DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't.
Enjoy.
What Happened to the Green Fairies? By Danimpa
Chapter 31
Earldom of Cornwall, England May, 1398
Brendon's hand moved up to cover my eyes, slightly too late might I add.
I was trembling, tears slowly starting to roll down my cheeks. I couldn't believe that Ella was dead, that she'd thrown herself onto my sword; a gesture that only made it that much clearer that I was to blame.
My sister had died hating me, had taken her unborn child, my niece or nephew, with her.
My ears were ringing and my eyes were blurred and I wanted to leave but I couldn't.
If I didn't take care of this, Mother would have to, and I didn't want her to do that. Seeing Eleanor would probably kill her, so it was better if someone, I, simply told her and took care of everything.
I was in no state to be the strong one, but I had to.
"Clean her up," I mutteringly ordered, my voice cracking. "We'll bury her tonight, out beneath the old oak."
It pained me. My sister, albeit not always following its commands, had been a firm believer in the Catholic faith and doctrines. Yet, because she was a suicider, she couldn't be buried in Holy soil. And no priest could be present.
"I'll take you back to bed," Brendon whispered.
I shook my head. "I need you to take me to see Mother," I replied.
He sighed, but I looked up to see his nod.
I was back on my feet, Brendon's arm draped around me in support, physical and emotional, as I entered my mother's chambers. "Mother," I said softly.
She looked up from her embroidery, honey eyes curious as she moved a long, slim hand up to push a lock of dark golden brown that had released itself from her hair dress out of her face. "George," she returned with a nod, her soft features growing concerned, probably because of the obvious tears on my face. "Is something wrong?"
I bit down on my lip nervously, new tears already pooling up in my eyes. "Eleanor... Took her own life," I whispered, my voice shaking as I forced myself not to break down again.
"What?" Mother asked, all colour fleeing her already pale face as she shot up from her chair.
"She's dead, Mother," I stated, still whispering as another round of tears dripped down my cheeks.
I watched as her eyes glazed over, tears gathering there as well while her mouth fell open. "My sweet girl," she gasped out, her body starting to tremble, sobs racking through her small, frail frame. She reached out her arms and I scooted out of Brendon's support and into my Mother's waiting arms, putting my uninjured one around her as her tears soaked my shoulder and mine her hair.
After what seemed like forever but was still too short for my liking she suddenly pushed me away and I stumbled back into Brendon's arms.
"Don't touch me," she hissed.
She'd reached out for me!
"You killed your sister," she continued. "You and your whore of a man will be the doom of us all!"
The rejection hurt, but somehow the insult thrown at Brendon did even more so and I frowned harshly at her.
"Get me out of here, please," I whispered.
And he picked me back up, walking out of the chamber and back into my own quarters where my he placed my too-weak body on my bed, crawling in next to me to hold me while I broke down again.
A chair had been moved into the yard so that I wouldn't have to stand up through it.
It wasn't much of a ceremony, really. It was Matt, Mother and myself as well as a few servants who did the work.
Tears were running steadily down my cheeks, guilt surging through me as I watched the white-clad corpse of my sister being lowered into the ground.
Mother was praying and weeping beside me and Matt was crossing himself solemnly.
Why did everybody else always have to pay for my mistakes?
Mother picked up a handful of dirt and let it fall down into the grave and I could see my sister's sickly pale, formerly beautiful face being covered with the dry, brown substance.
Then Matt picked me out of my chair, carrying me easily back to the castle, through the corridors and to my chambers.
Brendon was waiting in the antechamber, quickly getting to his feet once we entered and relieving my brother of my humble weight.
I clung to him, desperately, my mind full of awful, gory images from the events of the last few days. Guilt seemed to flow through me with my blood, clenching painfully around my heart, getting stuck in my throat. It was hard to even breathe.
I'd been rendered a wreck. I needed to escape.
He put me down, gently, on the bed and sat down next to me.
With my one good arm I pushed myself up into a sitting position before sliding that arm around his neck, leaning my aching head forward to capture his lips with my own.
