The Wind at His Fingertips

by sharksgrin

Summary:

After the duel in Words of Radiance and the unpleasant aftermath with Elkokar, instead of just agreeing to go to prison, Kaladin has a bit of a meltdown.
After a full-blown argument, Dalinar decides to prove to Kaladin that he can be trusted, in new and unexpected ways.

OR: Dalinar has a trust kink, Kaladin is a mess, somehow they end up irresistable to each other. It makes sense, trust me.

Notes:

This ties into the conversation Dalinar and Kaladin have after the duel, right after Elhokar has left the room. If you'd like to read/listen to the whole scene for better setting the mood (and by that I mean bask in its awesomeness), it's chapter 67 in the Audible audiobook, and it would be nice if someone who owns the actual book could give me the page.
Also, as I only ever listened to the book, please point out if I misspelled anything ;)

The direct quote from the book goes as follows:
"You'll go to prison and you'll go happily. That's an order! Do you listen to orders anymore?"
"I..." Kaladin found himself stammering.

Sorry, Brandon Sanderson :P

Chapter 1

Dalinar's roar couldn't truly echo in the small chamber, but it certainly left the impression of doing so.

"You'll go to prison and you'll go happily. That's an order! Do you listen to orders anymore?"

It preceded an uncomfortable silence, rang in it, filled it, a presence all of its own.

As if an irate Blackthorn didn't have enough of a presence already. To be this intimidating, anyone else would've had to outright threaten violence, and Kaladin had known that, yet this was the first time he experienced the full force of that anger directed at himself.

It hit like a with the force of a Parshendi arrow.

Sitting there, hands and feet chained to a chair, the Blackthorn's vice-like grip on his shoulders, with the seething, red-faced man looming over him, one step from shaking him like a disobedient child, Kaladin's own anger faltered.

"I..." Kaladin found himself stammering. He was one step from backing down, from slipping into the familiar structure of obedience to his superior officer. But then, more arrows in form of memories pierced his mind, of other orders, other things he'd been supposed to do, to be, to allow to happen. There had to be a line. How much more could he be expected to endure?

And why should he back down? Hadn't he faced worse? He'd just now stood against four shardbearers. He'd run into the volleys shot by Parshendi archers, how many times? He'd even faced and survived a Highstorm! This, Blackthorn or no, was no match for any of that, just one angry man.

One not even rightfully angry man.

Because how dare this particular man shout at him? Treat him like this? Hadn't Kaladin already done more than enough for him and his family to deserve better? Instead he went so far as to trivialize, even deny Amaram's deeds, right to Kaladin's face!

Lighteyes, he should've known they'd always stick together. They were all the same, the whole lot cared for nothing but their own advantage, expecting meek obedience from everyone else.

Something inside him snapped and freed a boiling torrent of rage that swept away all caution, all propriety. His back straightened and he sneered. "Orders? If I always followed orders, Brightlord, you'd be dead!"

Dalinar hesitated, frowning, and his next words were quieter, if still angry. "Sadeas' orders...", but Kaladin wouldn't let him speak. All the pent up tension, fear, disappointment, his accumulated hatred of lighteyes, the sheer injustice of being treated like he meant nothing, even a portion of shame for his misjudgment, all was churning together inside him, boiling over, pushing him onwards in a rush, past his sense of self-preservation.

He was able to raise his arms just high enough that he could slap away one of Dalinar's arms while snarling: "Sadeas' orders were to shut up and obey, no matter how cruel, how unbearable they were, and that's the point! Yours are supposed to be better! You are supposed to be better! And still you order me to endure this?" he rattled his chains for emphasis. "Amaram..."

Now the Blackthorn snapped, cutting him off while letting go of him and straightening to his full, threatening height, thundering: "Will you stop going on and on about Amaram? I've had it with your petty games! Can't you see past yourself, get it into your head that we have much greater issues to deal with, all of us, Amaram included!"

Kaladin shouted back: "No, I can't see past Amaram, because he storming did the exact same thing! Captured me after I'd saved his life! Murdered my men, good men, for a shardblade, for his reputation, and you call me petty? I even challenged him fairly, it's not like I tried to murder him in a back alley! Could you forgive Sadeas so easily, after what he did to your people? I won't let it all happen again, even if the world is ending! I won't!"

Dalinar was growling now. "Storm you, neither will I! Haven't I proved that I repay my debts? Haven't I treated you and your men with the respect you deserve?"

A glyphward painted on the ground, and a shardblade rammed into its centre.
Kaladin's rage cooled, retreated just a little, letting bitter disappointment take the front row. "You have, and that's why I'm even here! So why can't you be like that now? Because this?" He held his manacled hands up almost pleadingly. "I fail to see how this is what I deserve. Does this look like respect? You know what this looks like to me? It looks like risking my life for you is fine, but as soon as I ask for a reward, for justice, as soon as I take a step out of line I get disposed of like garbage!"

