This is a side story from my novel, written for my dear yaoi fangirl friends.I will be uploading pictures of that characters soon if Hol-chan lets me use her website.luv ya, Holly, please?.

This is YAOI. Slash. Boy on boy lovin'. If it offends ya, don't read it. Lemon in later chapters, along with Elf torture, sort of.

This is dedicated to Hol-chan and Rae-chan.TharenxNydar, here ya go..

Nydar lounged against the wall, stretching his arms above his head languidly as he watched the sun rise from his window-seat. Demon or no, he enjoyed the sunrise.there was something so pure and tranquil about it. The striking contrast of warm, pinkish rays tinting the purple-black star- studded expanse of sky.

He shook his head, disgusted with his own thoughts. Next thing you knew he'd be writing poetry and declaring his love to some vixen in black velvet and diamonds. The very image of himself in love was so amusing that he began to laugh, quietly at first, then with more intensity. He failed to notice the slaves backing away from their master as they tidied his chambers; they were quite certain he was mad anyway, and he was doing nothing to dissuade their assumption.

One foolish, unfortunate girl began to giggle. It was a small sound, nearly lost in Nydar's laughter, but his sharp ears picked it up, and his head snapped around, the chuckles dying in his throat before they were voiced. His violet eyes narrowed to near slits as he fixed the girl with a chilling glare, coupled with a slight baring of the teeth, exposing white fangs. She yelped and covered her mouth, then busied herself straightening the bedcovers that Nydar had thrashed around in while in the throes of a nightmare.

"Do you find something amusing?" His voice was light, almost cordial, but you could never be too certain with Nydar; the smallest things could set him into a dangerously violent fit of rage. Our poor slave-girl, however, had not resided at Nydar's manor for near long enough to know that, and nobody there had bothered to tell her, since she was human and didn't understand a word of the Dark Tongue. Three strides and the demon-lord was barely an inch from her face, their noses nearly touching. "Answer me, wench." He was using Common, a speech he hated, and this did nothing to ease his temper.

"N-no, sir, I."

Nydar's slender fingers wrapped themselves around her slim throat, not pressing hard enough to do any damage, but unsettling the girl, which had been the intent. A claw settled in the hollow of her neck and dug into the skin a bit, barely enough to draw blood. "Why were you laughing?"

"Nnn." She choked.

He backhanded her across the face as hard as he could, hitting her with roughly the force of a startled dragon's wing-beat. She fell to the floor with a gasp, clutching the side of her face, which now sported a lovely bruise.

As she hit the floor, another slave rushed forward to keep her head from striking the stones. Nydar had turned away to study the window again when a flash of golden hair caught his eye.

He was small, thin, lanky, delicate. Though he was undoubtedly male, he was almost pretty, beautiful, really, with his narrow waist and long, toned muscles flexing beneath bronzed skin. He seemed childish, old eough to not be considered a child, but young enough to still have a thin, adolescent layer of fat covering his tight muscles. His eyes shifted from blue to green as Nydar watched, and then burned crimson as he touched the woman's bruised cheek gently. His hair was bright, bright gold, tied back into a loose tail and spilling onto the floor. He was dressed in a long, black tunic that reached nearly to his ankles and was belted with a wide swath of red fabric. The garment would have brushed the knees of a larger person and was obviously intended to be worn with breeches; it was slit on either side up to the boy's hips, half-exposing tanned legs tapering to narrow ankles and high-arched feet.

He grabbed the boy's wrist as the woman stood shakily. "What is your name?" Standing, the boy reached his collarbone, Nydar was pleased to see. He was short for a demon, and rather sensitive about his height.

Nydar was beautiful in the same way a well-crafted blade would be; cold and sharp with a personality to match. His hair glimmered with the jet-black essence of a starless night, a shade no plant or dye could ever reproduce, and it hung to his feet, tied back in a chaotic sort of tail. He was thin and well-muscled, lean but without the delicate appearance of the slave- boy. His limbs were long and well-defined, his wrists and hands small, dominated by lacquered-black inch-long claws. His eyes were narrowed, slanted, and deep violet, much like the eyes of his previous lover. The thought of Draegan made his stomach turn, and he banished the thought of the demon from his mind.

Nydar was clad in crimson robes that gave him the appearance of being even more pale than he already was. He was suddenly grateful for the billowing folds of the robes, which masked his traitorous body's reaction to the boy's revealing garment.

The slave's eyes widened, bored into his own, flashing to an electric, startled pink. He was so undeniably cute. Nydar hated cute things. "Your name, slave," he snapped. The boy opened his mouth to reply, but only a gasp of pain escaped as Nydar's grip tightened on his wrist. He tried to jerk away, but the effort was in vain; Nydar's claws sunk into the muscle between neck and shoulder. "Your name. Must I ask you a fourth time?"

He shook his head. "Kruulyn." Tears sprang to his eyes-that hurt!

Nydar released Kruulyn's shoulder, keeping the harsh grip on his wrist. The name didn't fit him, and seemed oddly familiar. "Do I know you?"


Nydar raised an eyebrow. Sir? Kruulyn was the first slave who hadn't stammeringly referred to him as "Master." The boy's eyes blazed crimson at the injustice of being held against his will. He drew his lips back from his fangs, ready to bite. Incredible-anger only heightened his magnificence.

"Where do I know you from?" Nydar managed a steady tone, though his breath was beginning to come in uneven, ragged bursts.

"You purchased me from a one-eyed slave dealer ten years ago." Kruulyn's voice bordered on insolence.

Nydar smiled. "You've grown."

