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You will find a full color picture of Kian and Constantine on my art page. I'm thinking of drawing a picture of Talen. I'd appreciate it if you let me know who you think he kind of looks like in our world.
"The Assassin's Apprentice" is told in first person present tense and has been heavily edited.
If you like this story, please consider reviewing "Slipstream" and "Oculus."
I'm also looking to hire a cover artist for this novella that I may self-publish once I post it completely online here at Nifty. The published edition would be cleaned up even more than it is now and include a map as well as my drawings. So if you're artistically inclined, would like some money, and like the story, send me an email.
Chapter Twelve
"Do you believe all that?" I ask Talen. He walks to the far side of a tree facing away from me.
"Not really. Do you?"
"Legends have to start somehow," I reply.
"Do they ever...," Talen responds.
I look over my shoulder. Swift now sits at the front of the wagon with the reins in his hand. Ambrell and Elliot climb into the back. I shake my dick off and catch Talen taking a peek. He grins at me somewhat sheepishly, hand splayed open for balance on the rough wet wood of a tree. The bark shimmers with the light that flares from the wagon's lanterns.
"You like what you see?" I tease him, taking a finger and moving it along one pronounced vein.
He nods, breath ushering in a cloud from between his lips. "If we had time I'd suck you off right now. Tethyr's teeth I love looking at your penis. It's as beautiful as the rest of you."
"We'll have time later, I'm sure. I promise before we sleep, I'll make love to you like the cock whore you are."
"Just be gentle," he says in response to my gentle ribbing. "Sometimes you can get a bit rough, and I'm still new to this. That and you're hung like a horse."
I nod. "I'm sorry. I'll be civil. It's a compliment to you really; your body drives me wild."
Talen grins at me, and the dimples show on the sides of his mouth. "I'm so in love with you."
I put myself away. "Trust me...I feel the same way. I want to kiss you right now, but we can't afford getting distracted."
Talen finishes and wipes his hands off on his pants. "Let's just get back to the others. I think Swift is taking my place, which is all fine by me. I'm a little sore in the rump." Talen winks, and I take the lead with my feet striking a path through knee-high grass and thistle. Talen follows, whistling a bit, but I don't recognize the tune.
I step up to the rear of the wagon and pull myself in, settling in my old place near the front. Talen stops short of climbing in, his face draining of color. He stares at the lumpy bodies in the burlap sacks but doesn't hurl this time. Just like the man I know he is, Talen swallows and lifts himself into the wagon and joins me near the front. Because of our positions, we're able to hold hands in the dark. I give him a gentle squeeze, and even this one small gesture puts color back into his cheeks.
"I don't want to end up in a bag like this, Kian."
"You won't. Not if I have anything to say about it."
Swift guides the wagon back onto the road, and I settle into a doze, listening to the creak made by the wheels as they turn over and over again in the muddy rut. That rut is the only sign that we're on a road at all instead of crossing leagues of rolling hills without a care as to where we're headed.
Within several hours the sky lightens.
I wait patiently, gazing at the serene beauty of the countryside which is dotted by huge spruce trees and white aspen groves whose leaves are now gold. Their branches spread out over knee-high grass and vast patches of purple and yellow wildflowers. I count seven farmsteads along the road and even before dawn, farmers and their hands make rounds to the pig pens dumping rotten potatoes in huge eating troughs for the livestock.
I carefully observe the road south and as first sunrise breaks, a fog rolls in upon us. It clings to the grass and to the woods like soft white cotton being held by bony white fingers. From somewhere up ahead, I hear the tinkle of a bell. Swift pulls the wagon onto the side of the road. The tinkle grows closer and more distinct; heavy footfalls soon follow.
"I think that's Logren," Swift states.
"How far from Ladika are we?" I ask. I try to keep my voice to a whisper.
"About an hour; we've made good time, especially when it stopped raining." He holds up a finger, silencing me before I utter another word.
"Good morning," he addresses the fog.
