This is a Sci-Fi/ Fantasy story involving incest, male/male, teen/adult, graphic sex and it's not intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type of material isn't legal where you live, stop now, and go read something else!
This is a fantasy meant only for the purpose of pleasurable reading. These people don't exist, this world doesn't exist.
This story originated as part of a fiction writing game which is hosted at a site called The Palace. For those interested in the game and what is known as "key fiction," the site address is, http://www.ravenswing.com/~keys/. A version of this story is posted there under my pen name, Mickey. It appears here with the blessing of the Palace.
Feedback, always framed, to:
javabiscuit@hotmail.com
Starlight Reverie ~ chapter three
by Biscuit
Morgan was astonished. The few feet Marcus had walked away from him marked the furthest distance they'd been physically separated in close to four years.
His child wasn't touching him. A stranger was holding him.
Marcus, who wailed at the touch of a doctor, who even now shied from Elizabeth Emery, was wrapped in the arms of a Palace Key.
Marcus had moved through the starlit space by himself, a handful of steps, before searching for Morgan. His father traveled with him the last short distance to the bed, but the boy had moved independently to lie on top of Shaun, allowing himself to be taken in his arms.
Now Shaun's delicate white hands were stroking him, his back, his hair, trailing over the rounded cheeks of his ass; eliciting very sweet sounds of pleasure. The two of them were only a matter of inches away from Morgan on the vast round bed, but those inches were a precious, inconceivable distance.
Morgan lay still on his side, transfixed by the scene unfolding in front of him, wishing Emery could see what he was seeing. The Starlight Key was teaching his son how to kiss.
He could imagine that they weren't a maimed child and a pleasure slave. He could imagine them as two young lovers he was privileged to watch. Beautiful together, bodies matched in size and color. Both of them were small, slim and pale-skinned; Marcus's complexion was creamy compared to the Key's pure milk.
His son was rubbing his mouth on Shaun's.
The earnest attempts were being gently shaped; nudged, licked, and guided into open-mouthed kisses. Morgan's own mouth was getting wet as he watched them, his lips tingling, his cock getting hard. He bent his knee very, very slowly to obscure his erection, afraid to disturb or distract them. Marcus's gaze slid toward him every few seconds, monitoring his presence. Each time it did Morgan reminded himself to breath.
Shaun moved sensuously, rocking his inexperienced partner in the cradle of his thighs. Morgan's arousal intensified, watching his son's hips begin to thrust in response. He could feel Marcus's pleasure in rubbing himself into Shaun's pelvis.
Little grunting sounds came from Marcus's throat as he found his rhythm, thrusting harder and harder. Then suddenly his head lifted, startled eyes seeking Morgan. His face was flushed, he was breathing hard -- his hand shot out, reaching for his father.
"Yes, baby," Morgan said, gripping it, his own body tightening as he watched him come. Marcus's eyes shut and he squeezed his father's hand tight.
Morgan pressed Marcus's fisted fingers to his lips, kissing his tensed knuckles.
Dazed-looking, Marcus crawled off of Shaun. The Key was still breathing hard and Morgan saw, with a shudder of lust, that he was still very aroused.
His son was propelling himself toward him, pushing at Morgan to lie flat so he could drape himself across his chest. Morgan steered him, hoping his own pounding heart wouldn't alarm the boy, holding him so their lower bodies didn't touch.
It had never been possible to really hide from Marcus. There had been a brief awkward time when his erections fascinated his son. Eventually, however, he'd stopped staring and trying to touch and Morgan had evolved ways of holding him close that shielded both of them from overt contact. He was rarely troubled anymore, with his careful, self-imposed schedule of release, by getting hard at inappropriate times.
Now, however, he was dying, and intensely aware of Shaun knowing it. Lust-filled, prurient, obsidian eyes were caressing him. Morgan knew, without needing to see movement of iris and pupil, that Shaun's unearthly gaze was focused with hunger on his cock. He fought to control what that gaze was doing to him.
This was a moment he'd been dreading, as much as anything; his control breaking in front of his son -- in the presence of a willing partner who would consider it his job to satisfy him.
