A Swithin Spin: A Princely Passion (11 page)

While reaching out with his hand, Antal allowed his mind to fall silent -- not exactly blank of thought, but focused. Every part of his being centered on how that marvelous cock would feel to the touch. He grasped it. He felt disappointed at first -- although that cock felt as wonderful to the touch as any other part of the statue, and he’d spent a few minutes running a hand here, stroking with a finger there so he knew how wonderful it felt to touch different parts of the statuette -- it was no different. Even so, a small gasp escaped his mouth, for he also felt somewhat dismayed as he couldn’t account for the strength of desire that suddenly coiled in his belly and lower parts. He wanted to put it down to just the thought of what that cock would feel like sinking into him, but he knew better than that. Something was happening here or existed in the clearing… He didn’t know what or how, but
something
was affecting him. Maybe the cause was mystical or maybe a natural occurrence; it didn’t matter to him. He sensed no malice, but that didn’t mean he liked feeling so out of control. That troubled him the most. Antal no longer felt as if he had a choice. Something called to him.

He began pouring lubricant onto his hand before he accepted none of his questions mattered. He would go through with this. He just didn’t know how he would reach the ritual’s end. Meditate? He’d orgasm before he got into the required position.

Two more concerns made Antal hesitate, but then he applied the lubricant anyway. If he had sex with another male, he penetrated more often than he received. The statue offered only one position -- one where he’d have to look at that beautiful face. It would have felt somewhat rude to turn his back on such a wondrous expression anyhow, but looking toward the face, he couldn’t help but think it felt as if the statue would be staring at him. Not that he had an option. Whoever had carved the effigy had set the marvelous cock at an angle. He had no choice but to face the sculpture. Anyway, doing so offered him better leverage. Even to take the sizable offering -- Antal’s gaze flicked to the offering in question -- it would take some positioning. It would require the one position that Antal hated.

It wasn’t the idea of sinking onto that solid length that he disliked but the crouched stance he would have to take initially in order to achieve it. Without giving himself more time to think, telling himself he didn’t want the oil he’d applied to the figure to dry in the breeze, Antal stood, swinging one leg over the statue until he finally straddled it. He resisted the urge to look around the forest. No one watched. He was just letting his nerves get the better of him, searching for some excuse not to go through with this.

Still fearing Antal would change his mind when he poured what could only be oil into his hand, Kilan made a little
humpfh
sound and laid his forehead against the tree branch for a moment. He panted, needing more oxygen. Looking up, he watched Antal’s hand glide up and down that solid length and felt a responding pulse in his cock as if Antal’s hand glided up and down his erection instead. Oh what he would give to take the place of the statue.

It dawned on him that he’d chosen the right place of concealment when Antal swung his leg over the figure. Unconsciously aware of it until now, Kilan accepted that even though he couldn’t see the most intimate part of Antal’s body from this position, he had a better view of Antal’s face. That was what he wanted to see, and he
did
see. He witnessed the moment of penetration played out on the young man’s features. Never mind that Antal gasped. Never mind that his eyes closed, probably of their own volition. Kilan could see what he wanted to see: every sensation, every emotion played out in the tight frown, in the parted lips, in the movement of the head, in the hesitation, in the straining muscles and jutting cock. Antal sank down, and Kilan gaped, almost too scared to breathe, in case even that slight movement interfered with the magic of the moment.

Magic it was indeed to see. He stared, straining not to blink, wanting to take the image into his memory. If he faced a lonely night, he knew what image he would conjure up for entertainment. When Antal gasped and threw back his head, his eyes now open, Kilan’s body convulsed. He pressed his groin into the tree. The only thing preventing him from humping the branch like a dog was his caution and not wishing to draw Antal’s attention.

Antal’s head traversed, sinking down, forward, resting against his chest. Possibly he’d closed his eyes once more. His body eased down that rigid member. Kilan didn’t know how, but he couldn’t deny what he saw. Antal took the last of that solid length deep into himself, and Kilan bit his own fist.

Fuck! He wanted to go down there. He wanted to drag Antal off that statue. He wanted to sink into him. Whereas a few moments ago he’d felt overwhelmed, lost in confused sensations and needs, now his desires had their true focus. He wanted Antal, not for a lifetime, or even a week, but definitely a day or a night. Maybe a day
and
a night, maybe even several, but he
wanted
him. He wanted to fuck him, both of them laughing while he did so. Today wasn’t that day. Not only would Antal be furious if he discovered that Kilan had followed him here, but the guard clearly didn’t feel in the mood to spend time with another person. That was why he’d sought out the statue and was trying the ritual in the first place.