"Yes," Kruulyn said in a clipped tone that signaled the end of the conversation.

The demon-lord dropped his hand. "You may go now."

Kruulyn bowed shallowly and turned sharply to leave, the tunic fluttering up behind him and allowing Nydar a glimpse of his legs from toes to prominent hipbones. This did nothing to alleviate the throbbing heat in his belly; rather it only worsened the problem. Nydar grunted and flopped backwards onto his bed.

"Kruulyn, your bloody dragonfly ate my midday," Jerakath greeted him as he sat down at the slave's table. Rein was curled up with his scaly tail tucked under his chin, snoring softly. His splinted foreleg was stretched out in front of his tiny dragon-like body. His insect-like wings lay over his body, tinting the greenish scales with pearly iridescence.

Kruulyn offered his tray to Jerakath, who took it, eyeing the blonde with suspicion. "What'd you do to it?"

Kruulyn smirked half-heartedly. "Nothing," he said, sitting. He took Rein's foreleg in his slender fingers and began to check for swelling. The dragonfly lifted his head, not seemingly agitated by the touch. Kruulyn smiled, undoing the bandage holding the twigs in place. "You heal fast, Rein."

Rein chirped an agreement and took a tentative step on his newly-healed foreleg. He was soon parading about, shaking his mane and fluttering his wings, acting like a small horse, which amused Jerakath to no end.

Once he had calmed down, he glanced up at Kruulyn, who was eerily silent. The boy was staring into space, the oddest expression on his lovely face. "Are you alright?"

Kruulyn jumped, stared at Jerakath, then sighed. "No."

"What's the matter?"

Kruulyn quickly relayed what had happened between Nydar and him in his chambers.

"Well, is that bad? He didn't do anything."

"I know, I know." He sighed. "It just unnerved me. I'd thought he forgot about me."

"What about.?" Jerakath gestured to Kruulyn's wings.

Kruulyn hunched his shoulders, self-consciously rubbing the base of one tightly furled wing, grateful that the overlarge tunic hid the bulges sufficiently. "He didn't ask to see them. I'm not sure he remembers that I have them."

"Mmm," Jerakath muttered, chewing on a particularly tough scrap of meat. Licking blood from his fingers, he said, "That's good, I guess."

Kruulyn shivered. "Just.just the way he looked at me."

Jerakath eyed Kruulyn's tanned legs and wisely refrained from commenting on his friend's state of near-undress. He knew that was the only outfit that hid his wings sufficiently, and that Kruulyn was too short for any of the breeches.

"Long as that's all he does. Let him look."

The blonde half-smiled.

"Hey," Jerakath said, clapping Kruulyn on the shoulder. "It'll be alright."

Kruulyn covered Jerakath's hand with his own fingers. He smiled up at his friend sadly, but still-it was good to see him smile. "Thank you."

Jer's eyes softened as he gazed at his friend. He was such a strange creature; no one really knew who (or what) he was. Kruulyn himself had no memories of his childhood, no family that anyone knew of, not even a name until he'd been purchased by Lord Nydar. Jer was fairly certain that he wasn't demon, but.thinking about it only made his head hurt.

The touching moment was interrupted by Rein biting Jerakath's ear and chirping for food. "You just ate, you little leech," Jerakath told him, ruffling his mane affectionately. Rein rumbled deep in his throat and rubbed his head against Jerakath's hand. "Yeah, love me all you want, lizard. I still won't feed you."

Kruulyn laughed as Rein turned a pitiful face to him. "I don't have any food, Rein. Jer ate it all because you took his meal."

Rein flopped onto the table with a deep sigh.

"Who is he?"

"My lord?" Keraar, Nydar's clerk, second-in-command, and usually friend glanced up.

"Kruulyn. The slave-boy."

"My lord, certainly you can't expect me to remember a slave from ten years ago."

"Dammit, I want to know! Why don't I recall him? I know every slave in my employ!"

"I don't know, sir." Keraar shuffled a few sheets of parchment, searching for Kruulyn's papers. "I have a record of his purchase here somewhere. If I may be so bold, my lord--?"


"Well.why the sudden concern for a slave?"

Nydar reddened. What ailed him? He'd taken slaves before as lovers, it wasn't anything new. However, they had all been female, weak, whining pathetic females that cried for hours about how much he'd hurt them. The curious bit though, was how when he offered to let them return to their regular duties a kitchen-girls or so forth, they would begin to cry anew, clinging to him and telling him that they loved him. That was a definite sign that it was time to find someone new; he wasn't looking for love. He didn't believe in it. This, though-if he took Kruulyn, it would be his first time with a man (boy, nevertheless male) since Draegan.

"He's attractive," Nydar said simply. "And I feel as if I should know him."

"Here it is," Ker said with visible relief. "His bill of sale."

Nydar took it, scanned it quickly, handed it back to Ker. "How did he get assigned to manual labour? I bought him for-" Nydar snapped his jaw shut, blushing furiously again. Why did speaking of Kruulyn embarrass him so much? His pale cheeks blazed red, and he studied his feet, his stance making him look much younger, like a schoolboy faced with a longtime crush. Nydar mentally shook himself and struggled to regain his composure.

"My lord? Shall I have him moved?"

"Yes-to my quarters."

Sooo.what'd you think? Love it? Hate it? Let me know.

I hope you love it, cuz it makes me happy to have fangirls! (and boys!)

Cheers to Hol-chan and Rae-chan, Tharen's very first fangirls! (Tharen is Kruulyn's Elvish name.he's an Elf who was kidnapped as a child)