After a moment he kissed back, one hand going to my waist and the other to my cheek, rubbing away the tears that were still running down.
I ran my tongue over his lower lip, pushing it all the way into his mouth the moment he opened.
His pushed back against mine before simply starting to caress it softly, the hand on my cheek moving to tangle in my hair, fingers weaving through it.
I broke the kiss a few moments later, leaning my forehead against his as I opened my eyes to meet his dark gaze, my breathing heavy. I slowly removed my arm from around him, moving my hand down in between our bodies to lightly press down on his clothed member, starting to softly caress.
He hitched in a breath. "Ryan, you're in no condition to..."
I leaned forward, pressing a small kiss against his neck while I kept the movements going. "You aren't my doctor," I muttered. "And I'm well enough for this."
"Ryan..." he started again, his breathing heavy by then and his length hard beneath my hand.
"Please," I whispered, taking hold of those words again. "Please just help me forget." My voice cracked at the end, a new series of tears making their way to my eyes.
He looked at me for a moment before finally nodding, leaning in to kiss me while his hands worked my doublet and shirt off with practiced ease. "I love you," he whispered against my lips before moving to take his own shirt off, knowing that it would've been hard for me to do with only one hand.
"Love you too," I answered, letting my eyes glue to his toned chest when the shirt was off. I reached out my hand again, trailing it down his chest this time, outlining the hard, wiry details while his fingers started to fumble with the strings of my breeches. I raised my hips to let him pull them off before watching him get rid of his own, taking every last, beautiful facet in.
He got back onto the bed, gently pushing me down so I was lying down, being especially careful with my shoulder and head and making sure both were resting comfortably on the soft pillows.
I parted my legs for him, smiling through tears as he bent down to kiss me while he manoeuvred his body in between my legs, which I wrapped around him.
He got situated, propping his body up on his elbows before he slowly, gently pushed into me, his lips connecting with my neck as he gave me a short moment to adjust.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head at the mere feeling of fulfilment, at the way my mind was already being taken away to a better place.
He pulled out most of the way and pushed back in, a bit harder this time, and he'd found my spot.
My back arched in response as I let out a shuddering moan, feeling his lips smile against the skin of my neck.
He started up a pace and within moments I was lost in the heat, the rhythm, the sound of his voice, the mere feeling of being somewhere else, somewhere I belonged.
Both of his hands were on my face, caressing my cheeks affectionately as he leaned down to kiss me again, swallowing my moan in the process. His tongue worked wonders in my mouth while his thrusts rendered my whole body shuddering in pleasure as I bucked up against him, weakly trying to match his pace.
He moved his hands away, letting one grab my good hand to lace our fingers together while the other reached down between us to grasp my member, slowly starting to pump at a raggedy pace that almost matched the one his body kept going.
My toes were starting to curl, my breathing getting even heavier as the deep pleasure made me light-headed and all the feelings started gathering in my stomach. My body clenched up, my muscles convulsing and I felt him release into me with a gasp just a moment before I let go in his hand.
He managed to keep from collapsing on me, bent down instead and pecked my lips, his raggedy breathing ghosting over my lips as he fought to make it return to normal.
I smiled contentedly, still on a high where nothing else mattered.
Then he pulled out and the feeling of fulfilment was going, leaving me with the clear memories of what had happened over the last few days.
I whimpered softly as he rolled over to lay next to me, putting his arms around me and pulling me close. I rested my head on his chest, breathing in his scent as I tried to chase the memories and the guilt away.
"I love you," he whispered again.
I gave some small, confirmative sound as an answer, cuddling closer as I waited impatiently for sleep.
"Cover up!" someone yelled from the adjoining chamber, waking me up.
I recognized the voice as belonging to my brother and quickly reached out my unharmed arm to pull the sheets up to cover us properly. "Come in," I called back in response.
The door fell open and my dirty, battered, weary-looking brother walked in. "Ryan..." he started.
I nodded.
"A messenger just arrived from France," he informed me with a sigh.
I nodded again, warily this time.
"Father will be home in two days, little brother."