Dalinar's face was a thunderstorm, but he wasn't shouting anymore. "It's not about asking for a reward but the manner and timing of it, and I know you understand that, you're not stupid! So stop being contrary!"

Well, he wasn't all wrong. Kaladin understood his "mistake", he understood what it had cost Dalinar, but storms, it was so maddeningly unfair! To freely risk his life, save the day and still not only be denied the same reward as Adolin received, but be punished for even assuming he had a right to it. He was being shoved face first into the fact that the game was always rigged against him.

Dalinar went on: "You could've asked me for any reward later!"

"Ah yes," Kaladin sneered, "I got 'caught up in the moment', as you said." All his bitterness flowed into his words. "I forgot my place."

Meanwhile Dalinar threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. "And noone is disposing of you!"

Kaladin gave an ugly snort. "So have you already forgotten that Elhokar would've executed me to prove a point!? All because I'm darkeyed! You say I have a chip on my shoulder, you're right, and this is exactly why! I can be as good, obedient or heroic as I want, in the end I'm worth nothing to any of you!"

Dalinar looked stricken. "That is not true!"

A shardblade, stuck in a glyph. Kaladin pushed the image away. "Isn't it? And yet here I am, after saving your sons, after doing the impossible, in chains, again!"

Dalinar balled his fists. "You saving my sons is why I'll not stand for anything worse!"

That summoned a flare of white hot fury. "Oh, like Amaram branded me a slave, sparing me from something worse?" Kaladin bared his teeth.

Dalinar seemed to teeter between anger and horror. "I defended you from Elhokar! You can't possibly think I'd do what you accuse Amaram of!"

"I'm not, storm you! I'm trying not to! But the evidence speaks against you right now!" He sprang up in agitation, pulled up short into somewhat of a crouch by his manacles. He nearly lost his balance, just barely managed to keep his footing and continued gesturing with his bound hands.

"Don't you see how storming hard it is for me to believe you? This being the second time I've saved lighteyes from shardbearers and ended up bound and punished? Don't you get why I can't take this? Don't you get that for me it's about more than just obeying inconvenient orders or not?"

He clumsily pulled open his shirt, ripping a few buttons and revealing the map of scars on his upper torso.

"Just look! Who do you think I have to thank these for? It's always the will of lighteyes! Wasted on some petty border dispute, beaten up for running from my masters, being shot at on bridgeruns... most of these I got because I was strung up in a highstorm for daring to try to keep my men alive! Whenever I tried to protect others, always some Brightlord came along and made me pay for it! Because it disturbed his plans!" His eyes were wet with unshed tears of fury and helpless despair, and matching spren had appeared all around him, their erratic movements making him dizzy.

It was all spilling out of him, like a rockslide, he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. "What do you think that does to a person? How many more times do you think I'll get up and try again? Because I already got this close," he held up two fingers, less than an inch apart, "to not getting back up." He shuddered, and shook his head, trying to dislodge the image, the feeling of himself on the edge of a chasm. "You may be better than the rest of them, but even you take it for granted, that darkeyes left and right scramble to obey you. Like we're just there for your convenience and have no will or life of our own. And when it turns out that I do, when I try to do what I feel I have to, you say I've thrown away the faith you had in me."

His voice faltered. That had stung way more than he cared to admit, which now added a plaintive tone to his tirade. "Don't you understand that every single experience I've had, every survival instinct I've had beaten into me screams at me to spit on you and your plans, to take my men and run? And yet..." His throat closed up, choking off his words.

And yet he was here, having foolishly placed his faith in a storming Highprince. Why would he not learn? And why, after all the betrayals he'd endured and witnessed, why did this one still hit so hard?

 

---

 

Dalinar had followed the passionate and increasingly desperate unravelling with bafflement, his own anger ebbing slowly in the face of a dawning realization.

He looked from the truly impressive assortment of scars on that slip of skin, to those intense, troubled eyes, and things shifted into sudden clarity.

"And yet you trust me." He said with no small trace of wonder.

Kaladin grit his teeth hard enough to be heard.

All this time he'd assumed he understood this man. He'd accepted his issues as a product of ugly experiences, which he now begun to suspect he knew only the bare surface of. But he knew about Sadeas' bridgecrews, and surviving those was already enough of a reason not to fault Kaladin for harbouring resentments.

Dalinar had been set on working past that, on earning trust by his deeds, proving he was not like Sadeas. It wasn't the reason for how he'd treated the bridgecrew, but it had been a hope, to set the groundwork on which to slowly and arduously build the trust and loyalty he hoped to earn from all his men, and his officers especially. He'd assumed the captain to be a burnt child. As it shied away from fire, so he would shy from trusting another Highprince. He was right to say that Dalinar had expected to be obeyed anyway, because that was what a soldier did. What a good captain did. He'd stay and follow orders, as long his men were well treated, regardless of his personal sentiments.

