Desert’s Fierce Kiss

Desert’s Fierce Kiss
by Thevina

Rating: Adult
Pairing: Cobweb/Lianvis
Summary: Potentially set canonically at some point not quite a decade post-Bewitchments, Lianvis visits Forever (in search of Ulaume) and spends some memorable time with Cobweb.
Author’s Notes: Written for Gingerspark (former Niennaainur), who requested this pairing.

“So. How long before the scorpions arrive?” Cobweb asked, picking up a cup of tea with steady hands.

Ithiel raised a tawny eyebrow. “A few days yet. Our scouts intercepted them on the very southern borders. Their leader is with them.”

Cobweb shuddered, gooseflesh washing along his forearms despite being covered by layers of silk. “Him,” he muttered, looking into the cup all at once to see if there were messages to be read, but the leaves were silent. “Why did he come?”

“He didn’t say much to the patrol.” Ithiel gave Cobweb a sympathetic look. “Lianvis, much like you, is a force unto himself. We are allies, as you know.”

“We’re overrun,” Cobweb snapped. “I’ll be courteous. I always am, even when— after all that… Gelaming,” he finally concluded with a venomous hiss.

“I believe he’s coming because he’s looking for someone. A har that used to be close to him but vanished a few years ago. He hadn’t been told about Terzian’s death, so now he wishes to give his condolences in person on top of his true purpose.”

Cobweb fixed his old friend with a brittle stare. “I can’t imagine that desert sorcerer could miss anything going on in his tribe, much less an actual har.”

Ithiel took a deep breath and let it out again, his gaze flitting around until it alighted on a bottle of sheh. “I’m only telling you what’s been told to me.” With an agile hand he poured himself a drink and helped himself to two green olives from a plate sitting between them.

“Thank you for that,” Cobweb said gloomily. “At least Swift and Azriel aren’t here.”
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A New Life

A New Life
by Orleans

Story Notes

Characters: Ulaume, Lianvis

Rating: NC17

Beta: Steph, thank you.

Summary: My first attempt in this fandom. Ulaume’s life changed when he started his new life with the tribe of the Kakkahar.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters; they all belong to Storm Constantine. No money is made.

A New Life

I was getting tired and all I wanted to do was lying down and sleep. For how long I had been waiting inside this pompous tent since my arrival I really had no idea. Not that I particularly cared, I just wanted to finally rest.

It was too hot for my liking, since it was barely past midday and the sun was directly at the zenith. I felt terribly sticky and the dried blood on my wrists and ankles made me want to scratch the skin from the bones there.

All I wanted – beside some sleep- was a nice bath to get rid off the dirt. That was indeed the worst thing of all, when I thought about it. I hated to be dirty like this! Dust, sand, blood and sweat covered me like a second skin; I couldn’t stand the smell of myself.

After some unknown hara of this new tribe had pulled the blindfold away, unceremoniously lead me into this tent and told me to sit down no one had bothered about me. I just had caught a glimpse at a tall, golden haired hara who was sitting in front of the tent with the leader of my ‘keepers’. That was all.

I was thirsty as hell too, licking my dry lips, I hoped that someone would think of giving me something to drink after the long journey I had behind me, but no.

No one entered the tent for a long time and I simply couldn’t make myself get up and look through the wooden cupboard nearby. And that was the famous hospitality of the notorious Kakkahaar? If so, then the stories were terribly exaggerated.

From time to time I heard soft murmurs coming somewhere from the left, where the entrance of this tent had to be. Words drifted through the fabrics, words I didn’t really understand. Only now and then I recognized the voices. The delegation of the Colurastes, ‘my’ tribe, I thought sourly, was obviously still trying to sell my hide. Perhaps the leader of this camp had no interest at all to buy me? Would be funny to see what they’d do then.

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The Snakes-Tamer

The Snakes-Tamer
by LoLL

Story Notes

Author: LoLL (loll4000 (at) gmail (dot) com)

Title: The Snakes-Tamer


Rating: NC17

Characters: Lianvis/Ulaume

Summary: Ulaume meets his fate

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wraeththu Universe and its characters belong to Storm Constantine.

Spoliers: None, I think. This is just how I love to think things between those two have gone

Warning: Angst, a bit of violence, slight BDSM and, of course, aruna.

