A narrow miss, the second encounter.

Zakhar gave a hum as he stepped back to watch the man thrash and snarl and growl.

Watching the Elf struggle was so amusing.

His head cocked to the side, hair shining in the low candlelight.

"You won't escape this time, Tyrael." He purred the name darkly, grinning widely.

Struggling was useless that much was becoming evident, all he was doing was wasting energy that he didn't have and hurting himself.

His body slumped back as he panted, leaning against the cross, his head hanging slightly as he glared down at the restraints on his ankles.

"That may be true, but just you wait, I will make you pay dearly for this wolf."

He replied with a chuckle as he lifted his head and smirked at the man.

"Try as you might, I wont break, and I will come after you if a vengeance."

"I'm shivering in anticipation."

What would the Elf do to get back at him for this? Would he do something similar to this? Or perhaps something more adventurous?

He purred as he stepped forwards, tracing his fingers over the man's bloodstained face. "Breaking people is boring. I don't break people often." He had broken one person and still kept them around.

If he broke them, he tossed them aside and moved onto the new one. It was too boring. He liked toying with people. Toying with a broken person is boring.

Tyrael sneered and pulled his face away from the man's touch, Zakhar was repulsive and he didn't want his hands anywhere near him let alone stroking his face.

"Good, because I don't make promises I can't keep."

He would have his revenge on the wolf for this, for every drop of blood he had shed, Zakhar would shed double, for each broken bone, Zakhar would have two.

"I'll brand my mark into that scarred skin of yours, then we will see who possesses who."

A grin spread across his lips, he liked the idea of the Otakar trading brand burned into Lycan's skin.

It was globally recognized and everyone would know this slave belonged to him.

"Admirable trait. A trait I hope to see in you."

He stroked the man's cheek before his hand reared back and met with his cheek with a loud slap. He wanted to mark this man in as many different ways as he could.

Zakhar arched a brow.

Brand him, huh? "Where are you going to brand me?" he purred softly in the Elf's ear. "Chest? Back? Thigh?" His lips curled upwards. "Or perhaps somewhere more intimate?"

The grin on his face didn't falter as Zakhar's hand smacked across his cheek, but the force did make his face to jolt to the side.

He gave a light chuckle as the Lycan purred in his ears, his sharp gaze stared up at him through the blood soaked veil of teal hair.

"Why would I tell you now and ruin the surprise?

Your name across my chest, it will heal and fade soon enough, I'll be sure to mark you in a way that will never go away, leave you with another scar to add to your collection."

"Do you think that scares me?"

He was genuinely curious. Did Tyrael think being marked and branded scare or repulse him?

A brand was just a mark on the skin. It didn't mean anything to him. He didn't care if he was branded a hundred times over for all to see, it meant absolutely nothing.

Zakhar stepped back again, eyes flickering over the Elf before turning to the numerous objects hung up on the wall. What to choose, what to choose? Flogger? Duster?

No... No he didn't feel like any of that at the moment. Something simple....

Crop.

Zakhar strolled forwards, taking a crop off the wall gently and looking over it with a critical eye, lips quirking in approval.

"Not at all, I'm a believer in 'an eye for an eye' that's all.
Why should you be scared of me when I am not scared of you?"

He mused, tilting his head to the side slightly to better view the Lycan.
Despite every, all his injury he was not afraid of Zakhar, he hated the Lycan with a burning passion but he did not fear him, perhaps he should have, but no.

His eyes narrowed as the man picked up the crop, he knew it could've been much worse but he still wasn't overly thrilled knowing that was going to be used on him.

"An eye for an eye..."

He liked that. It was a good thing to live by.

The Lycan trailed the tip of the crop down over the Elf's stomach, the leather barely skimming over Tyrael's skin.

With a flick of his wrist, the crop snapped against the man's navel.

The muscles in Tyrael's stomach clenched as the leather gently graced over them, anticipating a strike.

He gave an annoyed hiss as the crop snapped across his stomach, flinching slightly.

How long would Zakhar drag this out for? The Lycan could keep him down here for days if he wanted to and there was nothing he could do about it.

That thought made bile rise up in his throat as he realized just how stuck he was, he swallowed and shook his head slightly, banishing the thought from his mind, he didn't want to consider that outcome.

Zakhar smirked at the hiss.

Pissing off the Elf was proving a very amusing hobby that he was sure would keep him amused for as long as the Elf stuck around the mansion.

His eyes flashed dangerously as he let his eyes trace over the man, taking in the blood stained skin, the cuts and bruises, the bound wrists and ankles.

The crop snapped against his navel a second time, a little harder than the first.

Tyrael's gaze did not stray from the Lycan's face, his electric-blue eyes staring at him with all the ferocity of his hatred for the man.

He bit back a grunt as the crop stuck the pink mark that spread across his stomach again.

The Elf squared his shoulders, and stood as proudly and strong as his could, he'd face each of Zakhar's lashing head on and prove to the Lycan that what ever he could throw out, he could take.

"Disappointing, something I would expect from a human."
He mocked, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

Zakhar gave a soft chuckle.

Trying to wind the Lycan up in the mood he was in would be near impossible. Jibes and jabs were ineffective.

"If you want more, I'll give." The crop trailed lower, running gently over the Elf's arousal.

The crop snapped against Tyrael's thigh.

More wasn't what he wanted, he wanted to be out of this place, but he knew that Wolf would not be done with him for quite a while.
He wanted to be out in the forest healing, not stuck in some damned sex dungeon underground.