I feel a light touch on my head. Or maybe it's my thoughts. I see a picture in my mind of Marcel, and it quickly fades to other images of a city I've never before seen in my life. It has high walls made of stone, and the sides of it lay enshrouded in heavy spruce groves and thick raspberry bushes.
I suddenly realize that someone else's thoughts are in my head!
Instinctively, I try to shut them out. The pictures flee my consciousness, and I look about wildly into the fog, my eyes searching out any details that seem different than the floating gray-white mist.
"It's him," Swift states. "He's picking up our thoughts. He'll be here in a minute."
"He saw into my mind," I say. "How'd he do that?"
"I told you last night. It's his way of communicating. He isn't capable of standard speech."
I see a shadow appear directly ahead. A moment later, an immense man materializes, gripping a staff with a bit of leather cord at one end that holds a small bell. Logren is covered in red hair. He's got on a rusty chainmail overcoat that's padded underneath by several layers of thick leather. His hand's easily larger than my head, and his feet are wrapped in leather straps and thick rope twine. If I stand on the rail of the wagon, I know I can reach only to his brow. And that's on my tippy toes. Across his back is the cadel-the bison cleaver. I could never survive even a single hit from such a terrible weapon, and I marvel that he's so big; he probably can wield it with only one hand.
Swift laughs and looks at my wide-open eyes. "He's equally impressed with you."
"Indeed," I say. "What do I possess that impresses the likes of him?"
"He can read your thoughts. He admires your training. He can see, to some extent, a little of your life history."
"What a remarkable talent," I reply, looking up at the giant man.
Logren grimaces, the only sound coming from the bell which continues to make its lonesome tinkling from the end of the leather strap upon which it's tied.
"Why does he carry the bell?" Elliot asks.
Suddenly, my mind's filled with images of bears, and I instantly understand that he carries the bell to warn the animals away.
"How ingenious," Elliot remarks. "But I've never heard of bears attacking people."
"I have," Ambrell indicates. "Bears can be quite ferocious when they want to be, and around here, even bigger than him. I've a friend that climbed into a tree to get away from one, and the animal came right up after him. Grabbed him by the arm, and its teeth sunk into the two bones here. When it had him good, it shook him about like a rag doll and eventually ripped his arm from the socket."
"Did he live?" Talen asks.
"Yes. The bear dropped him. Probably wanted to play or something like that. Left him for dead and wandered into the forest."
"Sometimes," Swift interjects, "the victim isn't so lucky."
I swallow and look up at the tinkling bell.
Logren falls-in beside the wagon and his great stride has no problem whatsoever in keeping pace with the horse-drawn cart. The well-behaved horses continue at their present gait, not seeming to mind the giant that runs alongside them. We travel this way for almost an hour, and now I notice the fog starting to burn off as the suns rise. I make out the shape of city walls forming behind the thinning mist. These match the ones I saw earlier with their foundations hidden in tall grass and by thickets of spruce and raspberry.
This is the outer wall of Ladika, and I can smell the salt tang of the sea.
Outside the city, smoke rises from a pyre of bodies.
It's a black, greasy smoke, and a hundred men or more continue to sort bodies taken to a mass grave. The bodies are bound in multi-colored sacks and burlap bags; they're being emptied from carts like ours. I let go of Talen's hand and leap out the back of the cart. The others follow me.
Talen stands up in the back before jumping from the side, his athletic feet landing in soft mud on the right side of the road.
A man wearing studded leather armor walks up to our cart and looks in, wrinkling his nose.
"Good morning, citizens," he says. He glances at Logren but doesn't make much of the large man. I note that there're two other half-giants helping out here. Their race must be somewhat common in these parts.
"Take the bodies to a new pile that we've started on the other side of that grove of spruce trees." He hands Logren some papers and passes all of us a sheet containing imperial markings. "After you've made your drop off, follow the others into the city for more. The Duke's made Ladika a quarantined state until we can get the disease under control."
"Any word on what's causing the plague?" Talen asks.
Excellent question, Talen, I think to myself.