But that wasn't it, at all.

Kaladin wasn't reluctant to trust. Oh, his reasoning was, by all means. Experience had taught him not to, as he repeatedly said. But to Dalinar, what shone out of this whole tirade like a diamond broam in a dark room, was that he still had trusted in Dalinar, that he was disappointed. He could have, should have expected no better. But he had. Something must have been strong enough to stand against all that, and now Kaladin was fighting himself over it.

In his heart, Kaladin wasn't reluctant to trust.

He longed to .

It was maybe a small distinction, probably irrelevant to anyone's actions, but all of a sudden, it meant the world to Dalinar.

Suddenly he couldn't bear to leave this room knowing he'd left even a shred of doubt more in the man's heart then there'd been before.

He wanted it, that trust, needed with all his heart to prove to Kaladin that he was worthy of it, that he'd welcome it with open arms and honour and cherish it and never let go.

Kaladin was glaring into his eyes, fuming, breathing heavily as if after long exertion, but his raving had stopped short. He had drawn an assortment of spren, a testament to his inner turmoil, but Dalinar never bothered to glance away from Kaladin to identify them. They moved through his peripheral vision, slowly fading out of existence as the man caught his bearings.

Finally Kaladin squeezed out: "I... try to. I really want to. But moments like this... can't you understand how this..." he waved his bound arms and shuffled toward Dalinar as far as the cuffs on his ankles allowed, "makes it really storming hard? How storming scared I am of history repeating?" He jerked at his shirt again, impossible to tell whether he intended it to go up or down, and finally lost his precarious balance when his feet couldn't move any further away from the chair to stabilize him. Dalinar reached out automatically to steady him, but that in turn made Kaladin sway in the other direction, and topple back into the chair. Dalinar tried to keep him standing, but only ended up following him down, bending over and catching himself with one hand on the wall, the other on Kaladin's waist, where it had tried to hold him up.

Kaladin's bare waist, as the shirt had slipped down his arm on that side, the skin shockingly soft and hot to his touch, while his face was now only inches away.

And Dalinar, still stunned by his realization, and caught unaware by the sudden intimacy of the moment, stared into those expressive, intense eyes, transfixed, unable to move.

He saw in those eyes all the courage and honour and stormy passion that he respected the man for, shadowed by the pain and turmoil of the past hour, and on top of that, he could now detect an otherwise desperately hidden vulnerability. All of that pulled him in, tugged at him like a tether to his heart. A heart already aching with need for Kaladin's trust, now seamlessly transforming that ache into a need for Kaladin.

At this proximity he could hear the man's laboured breath, could feel it ghosting over his face, drawing his eyes to where it was expelled from between slightly parted lips.

Such inviting lips...

Dalinar, too, was a passionate man. He may have gotten better at controlling himself, but his control was already frayed by the preceding argument, and there was a point where it had to slip, where in the past he had often willingly let it slip to welcome the Thril.

Pushed now by a completely different kind of thrill, he couldn't do anything other than close the distance, like a boulder rolling downhill, and seal those lips with his own.

 

---

 

Kaladin's thoughts were sucked from his head like stormlight from a sphere.

There was a mouth pressed to his own, a sudden, concentrated barrage of sensation, of soft heat and wet movement, and nothing else mattered, because it was a vent, an outlet for all his rage, fear, frustration and everything else that churned within him, all his passion taking form and pouring out of him.

His eyes fluttered shut without him noticing, as his world narrowed to the wet slide of lips and tongues, the sharp nip of teeth, the swelling of bruised tissue, the mingled gasps for air.

His fury evaporated, leaving him with something just as hot and way more dangerous. His whole body thrummed with it, like a canyon echoing the roar of a raging torrent within it, drowning out all other noise. Its sound built, the flood surging closer, until it tore from his throat, breaking free of its confines, low and primal, somewhere between a growl and a moan.

And then it reached his ears, and the dim realization that he was the one making that sound startled him back into consciousness, then understanding, followed by complete mortification.

As it apparently did for Dalinar, for the kiss stopped abruptly, the Highprince's face jerking away a good few hand spans, his eyes as wide as Kaladin's own.

They'd kissed. Dalinar storming Kholin had just kissed him. And he had kissed back. With gusto. With tongue, even.

Numb dislocation settled over him. This couldn't be real. What in Damnation had gotten into him? Into them?

And more importantly, what now? Both of them were frozen and staring at each other, their breathing ragged, the moment stretching unbearably. How did one go on after... that?

Kaladin had been talking, before, hadn't he? If only he could remember what about... he should say something, whatever, be outraged, yes. After all, he hadn't been the one to close the distance and... Storms, he'd been kissed, against his will! He opened his mouth to speak, searching for the words to accuse and condemn.