His breath caught in his throat as the crop ran across his manhood, silently praying that the Lycan avoided striking him there.

Tyrael's relief came as a sharply inhaled breath as the crop struck his thigh.

"Oh ho, I got a reaction there," he sang.

The crop moved up to his arousal again, stroking against the skin. "Are you worried I'll strike you? Do you not want to be hit there?"

A soft laugh sounded.

He pulled the crop away a little as if he was going to strike.

A growl rumbled in his throat at the fact that Zakhar was enjoying himself.

His glared narrowed as the crop stroked against him again, what man would actually want to be struck there by a crop?

"I don't particularly want to be hit anywhere, but you may have noticed that I don't exactly get a choice."

He replied, trying to keep the snarky tone out of him voice but not quite managing as he tugged on his restraints to further prove his point.

On instinct his body flinched as the crop was moved away, dreading the impending strike.

Oh, that flinch. That beautiful flinch.

With a reaction like that, how could he disappoint? Tyrael was obviously anticipating being struck.

The crop came down; more gentle than the other strikes but by no means gentle.

"You're accepting that you're not getting away from this. Are you accepting that you're mine and I can do whatever I want to you?" He purred loudly at the thought, though he knew that wasn't the case.

As his arousal was struck his legs tried to jerk in their restraints, unable to move his body simply writhed against the cross for a moment as he grit his teeth, his head hanging and his expression contorting as he held back the urge to curse loudly.

He took in a shaking breath as his good hand bundled into a fist, that strike may not have been as hard as the others but it hurt a lot more against his sensitive flesh.

Despite the pain he snorted at the Lycan, forcing his head back up to glare at him.

"Maybe I gave you too much credit earlier, if you really believe that then you truly are nothing more than a idiotic animal."

Zakhar arched a brow.

"If I am idiotic animal, you must not be very smart yourself." His eyes flashed and he gave a cocky grin. "I have the upper hand, after all."

He wouldn't let the Elf forget that he had won this round.

He stroked Tyrael's inner thighs gently.

"Tck.."
Tyrael scoffed slightly, as much as he hated to admit it the Lycan had a point, his had been over powered and had made some fatal mistakes when he was trying to free himself from the Lycan's grasp on the roof.

He leaned back and lay against the cross, how much longer did the wolf intend on just toying with him, most likely until the wolf got bored or he broke down to the point of pleading.

He grimaced at that thought and simply hoped that the man realized that his prize was not worth the effort and wandered off to find someone else to torment.

"You went silent very quick there."

The crop snapped across the Elf's thighs harshly as a wide grin stretched across his scarred face and twinkled in his seeing eye.

"You know I'm right. Now matter how idiotic I am, you will always be below me." He stroked up Tyrael's chest, crop brushing under his chin. "You were caught and overpowered by an idiotic animal."

Zakhar's face was a hairsbreadth from the Elf's, breath fanning out over Ty's as he spoke.

The Elf hissed as the crop came down against his thigh, his leg buckling for a moment before he forced himself to strand upright again, if he let himself hang by his arms his wrist strained and the pain was blinding.

He tried to shy away from the man's touch by pressing his body up against the cross, but there was only so far he could move away.

Tyrael glared at the man face to face, his eyes narrowed with spite.

"I will never be below you, my species has ruled over yours for centuries, and we will be no different.
Once I am out of this place, I will come after you and you will know how it feels to be completely at my mercy."

He leaned his face forward and licked up the Lycan's lip with his pierced tongue.

"I only hope that you are able to stay conscious long enough for me to have my fun.
Have your fun with me while you can Wolf, it will be the first and last time you get a chance to."

He muttered with a smirk.

"Judging people by their species is so overrated. As an individual I am above you. I am no Lycan slave to the Elves. I am just a man, as are you."

His eyes gleamed at the dark promise.

"We will see who will be at the other's mercy." He stroked up Tyrael's cheek then tore an earring out, tossing it aside. Zakhar wouldn't go down without a fight. And with the ancient Aleksandr as his tutor, he could fight well.

The Lycan gave a low moan when the silver burned along his lip.

"Do not fear me passing out. I have a high pain threshold." He grinned and pressed a rough kiss to the Elf's lips. "You will get your fun. If you can overpower me." He tugged the Elf's hair sharply as the crop came down on his thighs again.

Tyrael snorted softly.
"I'd hardly call you a man, Zakhar, and throwing species aside I still believe that I am above you."

Again he shied away from the man's touch on his face only to cry out as his other earring was torn out and thrown away, his eyes slamming shut as he took a deep breath, his body giving a pained shudder.

"Bastard."
He grumbled under his breath as he felt blood once again train down his ear and neck, as an Elf his ears were highly sensitive and the tearing left him feeling nauseous.

He returned the kiss, using the opportunity to trail the silver bar along the inside of the Lycan's mouth.
The feel of the skin burning away beneath his tongue was a nice reminder that the wolf could be harmed, even if this level of pain only bought him pleasure.

He grunted as his hair was tugged and flinched, biting back a cry, as he tried to stop himself from buckling from the blow of the crop against his leg, if he kept falling his wrist would get worse and worse.

"Above me?" He gave a soft chuckle. "People above me are stronger; they have my respect."

Tyrael was just someone he found fun and wanted to lay. Respect was non-existent between the two of them. He was sure Tyrael respected him as much as he respected the Elf.

"Think of better insult."

Zakhar purred quietly when the silver burned the inside of his lip.

"Scream, Malenʹkiy elʹf," he purred as the crop met with the skin much harder than his previous strikes.