I love that my boyfriend is both gorgeous and smart.
The man in studded leather shrugs his shoulders helplessly.
"I'm not sure: two hundred dead so far. Strange...it started a fortnight ago in the Belthazar district of town...man was found floating in the city wells with his face all swollen and red marks on his throat. I think his body contaminated the drinking water because its spread fast. Every priest and doctor in town's been called out for extra duty. The Duke is close, mind you, to declaring martial law in Ladika."
I nod, gravely listening. The guard stares at me awhile, trying to make out my features behind the black and silver mask I wear. Meanwhile, the others walk around the man, and accompany the wagon along the path marked by wagon wheels. The path's muddy with grass ground into brown ruts.
Puddles of standing rainwater gleam from hollows about every fifteen feet.
The guard stops me short. "Because of what's going on in the city, I'm going to have to ask you to take that mask off," he says. "Some of the first signs of plague appear on the face."
I look at Talen but quickly see I've no choice. I remove it, hoping that my appearance is not as "memorable" as Constantine seems to think it is.
The guard's eyes widen. "Thank you for complying. You definitely don't have the plague."
I smile and say, "Thank you." Then I put my mask away in my knapsack.
From out of the corner of my eye, I see Ambrell staring at me before she jerks her eyes away to fan herself.
It's nice to know I'm still handsome; I just hope Talen thinks so too.
The guard leaves to greet another wagon coming in from the city. I run to catch up with my companions.
Logren holds up his fist, and Swift stops the cart. The giant reaches in with both hands, grabs two of the cadavers, and flings them to the ground. Then he quickly seizes the remaining three and settles them adjacent to the others. Two men in gray cloaks walk up a sheer grassy knoll, the depth of which is occupied by a growing amount of bodies awaiting placement.
"An awful mess," one of them states, his eye settling on my face. After a long pause he says, "Milbar, mighty and omnipresent God of Magic and Time does bless thee for your contribution to the city."
"I serve a different God," Swift says, "but my respects are no less humbled by thy thanks. My duty this day-gentle priests of Milbar-is to humanity. And it is to this that I serve."
"Ahh," the man on the left says locking eyes with Swift. "I did not mean to offend brother. But if you would like, I extend an invitation to you and your friends for a visit to Milbar's temple in Ladika."
"We will pass brother priest, although it greatly offends me that I cannot make the time in this hour of need."
The man on the right nods. He has a short-cropped goatee and his nose is pointed much like that of a rat. "No one knows the price of time better than Milbar. But must you refuse?"
"I'm afraid that I must."
"So be it. We respect the wishes of our fellow man. We can take the vessels of the dead from here my brothers. Just follow this trail to the six other carts making their way along the road into the city. We shall toil at this gruesome task together."
Swift quickly nods and then the rest of us, minus Logren, climb back into the wagon. Swift waves goodbye to the two men, directing his horses to follow the trail pointed out to us.
I look up at the looming walls of Ladika. They're made from gargantuan blocks of yellow stone and rise almost ten times my height. There's one entrance guarded by two square towers with sloping sides, and each is crowned with a pyramidal roof covered in wooden shakes. I count three city guards wearing uniforms of scarlet and gold; shiny metal basinets on their heads.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and wait as we pull in behind the last cart. The shadow of the gate falls around us, instantly cooling my skin which is growing hot underneath my damp garments quickly drying out in the heat of the suns.
The road under the gate is made of cobblestone, and the portcullis suspends directly overhead like an executioner's blade. Lengths and lengths of black greasy chain encircle huge pulleys, and two men in the scarlet and gold uniforms usher the motley train of wagons and people into the city. Our turn comes and goes; we clear the shadows of the great gate and a crowd of people in the streets swarm us, handing out supplies and directing traffic into the narrow alleys and highways of the metropolis.
