The Queensguard

THE QUEENSGUARD

by Shane (shane7677@yahoo.com)

Please Note: I'm afraid the writing might be a bit too literary for all you sexhounds out there, but this first chapter establishes what is to follow, and, if I decide to continue the story, future posts will involve more mansex as the story develops. If readers enjoy the story, future chapters might even get pretty kinky, especially when we meet some rather unsavory characters later on...

I. DIRE NEWS

The inn door flew open, carried by the force of the driving wind and rain. The large man by the door caught it before it slammed against the wall, and two cloaked figures hustled in, the door closing quickly behind them. No one in the common room of the bustling inn paid them any mind, beyond a quick glance at the sudden cold briefly intruding on the cheery warmth. The large man made a mental note of them, however: their swords declared them Queen's Guardsmen, even if their dress declared them off-duty. The large man, the inn's tough and peacekeeper, fingered the cudgel hanging from his belt and glanced at his employer standing behind the long bar, pulling draughts of her famed mulled cider. An imperceptible nod told him she had noted their entrance as well.

Through an effort drawn from her iron will, the innkeeper forced herself not to look toward the lone figure, the hood of his cloak also pulled up and obscuring his face, seated near the hearth, pulling gently on his pipe, his attention seemingly on the young harpist playing and singly sweetly nearby. Instead, she smoothed the front of her spotless, white apron, embroidered with diamonds in blue and vines in gold. She picked up the mugs of steaming cider and brought them smiling to her patrons, all the while as her mind raced.

The "Queensguard" could mean anything these days--the Queen lay on her deathbed and a dozen factions vied for placement and power. Which faction did those two belong to? They brazenly displayed the slightly curved saber distinctive of the Guard, but they did not wear any of the Queen's colors--blue and gold--on their common-day garb. And that mysterious one by the hearth. She thought she knew him, and he was certainly not the merchantguard he dressed as. No merchantguard she knew moved like a cat and drank like a priest of the Red Sister, which was to say not at all. If she could get a closer look under that hood, she was sure she could recognize him. And she was fairly sure the two newcomers were here because of him. She flicked her eyes quickly to Gim, her tough, warning him to be ready. Gim's blocky jaw clenched slightly, then he resumed looking bored and deadly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vander continued to gaze discreetly at the harp player's astonishingly handsome face. Normally he didn't go in for ones as young as this, but the lad's face surpassed the mere beauty of youth. Masculine and lean, his red-gold curls and gray eyes would be captivating audiences for years to come. The boy's appearance was actually reminiscent of... Vander gave a mental shrug, irritated that he had inadvertently reminded himself of why he was here. It was of no import that the boy carried more than a passing resemblance to the murdered heir of the realm. Mikyl had been known for his dalliances, even if he did arrange for the offspring to be provided for, which was certainly more than most nobles did. Mikyl was dead now, and by the black crafts, and Vander had to tell Koryma at all costs. It seemed impossible that the capital could have become such a seething cauldron of intrigue in just the four short months since Mikyl was slain. Vander was sure Klieda was the cause--Black Sister take her!

Vander had quietly noted the entrance of the two Guardsmen. Even with hoods up, he recognized Kalder, but he couldn't discern the other. They ordered drinks from the stout innkeeper who seemed torn between being discreet and glaring at them fiercely. Vander could understand--wearing the swords like that with no colors! Just how bad had things gotten in Vel Tama that Guardsmen hesitated wearing Koryma's colors? Vander wondered if any of them were already wearing Klieda's purple and gold.

To Vander's eyes, the two Guardsmen made a show of not looking at him. They stood about, seeming to warm themselves and listen to the harpist. After a while, they were able to claim one of the high-backed booth tables running along the far wall, opposite the hearth. There they sat, hoods up, engaged in quiet conversation. Vander finished his pipe, tamped it, and with one wistful gaze at the handsome harpist, got up and made his way to the back booth. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Berta, the innkeeper, allowed herself to relax marginally. The off-duty guardsmen seemed content to drink and keep to themselves. She had been fearing trouble like what happened in poor Mastin's place just the other street over, what with Guards drinking like mercenaries and openly declaring for that sow Klieda. They probably were mercenaries, what with attacking good, honest Queensmen! Berta was a good Queenswoman herself, and did not approve of this usurper business, especially if it meant causing damage to honest places of business. She turned some of her widespread attention back to her grandson, playing the harp like the Good Mother taught him herself and singing like the Green Sister's Boy. Everything about that boy was surely divinely inspired! She'd had to raise him herself ever since her fool daughter died of the burr fever ten years back. Olwyn stood on the platform near the hearth, playing and singing his heart out. Berta was sure his inspired balladry was one of the reasons her place kept calm and quiet, more often as not. The Good Mother knew, she had to keep her eye on him, though!

