Lyrion's Gift [Elven Conceptions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) (2 page)

“But how?” Kevris moved into the center of the prince’s spacious chamber, shedding his wispy garment as he did so. “Men cannot bear children to other men…though they can certainly satisfy plenty of their other needs.”

He stood with his legs apart, the strand of beads swinging back and forth between his thighs, pulling his cock to an even more erect position beside the reddish-gold tufts surrounding it. Talek recalled how intriguing he had once found Kevris’s thick mane of hair, both for its unusual color and for the way it coiled around his milky shoulders. Over the past year, though, the appeal of his concubinus had begun to fade somewhat. His petulant attitude, in particular, often grew wearisome. Still, his body remained outwardly attractive, and he was devoted to pleasing Talek’s varied appetites. In those respects the prince found him difficult to resist.

“May I prove that to you?” Kevris hinted. His fingers tugged suggestively at the strand. “I can take your mind off those dreadful old men. Throughout the meeting, I was planning what I might do to distract you. It was all I could do to contain myself until it ended.”

With a sigh, Talek reached down to undo the wide belt around his own waist. “My ministers may not always express themselves with appropriate sensitivity and deference. Yet I must admit they are correct about one thing—I do require an heir, both for the sake of my father’s bloodline and for the good of the kingdom.”

“You have spoken of such matters before,” Kevris said. He moved to the king’s enormous feather bed and stretched out on it, letting his legs fall wide open. “I thought we agreed that you would take a wife of convenience. Then the two of us would continue on as before.”

“I did consider that option at one time.” Shedding his tunic, Talek crossed the room and joined Kevris on the bed. Kevris’s hands got busy with the laces of his codpiece. “However, this new possibility has changed everything. Imagine—I would not have to marry a woman and endure a forced union that could go on for years. I could take a mate who is more to my taste—one with whom I might even enjoy creating and then raising a family.” His tone turned wistful. He scarcely registered Kevris freeing him of his leggings. “I confess, I find the prospect…intoxicating.”

“Mm.” Kevris’s brief response made it clear that he was far less enthusiastic. “’Tis a tale to marvel at, to be sure. I cannot help but wonder, my lord, what my position shall be if such a being were to arrive at the palace.”

Talek scowled. “Why do you assume it would change at all? ’Tis not as if you have any official designation here.” He lay down on his back, his hands clasped beneath his head and his cock jutting into the air. Though it was already hard and getting harder, he knew that his excitement was not entirely due to Kevris’s attentions. He was excited by the idea of watching another man bear his son and heir. Never before had he even dared to dream of such a possibility.

Kevris drew his tongue slowly over the prince’s bulging cockhead and was about to apply his lips to the same area when he paused in midmotion. He glanced up, apparently mulling over Talek’s words. As their meaning sank in, his cheeks flushed with heat and his dark green eyes narrowed. “Do I not, my lord? For this past year and more, I have served you most loyally as your concubinus. I consider that a title, of sorts.”

“Do you? I suppose it is—of sorts, as you say—but you cannot imagine that I would forfeit my royal duties for you. Chief among those is my responsibility to secure the Mavra dynasty.”

To the prince’s astonishment, Kevris’s lashes glistened with what appeared to be tears. “I wish, my lord, that I could be the one to give you a son,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “Perhaps then I could claim a more permanent spot at your side.”

Talek sat up abruptly. His hand cupped Kevris’s chin and tilted the other man’s face to his. “You must remember, Kevris—’tis not, and will never be, your place to claim anything with respect to me. On the contrary, ’tis my place to do the claiming. And I plan to claim you many times more, both before and after this mysterious childbearing elf arrives.”

“Assuming he ever does,” he thought he heard Kevris whisper. Such insolence jarred him, but at the moment he had more pressing concerns. Besides, he knew from experience that reprimanding or even punishing Kevris would do no good. Instead, the prince abruptly turned the smaller man over so that his stomach rested on the bed.

Using his thigh, Talek pushed Kevris’s legs apart, exposing the pliant flesh between, ripe and ready like fruit waiting to be harvested. The prince reached for the small earthenware jar on his bedstand, scooping out a quantity of scented herbal unguent prepared especially for him by the royal apothecary. He smeared one dollop onto his own thick column, now throbbing and aching for release, and another onto Kevris. His lover moaned as Talek used his fingers to ready him for the promised claiming. The well-trained ring of muscle tugged as if pleading to be stretched out and filled.