Morgan was in a sweat and there was no way he could hide it. He met the Key's unusual and expressive eyes, acknowledging, both to Shaun, and to himself, what he wanted; praying that it wouldn't upset his son.
Shaun Vidar, for all the delicacy of his appearance, was surprisingly strong and physically demanding. He was an aggressive Key and to him, Morgan on his back, so flagrantly excited, was like a toreador waving a red flag at a bull -- irresistible.
Shaun wanted him. He was more than ready; his body primed and lubricated before his Keyholders arrived. As soon as Morgan's eyes signaled acceptance, he swept forward and slung his leg across the man's hips. He impaled himself on the swollen cock with a moan of pleasure.
Morgan was a lover of men, attracted to every type from the most sylph-like, to the brawny and muscular. He'd had very young lovers as well as affairs with much older men. That he was attracted to Shaun Vidar didn't surprise him. That he was fucking a prostitute, a pleasure slave, did.
"Your type," his wife had once teased him, "is male. You're a slut Morgan. If it's got a dick, it's your kind of guy." He'd laughed at her assessment of him, but admitted it was basically true.
He'd been promiscuous, adventurous, even reckless. The only line Morgan had ever drawn was paying for sex. In any way, shape or form, it offended him. He'd never wanted to fuck someone who wasn't doing it for the same reason he was. Friends of his who liked the luxury of paying for it, being serviced without obligation, told him it was just vanity on his part, a fear of being taken advantage of for his money. He didn't think so. He believed that sex should be a mutual pleasure, a meeting of equals, even in the briefest encounters.
Now he was at a loss. The part of him that rejected the very concept of what he was doing stood apart in silence. There could be no partner less equal than a slave and yet Morgan believed Shaun wanted him.
The Key was as tantalizing to him as rich pastry to a man with a sweet tooth who's denied himself sugar for years. The whipped cream and chocolate had literally landed in his lap. It wasn't just the promise of Shaun's warmer than human body Morgan couldn't resist, it was the passion he saw in Shaun's eyes.
When Marcus stirred, alert and curious, it wasn't to Morgan that he looked, it was to Shaun, who reached out to him smiling. Morgan watched his son fly to the open arms like a moth to a flame.
"It feels good, Beauty," Shaun said. He wasn't surprised to see Marcus struggle up from his father's side, little cock getting hard again. He was trying to get as close to him as he could, astride his father's body.
The Key hugged him and pressed their mouths together. His hand dropped down to knead the boy's stiffening prick.
"You do me, too," Shaun told him, pulling back slightly. He guided Marcus's hand to his cock, showing him how to stroke him by squeezing the fingers under his own and moving the fist up and down his shaft. The boy's fingers tightened and loosened awkwardly but he copied Shaun's rhythym. The Key shuddered with pleasure and kissed him. He was inundated by sensation; fucking, touching, and kissing.
Morgan's need became paramount, his thrusting urgent. Shaun tightened his muscles around him in the first hints of climax, knowing Morgan was getting close.
"Beauty," he breathed to Marcus, "I'm going to come all over you, look, baby, look." He palmed the boy's cheek, urging his face down as the spasms of coming got closer and closer.
Morgan was gripping him tight and Shaun felt every hot stroke bringing him closer and closer.
"Yes," he gasped, spitted with pleasure between the father's cock and the son's hot pumping hand. His body stilled for a breathless moment -- then shook as bright opalescent strands erupted from his cock, striking the child's body.
The boy's thin cum spurted through his fingers as the little shaft twitched and pulsed in his grip. Then he felt, or imagined he did, a shower of sperm deep in his bowels, as Morgan's hips jerked under him.
"So good," Shaun murmured weakly as his body echoed in the aftermath.
Marcus was trying to get closer, shaky thighs climbing up Shaun's, trying to wrap around his waist. Shaun tried to help him, holding him as well as he could. Marcus's nose burrowed in his hair, lips and breath tickling the point of his ear. It felt divine to Shaun who shuddered with a last ripple of pleasure as he cuddled him.
It was as good as fucking, he thought, to swirl his tongue in the son's mouth and feel the father's cock still hard inside him, filling him, subsiding slowly. Both sensations were warm and wet and satisfying.