But the unformed words stuck in his throat. His body had exulted in that kiss, and it still yearned for more. Dalinar's hand on his waist needed only to twitch and he was suddenly hyper-aware of it, large and heavy against sensitive skin, seeping heat into him. Reminding him how easily he'd lost himself in that very heat. Reminding him how his lips were moist and swollen, as if he could still feel Dalinar's on them, soft but demanding. Reminding him how eagerly he had answered those very demands.

He must have shown some reaction, for something moved behind Dalinar's eyes, still wide, but suddenly focussed. Then that very distracting hand moved up, softly skimming his ribs, and Kaladin was completely unprepared for the violent jolt that spiked through his whole body. He positively spasmed, and whatever half-formed words he was about to say died in an unmistakeable gasp.

That slow, tentative touch burned on Kaladin's skin, searing away all thoughts, and just like that, the torrent came rushing back. His blood surged as if he'd freshly breathed in several broams' worth of stormlight, and he didn't know what to do with all this energy, all this heat. He wanted it all to stop, for Dalinar to step away, and at the same time craved for it to never stop, for the man to keep touching, to touch even much more of him...

Wait, what? That couldn't be right.

He was mad at the man. Anger, yes. That was the heat building inside him. Or was it? Kaladin still couldn't quite recall what he'd been thinking, not to mention saying. No more could he decide what he wanted to say, or do, or think, right now.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to decide.

His mind was beyond fuzzy. It was all too much in too short succession. The intensity of the duel, the exhileration of the moments after, the staggering disappointment after that, worry and rage and fear, culminating in the whole shouting match, in throwing it all at Dalinar's feet, and now this... He felt ready to burst... into tears? Laughter? Movement? He could collapse and sleep for a week, or run till he dropped, fight, kiss, scream, fly... so many conflicting emotions and desires, all tangled, all tumbling over each other, he didn't know what to do, what to want.

On top of that he was bound, helpless, and Dalinar was looming over him like the Stormfather himself, vast and menacing. He knew he should be afraid, should push, fight, run, instead here he was, panting, shaking. Stunned.

Like prey, having sighted a predator, unable to bolt because it was shocked into stillness, into waiting, paradoxically wishing for the predator to make a move, so all this... tension could find some release, so it could finally explode into motion, and be freed, one way or another.

With heart racing, but body and mind paralysed, all he could do was wait for the predator to pounce.

Chapter 2

Dalinar looked down at the quivering man, taking in the strain and helplessness in his gaze, those dark eyes wide and their pupils blown. As if he was pleading for Dalinar to provide some kind of answer or solution. Well storm him if he had one.

All he had was the sinking worry that he'd made an incorrigible mistake. He'd gotten carried away and crossed a line - barrelled over it with a full-on charge, without plans of attack nor of retreat, and while as a consequence he wouldn't begrudge Kaladin a straightforward punch to the face, instead things had become... complicated.

Kaladin's reactions, the twitches, the gasps, and then that sound which had vibrated straight into the pit of Dalinar's stomach, seemed to indicate that he enjoyed the change in attitude. That he... wanted Dalinar. That in itself was, aside from completely astonishing, a good thing? Maybe? Not unproblematic, certainly, but at least he knew he hadn't forced himself on someone unwilling. But he had the distinct impression that going forth, one false step of his could become disastrous. More plainly than ever before, the young soldier was a bundle of tightly wound nerves, all laid bare and ready to snap.

And Dalinar wasn't exactly at the height of sanity either, the whole duel debacle having taken a lot out of him. As his insides twisted anxiously, his thoughts began to race, trying to assess the situation. He needed to regain control, or there was no telling what any of them would do.

One false step... this was so much less critical than just about everything he'd been up to lately, as he'd tried to impress on Kaladin just moments before, but right now, facing this, Dalinar felt twice as helpless and thrice as terrified.

But... that didn't matter, did it. Kaladin wanted to trust him. Wanted to be told what to do, even if he sure as Damnation wouldn't admit to it. All Dalinar needed to do was take command. That was something he knew how to do. A huge part of it was simply keeping up the appearance of being competent.

He could pretend he knew what he was doing, and steer this into... what exactly? Pull out, continue the argument? Pretend he just wanted to startle Kaladin into calming down? Let them both keep face and never mention this again?

That'd be the easiest, most rational solution, but...

The honest to God truth was, he didn't want to let go. At this moment, with this trembling mess of a man beneath his palm, all he wanted to do was steady him, hold him, protect him at all costs - this outstanding young man, infuriating at times, outright wonderful at others, cracked and sharp-edged as he was. Time and time again he proved honourable, brave and strong, always with such passion, pride, and on top of all that with what Dalinar had just discovered, the precious trust he apparently still hadn't lost.

Dalinar wanted that trust, not like he wanted to unite the High Princes and save Alethkar, but on a more primal level, like he wanted his sons to be safe, to grow into good men, like he wanted to .... be with Navani? He stumbled over that thought. Was that what it was, this overwhelming urge?