“Soon enough.” Talek positioned himself between Kevris’s legs. “You are so impatient, Kevris. You must learn that all things happen at their own pace—assuming they are ever meant to happen.”

“Do you mean—like the conception—of an heir?” Kevris challenged, pausing to gasp between words as Talek pushed his cock slowly into him.

“Yes,” Talek said, sinking himself to the hilt inside the willing chasm. The herbal unguent, warmed by the friction between them, provided additional stimulation. Pleasure streaked through his loins and ignited a fire in his bollocks. As he and Kevris fell into their usual rhythm, his cock traveling once again that well-blazed trail to bliss, Talek closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to drift for a moment.

In his vision, Kevris no longer lay beneath him in the bed. Instead, his strong limbs curled around a different man, one with nebulous features and skin that seemed to shimmer and glow. This was not like any other dream figure, though. When Talek felt his body convulse and release his hot seed, he allowed himself to pretend he was already on the way to creating new life—his heir, his prince, the future king of Mavra and all its sovereign territories. And he would be a king born from the love of two men.

The morning after his twentieth Natal Day, Lyrion came downstairs to find his parents waiting for him at the breakfast table. That was somewhat unusual, as both men were usually out milking the
azhis
or collecting
waku
eggs from the small coop they kept in back of their cottage. Even stranger, Da and Fa seemed to be watching him as he tried to enjoy his bowl of porridge. Their scrutiny made him uneasy.

Finally, Da spoke up, stroking his thick beard in thought. “We spent much of last night discussing your future, Lyrion.”

Relief swept through Lyrion as he washed his breakfast down with a mouthful of sweetwater. So this was a continuation of the typical Natal Day conversation they had started before.

“I have given that some thought as well.” If he chose his words carefully, he decided, he could stretch out his time frame for choosing an apprenticeship for many moons—perhaps even a year. “I must confess, I am torn. Signing on with the bookbinder has a certain appeal, but learning to bake might be a more practical pursuit. I could certainly raise the quality of our meals here.” Da looked intrigued by the mention of food, but when Lyrion saw Fa’s defensive expression, he added, “Not that we have anything to complain about as it is. Yet who can deny that bread fresh from the oven is a toothsome treat?”

“Not I,” Da said. “In any case, we are pleased to hear that you were paying attention yesterday. Your friends Gregar and Sehru have chosen their paths, according to their fathers, and Gregar has already started his work at the tavern. You are a bright and capable young man, Lyrion, if a trifle too imaginative. Your Fa and I believe you could be successful at any vocation you put your mind to.”

“It’s the ‘putting your mind to it’ part we are concerned about,” Fa said. “Daydreaming is all well and good when one is a schoolboy, but now that you have completed your primary education, you are ready to assume your rightful place in this community as a man.”

“And not just any man,” Da added, nodding. “Never forget that you wear the Mark of the Bearer. Your ultimate purpose is the most serious and honored one of all. ’Tis you, and the others like you, who will ensure the survival of our community.”

“I know.” Lyrion nodded. He had heard this speech many times before—ever since he had reached his thirteenth Natal Day, in fact. That was when the strange circular mark had appeared in the middle of his abdomen. It had frightened him at first—until Fa had lifted his own tunic and revealed that he, too, bore the same reddish symbol in the very same place. That was when Fa had explained to Lyrion exactly where he had come from, and how other young elven boys would one day come from Lyrion’s body. In truth, he hadn’t given it much thought since then. He was more interested in playing games with his friends, Gregar and Sehru especially, or taking long foot journeys through the deep woods surrounding their village. There, he could play different games—those that required only one player, and might well horrify Da and Fa if they knew.

Da cleared his throat. He looked nervous, almost as though he had been reading Lyrion’s thoughts. Surely that wasn’t possible…was it? “Actually, that brings me to my next point,” he said in a somewhat strained voice. “Alderman Igby was here this morning…early.”

“Quite early,” Fa said, curling his lip in distaste.