Swift steers our horses into the caravanserai, an open market of goods brought in from the south and positioned just inside the great gate. Right now, it's flooded with the relief effort on the quarantined city. Volunteers dispense clean water and food to lines of people that have probably been standing there since before dawn. Swift motions for all of us to abandon the cart, and I fall-in next to Talen who pads his way through the crowd to the eastern edge of the caravanserai, marked by a wall of burlap sacks stuffed with barley seed. We catch our breath here under a blanket that's held aloft by a single pole. It isn't much, but it breaks the glare from the unyielding suns of Wynwrayth, which are intent on climbing to their zenith in a matter of hours.
It's going to be a warm fall day.
I collapse onto two bags stuffed with grain. Soon, Logren joins us from around a corner.
"What's the plan?" Ambrell asks me.
"Wait until night," I say. "That much is clear. Until then, we could all use some rest and something to eat."
"There's an inn that serves Korimarian food...it's really spicy and the place is rat free. I've stayed there plenty of times," she suggests.
"I don't like spicy food," Swift complains. "Gives me heartburn."
"I'm sure they've something a little less potent," Talen states. "I know the one Ambrell's suggesting. It's close by, and we can get there from here without getting spotted."
"Lead the way," I say.
Swift looks at me. "We're wasting time. Day or night...we could at least start looking for this mole Marcel mentioned. That way we don't have to just sit around."
"I'm tired, Swift," Ambrell says. "I hardly slept a wink in the ride from Clothol, and I'm sure the others feel the same way. Kian is right...we need rest and we work better under cover. If we know of a safe place to get rest and food, let's take it now instead of making mistakes later."
"We're making a mistake if we wait until night," Swift insists. "If you want to succeed you'll listen to reason. This is a damned guild war...not a vacation, Ambrell. I could care less if you're tired. You're lucky you're still breathing."
"That's enough of that, Swift," Talen warns, puffing his chest out, and leveling a finger at his chest. "We're following Kian, not you. Do I have to make this point any other way?"
"I've just about had enough of all of you," Swift declares to Talen, quite nearly getting in his face. "You're stupid and foolish...following a novice that's got no idea on just how much danger we're in." He points at Ambrell. "You're the only one I need. Grab your bag and come along. You at least have experience in these matters."
"I will not," she states.
Swift grimaces and back-hands Ambrell. She falls down, grasping at some of the stuffed burlap bags to help her to her feet. Talen pounces, and Swift ducks his blow. Then with great speed he twists his hand, grasping hold of Talen by the back of his arm in a vice-like grip. Swift's muscles tense under his shirt, and he gave Talen a callous jerk. He follows with a punch to the shoulder. With his other hand, he strikes Talen blow after blow four times. My best friend collapses against the wall like a sack of potatoes, and I feel anger rising.
I go to him immediately, but Talen holds up his hand. "This is between me and Swift," he says.
Behind me, Elliot cries out and draws his knife. He slashes at Swift who steps backward, looking at the bright line of blood on his shirt sleeve. Swearing under his breath, Swift charges Elliot who smartly tries to angle his blade upward to plunge it into Swift's onrushing body.
All of this really, takes place in five seconds from start to finish.
I'm amazed to see Elliot's blow turned aside as if in slow motion. Swift kicks Elliot full in the chest knocking him to the earth.
Poor Elliot claws at the mud, and like it or not, I'm intervening.
I stand between the two of them. Behind me Talen croaks, "Kian, don't. He'll kill you."
"I'm fine, buddy. Let me handle this."
Swift's eyes widen with anger and his lips turn downward in a sneer, bubbles of froth at the side of his mouth.
"You've no idea who you're messin' with, handsome," Swift states. "But relax, Talen. I won't kill your pal. But I'll be happy to cut his pretty face into ribbons and maybe rearrange some of his delicate features that the girls like so much."
He dives for Elliot's knife and grips it with white knuckles. I stand my ground, watching him closely. "Put the knife down, Swift. This is my only warning."