Inevitably, Marcus wanted down, craning to see his father. With Morgan's help, Shaun slowly eased him onto the bed and watched him moor himself like a little boat finding safe harbor; tucked along the man's side, sheltered by his arm.
The Key admired them, both loose limbed and sated, radiant with pleasure. But he felt a whisper of sadness, as if a curtain had drawn around them, closing him out.
Even though he was still half connected to Morgan's body, the now soft cock still clutched in his ass, they seemed complete unto themselves. The boy nestled on his father's shoulder, the man's lips pressed into his son's dark hair.
Then Morgan looked up at him, dark eyes as blue as his son's. He extended his arm to Shaun.
Warmth spread through the Key's chest and tears prickled behind his eyes as he stretched luxuriously along Morgan's side, fitting himself to the curves and hollows of the man's long, relaxed body.
Shaun felt the curtain had opened and he'd been drawn inside.
Morning light was a subtle thing in the Starlight quarters. The overhead sky was still dark but the lower edges of the room blushed with soft rose and pale blues. Morgan and Marcus quickly grew accustomed to waking up warm in the half light to Shaun's kisses, the seductive aroma of coffee and the rich scent of spiced tea that Shaun drank to start his day.
Father and son ventured out, at least twice daily, for long walks through the landscaped countryside. Outside, winter reigned. There was snow on the Palace grounds. They walked cleared paths through the gardens, seldom meeting others.
A month, Morgan thought, three more weeks. Not enough time. His eyes played over the snowy border of the path they quietly tread. His son was coming to life -- in ways Morgan never thought he'd see. The boy was unendingly fascinated by Shaun, stimulated by him in ways that had little to do with sex, and then again, a lot to do with it. Their sex play spilled into other games and back again.
Morgan wasn't surprised that Marcus spent dreamy hours brushing Shaun's luxurious hair or listening to him sing; but there was so much more. Marcus and Shaun played games together that amazed him. They played with dice, with dolls, and Shaun had introduced Marcus to paints. More and more, Marcus left his side, holding onto Shaun. Shaun seemed to welcome it, adapting easily to moving with a clinging shadow.
Another client had already bought the Starlight Key for the following month. The thought of it made Morgan almost physically ill.
I've got to do something, he told himself, but what he'd do didn't come to him. I've got to do something soon, he thought as they made their way deeper into the snowy garden.
It wasn't just for his son's sake, though he preferred to think about what it meant for Marcus. The truth was more complicated. He could think about what Shaun meant to his son, easily. What Shaun meant to him was more difficult.
He felt the tug of Marcus's arms tightening around him, and stopped. Marcus was bundled up in a heavy coat, with a scarf wound around him from neck to nose. A thick woolen hat covered him down to his brows; the boy was all rosy cheeks, pink nose and wide eyes looking up at him. Morgan smiled at the sight, and thought Marcus must want to turn around and head back indoors. But Marcus wasn't urging him to turn around. He was lifting his chin up out of the scarf, his eyes full of intent that Morgan couldn't read. His breath puffed white in the cold air when he opened his mouth.
"Daddy," he said in a voice like a rough whisper. Morgan stared, disbelieving his ears, and Marcus stared back at him, eyes blazing. He coughed and his face clouded with panic, then he started choking on tears, reaching up to be held.
"Baby, sweet baby," Morgan said, lifting the clamoring body into his arms; Marcus's legs and arms locked around him. He covered every bare inch of his son's face with kisses, enraptured by the echo of the spoken word even as he tried desperately to soothe the crying. Marcus wept like his heart was breaking, gulping for air between sobs, thrusting his face into Morgan's kisses as if he could batter his way into his father's mouth.
"It's okay," Morgan said. He said it over and over until at last the crying softened to whimpers and the boy hung weakly against him, his hot face pressed to Morgan's cheek. Morgan walked slowly toward the Palace, blinking through his own tears, warmed by Marcus's breath, his lips, still hearing the sound of his voice in his mind.