Almighty above, Navani! How would he explain this to her? He could finally court the woman of his dreams, and he hazarded that by... kissing a man? Had he so little control over his urges? At the same moment the thought formed, he knew, deep down, that this wasn't like any urge he'd ever felt towards any woman, not even when all he'd wanted was simple pleasure. Even more clearly, this had absolutely nothing to do with what he had, or hoped to have, with Navani.

Well, something had pushed him into the kiss. That had been his doing. While he was tempted to pass it off as a crime of passion, a heat-of the-moment thing, fuelled mostly by pent up anger and a situational urge, he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to do it again, and keep doing it.

Keep touching, too, while he was at it, and Blood of his Fathers, keep hearing noises like that.

He'd never imagined he could be attracted to a man, but he couldn't pretend that this was anything else, even if it was an attraction wrapped in feelings he barely understood.

All he knew was that it wasn't as simple as a bared safehand, or a pretty figure.

To Dalinar's eyes, every exposed scar on the former bridgeman's body became a symbol of trust, because he was here despite carrying it. Every panting breath became proof of how hard the man fought himself not to run. And that had Dalinar completely mesmerized.

How and why that translated into physical attraction he couldn't begin to guess, but here he was, panting like a boy taking his first peep at bathing girls.

No, Dalinar didn't want to let go. He should. He knew he should, but he couldn't for all the world bring himself to.

And maybe....

Maybe he didn't have to.

Hadn't he wished for a way to prove to Kaladin that he could be trusted? What if he followed this unexpected urge to worship and protect, and demonstrated that he did care, right here and now. That Kaladin was more to him than a convenient pawn. That he could be trusted to take good care of Kaladin's body...

The mere idea sent a shiver down Dalinar's spine. Now that he'd formulated it, he was astonished how much his desire grew with every shuddering breath he took.

Damnation, he'd make it up to Navani somehow. They'd not promised each other anything yet. She knew he was no saint, and still she was the one who had pushed him into courting, breaking with tradition. He'd just have faith that he could make her understand why he had to try this.

It was completely ludicrous and crazy and could end in disaster. But then, his instincts pushed him forward. And his instincts, as it turned out, had always been right with Kaladin Stormblessed.

So he did as he'd done on a hundred battlefields, and made his decision.

With a silent apology towards Navani, he pushed all thoughts of her from his mind, pulling all of his attention firmly into the present.

He let his hand travel down Kaladin's flank once more, then move back up, more deliberately, splayed fingers seeking more contact, more pressure, watching for the man's reaction. For one last confirmation to calm his nerves.

Kaladin's eyes fluttered shut, and his trembling became even more pronounced. Then, as Dalinar took his other hand from the wall and gently pushed dark curls of hair from the man's forehead, exposing the stark slave brands, his eyes flew open, staring right into Dalinar's. Some understanding filtered through the storm that raged behind them, and then something else Dalinar recognized without even the help of that single spren wobbling along the ground to spell it out for him: Fear.

Even though it made sense, Dalinar's heart tightened.

He went down on one knee so he didn't have to stoop so awkwardly, which put their heads more or less on a level. His right hand slid through Kaladin's messy hair, cupping the back of his head. He pulled the unresisting man forward, while leaning towards him and letting his other hand slide beneath the uniform and around his back, until he could pull him close to his chest. Still an awkward pose, but it got him where he wanted to go.

"It's all right." He muttered into Kaladin's ear. "I won't hurt you, son. Not now, not ever. You may get hurt in the line of duty, I can't shield you from that, but I know that is not the issue. You can trust me. And I want to prove it to you. Right here. Like this. Will you let me?"

Kaladin's arms had ended up trapped between their chests, perhaps pulled up to fend Dalinar off, and Dalinar was relieved when they didn't push him away, even when the man didn't answer for a while. He waited, nerves and body coiled tighter with every quick breath that brushed past his ear.

At long last, Kaladin gave a huff, of amusement maybe or disbelief, and asked hoarsely "Like this? Like what? Prove it how?"

Dalinar spoke slowly, trying to project all the calm certainty he didn't feel: "I want you to obey me. No, hear me out." He cut in at the other man's sharp intake of breath. "You said I shouldn't take your obedience for granted, so I'm asking for it, just for tonight. I want to show you that my orders won't harm you. That being in my power won't harm you. Right now, circumstances put you at my mercy, son. That's hard on you, I get that. But I can't help it, so instead, I want you to take one step ahead, to leap right into what you're afraid of, and, well... place yourself at my mercy of your own accord, more hmm... directly." He struggled to find the right words - never an easy task for him, and doubly so when he only had a tenacious hold on an idea. "I want to prove to you that I mean you well, that I will take good care of you and give you no cause for regrets. I want to prove it to you... viscerally, so you don't have to keep doubting me."