He had successfully passed his voice breaking and emerged with a clear, sweet, honeyed tenor that made women sigh and men relax. And some men do much more than relax. Even now, some among the raised heads were clearly appreciating more than the youth's voice. Berta sighed. She had figured Olwyn out years ago. She had been hoping young Havym would show up asking to help clean up for a package of food for his ill father. Havym's presence always meant Olwyn would "help carry the package" and the two would disappear off to do the Blue Sister knew what (although Berta could guess). Havym had not appeared yet this night, and if he hadn't shown up this late, he probably wasn't coming. His father was, indeed, very ill and Havym was all he had.

This meant that sure as a Red Priest stared down his nose at you, one of those raised heads would ask for a "private performance" from Olwyn. The lad was seventeen years old now, and an adult in his own right. Berta just wished he would show some taste. He always seemed to choose the roughest-looking guards. She still kept up half a hope that Havym would show. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vander approached the booth. "This seat free, friends?" he asked

Kalder nodded his head. The other, Vander knew it was Mikyl now, stared impassively.

Vander placed his mug of untouched cider on the table and sat down next to Mikyl. The last time Vander saw Mikyl, he was still training in the practice yards, being teased about having the same name as the Heir. The five years had been good for Mikyl: constant practice with the sword had given him broad shoulders and he had seemed at last to have grown into his ears, which now appeared only slightly too large for his face. Vander had always liked Mikyl, for all his awkwardness, but he hoped that Kalder had chosen well in bringing him.

Kalder spoke first, quickly and quietly, "Kercham is dead. Du Balry is Commander now."

Vander felt his mouth go dry. Unconsciously, he half-lifted the cooling cider while his mind spun. Kercham dead? This was grave news indeed. That stalwart had nursed Koryma through her entire reign in his capacity as Commander of the Queensguard. And to have du Balry as the new Commander? Du Balry had long been rumored to be in the pay of Klieda. Vander's worst fears were coming true. Klieda was consolidating her position to be the next Queen. Koryma apparently would not last much longer and now one of her most important defenders had been eliminated and replaced with Klieda's toady.

Was it only four months ago that the heir Mikyl had been slain at the battlefield? The Queen had collapsed and apparently not gotten up since then. Her grandson Korym was the official heir now and holed up somewhere secure while his factors at the capital worked to secure his ascension. Korym's aunt was the main problem--Klieda, the Duchess of Vel Eddya, Baroness of Tamyr March, and so on--the Queen's youngest sister was determined to have the throne for herself and her claim was nearly equal to Korym's.

But Vander knew that Klieda's machinations for the throne would spell disaster for the nation of Velledore. The Torghasti horde was invading, bringing their dark arts with them. Velledore would only survive if they united immediately.

Vander said as much to the two men, describing in detail his horrific experiences fighting the Torghasti madmen and their sinister magic users. The Queensguard and the army had barely turned back that wild autumn assault high in the mountain passes. It had seemed that they had soundly defeated the poorly equipped Torghasti. But then the magic began, the magic that had destroyed half their force and taken Mikyl's life. It was everything the Velledorian forces could do to hold the Torghasti back. Then the snows had started and, apparently, not even the Torghasti devil magic could overcome the fierce winter of the high Eddya Mountains. A contingent from the mountain forces led by Vander had been dispatched to warn the Queen and muster her forces. But the contingent had been waylaid halfway to the capital, seemingly by bandits, but Vander knew they were far too handy with their swords to be mere bandits. Vander and two other army commanders--Marion and Eddar--had barely escaped the ambush. They had made it to Vel Tama to discover the capital a seething cauldron of deception and intrigue, thus this secret meeting. Vander explained that Marion and Eddar were seeking out contacts in the Royal Army and the diplomatic corps to scope out any plotting from Klieda's camp.