“Oh?” Lyrion wondered why his parents thought a visit from that particular gentleman would interest him. The Alderman was a pale, overly thin man with a wispy strand of straw-colored beard that trailed to the middle of his narrow chest. When he visited a cottage, it was for the purposes of collecting taxes or enforcing some obscure rule that had inadvertently been broken by a citizen. Nervous heat bloomed in Lyrion’s cheeks. Were Da and Fa in trouble? Or was he? “What did he want?”

“As you know, the Alderman has lived a solitary life thus far.” Fa glanced at Da and then down at the table. “He has never had a mate—at least, none that any of us can remember. All of us just assumed he preferred things that way. Today we discovered we were mistaken.”

“The Alderman feels it’s time he had a son of his own,” Da explained when he noticed Lyrion’s puzzled look.

“What has that to do with us?” Lyrion asked, blushing. “Surely the Alderman doesn’t wish to…adopt me?” It was the only alternative he could think of—his initial thought was too bizarre, and too awful, to contemplate.

Da shook his head with an annoyed expression. “You haven’t really been listening, have you? You are a man now, Lyrion. Alderman Igby does not wish you to become his son. He wishes you to bear his son.”

“Please don’t think we would force you into such an arrangement,” Fa put in, though Da’s sidelong glance seemed to contradict the statement. “However, we ask only that you consider it. The Alderman has offered a most generous compensation for arranging the match.”

“We would pay no taxes for as long as you remained with him,” Da continued, “and in addition, the Alderman will give us one of his own fields to increase our
azhi
herd. In a year’s time, we could supply milk to the entire village, including the tavern.”

Lyrion gaped at them, speechless. The porridge he had consumed began to turn into a cold, hard lump in his stomach.

“And never forget, there is no greater joy in life than bringing forth a son of your own,” Fa said. “Admittedly, the Alderman may not be much to look at, but many citizens said the same of your Da in our day.”

Da raised his bushy eyebrows in mock offense. “I beg your pardon!”

Fa laughed and reached over to squeeze Da’s work-roughened hand. “At first, I was inclined to think the same way—but I looked beyond what they saw and found more than I ever dreamed possible. I wouldn’t trade a single day of my life with your Da, especially those we shared after you came along. I could not have imagined how much closer together you would bring us.”

“Perhaps if you got to know Alderman Igby a bit better…” Da suggested. “He may have qualities you haven’t noticed, or even considered. After all, he is a right-thinking man who lives a respectable life and takes his duties seriously. Any helpmeet of his would be well cared for without a doubt.”

“All we ask is that you consider it,” Fa echoed.

For a long time, Lyrion remained silent. Slowly he pushed away his empty bowl and stood on legs that shook under him. He struggled not to show his disorientation. “I…promise I shall think about everything you have said,” he promised. “Might…might I be excused now?”

“Of course,” his fathers said, nearly at the same time. The two men nodded at each other, smiling. No doubt they thought they had presented a thorough and irresistible case in favor of the match. Lyrion longed to bolt from the cottage. Instead, he staggered as though he’d been struck in the head—though the blow he had suffered felt in some ways far worse.

Dejected, he wandered down the path that led from the
azhi
pen to the open field beyond. Was this the land Igby planned to give his family? If so, he could understand Da and Fa’s enthusiasm for the deal. Such fertile land would benefit their household immensely. They would go from being humble farmers to prominent, perhaps even wealthy, citizens of their village.

Yet as happy as he felt about their improved social prospects, the price of their advancement made his blood run cold with dread. The only thing worse was imagining their disappointment when he dashed their hopes with his refusal.

At the edge of the forest, he looked around for his former school friends Gregar and Sehru. Normally, the three of them would meet after breakfast and pass the time together until the sun reached the midpoint of the sky. This morning, he saw no sign of either one of them. Were they already off working at their new apprentice positions? Lyrion’s heart squeezed to think their leisurely strolls and long conversations under the open sky might be over forever. Blinking away a sudden rush of tears, Lyrion plunged into the forest and started walking. He didn’t take their usual path, or any of the familiar spots he and his friends frequented. Instead, he headed for the less visible trail he used when he was in pursuit of more private entertainments.