He swings at my chest; I move aside as I've been trained to do. I strike Swift in the throat with the edge of my hand, and it drops him. Then I punch him in the ribs once right over the heart, cracking four ribs. Swift collapses prone, gasping for air. I help Ambrell to her feet. Talen rubs his shoulder and looks at Elliot who's panting heavily and leaning on a barrel next to Logren.
The giant watches on silently, arms folded across his massive trunk.
"You son of a bitch," Ambrell cries at Swift.
She rubs her face where he struck her.
Thrusting me aside, she stands over Swift and kicks him in the balls.
"You ever hit me again...ever...and I'll kill you! Do you understand me?! Give me some sign... some motion that you understand?!" She wrings her hands out over him, standing there like a Fury poised for a final blow.
On the ground, his face covered in mud and straw, Swift nods in the midst of excruciating pain.
Ambrell collapses at Elliot's feet, crying to herself, her body enraged so much that her hands tremble.
Logren unfolds his arms and helps Swift to his feet, but the man is doubled-over from the pain radiating from his bruised testicles. After a minute, Swift catches his breath. He can't take his eyes off me, glaring with an unblinking stare. I find it a little unsettling, but I say nothing. A flood of images rush into my mind's eye.
I understand now. Swift was an assassin at one time; he'd been one for many years. But I'd almost killed him in a single hit. That troubled him. He could've taken Elliot, Talen, and Ambrell on in a fight and would have beaten them in just a few seconds. If they doubled or tripled their number, he still would've killed them all. But I-I'm different. I could have killed him without even drawing a blade.
And that terrifies him.
Logren follows up with another image. I terrify him as well it seems. He shows me a cheetah racing across a great plain and superimposes that with me. I get the message instantly: he's never seen someone move so fast.
I crack my knuckles and gather up my pack, waiting a few minutes while my companions recover.
Swift grabs his gear and looks to Talen. "Let's see this inn."
Just like that; no apology. His voice is cracked and no louder than a whisper. I must've damaged his throat where I struck him. Good.
Talen nods, still rubbing his sore shoulder. He flexes his hand experimentally, but I can see his face disguises the pain he feels in doing so. Nevertheless, Talen clambers over the wall of sacks, and I follow. Behind me, Ambrell and Elliot climb over. Swift brings up the rear. Logren knows his way about the city. He knows where to go, and he'll meet us there.
I jump down into an alley with a muddy, trash-strewn floor. The walls of buildings with their backs facing us are made of brown brick covered by chalk letters and drawings. Two men sleep in vermin-ridden blankets near piles of festering street garbage. The last man, it seems, sleeps even as a rat as large as a pussycat gnaws on his ankle drinking the blood.
What a horrible little monster, I think to myself.
But it scurries into the piles of garbage next to where the man lays, unconscious from alcohol and unaware he's being eaten alive.
Talen does a come hither notion with his fingers, and I follow after him, my feet padding silently after his. He makes it to the end of the alleyway where bright sunlight gleams off his dark hair. Talen steps into a doorway trailed by me and the others. I smell smoke, and my boots slip on squished fruit next to some potato peelings dropped near the door. Just ahead, Talen vanishes through a heavy brown drape through which rises a crescendo of muffled voices.
I poke past the barrier.
To my fingers, the curtain feels like wool. It's stained by grease spots and shows threadbare around the nails used to suspend if from the portico. I see an overweight man wearing a neat overcoat with a herringbone pattern. He drains a crystal glass of its contents, set it upon the polished surface of an oak bar, and then Talen speaks to him briefly. I see money exchanged, and then Talen returns to my side. His expression is pensive and sweaty, and he speaks rapidly into my ear.
"Follow me. I've two rooms. He's going to send food up too."
"Who's that guy?" I ask.
"He's the owner of the tavern. His name is Relk. He owes me a few favors from when I used to work this city with my brother."
Ahh...I think to myself. Another mention of his brother...the one that Constantine killed.
"Can he be trusted?" Swift asks. The footpad's come into the room with the others, and I don't even notice him. I definitely won't give Swift the satisfaction of knowing that, and I resolve to pay closer attention to my surroundings.