It was young Mikyl who then pointed out the obvious: "If Velledore is rent by strife over the Succession, then the cold foreigners and their evil magic could take advantage of this and overcome us."

Vander could see Kalder allowing himself the smallest turn of the lips--about the closest the man would ever come to an actual smile. Vander knew Kalder had grasped this concept within two seconds of being told about the Torghasti threat. Still, Mikyl had come to this conclusion on his own. Vander clasped Mikyl on the arm and said, "Well stated, my friend--Kalder will make a commander out of you yet."

Mikyl had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, but was assured by the two more experienced guardsmen. Vander kept his grasp on Mikyl's biceps for a moment longer, impressed by the strength he felt there. Just as he was about to let go, Mikyl flexed his arm muscle in a most impressive way. Vander gave one last, longing squeeze, then let go. Mikyl, while still maintaining a slightly embarrassed expression, cast Vander a quick, coy look that reached straight down into the older man's loins. Straining to maintain his composure, Vander asked Kalder what he thought the best course of action was.

Kalder showed absolutely no expression (although Vander knew that Kalder missed nothing) as he explained the necessity of discovering who had waylaid Vander's party from the front--who would want to stop this vital information from reaching the capital? Apparently, the Torghasti had inside operatives in Velledore and this treachery must first be uncovered before they could move openly to put aside the question of the succession and be united against the Torghasti threat. Vander looked on Kalder in admiration as he laid out his plans. Once again, Vander wished that Kalder would show some slight disposition for men, for here was a man he could love both for his body and his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, Vander saw Mikyl gazing worshipfully toward Kalder and found himself somewhat amused that he was not the only one who could fall for Kalder's considerable charms.

Kalder left the inn first--they all had agreed that they must leave separately to lessen the suspicion their meeting had already engendered. As much as he wanted to hire a room and have his way with Mikyl, such a move would be unwise at this point, so he stayed apart from the muscular young guardsman and focused his attention again on the beautiful harpist, all the while telling himself he must find release soon after having denied himself so many months while at the front. After an appropriate period of time passed, Vander, too, took his leave.

Mikyl watched Vander go with a sense of longing. He had always been taken with the powerful commander, and he found himself thrilled that the commander had apparently (and finally) taken notice of him! Of the three, Mikyl had the least to do--only to report back to Lieutenant Captain Farthos, the Queensguard's second-in-command (and still loyal to the Queen). As he would not report back to his post until the morning, Mikyl had the option of staying at the inn as long as he liked. With this thought in mind, he looked enterprisingly around the bustling common room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olwyn had watched the two strapping Guardsmen leave with disappointment, but found himself pleased when the younger guardsman with the slightly oversized ears stayed behind. Olwyn usually found himself attracted to a certain type of man--one who was a bit older, maybe a bit rougher--and the guardsman's sweet face certainly didn't fit the bill. Yet, the man had an endearing awkwardness, as if he hadn't yet grown into his full maturity, which Olwyn found appealing. The guard's big muscles were certainly an added attraction, too. Although in the back of his mind he was somewhat worried that Havym had not showed up yet--this nearly always meant Havym was taking care of his father, and Havym had made it clear that he preferred to be alone to do this--Olwyn knew Havym would come to the inn when he was able to. Olwyn looked around for Lidya and Meryna, the flutist and singer, to come replace him--he had been playing the harp long enough and he had decided to pursue the awkward yet delicious young guardsman while he had a chance.

Mikyl stopped looking around the room and sighed. Two girls had already sidled up to him asking about his pleasure for the evening. He had politely fended them off and then remembered his untouched cider. Even cool, it was delicious, and so he decided to have another tankard (or two) before he decided what to do. He had half an eye on the harpist, but the boy was a bit too young and pretty for his tastes. Or, at least Mikyl was telling himself so, but he found himself constantly drawn back to the golden boy singing like an acolyte of the Green Sister. Whenever Mikyl looked directly at the harpist, the other man seemed to be looking directly at him. Could it be true? Could that angel be interested in him? Mikyl decided to take a seat closer to the dais near the hearth where the harpist was playing. As he moved closer through the crowd, however, he realized the harp music had stopped. The dais was now occupied by two buxom women, one playing the flute and other singing in a throaty alto that threatened to overcome the flute's delicate notes.