The Snakes-Tamer

I woke up in a room that was as cold and dark as a black pit. It took me a while to realize that my eyes were still closed . When I tried to open them, a jolt of pain radiated from my skull throughout my body. I tried to breath deeply for not retching. Slowly, my other senses began to register the surroundings while white flashes danced in front of me.

I was lying on a sandy floor, naked, and my hair was curling around my frame as to protect and keep me warm. But that was not enough; I was shivering and my teeth rattled, making a weird sound in the silence of the room. With a huge act of will I forced myself to remember, but my only memories were the beatings, and voices… Somebody was trading on me as if I was a piece of dead meat. And maybe I was indeed.

Again, I tried to open my eyes, carefully this time, and even if the pain was still there, raging behind the eyelids, I began to see something blurred. It seemed to be a tent I was inside, a small canopy. Between the thin fissures of my swollen eyes I could see the end of my legs: they were roped by ankles to a peg in the ground, like a dog. But what really caught my attention was a half broken cup in front of me. I sensed water and suddenly my throat burned. Ignoring the ache, I extended my hand, panting and wailing like a broken puppy, and managed to drag the cup to my split lips. Half of the water washed on the floor but I drunk avidly what was left, only to throw it up a moment later. I lay still, panting hard and felt tears burning my cheeks. If I had to die, I hoped it would be soon.

In that moment the tent opened and a tall figure stood between the light and me. I could only see the outline and something waving behind his back, maybe a cloak.

“Very well, our new guest has finally woken up, it seems. Did you rest well, Ulaume?”
With a kick, the figure threw the cup away and I moaned in desperation.

“Do not worry, I’ll bring you more water, if you behave. And food. But you must prove you are worth the money I paid for you, or I’ll let you die of starvation.” The voice was calm and deep, cold like ice.

The tall har snapped his fingers and another figure entered the room. He was dressed in a long tunic and a scarf covered his head and face, leaving only his eyes visible. The new har knelt beside me and lifted my head gently. I moaned. I must have broken some ribs from the beatings. Every move stole my breath away.

“Hush…” whispered the new har, “do not move. This will help to lessen the pain and heal faster.”

The brew was tepid and smelled of rotten fruits, but I welcomed the little droplets the har let slip into my mouth like the most tasteful and refreshing juice.

“Slowly! Or you will retch again.”

It took me an eternity but I managed to drink it all and keep it in my stomach. When the last droplet was drained, I collapsed against my saviour’s body, trying to steal a little bit of warmth.

Another snap and the har laid me back on the dusted soil and disappeared out of the tent.

I wanted to talk. I wanted to know what had happened, why I was there and who they were, but the words only rasped on the back of my throat and didn’t come out.

The tall har knelt beside me. It was too dark to distinguish his features but his eyes sparkled like two opalescent pearls, a strange nuance of pale blue that seemed almost white.

“My name is Lianvis, and this is my tribe, the Kakkahaar. The reason why you are here should be obvious to you since you tried to kill your former master. A thought I warmly suggest you to never direct at me… or I will make you yearn for the punishment he gave you as a sweet reward. He sold you to me for my… experiments, but I’m curious to see what hides under that filth and blood. If I think you are worth the effort, I may even keep you and train you. Otherwise, well… we’ll find, for sure, a recreative use for that body of yours.”

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The Summons

The Summons
by niennaainur

Story Notes


Pairing: Lianvis and Thiede

Rating: PG-13 – (?) who knows I’m very liberal

Summary: This was originally the character intro and setup for an RPG. Unfortunately, due to a horrific crash and tragic death of my hard drive, a considerable increase in workload, an overly active Mommy schedule, and an errant muse, I was unable to play … *sobs* This was intended to position Lianvis in Imbrilum so that he could play with Vaysh.

Disclaimer: All the pretty Wraeththu, as well as the world they live in, were created by, and belong to, Storm Constantine, who (bless her!) is gracious enough to allow fans like me to take them out and play with them occasionally. No disrespect or copyright infringement is intended.

Warning: AU

Beta read by: a very patient bigunen – all the rest of the mistakes are mine.

