No Regrets

Summary: There are times Kest regrets becoming the Saint of Swords. Especially when someone else gets hurt
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the first two books in the series; AU; references to violence; references to scars
Pairing: Shuran/Kest

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Shuran had hesitated over his decision to be the one to take Kest to his room, but the swordsman had been quiet…more quiet than was usual for him. After apologising and making it clear he felt guilty, Kest had withdrawn into himself, barely talking or even looking at his two friends. So Shuran had arranged for Falcio and Brasti to be taken to their rooms by some of his men and had chosen to escort Kest himself.

They walked to the room in silence and Shuran stood outside it, turning to face Kest. Before he could say anything, though, the other man asked, in a quiet voice, “Are you going to punish me now?”

Shuran frowned at that. “No. I don’t see any need to punish you,” he said honestly. “I don’t know how much your companions said to you, but I’ve heard of it. You held out for as long as you could and I’m honestly surprised you didn’t give in much sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter what you say,” Kest admitted, his voice low. “It doesn’t matter what anyone says. I should be strong enough to hold it back. I nearly killed you. I remember every single action I took, but I didn’t care. Not while it was going on. I care now.” His voice dropped even lower. “But what if it happens again? And no one’s there to talk me out of it? I could kill someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Shuran knew he didn’t want to have this conversation while they were stood outside the room, where anyone could overhear what they were saying. He gestured towards the door. “Shall we go inside?”

Kest nodded and opened the door. The two of them stepped inside and then Shuran closed the door behind him before turning to face the other man. He watched as Kest removed his sword belt and then his coat, placing them neatly out of the way. “What do you want me to do?” Kest asked, standing straight and tall with his arms at his sides.

Shuran hesitated. He hadn’t really planned anything; had only suggested they move into the room so that Kest could say whatever he needed to in private. He opened his mouth to put voice to those words, but then he looked into the other man’s eyes.

Kest’s face was pale. Drawn. Haunted. But the terrible weight that had bowed him down when he’d arrived with Falcio and Brasti was starting to lighten and he was watching Shuran with a hopeful look on his face.

Taking a deep breath, Shuran looked around the room. His hands went to his sword belt and he removed his weapon, placing it to one side and then unbuckling the belt. He doubled it over in his hand; tested the weight against his palm.

Kest didn’t wait for instructions or directions. By the time Shuran looked up, the other man had positioned himself bent over the bed, his britches lowered to reveal his pale, bared backside.

Shuran walked to Kest’s side and placed his hand on the other man’s back. He gently tapped the belt against bare skin and then brought it down hard at the crest of his bottom.

Kest’s body jerked and he breathed in, deep and sharp, before letting the breath out in a low moan as the belt landed a second time, just below the first. The third stripe had him clenching his fists in the blanket and the fourth tore a sharp cry from his throat that he bit off so that it became a thin yell. Two more strikes and his breathing sounded wet, as if tears weren’t far off.

Pausing, Shuran looked at the vivid red stripes that decorated the other man’s bared backside. He pressed down harder on Kest’s back, pushing the shirt up out of the way so that he could place his hand on bare skin. He rubbed gently, feeling the muscles tense and bunched under his hand. He rubbed until Kest relaxed and some of the tension drained away. Then, he lifted the belt once more and delivered another six slow, hard strikes.

By the time the second set of stripes had been delivered, Kest was breathing heavily and his shoulders were shaking. His fingers clenched even tighter on the blanket, turning the knuckles white, and he began to shift from one foot to the other. His breathing sharpened and the first sob was wrenched from his throat.

The third set of six had Kest beginning to cry quietly, while the fourth had him openly sobbing. And by the time the fourth circuit had been delivered, Kest’s entire bottom, down to mid-thigh, was a bright red, bordering on scarlet. And his whole body had slumped over the bed, his head bowed over as his tears soaked into the mattress.

Shuran let the belt drop from his fingers and he sat down on the mattress next to Kest. Reaching out, he placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, not sure how his attempt at comforting would be taken.

Another quiet sob escaped Kest and then he turned, wrapping his arms tightly around Shuran and hugging. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I told you. I understand and I don’t blame you.” Shuran rubbed down Kest’s back, letting his hand touch against bare skin.

Kest shifted slightly and lifted his head, then touched his lips to Shuran’s, sliding his hand behind the back of his head.

Shuran froze, but it was only for a second before he found himself returning the kiss. He stiffened slightly when Kest’s lips strayed towards the burned part of his face, but the other man only stroked his fingers along the scarring and then followed the same path with his lips.

He'd never been kissed before, at least not that he remembered. He’d slept with women, but there’d been nothing loving or gentle in it. And no one had ever touched his scars the way Kest was doing now.

Kest pulled back, slowly, but he still touched Shuran’s face; and he looked into Shuran’s eyes, as if searching for something there. He licked his lower lip before asking softly, “Did that make you happy?”

“I’m not sure about happy, but you’re the first person who didn’t look at my scars and immediately turn away,” Shuran admitted, a hoarser note creeping into his voice.

Kest smiled and it made Shuran bold…brave. He leaned forward and he kissed the other man, tasting his lips. They were rough and slightly chafed, but the kiss was sweeter than the richest wine he’d ever tasted and he slid his hand round the back of Kest’s head to cup it and gently push the other man into a deeper, more lingering kiss.

Kest pulled back, but only so that he could lay back on the bed. He reached up and wrapped both arms around Shuran, giving him a smile. “Stay with me tonight?” he asked softly.

Shuran glanced at the door to the room and then at Kest. Slowly, he levered himself down on top of Kest, pinning the other man under him. “You don’t seem to be in that much discomfort,” he murmured.

“It hurts. But it doesn’t touch on the pain of the guilt I was feeling,” Kest said honestly. “And you helped me with that. Punished me for what I did wrong.” He leaned up and kissed Shuran, deep and lingeringly. “You’ve got responsibilities? So have I. And these responsibilities aren’t going to go away. But I’ll take what I can with you.” He kissed his way along the scars that covered half of Shuran’s face.

“We’ll have tonight,” Shuran whispered, turning his head to capture Kest’s lips with his own. “I’ll stay with you. For tonight.”

Kest nodded and relaxed under Shuran’s body, stroking his hands up under the other man’s shirt. He kissed him again and then let his eyes close.

Sleep overtook Shuran only moments after Kest gave in to it.

The End