Kaladin chuckled breathlessly, sounding more incredulous than amused. "That's... crazy. It doesn't make any sense."

Dalinar was one step from conceding that and leaving this idea behind, step away and pretend all this never happened. And yet... "And yet you're not pushing me away, son." Kaladin would never know how much courage he had to muster to keep pushing. His right hand slid down to the back of Kaladin's neck, tangling with the long hair, gripping just firmly enough for the pressure to be felt. Dalinar pulled back, far enough so they could look at each other without their eyes crossing.

Kaladin swallowed audibly, meeting Dalinar's eyes. He whispered: "No, I'm not."

Inwardly Dalinar exulted. He'd been right. This could work. Just one more push.

"Look at it this way, son: With your men at stake, with the Amaram issue, your history with lighteyes, with Elhokar and Sadeas and everything else that's going on, it is hard for you to lay your doubts to rest. I understand." He licked his lips while he considered, the whole idea taking on a more solid shape even while he spoke. "Here, now, all that is at stake is your own body. No responsibility, nobody to protect, no hidden traps. I want you to let yourself trust me with just that. Surrender it to me. Maybe you can believe I'll stay true in everything else, if I can do this one thing right by you. Can you trust me just that far for now?"

"I do." Kaladin's voice was shaking, but the answer came without hesitation.

I do.

Not: I can.

Dalinar's heart skipped a beat, then flooded his chest with warmth.

Slowly and deliberately this time, he pulled Kaladin into a kiss, their lips merely brushing at first, giving Kaladin another opportunity to stop him, before gently coaxing his mouth to open. Only when the man's lips parted with an almost imperceptible sigh, welcoming him with a tilt to accommodate the angle, only then did he pour his own desire into the kiss, all his reverence and need.

He may have been nervous like a virgin, terrified of making a mistake and ruining his relationship with his young captain forever, but the Blackthorn was now committed, and he had momentum.

 

---

 

Storms, but Kaladin had never been kissed like this, needy and hard and without compromise, demanding his complete surrender.

Or maybe that was just the aftermath of Dalinar's words, now coursing in his blood and sucking all the strength and resistance from his flesh and bones.

Kaladin's whole body melted into Dalinar, into his mouth, the firm touch, one hand now gripping his hair and holding his head in place. The other hand wandered down his back, along his ribs and onto his left hand, which was balled into a fist and resting against Dalinar's chest. Dalinar squeezed it, pushing his thumb inside, and Kaladin allowed it to unclench, to open, and let that large hand cradle it while the thumb massaged his palm. It was an astonishingly delicate gesture, so soothing it managed to distract him from the tongue sliding along his lower lip.

When the thumb moved away, his hand was guided to rest flat on Dalinar's chest. Dalinar's hand stayed over it, pressing gently, and Kaladin was shocked by the racing heartbeat beneath his palm.

Even more than the kiss, it somehow drove home what was happening. On top of everything else that had happened this day, the kiss was like a fever dream, too strange and too intense to fully connect with reality. This rhythm though, as frantic as his own, this was true and unadorned, a steady, physical confirmation that this was a living, breathing human, about to... to... oh storms.

Kaladin's other fist opened and joined the first almost of its own volition.

This was completely surreal. He'd never had an interest in this sort of thing, least of all with a man, and now... a part of his mind kept clamouring: Dalinar? The storming Highprince Dalinar Kholin, his king's uncle, his commanding officer, was pushing his tongue into his mouth for the second time this evening?

And yet he couldn't get enough of this, of being held this way, kissed this way, of that thunderous rhythm both beneath his hands and in his own ears.

He could just let himself drown in this, he realized. Even ashamed of how much Dalinar's outrageous demand affected him, how irrationally seductive the promise of it was, he longed to surrender to it, to let his mind be overwhelmed and fling his body into the tempest.

Instead, the kiss ended with a wet sound, Dalinar pulling back and looking at him intensely for a moment. Storms, he felt like those eyes could look straight into his soul, and he didn't even mind right now.

"Wait here." Dalinar ordered. As if Kaladin could do anything else, chained to the chair and with his pants uncomfortably tight.

Being released from Dalinar's gaze, his touch, and finally his proximity was like a sudden gust of ice-cold wind.

He watched Dalinar leave the room with a seed of uncertainty.

Not good. Talking had already forced him to think, to push through the haze in his head at least a little. Being deprived of the Highprince's distracting, maddening, overwhelming closeness meant nothing shielded him from the doubts gnawing at the edges of his fuzzy acceptance.

What was Dalinar doing?

What was Kaladin doing?

Wasn't he just setting himself up to be exploited?

After all his struggle to wrestle himself away from the precipice, from the wretch, to regain control over his life and be free, could he really just... let a man do... things... to him? A man who already had more than enough power over him?