The Summons

Lianvis stood in the entrance of the tent and watched absently as hara put the finishing touches to the encampment. He noticed with a certain degree of satisfaction the veiled, guarded looks hara sent his way. “Let them be slightly wary of their leader,” he mused; it’d serve him better than too much ease and familiarity. Today, however, the wary watchfulness was perhaps warranted as he was brooding. He was Lianvis har Kakkahaar, leader of the Kakkahaar tribe; no har summoned him anywhere, and yet he had, in effect, been summoned. What was even more disturbing than the summons, at least to Lianvis, was the fact that he had heeded them.

A self-satisfied smirk spread across the Kakkahaar’s face for he had only partially heeded the summons. The missive had not contained any details. Lianvis had a fairly good idea what the meeting was going to be about; Immanion was currently busy tying up loose ends. His presence had been requested in Imbrilum “immediately.” He had come but not alone: he’d brought his entire camp. He had come but not to Imbrilum: he’d camped in the desert at the very edge of Kakkahaar territory close enough to access the town. He had come, but most certainly not immediately.

With the war over and tentative new alliances forged, he was, as were all the non-Gelaming leaders, walking a thin line between tribal alliance and tribal consolidation into the Gelaming machine.

He sighed softly and let the tent flap fall. Turning, he headed back to the bed, lowering himself gently, so as not to wake the young har who lay sleeping peacefully. Lianvis reached out, and with a feather light touch, traced the soft contour of the sleeper’s shoulder. The har, one of the tribes’ listeners, stirred slightly and snuggled closer into the curve of Lianvis’s body. Lianvis was half-tempted to wake the sleeper and lose himself once again in pure physical pleasure; the young har had been so deliciously accommodating a few hours earlier. At the memory, Lianvis felt his body begin to stir to life.

Then, with a sudden sigh, he rolled onto his back amid the small mountain of soft pillows, and stared intently at the tent wall.

He’d dreamt strange dreams for the past several nights. He’d dreamt about Ulaume for the first time in a long time. Along with his erstwhile chesnari Ulaume, Thiede, General Aldebaran, and Pellaz, and even Pellaz’s ever present shadow Vaysh had flitted in and out of the dreams. Were these just dreams? Were they some shadowy messages from the ethers?

He made a face at himself as he rose from the bed and tied his knee-length honey-coloured hair back with a leather thong. He left the listener’s tent quietly. As he threw up the hood of his dune-coloured robe and strode off in the direction of his own tent, the skies above him darkened and appeared to fold allowing one lone sedu to exit from the otherlanes depositing it and its rider on the desert floor.

Any visible surprise Lianvis might have displayed at the identity of the rider was well hidden in the shadows cast by his hood. He folded his arms across his chest as his visitor dismounted and handed the reins of the sedu to the young stable-har who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and now stood in wide-eyed awe of the sedu and its rider.

Standing motionless, Lianvis waited as the new arrival approached him; when they stood face-to-face, Lianvis inclined his head by way of greeting.


His visitor inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

“I am honoured, but somewhat surprised that you have …” Lianvis paused pointedly “thought to visit.”

His visitor inclined his head slightly.

“Please…” with a slight gesture of his arm he indicated that his guest should accompany him. “I shall have some refreshments brought,” he added and they both set off towards his tent.

Drawing back the tent flap Lianvis ushered in his guest. Lianvis swept past him, extending his arm gracefully to indicate a low pillow-strewn couch; he settled himself onto the couch directly across and lounged back regarding his exotic-looking guest with candid interest. His guest remained standing and motionless in the center of the tent.

The guest studied his host with an inscrutable gaze and said nothing; in return Lianvis offered nothing. The silence remained and under the intense scrutiny Lianvis began to feel an unusual sensation: a slight sense of awkwardness. He was saved from appearing uncomfortable by the arrival of a tall willowy serving-har carrying a tray bearing delicate anise biscuits and a lightly spiced tea.

“I can send for something more substantial if you prefer…” Lianvis offered, but his guest shook his head and with a brief wave of his hand dismissed the attendant. Lianvis busied himself by pouring the tea. With a practiced and theatrical flourish his guest seated himself on the low couch opposite Lianvis, and leaned back, and observed Lianvis, his head cocked to one side somewhat pensively.

“Lianvis, Lianvis, Lianvis” Thiede began in a bemused tone “whatever am I going to do with you?”

“Do with me?” Lianvis replied dryly “How about giving me a seat on the Hegemony.”