"Oh yes. I've done special favors for him in the past," Talen says, a bit too proud of himself. "If he wants these favors again, he'll help me out."
"I don't suppose you're going to tell us what these favors are?" Ambrell asks Talen.
My best friend looks the girl in the face with a very sheepish grin. "I wasn't planning on it, my dear Ambrell. Now, if there're any more questions please reserve them for when we're in private, okay?" He turns and I follow him to the far side of the tavern.
This is getting more interesting by the moment.
Talen leads us to a narrow stairwell hidden from the front by two heavily occupied tables. The seated men give us only a passing curiosity, rapidly returning to their mead cups which they dip into an ale barrel only a few feet from my right side. It's mostly full, but I imagine by late afternoon, it'll be in need of some respite. Conversation is being led by an old man with a gray beard clothed in work-stained overalls.
I pause for a moment to listen to him.
"The plague...it's a magical curse I tell ya. Brought down upon us by the foul keepers of Zim! They and the Israfil, the witch-breed of Zandine, circulate through the city since the conquest. Come down with their slayers from Clothol they have, and it's only a short time before we see pyres of our dead sacrificed to the dark god of illusion to abate his wrath!"
"How do you know this gray beard? Your mind's as addled with craziness as it is with ale. The clerics of Milbar wouldn't allow the foul and perverse followers of the Lord of Illusion to take control of our fair city," a man argues.
"Bah! It shows how much you know! You'd be wise to listen...for the gods will do NOTHING I tell you. When the quakes came that destroyed our fair city...what say you did the god of magic and time do for us? Did He lift a finger in our defense? What say you did the clerics of His church do to stop the ocean that killed our children? Nothing. I was there. But it's worse for the Atlantean people--just ask this handsome lad here, and he'll tell you."
I swear under my breath.
Too late to withdraw, the people at the table gaze at me.
"I-I'm sorry," I mutter hastily. "I was just listening."
Gray beard shakes his head and places his cup upon the table. "Aren't you Atlantean, boy? I've lived many years and not seen one quite as beautiful as you. Is your hair not the color of the sun in the sky? Look at how skinny and narrow his waist and chest are. It's remarkable."
I look at the questioning eyes around me and turn away from the table to stand where Talen taps his foot, waiting for me at the base of the stairs. I step past him into a narrow stairwell that leads down into a cool basement hallway. Behind me, I hear the conversation in the room resume. I stop for a moment and look back.
Talen appears and joins me. "Way to call attention to yourself. But if I must say, I rather enjoy having such a gorgeous lover."
"I-I'm sorry," I stammer. "I just wanted to listen."
"I know." He risks a kiss on the tip of my nose and fingers my sweaty ears. "The others have already gone into their rooms. You're sharing this one with me." He motions toward a door made from thick oaken beams. I turn the handle and walk inside. It's cool and dry. There's a bed in one corner and a mirror and basin for washing. One window, thin and near the top of the wall, provides the only light. I note that it's too thin, even for me, to escape. But it's at street level, and I can see the feet of passers-by walking toward the gate to get supplies. Behind me, Talen shuts the door.
Within a second he whirls me around and kisses me, pushing his tongue between my eager lips. "Tethyr's teeth I've wanted this for hours," he states, hungrily lapping at my mouth; we swap spit.
"Let's get undressed," I manage to say. He nods and we part.
Talen slips out of his clothes, and I watch him for a moment. He has a large purple bruise on his shoulder where Swift struck him. And he pokes at it with his finger.
"Damn him," he mutters. "I'll get even with Swift...you just watch."
I smile, still puzzled at how easily the old timer in the tavern could identify me. I've not been called an Atlantean for years, and I'm so used to thinking that I'm something other than Atlantean that it seems almost like my past has returned to haunt me. Carefully, I set down my belongings, I loosen my pack, and lift off my own shirt from my body and put it away.
"So you're Atlantean," Talen says, hugging me from behind. "Or was that a bad guess on the part of the old-timer?"