By the time they got back to the Starlight rooms, Marcus was walking but buried deep inside Morgan's coat, with his own coat open. He'd grown restless in Morgan's arms and wriggled down to his feet, pulling uselessly at his own buttons and Morgan's with mittened fingers. Morgan knew what he wanted and helped him to get as close as he could. It was how they'd walked together years before, when Marcus couldn't tolerate the distance of bundled clothing between them. Their first outings in winter had been with Marcus literally inside his coat with him.
The door opened into the soft darkness of Shaun's room. Shaun wasn't there, he was still at his daily training session. Morgan sighed, feeling Marcus's grip tighten around him as he turned his head this way and that, looking for the Key.
"He'll be back soon," Morgan said, and Marcus hid his disappointed face against him. He began slowly easing them out of their layers of clothes. Soon. He could say it now, he thought with a weight of dread in his heart. Three weeks and he'd have to explain to his son that they were leaving Shaun.
The joy of hearing his son speak seemed like an impossible, receding dream. But it had happened! He thought of Emery and wished for the hundredth time she was there. He wished Shaun was with them. Marcus had spoken, he'd heard him plain as day.
He's scared now, Morgan thought, wondering what had unlocked his son's voice and what terrors had been unlocked with it. He kissed the top of Marcus's head, running his hands down the now bare back.
"We'll take a bath, sweetheart," he said, hoping the hot water and the massage of soaping would ease him. "Shaun will come soon."
The Starlight bathroom shimmered with the same low, magical light as the rest of Shaun's suite. It's vast sunken tub was edged with tiny stars and submerged blue lights glowed through the rippling water. Morgan tipped a few drops of Shaun's aromatic bath oil into it, making the steamy air delicious to breathe. Marcus was sullen, his eyes teary, and his clinging, sadly, more intense than it had been in a very long time.
Morgan needed to relieve himself and tried to gently ease Marcus aside from the front of his body. Marcus stubbornly hung on.
"Baby, you know how we do this," he said.
Marcus butted his head hard into Morgan's chest, clinging to the front of him and with a muffled whimper he started peeing, his soft cock pressed against Morgan's thigh.
"Oh God, Marcus," he said, despairing, feeling near tears at his son's sudden regression. He didn't try to stop him, or push him away.
"It's okay," he murmured but felt little hope that Marcus was understanding him. The boy was crying again and weakened against him. As well as he could, Morgan soothed him, holding him gently aside as he fumbled to empty his own bladder and wipe up the mess on the tiled floor. The bath was filled by then and he prayed that it would work its magic.
Morgan relaxed against a sloped side of the bath with Marcus draped across his thighs, head snuggled close on his shoulder, crying quieted to sniffles. The boy's loosened hair floated around them.
"I love you, baby," he said, grateful for Marcus's relative calm. Movement drew his eyes. The sprightly naked form of Shaun appeared in the doorway.
"Bath time?" the Key asked.
"Yes," Morgan answered, and felt his own tension level ease at the sight of him. Morgan felt Marcus stir, sitting up slightly, turning his head to see Shaun. His expression unchanging, he nevertheless was following him with his eyes as Shaun wound his hair with a few deft twists and secured it on his head with two shiny black sticks. Shaun stepped down into the bath, moving through the water with a sigh of pleasure toward them. Morgan loved the way the Key looked with his hair fastened up, his lovely shoulders bared and his beautiful tattoo -- a flowing, elegant blue flower, exposed. More than a tattoo, Shaun had tried to explain, exhibiting it to them in the wee hours of the first night. Its tracery marked pleasure centers across his back and shoulders, so sensitive that Shaun shivered from the lightest touch there. Morgan adored seeing it, not just because it was beautiful, but because Shaun seemed more naked when he uncovered it.
Shaun was surprised that they'd gotten back to the room before he did. He'd expected to have some time to himself, some time alone with his thoughts before seeing them. But the bath scents were inviting, wafting through the room, and he moved eagerly to join them. Though he'd showered in the training room after his workout, this bath would be for pleasure.
A somber air surrounded them and Shaun felt a moment's fear, gazing at them from the threshold. He'd smiled when he felt Morgan's eyes caress him, somewhat reassured. But his own wistful mood still clung as he joined them in the bath tub.
Strange thoughts. For seven days, the father and son had been part of his life, seven days unlike any Shaun could remember. So full, so rich. He pined for them when they went walking and for the first time since he'd come to the Palace, he was restless with curiosity about the world beyond his rooms. What did they see on their walks, without him?