Thiede chuckled “I don’t think so”.

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The Entrapments of Passion and Pride

The Entrapments of Passion and Pride
by Tessa

Story Notes

Editor\'s PickAuthor contact: Tessa Rae

Disclaimer: All characters, the universe and concepts belong exclusively to Storm Constantine. I receive no profit and no gain from this amateur story. No harm is intended in any way.

Rating: NC17 – For adult themes and m/m content. Profanity. Violence. Please be warned. If you are under age in your area, or this subject matter offends you, please press the ‘delete’ key now.

Note – this story was written before ‘Seducements of Chaos andOrder’ – and is more light-hearted, and silly Sap alert -huge SAP alert, so please be warned.

Warmest thanks to Storm Constantine for creating these wonderful novels and characters.

Please Enjoy.

Additional Note from Web Site Editor:
Despite the “sap alert” given by the author, this story contains some very disturbing content, including violence and torture.


There’s an orchestra of voices trapped inside of me,
With a storm approaching both of us spilling out blinding voltages of memory,
And I am reaching out, hunting out and digging up every skeleton in front of me.


Calanthe woke as the cool breeze caressed all the way down his barely covered side. The large, high ceilinged room was airy and touched with a faint chill as Cal blinked sleepily up at the muslin canopy of the sumptuous four poster bed.

The large glass doors had been opened, probably by the over attentive Attica or Cleis, the identical twins who serviced the Tigron’s rooms. Cal could never keep their identities separate when they fussed around his dark counterpart.

The cool breeze feathered across his chilling skin a second time as the silk curtains moved sluggishly in the westerly wind. The doors faced the sea and the only disadvantage Cal could find with these rooms had been that the morning sun never touched them. Just another flaw in the greatly overrated Phaonica.

Flexing his spine and wriggling his toes, Cal stretched his chin up as he contemplated the dark muslin. Lying with his arms over his head in his customary position, he suppressed the exhaled sigh of regret and growing frustration as he thought about last night. They could – no should – have so much, yet in some ways now they were further apart emotionally than what they had been six months ago.

Thinking about it, he scowled. The last six months had moved so fast and he had learned so much. His confrontation with Thiede had resulted in him becoming Tigron with the illustrious Pellaz, and Thiede becoming the Aghama he had always subconsciously craved. His coronation had followed immediately and the Gelaming had accepted him wholeheartedly, pushing Pellaz at him as if on a plate.

Theoretically it was perfect, and the Wraeththu, as a young nation would ultimately benefit from their union, but intimately and emotionally. Cal pulled a face at the thought, shunning it.

As a unit they worked as one, hand in glove, perfecting their spiritual communions until he had mastered the channels of power so now they flowed as easily as breathing. Even Caeru, Pellaz’s headstrong Tigrina, had succumbed to his charms, accepting his place next to Pell and bending to the Aghama’s will.

The problem lay in their personal lives, and Cal tried to view the trouble through unbiased eyes. Pellaz was his soul mate, as he was Pell’s. They both knew it, yet when he looked at Pellaz he still sometimes saw a Har he didn’t know and worse, didn’t want to know. It was as if a monster inhabited the mind and body of the Har he loved and desired. It was confusing and he didn’t miss the hurt that washed through the large, dark eyes as he turned away again and again, unable to cope with the suffocating surge of power Pellaz aimed at him. It disorientated and scared him. Scared him shitless if he was honest, so that he ran, choosing to lose himself in another’s arms. Hoping to avoid the painful memories and images of what they had – could still have – if only they lowered their barriers to each other. Barriers that had become like forged steel.

If Pellaz was possibly having the same trouble with him, Cal was unaware of it. Yet his counterpart seemed to go out of his way to make life for them both difficult at best, or an unbearable hell at worst. They argued over little inconsequential things, and Pellaz would always go on the defensive as soon as he appeared. It was unnerving and always guarantied to infuriate him and their verbal arguments would escalate. Then the backlash of mental anger would cripple him. What it did to Pell he didn’t know, but the amount of damage they could do to each other was phenomenal as they were permanently locked soul to soul. Desired – and hated.

Lying in bed as he was, Cal shuddered at the thought. Last night had been a perfect example of the potential danger. What the bickering had originally started over he didn’t know, except Caeru had walked out on them both in disgust. Pell had then retreated to his bedrooms, sulking and studiously ignoring him and that had angered Cal further.

