cheek. "Thank you for asking," he says.

"One alluded that because I'm not Eschen, I shouldn't ask about it, which is so incredibly close-minded!" Taskin doesn't realize he's been shredding the roll he grabbed until Kev's hand closes over his, stilling it. The thing is, he knew how xenophobic the Empire is before he even left Mare'n; it's part of why he's here, to learn more so that his people and all the Tribes can use to protect themselves. But he's been spoiled, living here in Mythlight; the mages are some of the most open-minded of the Eschien people, and few here judge him just because of where he is from.

"I'm sorry," his lover looks him in the face while he says it, letting Taskin see the truth in his eyes. "I wish it wasn't that way for you. I don't want you to do anything that might jeopardize your job or the standing you've curated here, so probably you shouldn't make waves about this. And eat that, don't shred it."

The casually commanding tone has him lifting a bite to his mouth before he thinks much about it. It's like that, with Kevian. Taskin might usually take the lead in bed, and most outsiders would assume based on his age and his confident, outspoken, somewhat bossy demeanor that he is in charge between the two of them. Soft-spoken, friendly, generally quiet and blandly pleasant, Kevian doesn't seem at first the type to take charge.

He's different with Taskin. Or, well, Taskin supposes he's not different; it's just not something everyone gets to see. And he's not any less soft-spoken or gentle, it's just that more than a few of the friendly, pleasant things he says aren't suggestions, and if you try to take them as such, you find he can be rather an immovable force. It's easier just to do what he suggests - and so far, infuriating as it can be in the moment, Taskin has come to realize Kevian's way was the right way all along.

It is not lost on him, either, though he has yet to look too closely at this part, that he likes it when Kevian tells him what to do. It makes him feel valued and cared for, and making Kev happy makes him happy. On the flip side of that, the few times he'd stood his ground and done what he wanted anyway, his lover's quiet disappointment had been gutting, and that was before even considering that those situations had not worked out well for Taskin in the end.

"Well, I have a different plan anyway," he announces, after chewing and swallowing enough bites that Kev stops intently watching him eat. "I have access to the library, and I even have access to the archives. We'll just go down there and find her."

“No,” Kevian says firmly, his voice low and serious.

“What? Why not?” Taskin is taken aback at the quick denial.

"If Desily doesn't want to be found that badly, it's not a good idea to go looking for her. I'll have to be patient and hope my persistence catches her interest."

"It's not a 'bad idea', it's a necessity for your studies!" Taskin counters, throwing up his hands. "I have access to the archives, and I can find her. Once we do, she'll have to talk to you, or you'll have the information about why she won't."

"Stop, and listen." Kevian's expression turns grave, and he reaches out to grasp Taskin's wrist, drawing his hand down. "If someone is hiding this deeply, being this hard to find, there's a reason for it. And if you go poking around, you could put yourself in danger or jeopardize what you have built here. I won't let that happen."

Taskin scoffs, trying to pull his wrist free. "I can take care of myself, Kevian. I'm not some helpless child who's going to get lost in the archives." Kevian’s thumb strokes across the inside of his wrist. It is the most affectionate of gestures, one Taskin usually melts for, but right now, it can't soothe the frustration building in Taskin’s chest. He can help, and he doesn't understand why Kevian won't let him.

When his cleric speaks, his voice stays even, but it's warningly stern and unyielding. "Taskin, I'm telling you not to do this. If you go snooping around down in the archives anyway, you won't like the consequences."

"You can't just tell me what to do, Kevian." Taskin tries to pull his wrist free, inexplicably mad. Does Kevian want to have to leave? Perhaps it's not the best idea he's ever had, but his cleric having to go would be worse. "I'm an adult, I'll thank you to remember, and I can make my own decisions."

His breath hitches as Kevian's grip tightens ever so slightly, not releasing him. His calm, serious expression does not change. "I know you are an adult, my whirlwind. Despite the short time we've known each other, I've also learned how stubborn you can be when you have your mind set on something. And I care about you too much to let you put yourself in danger, especially for this."

Taskin takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He knows Kevian is right, but it still rankles that he won't let him help. "Fine," he says finally. "If that's the way it is, then I won't go into the archives."

Kevian nods slowly, and his grip on the older man's wrist turns into a quick, comforting squeeze of his hand before he lets go. "Thank you, Taskin. I appreciate your understanding."

Taskin settles back onto his step, but as they finish their meal in silence, he can't help but feel frustrated and helpless. He knows that Kevian has his best interests at heart, but in this case, he thinks that Kev is underestimating Taskin, overestimating the danger, and underestimating how awful it would be if he had to leave because this Desily lady won't talk to him. And, it stings to be told that he can't help.

As they pack up the remains of their lunch and prepare to go their separate ways, Kevian places a hand on his knee and waits until he turns to look at him, a flicker of steel in his gaze. "Taskin... I was serious about there being consequences if you challenge me on this."

Taskin lifts his chin. "What kind of consequences?" he asks warily.

Kevian takes a long moment to inspect his face before answering - it feels like he can see into Taskin's very soul. "I'll spank you. And it won't be like the other times, either. It will be discipline, and it will hurt." His voice is tight and uncompromising as he meets Taskin's gaze head-on. "I don't want to have to do that, Taskin... But I will if I have to."

Taskin's eyes widen, and he feels a shiver snake down his spine. Despite his casual dominance in their everyday life, Kevian has never threatened him with a 'real' spanking before, and the idea is both thrilling and terrifying. For a moment, the two men lock eyes, the tension between them palpable. Kevian breaks it when he leans forward, giving him a lingering kiss, and then takes the lunch basket and stands up while Taskin is still breathless and seeking further contact. "Be good, my heart. I'll see you tonight."