I angle my head to meet Talen's gaze, and he squirms under my arm, licking my hairless armpit. "Yes. Somehow I survived the destruction of the City of Golden Fire...that's where I was born. I know I'm a prince, but a lot of my memory has faded with time."
Talen's eyes narrow and he kisses my shoulder lovingly. "I'm sorry, Kian. I'm sorry about your people and your family."
I shrug. "It's a long time ago. I've you for my family now and for my lover. I've a new people and a new purpose. Everything that's the old me...well...that lies at the bottom of the ocean now."
"Will you make love to me like you promised?" His eyes look so eager.
"I-I'd love too."
I crawl onto the mattress with him, and he removes my boots, licking my sweaty feet for many long minutes, bathing my beautiful bony toes in shiny spit. It feels so good, and it doesn't take but a few seconds before I'm sporting a huge erection, growing from out of an almost invisible patch of white blond pubic hair. He puts his hand on my chest in a reassuring way, scratches me with his fingernails, and I lay there in silence--the only sound coming from his lips and tongue as he envelopes my cock, licks my balls, and plays with the veins on my body using his wet fingers.
"God, I want you to fuck me with this huge dick," he gasps, resting the mushroom head of my glans on his tongue.
I nod and turn him over, spit between his butt cheeks, and gently massage my fingers into his tight boy hole. I liberally lick his pale anus over and over, and I marvel at how it puckers. I get him well lubed with my saliva. But before I start in on him, I get Talen to cum once just using my fingers to massage his prostate while simultaneously sucking him off with my own lips.
His muscles tense, and he explodes across my face and his own skinny chest with ribbons of white semen.
"I'm sorry, Kian," he says, and then wipes the cum from my cheeks, giggling.
"Oh you'll pay for that," I joke with him.
I remove the jade nuru and apply a portion to my throbbing dick.
As gently as I can, I press my "horse cock" against Talen's incredibly tiny opening. I know it hurts him a little, but I take every precaution. When I get the head in, the rest is easy. Both our bodies drip in sweat...his from the pain, mine from the excruciatingly athletic act of breeding.
Being the guy on top is the harder job by far.
I establish my rhythm early on.
I keep my promise, making love to my beautiful if not somewhat delicate boyfriend. I'm sure to do so slowly and gently while kissing the bruise on his shoulder. I whisper how much I love him into his ears and massage the sore spot with my fingers.
Talen moans in pleasure with each stroke because I'm that good. Within a minute, he's got a hard on again. I make sure to only go halfway in on my own. I let Talen choose to thrust upward with his hips if he wants me deeper, which he does about every tenth stroke or so.
The sound of my balls slapping against his bum fills the room like the stench of our cum- covered bodies, and I vary our position three times to rest aching muscles. I finish with him on his back and his feet on my shoulders. At least this way, I get to kiss him as I cum.
I wonder what the people that use our room next will think with all the sexual evidence on the linen. They probably won't change these out for new clients; some part of me pities them.
Afterward, I spoon his nakedness next to mine, the length of my cock resting between his small thighs. Part of me wonders what it would be like if all that seed I squirt into his gut made him pregnant. That would be so weird, but there's a part of me that desires a child. I know eventually, I'll have to fuck a girl who's willing to have my baby. I just hope Talen doesn't mind.
I hope he'll understand that I forbid him to have sex with someone else in the same way we do. It's okay if he wants to fuck a girl. But where men are concerned, I want Talen's body all to my own. I don't want any man to lick his feet, to make love to his bum, to kiss him, or to even see him naked. All of that belongs to me. He's my lover...no one else's. If someone thinks differently, I may just have to kill them.
And I don't think this attitude will ever change for the rest of my life.
"I love you so much, buddy," I whisper into his ear.
I stroke his hair which is soft like mouse fur and fall asleep listening to his steady breathing. My dreams are occupied by a deep soothing blue, which feels very much like what I might see at the bottom of the ocean.
I intend to post Chapter 13 soon.