He was meekly allowing a Brightlord to manipulate him. Hurt him. Use him in cold blood, then throw him away.

No. No, he had to believe Dalinar was at the very least not that kind of man, no matter what faults and blind spots he had. Dalinar was different. He was good . Kaladin did believe that, or he wouldn't have even considered this. Storm it, he wouldn't even be here. He had to allow that the man's intentions were exactly what he said they were. He couldn't quite grasp the logic behind it all, but that wasn't really important, was it, when he was sitting here, panting with need.

And wasn't that in itself worrying? When and why had he grown so wanton? He didn't recognize himself. Most of all, this desire to give up control, that couldn't be healthy.

As a soldier, he was aware that having someone else in charge didn't have to be a bad thing. A good officer provided structure and guidance, created a sense of security. But this arrangement went far beyond that, and it bothered him that he didn't understand why it made his brain melt.

While his trepidation grew, Syl came floating down from the ceiling in her girl-form, sitting on a tiny swing whose ropes trailed off into smoke, looking at him with eyes wider than ever. He startled as he noticed her, then groaned, blushing to his hairtips, while his arms flew to cover his crotch. "Syl..."

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You forgot about me!"

"Uh, I..." He absolutely had.

"You forgot about everything! Kaladin, that's wonderful!"

He blinked. "It is?"

"It is ! You finally relaxed! I've never seen that kind of expression on you! You get that look sometimes, when you practice with the spear, when you stop frowning for a while, but it's not quite the same." She seemed very enthusiastic, and that almost made him smile. Her good cheer settled his nerves somewhat, while his face cooled slowly.

"I... you think so? You think I should... go through with this?" Well, she'd always placed a lot of trust in Dalinar, and wanted Kaladin to do so as well. He doubted this was what she'd had in mind though.

"Oh absolutely! I had no idea Dalinar could have such an effect on you!"

He huffed. "Me neither. And he shouldn't! This is crazy!" He repeated, more to himself than to her.

Syl answered anyway. "More crazy than running in front of bridges? Jumping into arenas to duel shardbearers? Training bridgemen to fight? Clothing yourself in..."

"All right all right, I get it. But still..."

"No buts." She stood up on air, the swing dispersing, and stepped closer to his face with each word until he had to squint. "You. Need. To. Do. This. Please."

He shooed her away, and she pirouetted back to a more comfortable distance. "Fine. I mean, I already agreed anyway. Not that I have the faintest idea what I'm getting myself into." He paused. "Wait, do you even understand what this is about?"

"I do!" She said proudly. "I told you I've been watching people, and I'll let you know I am quite worldly and educated on matters of the flesh. I heard an Ardent use that phrase once, isn't it nice and educated? I can explain to you exactly what goes where if you..."

"No!" His cheeks flushed with heat once more. "No thanks, Syl, really. I know how this works." Well, he had a general idea. "And you really need to stop spying on people who are... being intimate, Syl."

"Why? They can't see me, they'll never know."

"Because... it stops being intimate when someone uninvited is watching."

She waved it away. "Nonsense. I am a piece of God, and God sees all, anyway. So me watching is completely natural."

He groaned. "Different thing Syl. Trust me on that. I for one absolutely don't want you to see this. I'm telling you now, if you want me to go through with it, you have to promise not to peek."

She pouted and put her hands on her hips. "Oooh not fair! I want to..."

"Please Syl. This is weird enough as it is. I can't... if I know you're watching, I won't be able to..." Surrender completely and forget about everything else, let Dalinar do whatever he wanted. He shivered, suddenly short of breath. "Please, Syl."

She pursed her lips but nodded. "Oh, alright. I promise I won't watch. But I'll be nearby, in case you need me."

"No listening in either." He admonished.

She pouted. "Fine." In that moment, Dalinar stepped back into the room, and Kaladin gave her a pleading look. She giggled and blew him a kiss, then turned into a windspren, fluttered twice around Dalinar's head and left through the door before he pulled it shut and turned the lock.

 

Kaladin sighed. Syl had kept him from plunging headlong into worry, but now his unease returned.

Though not just that, he had to admit. The sight of the large man stepping towards him sent a not at all unpleasant shiver down his spine, and his body responded with renewed interest.

An anticipation spren appeared on the ground between his feet, its streamer fluttering in an unfelt breeze.

It was uncanny, how the man's sheer imposing presence affected him, immediately sent his mind reeling into a dizzying haze. A part of him automatically fought against that, while another part... storms, how it craved give in.

Syl's comparison to spear practice wasn't inaccurate - there was peace in letting his body lead, move on its own, give his head a reprieve from...well, everything. His worries, his burdens, even conscious thought. She wanted that for him, and he did want it for himself. He just wasn't quite sure this was the right way to go about it.