Mikyl stopped abruptly--what happened to the angelic harpist? Then he heard a voice behind him.

"Did the young master enjoy the harp performance?"

Mikyl turned around in amazement, "Uh, yes. Quite..."

Olwyn smiled inwardly at the mixture of confusion, anticipation and longing in the guardsman's face. The poor fellow continued to stare, apparently unable to decide what to say. Olwyn decided to help him along, "If it would please the young master, for a modest fee, the house harpist is available for private performances."

Mikyl stated he would, indeed, be pleased by a private performance.

Olwyn led Mikyl to the stout innkeeper, who smoothly lightened him of three bronze marks and directed them to a private sitting room on the first floor. Yet, while she remained courteous and absolutely expressionless during the transaction, Mikyl couldn't help but have the feeling he was being weighed, measured and categorized. In an odd way, she seemed a portly female version of his own Lieutenant Kalder, who similarly appeared quite bland, yet later deduced revelations from a split-second glance.

Berta watched her grandson lead away the young, colorless guardsman. She disliked the fact that he wore no colors, yet he was young and open, practically an innocent. Olwyn usually chose (or was chosen by) much more disreputable types (in her infallible opinion!), and so she found herself perversely pleased that he was "performing" for somebody almost his own age. She sometimes felt strange about procuring profit from Olwyn's dalliances, yet she knew he would sneak off with whomever regardless of whether she approved or not. This way, she could ensure no harm came to him and make a little coin from a room rental. She considered it quite the pragmatic solution, satisfying both her grandmotherly love and her innkeeperly avarice, all at one happy stroke. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the harpist shut the door--but left it unbarred, Mikyl couldn't help but notice--Mikyl looked around the small, tidy room. Windowless, it contained a small, round table surrounded by four padded armchairs. In a corner was a lounging chair, a sort of long, backless chair found in better homes--although to Mikyl they always looked like fancy, padded benches. A few colorful wall hangings were lit by an oil-burning lantern and several candles. Obviously, it was a private room intended for small conferences or intimate dining. There was no bed, and Mikyl began to become slightly apprehensive that this would be nothing more than an actual harp performance.

Indeed, the harpist held his instrument and played a few playful chords. "What would the good master enjoy this evening?" he asked.

Mikyl knew what he would enjoy and it involved an instrument different from that currently held in the harpist's hands. "What does the good harpist enjoy playing?"

The younger man smiled coyly, "Perhaps the young master would care to make himself comfortable? Pray let me assist you in removing your cloak."

Olwyn put the harp down and stepped in front of the taller man. Looking up into Mikyl's eyes--he couldn't decide if they were light brown or hazel in the flickering light--he reached up under Mikyl's throat and undid the clasp there. The sweet-faced guardsman stared wide-eyed back, and his hands made a convulsive gesture of reaching up then moving back down to his sides. Olwyn saw something strange in the guardsman's eyes, and suddenly felt wary. Looking away and stepping back, he swept the cloak from around the guardsman and hung it on a hook by the door.

Mikyl continued to stare at Olwyn with a queer expression. Then he shook his head and laughed, "It is usually unwise to reach for a guardsman's throat, good sir."

Olwyn felt his eyes widen to their fullest, "Ah! Please pardon my action. I did not make you feel...threatened?"

Mikyl smiled, a charmingly crooked smile that revealed a deep dimple on one cheek. "Only a reflex. I gave you a fright, didn't I?"

Still standing away and not meeting the guardsman's eyes, Olwyn said, "Yes, I must admit. A little. Your sword is somewhat unsettling."

"Then I shall remove it." Mikyl set to the task and started undoing the buckle of his swordbelt. Then a sly thought occurred to him. He fiddled with the buckle, making a show of it being difficult to open. "It appears stuck! Pray assist me."