It’s just a little amusement. It doesn’t mean anything. Ryanac wasn’t suggesting this would solve things, and I know it won’t, so what does it matter? He just wants me to lighten up. Once I would have laughed over this. I’m young, and this is something I can laugh about. It’s just a little fun…

Antal lost the thought on a gasp. It had been a while, and it hurt. Not too much; he could hardly call himself a virgin in these matters, but the statue’s member by its very nature had no give, and it… Oh, it made that obvious. Antal closed his eyes, at once thinking this was a bad idea even as that hardness eased into him. The discomfort grew, and Antal shook his head. The pressure kept the underlying pleasure at bay. This wasn’t going to work. He had to stop.

He’d made up his mind to do just that when, moving to pull off, he teetered a little. Antal’s eyes opened wide. Oh by the comet, he’d better be careful. If he slipped by accident, he could very well injure himself, and it was one thing to impale himself deliberately, quite another to rip his body apart in error.

Pausing, Antal became aware that the pain subsided. Tentatively, knowing that he couldn’t maintain this position without trembling, he made the decision to settle down a little more. Easing one leg back and then pausing to assess how that felt, he changed his mind about giving up. He eased back his second leg, and there at last he felt comfortable. He could pull off with no problem by lifting up and leaning forward, or he could…

Sink.

Antal swallowed, took a deep breath, paid attention to the pleasure beginning to ease through his body…and went down.

The pleasure stopped easing. It zinged. Antal gasped, throwing back his head yet again, staring unfocused into the sky. Oh by the comet, from what had they created this thing?

“
You don’t want to go through life never having touched that thing
.” Yet again Ryanac’s words returned to haunt him. Yes, but when he’d said that, he hadn’t just meant running your hand over it. Antal now understood the underlying wink that emphasized those words. Maybe Ryanac hadn’t done this, or maybe he had and he’d lied, but he had known it would feel incredible. A few uncharitable thoughts ran through Antal’s mind, and then he ceased to think, sinking down farther, losing his mind on a moan. He grew vaguely aware that he’d closed his eyes and his head had fallen forward so that his chin rested against his chest, but otherwise he stopped thinking of himself as a being, breathing, alive. He was a straining bunch of muscles that quivered inside.

Smooth, so smooth
. Other phrases slipped through his mind such as
silken ice
, for the stone was cold. Even as he entertained the thought, the cold stone stole the heat from his body. At the same time, that internal part of his body felt so hot, the phallus grew warm inside him. Still, Antal sank. His body opened. His mind wavered. He forgot all his worries. Time grew still, suspended.

Blinking, Antal looked around him. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he focused on the feeling of fullness, of being complete. Unexpectedly, his blinking released tears. When had he last felt like this with a living being?

He wanted to laugh, but did so only inwardly at his own melancholy. He was thinking like some aged fool who had never known love. He knew love in all its forms, and one day he’d marry, although whoever became part of Antal’s life would have to understand that a large part of his existence meant duty, meant time outside of the family, meant long hours of work, which also meant long hours of being someone’s shadow, looking out for the safety of others. Even so, enough Sonndre married to knock that reservation on the head. No. This was his uncertainty, not his imaginary lover’s concern. He just didn’t like the idea, so the problem was less finding someone to put up with the situation than his being happy about it. Why was he suddenly thinking, facing unpleasant truths?

Once more Antal laughed, this time a small sound escaping his lips. What use bemoaning a situation that hadn’t even arisen? He’d not fallen in love. He had no lover, and if anyone was to see him poised like this, just a couple of inches short of impalement, then they’d laugh too hard to ever hear him propose marriage. He had to put an end to this foolishness, but pushing forward to ease off reminded him why his mind had closed down. The texture of that marvelous weapon shivered through him. He’d never imagined so addressing a cock as a weapon before, but this bludgeon was decidedly dangerous. It stole all his reason.

He sank. He rose.

Oh, comet, help me.