Dalinar produced a key, then unlocked all of his shackles. Freeing him? Hadn't he wanted Kaladin at his mercy? Kaladin wasn't sad to have them gone, but once the heavy steel was off, he didn't know what to do with his hands, now that he had a choice. What did Dalinar expect of him?

Then Dalinar gripped his shoulders, one bare and one still clothed, and pulled him up to stand, and that was even worse. Now he had his feet to worry about as well.

He tried to blot out all the anxiety, focusing instead on the searing heat of Dalinar's square, calloused palms. A mere touch had no right to feel so good, yet even on his clothed shoulder, his skin came alive beneath it. That hand slipped under his shirt, and then there were two scorching palms on both his shoulders, sliding along his arms, pushing his shirt down with deliberate slowness. His breathing picked up, and his mind clouded pleasantly as they bared his torso to the air and to those piercing blue eyes.

He suddenly grew very aware of how exposed he was... which was completely ridiculous, as he'd gone bare-chested for much of his time as bridgeman, and hadn't cared. Yet now, with Dalinar's words, his promise, being undressed was loaded with meaning. Those words returned to hang in the air between them, heavy like a threat, and that shouldn't have been half as enticing as it was.

Dalinar stepped around him and struggled with a shirt cuff, then suddenly halted. Before Kaladin could begin to wonder, both his arms were pulled and crossed behind his back, not abruptly, not truly by force, but with enough strength behind the grip so that Kaladin got the impression they could have been. Kaladin's breath hitched, confused want surging through him. Wanting... what, exactly? Since when did he react like this to being manhandled?

Dalinar pushed his forearms up until he could touch his own elbows, and held them there for a moment, then spoke close to his ear, his voice flowing down his spine like liquid fire:

"I won't bind you, but I want you to hold your arms like this, as if I had. Can you do that? Can you... accept that order?"

And with appalling ease, that settled a large portion of unease in Kaladin's gut.

Why? Shouldn't the position make him more nervous, than when he was free?

How had being helpless at Dalinar's mercy, which had so aggravated him initially, become exactly where he wanted to be? Heat rose to his face, equal parts desire and shame.

Weakly he tried to rationalize that if he was bound, or even pretended to be, he was no longer responsible for this foolishness. He didn't need to think about what to do, didn't need to do anything, except let Dalinar carry his strange idea to fruition, whatever form it may take.

As if on cue, Dalinar's grip on his arms tightened, and Kaladin closed his eyes, relishing the promise of strength behind it, another jolt of heat rushing straight to his groin.

He willed himself to just let it, to stop searching for explanations he knew he wouldn't find with his mind as scrambled as it had become by now.

As it was, the importance of explanations was rapidly retreating before the returning torrent thrumming through his body, rising to greet each hot breath caressing his ear and the side of his face, tightening his arms just to feel the resistance, snuffing out his internal protests one by one. It surged, grew, promised to build into a flood, strong enough to sweep all of him away, and wasn't that exactly what he wanted?

"Can you accept that?" Dalinar repeated, somewhat more forcefully, and Kaladin answered quietly, by rote:

"Yes, Sir!"

Dalinar's grip momentarily tightened even more, and all of Kaladin's scattered attention focused on it, the nearly painful pressure demanding every last ounce, eclipsing his awareness of anything else outside of his own body and its cravings.

Something within Kaladin just... gave way.

A fuzzy warmth settled over him like a cozy blanket, a sense of security that his situation didn't truly warrant, but that he was more than willing to sink into.

Dalinar huffed and tied the shirt into a loose knot around his arms, speaking from behind into his ear once more, his breath tickling it in a way that set all the nerves along Kaladin's neck to tingling. He couldn't keep himself from shuddering. "This isn't a tight knot, just to keep the shirt out of the way. I'm sure you could shrug it off in a moment. Tell me if it's uncomfortable in any way, alright?"

Far from uncomfortable, Kaladin whispered: "Yes, Sir."

A few more red streamers had sprouted across the ground around them, and Kaladin's insides fluttered with them.

When Dalinar returned to his front and looked him over, the man's piercing blue gaze was a physical weight on his skin, burning where it touched just like his fingers had.

There was a sharpness in it now, a wild edge that suited the legendary Blackthorn more than the diplomatic Highprince Kholin, a look completed by parted, kiss-swollen lips and laboured breathing. With the man's solid bulk looming before him, the sense of standing before a predator returned, and this time Kaladin welcomed it.

This time, there was no confusion - he was neither running nor fighting. He was prey, and apparently he wanted to be preyed on, every nerve in his body strung tight with need.

He needed the flood, needed Dalinar to unleash it, needed it to sweep over him, through him, pull him under. Some barely coherent part of him hoped Dalinar would keep enough of him afloat so he didn't drown, but he was rapidly ceasing to care.

Kaladin had never been one to do things halfway, consequences be damned. If it was his surrender Dalinar wanted, he'd get exactly what he'd asked for.

Notes:

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