Olwyn eagerly stepped forward and undid the buckle, letting the belt slide out of the sword holster. While doing so, Olwyn gave a furtive caress of the guardsman's crotch. To his surprise, he felt a bulging hardness underneath the trousers. To his disappointment, he realized the hardness was from the man's codpiece.

Most men wore some sort of protection under (and sometimes over!) their hose or trousers, but that bulge felt more like armament than mere protection. Olwyn couldn't resist asking, "Do all the Guard wear such as these?"

Mikyl looked down at his bulge and smiled, "All the men do. Most of the guardswomen do not--although even a few of them do, too. In a fight or in a battle, a dishonorable enemy might go for the vulnerables. I must admit that they can be confining, though."

Olwyn's eyes widened as he looked at the huge codpiece, "What could be confined in that!?"

Mikyl flashed his charming, crooked smile once again, "Would you like to find out?"

Olwyn stated that he would, indeed, be pleased to find out.

Mikyl laid the sword against the wall, then stood straight. He looked into Olwyn's gray eyes and smiled his crooked smile. Olwyn met his gaze directly. Mikyl reached forward and clasped the harpist's shoulders and squeezed them. Then he ran his hands down Olwyn's arms and sides, pleased by what he felt. The harpist looked thin, but closer inspection revealed a light musculature and pleasing firmness. Mikyl ran his hands over the harpist's chest and back, and finally returned to his shoulders, whereupon he pushed gently down, causing the gray-eyed boy to rest to his knees in front of Mikyl's bulging codpiece. Mikyl felt himself growing within the cupped, hardened leather, and wished to be free of its confines.

Olwyn set quickly to the task. And expertly, Mikyl noted. Mikyl had only planned to display the front of himself, but the youth had other things in mind. Quick as a flash, Mikyl found his belt and codpiece thrown on the floor and his trousers pulled down to his ankles. Although this was precisely what Mikyl had hoped would happen, he was surprised with the harpist's alacrity. Olwyn rested there on his knees, and looked hungrily at the half-hard, and rising, tool of the guardsman. Like the guardsman's crooked smile, his manhood bent slightly to the left. And like the guardsman's dimple on his cheek, the slit at the top of the penis's swelling head winked mischiefously from underneath its foreskin. Olwyn grasped it in his hands and moved his fingers up and down its length, feeling it grow larger by the second. He gently stroked the foreskin over and down the large, purple-reddish head, and heard the guardsman's appreciative sigh in response.

"Take your shirt and jacket off. I want to see all of you," Olwyn commanded. The guardsman paused for a second, seemingly at the tone of command he had heard in the harpist's voice, a tone he was more accustomed to hearing from his superior officers. Then he shrugged and looked pointedly at the unbarred door.

Olwyn stood hurriedly and barred it, and the guardsman obligingly removed the rest of his clothing, motioning for Olwyn to do the same. Then they both stood at looked at each other. Olwyn marveled at the guardsman's impressive physique. The man seemed to have dimples everywhere, from the beguiling dimples of the cheeks of his face, to the muscular impressions on the cheeks of his hard, round buttocks. To the one-eyed dimple winking at the top of the guardsman's now fully erect member. Olwyn took a deep breath as he looked at that impressive organ. He returned to his knees and once again took it into his hands. He felt up and down the shaft, pulling the foreskin up and down, and was rewarded for his efforts when a single drop of clear fluid appeared in the dimpled slit. Olwyn moved his head forward, slowly, and gently used the tip of his tongue to lap up that clear, shining drop. The drop was quickly replaced with another, and Olwyn licked that up, too, all the while hearing the guardsman's breathing become ragged whiled he toyed with the man.

Mikyl looked down at the impossibly beautiful boy--more beautiful than a girl, even. Mikyl had messed around with a few girls here and there (what guardsman did not?) but he had always enjoyed messing around with boys more. This boy, though! Slender and delicate, yet undeniably masculine. His curly, reddish golden hair made a halo around his head. He was otherwise hairless, except for a tufts under his arms and above his hard, six-inch long member. He had a face other harpists wrote ballads about! Mikyl started running his hands through the harpist's silky, curly hair, as he watched the boy lick up and down his shaft, all the while casting glances upward with those sparkling gray eyes.

