Shackles of the Genie
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Takrim is lost and beaten in the ancient forests of Arabia. Sadiq finds him and tries to save him, but finds that Takrim is under the control of a powerful, evil jinn.
The eveil jinn traps Takrim with pleasure. There's only one way to save him.
Shackles of the Genie is a gay erotic short story.
Here's a sample:
Stepping inside the warm
ring of light cast by the camp fire, the stranger over his shoulder
stirs. Sadiq slows, laying him down carefully to his pad of blankets.
With darkly lidded eyes, the
young man looks around with confusion, and subtle relief. Questions
seem to collect upon his brow, but he does not ask them. After a few
moments, he meets Sadiq’s intense gaze.
“You should not have
brought me here.”
Sadiq is a little put off.
He kneels down before him.
“Who are you?”
For several breaths, the man
stares at Sadiq with tired eyes.
“Takrim. My name is
Takrim.”
“I am Sadiq.”
They nod in greeting, but
Takrim’s movements are hesitant.
“What happened to you? Was
something following you?”
Takrim stares out into the
darkness beyond the light of the fire.
“It does not matter.”
He pushes his arm into the
ground in order to stand.
“I must leave.”
Sadiq places a hand on his
shoulder, firm.
“You are in no condition
to travel.”
Takrim deeply fills his
chest.
“My life is none of your
concern.”
Sadiq smiles, giving his
shoulder a paternal pat.
“It is now, stranger. My
conscience will not allow me to shoo you off, half starved, thirsty,
and with nothing to protect you from the chill. When is the last time
you ate or drank?”
Takrim raises his hand to
his face, weary. Seeing he will not – or cannot – answer, Sadiq
reaches for his leather waterskin.
“Here, it’s water.
Better have your fill.”
“No.”
Takrim pushes away the
waterskin and again tries to stand.
“Easy, stranger.”
Sadiq grasps his bicep,
holding him. They lock gazes.
“You are safe now. I don’t
know what you’ve been through, but you don’t have to be afraid.
Please... let me help you.”
Sadiq offers the waterskin
again.
Takrim accepts it. His eyes
glaze as he lifts it to his lips. Swallowing a small sip, he begins
to tremble. Sadiq catches the waterskin before he drops it.
“I must... leave...”
Takrim gasps. He shakes so bad he can barely get his arms underneath
himself.
Sadiq covers him with a
thick fur. He puts pressure on his chest, forcing him to lay back.
“No... I cannot... stay
here. The ghylan... are coming.”
“Ghylan?” Sadiq huffs,
reaching for his pack. “I think you need something a bit stronger
than water.”
“The ghylan!” Takrim
writhes.
Sadiq sits behind Takrim and
pulls him against his chest, one arm restraining him, one arm holding
a metal flask.
Takrim tries to resist, but
he does not have the strength to fight.
“Easy, stranger. You’re
safe now.”
Sadiq waits until his
thrashing calms, then shows him the flask.
“Red grape wine from
Ksara.”
Sadiq places the flask to
Takrim’s lips and makes him drink. Takrim accepts it, gradually
sinking into exhaustion.
Here's some inspiration for Shackles of the Genie:
