Insomnia

How many nights had been sleepless since he had been a child? Long before Deonnyn found him in the brothel and saved him from those men whose dirty, greedy hands stained his body forever. At first he had thought that Deonnyn was just like them, but even though the prince had been fascinated and enchanted by the elf boy, he never touched him before he became a man. Now, years later, Arandir was his paramour, the only one to share the bed of the Crimson Shade, the only one he called his love and his closest companion.
He relied on him, needed him like the air to breathe and those few nights they could not share were those without sleep, without safety, when the memories came back of who he had been before they took him away from his home, of what they did to his family.
He remembered the fear, the blood, the screams, the desperation, the certainty of not surviving as well, being ripped apart. Instead they took him, sold him as a slave and in some nights Arandir asked himself which fate would have been the better one. He thanked fate that it had bought Deonnyn to him, gave him a new life and a new future at the side of his prince, and he knew that the nightmares were going to fade one day like the scar on his neck was fading.


Arandir, Deonnyn Alcarin's elven paramour © Edie Phoenix

morphed, posed, rendered in Daz Studio 4.7
postworked for color adjustment and composition in Photoshop CC