fic summary goes here
The cold filled his head so completely it was empty of all thought save the constant, aching chill. Pain throbbed in his temples, yet still he held the icy sliver on his tongue—it radiated cold the way an ember did heat, and had done so ever since Rizeth had placed it in his mouth nearly ten minutes ago.
It might have been longer than that. Ashenivir had lost all ability to keep any track of time.
He shifted in place, flexing his hands around his elbows. He had held his posture all this time, not allowing himself so much as the slightest slouch. This position, which had once been somewhat awkward to maintain, was now a comfort that could carry him through even this most freezing of punishments.
Rizeth snapped his book closed. Ashenivir resisted the urge to look up—he was in enough trouble as it was. He kept his eyes down until his Master lifted his head. Rizeth tapped his lip, and Ashenivir obediently opened his mouth.
“Excellent, the spell still holds,” Rizeth said. “Open wide.”
Ashenivir heaved a sigh of relief as the ice was at last removed from his frozen mouth. He worked his jaw and flexed his tongue, trying to get some semblance of sensation back. He knew he was drooling, though he couldn’t really feel it, and he was too numb to do anything about it. The sight apparently pleased his Master, for he bent and pressed a kiss to Ashenivir’s mouth.
The warmth of his lips was like fire, so hot after the enchanted ice they seemed to burn. Ashenivir whimpered and kissed back as much as he could with his still-chilled mouth. Then Rizeth’s tongue pressed over the place the ice had sat, and it was as though he had placed a hot coal into Ashenivir’s mouth. Ashenivir made a strangled keening sound; the sensation made him dizzier than the ice had, and he swayed in place when Rizeth pulled away.
“Well, Ra’soltha, have you learned your lesson?” Ashenivir nodded, head still swimming. Rizeth held his chin and his gaze, eyes as firm as his fingers. “What are you not going to do?”
It was a struggle to get words from his head to his mouth, let alone to make his abused lips form them.
“I won’t,” he began, slowly, thickly, “touch myself…when you…forbid me.”
“I suspect you will, but I will allow the assertion for now,” Rizeth said. He ran his thumb over Ashenivir’s lip. “Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“You disobeyed three times, Ra’soltha. You have two more to account for. Now,” his voice hardened, “open your mouth.”
Ashenivir did as he was told. He winced as the enchanted ice was set once more upon his tongue; immediately an icy numbness flooded his mouth, and he couldn’t help a pained moan. Rizeth patted his cheek.
“Good boy.”
All the pain transmuted into pride at the words. It still hurt, but it was a precious agony—not pleasure, not even close, but a beautiful kind of suffering. Ashenivir straightened his spine and gripped his elbows tightly. This was what he had earned, and so he would endure.
He saw then the brief, subtle crook of Rizeth’s mouth, the almost-smile of his Master’s approval, and his resolve strengthened. Rizeth patted his cheek again, then returned to his desk. Ashenivir lowered his head and let his gaze go soft as he fell back into the frozen fog of the ice.
He would endure. And perhaps if his endurance pleased his Master well enough, Rizeth would reward him afterwards, because Ashenivir could think of several more enjoyable things his Master could do to him with ever-frozen ice.