Olwyn knew the guardsman was completely his for the taking, now. The man stared down at him adoringly with parted lips and soft sighs. Olwyn opened his lips and began to take the length of the guardsman's shaft into his mouth. This freed his hands which he used to good effect feeling up and down and across all the areas they could reach. The guardsman was surprisingly hairless, except for a thick bush around his genitals and under his arms. His stomach was flat and hard, and Olwyn marveled at the flexing ridges of the abdominal muscles. Olwyn reached up high and stroked the nipples on the powerful chest, which elicited a deeper moan from the deeply breathing guard. Olwyn continued to play with them, all the while steadily engulfing more of the eight inches into his mouth. He was steadily bobbing up and down on about four inches of that nice girth of guardmeat. Olwyn had certainly swallowed larger and thicker members, but this strapping youngling was possibly the best-proportioned man he had yet encountered (except for the ears!).

Mikyl was moaning softly and continuously now, rubbing his hands through Olwyn's hair. Seeing the amazing sight of his meat sliding in and out of the boy's pretty lips, all while those gray eyes winked up at him. Each time those full-fleshed lips went down, a little bit more of his cock disappeared into the boy's hot mouth. The harpist was doing amazing things with his tongue as it swirled around and up and down the shaft, heightening the guardsman's pleasure. The boy was already taking more of his shaft than any other person had done before. Mikyl found himself panting desperately now, and his caressing of the boy's head was becoming more assertive as he tried to force more and more of his fully engorged manmeat all the way into the pretty boy's throat.

Olwyn's hands had moved to the guardsman's incredibly muscular ass. He squeezed and kneaded those hard, round cheeks as he began to suck harder on his dick. He noticed the guard start pushing on the back of his head more forcefully. So the soldier wanted it all, did he? Olwyn decided to give it to him. Grabbing each ass cheek in each hand forcefully, Olwyn took all nine inches of fully erect flesh all the way down until the guard's pubic hairs were tickling Olwyn's nose. The soldier gasped and shuddered, and tried to start fucking Olwyn's throat, but the boy held his ass cheeks firm, making him stay still while Olwyn fought down the gag reflex and fully relaxed his throat. Olwyn looked up to see the guard rolling his head around with a completely delirious expression on his sweet, honest face.

Mikyl watched in amazement as his entire shaft disappeared into the harpist's head. The boy made a gulping sound and just stayed there, gripping his ass fiercely. Mikyl flexed his ass cheek muscles, and the boy looked up at him with an ecstatic expression. The boy just stayed still a moment, then he slowly started moving up and down on Mikyl's shaft. Mikyl followed the motion, gently sliding it all the way out and then all the way in, watching that incredible sight.

The passion was growing too great for Mikyl and he took over, pushing his dick into the boy's throat. Mikyl started fucking the boy's face with abandon, pushing his dick in and out, all the way. A couple of times he pulled out too far, and his fat, thick dick slapped against the boy's cheek or forehead. The boy seemed to like it, but Mikyl was too excited to play like that and simply rammed his dick in again and fucked Olwyn's face with abandon.

Finally, Mikyl felt his approaching orgasm and managed to slam his dick in and out a few more times before gushing waves of cum exploded in Olwyn's mouth. Olwyn sucked greedily but some of the semen slopped out from the corners of his mouth and dripped down his chin.

After that beautiful release, Mikyl could no longer stand merely looking at the harpist's pretty face. Mikyl made Olwyn stand up and began kissing the harpist's lush, cum-dripping lips. The boy enthusiastically returned the kiss. They found their mouths opening and their tongues explored each other's mouth. Mikyl tasted his own cum mixed with the boy's sweet-tasting saliva. It tasted like heaven.

Suddenly, a hesitant knock came from the door.

They broke apart, stunned, and heard the innkeeper's voice from beyond the door, "I'm so awfully sorry to interrupt, dear boys, but I'm afraid Olwyn's needed out here. It's a bit of an emergency. I am terribly sorry..."

Olwyn looked at the guardsman, "I think it's about my friend--I'm sorry, too."

Mikyl looked on with disappointment, "Promise me we can do this another time?"

"Oh, I promise!"

(possibly to be continued...)

does it seem rushed? need more exposition? need more sex? a combination of both? this is my first attempt at this sort of thing. should I just give up?