I have to treasure every moment I have them, he thought, banishing the growing ache he felt. He knew the dread that he felt every time they left him for their walks, was knowing the time would come when they'd bundle up in their coats and not come back at all; no more happy homecomings, the two of them rosy from the cold, as eager to be reunited with him as he with them.
He saw the signs of weeping in Marcus's face, the bruised, shadowed look of his eyes and it made his throat tighten with alarm. What could have happened? He hated the thought that something could happen to Marcus out of his sight. But surely Morgan wouldn't allow it!
"We had an unusual walk today," Morgan said. Shaun heard the weight of emotion in his voice, and with a clutch of pain, realized how upset Morgan was. Shaun's heart skittered as he tried to calm his thoughts.
"What happened?" he asked carefully, looking from one to the other of them.
"Marcus spoke to me," Morgan said, then he sighed, his eyes misty. "I think it scared him."
Shaun floated closer, twining an arm around each of them, kissing Morgan's damp cheek, loving its hint of roughness under his lips.
"I wish I'd been there!" he said, and was relieved to hear Morgan draw a deep breath, to feel his arm come around him under the water. The boy was watching, alert, but painfully distant, from deep inside.
Shaun glided away a little, and found Marcus's foot under the water. He caressed his toes.
"There's a fish in this pond," he said, lifting the foot until it broke the surface. "Look how pretty it is. Mm, and I'm hungry." He sucked a toe into his mouth and nibbled it gently, watching Marcus's eyes widen and his face transform with pleasure. The boy's lips pressed together, and he leaned toward the Key.
"Uh oh," Shaun said. "Baby's mouth is jealous of his toe."
He floated closer to him to kiss. He felt the tickle of breath from Marcus's nose. He had a way of kissing, Shaun thought, that was all his own, as singular as everything else about him. It was selfish, in a way. It varied, like any lover's, from endless soft games to blatant fucking with his tongue -- but always, he demanded exactly what he wanted. The pure expression of his need was powerfully arousing to Shaun.
Morgan's kisses were very different, more guarded. Shaun could feel the conflicts, almost hear the wheels spinning in Morgan's brain through his lips. Shaun had to work harder, to tease and seduce him into letting go.
Marcus was excited now, rasping at Shaun's lips and tongue with his, pushing at him with a rocking motion of his chin like he wanted to nurse on him. Shaun held on to him, cupping his hands on Marcus's head, and felt the boy let go of his father, a hand seeking down Shaun's side to his waist, trying to pull him into his lap.
In the buoyant warm water Morgan had both of them, light and slippery and twined together, on his lap. Marcus had gotten both more calm and aroused once he had Shaun close, with the Key's legs around him and Morgan still holding him, stroking his back.
It was impossible to think of giving this up. It couldn't happen, Morgan thought, he couldn't let it happen. He was plagued by a hundred heavy thoughts, but rapidly losing the ability to concentrate as he felt Shaun's thigh press against his hardening cock, sliding along the underside of his shaft.
Marcus's lips were open, swollen and wet from kissing when he turned to him, eyes beseeching.
"What baby? I love you," Morgan said, his hand tracing down his son's backbone to settle at the base of his spine.
"Kiss him," Shaun said. "He wants you to."
Is that what Marcus's dark eyes were asking for?
Morgan's eyes fell to his son's open mouth. He felt a warning tension in his brows at the thought of it. Shaun leaned into him, arm sliding around Morgan's neck and the tension bled away, feeling the Key's skin slide against him, the teasing light weight of him in the water.
"Kiss him," Shaun said it again, but Morgan turned his face to kiss Shaun instead, whose face was close and whose mouth was safe; pink and moist and incredibly warm. But Shaun only let Morgan kiss him for a moment, pulling his head back, showing dimples with his smile. "Not me, Daddy," he said, "him."
Morgan's brain shifted gears, hearing the 'daddy,' in his head, spoken by Marcus. It struck him that his son might have said the word to imitate Shaun, not from memory.
Kiss him.
It was like being told by Elizabeth Emery, "Hold him."