Even as he hovered, undecided, Antal accepted that part of the overwhelming pleasure came from abstinence. It had been a long time, too long, truly, for one of his age with so much joy in his life. He’d done so much growing up in such a short time, but if this was what it felt like to grow old, then he wanted nothing to do with it. Perhaps there was something to be said for Ryanac’s attitude, something worth following in Ryanac’s suggestion to perform this ritual. Trying not to giggle, Antal wiped at his eyes, surprised to find how wet they were. He might as well try the ceremony. To do so, he needed to sit.

Antal turned his mind to lowering his body. He didn’t find sinking down difficult. Indeed, it struck him as almost too easy. That unyielding cock
wanted
to spear into him. He shouldn’t attribute such sentient desires to an inanimate object, but the idea struck him as true. He moved down, and that lance pierced him. One part of him had opened, but finally he reached a point where he knew that for him to sit, a second ring of muscle had to give. Steadying his posture, taking deep, calming breaths, he concentrated on making his body relax. Pressure built,
popped
, and he almost jumped at the shock of that deeper penetration. Now all he had to do was ease his legs into a crossed-legged position.

In truth, he found that easier than he’d imagined. The statue’s body braced him, supported him now. There was only one surprise left for him as he eased into position. He’d thought that fabulous cock could go no deeper.

He was mistaken.

Chapter Seven

Kilan sighed. Now that Antal had settled into place and appeared to slip into a meditative state, the fact that he was hiding up in a tree struck Kilan as foolish. He’d found it an intense experience to watch Antal succumb to desire and impale that lovely behind. Kilan felt aroused even now to think of that hardness, that
fullness
inside. He didn’t know what that felt like. Kilan was one for giving, not receiving, but he’d had more than one young man under him begging. He loved opening them up to his invasion as much as he loved sinking into a woman. No reason why he shouldn’t. He was young. The Swithin took lovers of either sex, so until he settled down, he could indulge. He only wished he could indulge with Antal. His body ached with the idea. His mind felt as if it might explode with the thought. He could do nothing about either discomfort. He
wanted
, and he couldn’t have what he wanted. Not immediately. Not even today. Antal sat, meditating, so now Kilan’s mind focused on how raw his throat felt. He swallowed, needing a drink.

He glanced downward, and at once the realization that his pack lay on the ground, a
long
way down, out of his reach, made his thirst grow. It pushed his other desires into the background. Kilan didn’t know whether to feel grateful or give way to despair. His need to drink lessened the pressure of his erection and dulled the ache in his testicles, but he didn’t know how long Antal would undertake the ritual. Kilan couldn’t climb all the way down without making at least
some
noise. He was stuck, extremely uncomfortable, hungry, and thirsty. He couldn’t descend without risking discovery. He couldn’t do anything until Antal finished and returned to the cave.

Bringing his arm around, Kilan lowered his head onto his forearm. For the first time in a long time, he could have cried, and he put it all down to his own proclivity for acting without considering all the possible consequences.

How long had he struggled?

Odd, that thought coming to him like this when Antal didn’t know how long he’d sat there, unable to think. Part of the reason that his mind had remained so blissfully blank -- clean, actually -- was the steadfast solidity within him. His heart beat, his body pulsed, and he could feel that pulse perhaps in the most intimate part of him as it hammered around an unforgiving erection. He felt at once part of his body and yet aware of his existence, almost as though they were separate entities.

The instructions said one could continue the ritual afterward, seeking this deep act of consciousness without the statue. The preparation began the same way, instructing the person to seek a comfortable position. Mentally, Antal chuckled. He definitely felt comfortable, though at the same time perversely suffering some pleasurable discomfort. He’d closed his eyes as instructed. He’d concentrated on his breathing, although this had proved difficult. Skewered as he was, his heart had wanted to race, turn his breathing ragged. Calming his heart and his breathing to an even pace had taken a great deal of time and patience on his part. To do so had also required resilience and determination; never before had Antal considered the idea that he’d feel gratitude for his academy training in this type of situation. The same fortitude that would serve him on the battlefield served him here. He’d thought sex with an inanimate object would feel passive, but this experience was all about control, of learning to use control but in another way. Several times he’d had to concentrate just to maintain his steady breathing. While he sat there, the day had grown older. Although he felt warm enough, Antal suspected much of that heat came from an internal fire. Now a cooler wind breathed over him. Perhaps this was what brought him up from the trance, for trance it was; he had no doubt about that.