He had then brooded for the next couple of hours, allowing the anger to eat at him until he couldn’t have stopped his actions if he had tried. The air between them, as he entered Pellaz’s bed chamber, had been electrically charged and both house Hara had vanished. Pell had been sprawled on the bed, sensually appealing and half drunk, hiding behind a facade of indifference. Cal’s control had snapped. They were killing each other emotionally, and it hurt. Hurt painfully.

Cal sat up in bed abruptly, fists clenching at his side as he banked down on the deep seated pain. They needed each other. It was as simple as that. His body itched to touch and meet Pellaz’s and the physical ache built each time they saw each other. Why Pellaz denied the need, he couldn’t guess.

At the twisting knife-like pain in his center, Cal screwed his eyes shut and bent his legs up, taking large gulps of breath. Did Pellaz feel like this? He wondered. Or was it only him? Did Pellaz even care that they were destroying each other slowly?

Shaking his blonde head, he looked at the bed next to him. The silk sheets were cold now, but last night they had embraced them both. Pleasure and pain. And the nightmares returned.

Having been unable to hold back the driving need any longer, he had entered Pellaz’s bed chamber knowing his dark haired lover was awake. Not saying anything, he had slid beneath the sheets, blocking the mental waves of anger that had hit him from his silent bed mate. They’d embraced, and if there had been anything else coming from Pellaz he had ignored it, as their coupling had become urgent and brutal.

It was not what he wanted from Pellaz, not what he needed or desired. But the mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion, was bone deep and Cal’s instincts had taken over, knowing and finding what he needed and taking it.

That Pellaz was nowhere to be seen this morning was mute testimony to the fact that they were still poles apart in understanding.

“Would you like to dress before breakfast or after my Lord?”

The quiet hushed voice startled Cal and his head snapped up. One of Pellaz’s house Hara stood nervously at the side of the bed. He had to suppress a grim smile as the little, blonde Gelaming took an instinctive step back. If it was Attica or Cleis he couldn’t tell, didn’t care really as he took a deep breath. He wondered absently if he looked as haggard and drained as he felt. “I’ll dress first.”

“Yes my Lord. Would you require assistance?” The voice faltered a little and Cal toyed with the idea of accepting the offer.

“Where’s Pellaz?” he asked instead.

“I do not know my Lord. He was not here when I woke this morning.”

Cal grimaced and swung his legs over the side of the bed feeling all the muscles pull. He didn’t need to look at the house Har to see the disapproval, he could hear it and it annoyed him. So he ignored the servant and wiggled his toes.

Where had it all gone so terribly wrong, he wondered. Aruna should not be a battle, not like rape, or as the Gelaming would call it, pelki and chaitra. Aruna was about making love. Oh that forbidden word! Cal chastised himself mockingly. The Gelaming had a lot to learn and he didn’t care what anyone tried to tell him, love still existed in this world. He had felt it, tasted it, embraced it wholeheartedly once, and he would not let anyone convince him it no longer existed. It was what he and Pellaz had once felt, still felt, and he knew that aruna should be about desire and love. Last night had been far from that. He wondered how Pellaz felt this morning after their embrace had turned into a struggle of wills with him winning and forcing his tormentor’s submission. The memory of it sickened him, reminding him too much of Fallsend, and his stomach soured.

Standing abruptly, he looked up remembering the silent house Har and saw the servant hovering uncertainly. “You may go.”

Pellaz’s attendant still looked hesitant.

“Just go,” he said tiredly as he rubbed the back of his neck, not surprised to feel bruises there.

Alone again, he stiffly made his way into the bathroom and stepped down the stone steps into the large, round hot tub. He pushed the floating lilies out of the way and sighed as he submerged into the welcoming water’s warmth. It eased his stiff muscles and went a long way to improving his temper. Looking around, he admitted he adored this room, liking the way the sun warmed the alcove through the oval window, and the plants climbing the lattice. Like its owner, Pellaz, the room was exotic. His own bathing room was no way near as nice and if he and Pellaz could only work out their problems, then they could share these chambers. He sighed at the thought. If only Pellaz would be reasonable, it was a wistful thought and brought a sleepy expression to his face.

If only.

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