Lyrion's Gift [Elven Conceptions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) (6 page)

“You will be the only one,” Talek said with sudden pride. Lyrion then began to consider the other bit of information Kevris had conveyed.

“Did you say the king lives nearby as well? I did not realize you had a living father.”

“Indeed I do,” Talek said. “But he is old, and, I am sorry to say, not sound in the head. He keeps to his own chambers and is well cared for. I go to see him often.” He sighed. “Sometimes he knows me, sometimes he does not.”

So that was where the prince had disappeared to for most of the day, which Lyrion had spent alone, wandering between a few connected chambers under the watchful eyes of the servants. “And you did not come from his body?”

“Not in the way you mean, no. Hard as it might be to believe, I came from the body of a female, though she is no longer living.”

Lyrion shook his head. These odd ideas, along with the shadowberry wine, left him dizzier than ever. “Your ways are most unusual. I have never heard such tales.”

“You don’t exactly seem ordinary to us, either,” Kevris mumbled. Since Lyrion could think of no appropriate response and the prince seemed annoyed with him, the three of them ate in silence for a time. They finished off the toadstools, most of the bread and stew, and all except a single gujeb. Lyrion did not think he could eat another scrap for weeks, but the serving lads soon returned with a tray of pastries, cakes, and sweetmeats of every size and shape.

“I did not know what sorts of treats you might be partial to,” the prince said, sweeping a hand over the table, “so I had a few different choices prepared. You must indulge freely, as any honored guest would do. Afterward, we shall have entertainment.”

Not wishing to appear ungrateful, Lyrion chose a few samples of each dish and found each more delicious than the last. As he ate, he wondered what the entertainment might be. Music, perhaps, or a troupe of jugglers or dancers. Back in his own village, certain citizens were skilled in storytelling, and might compose or recite tales of the old days. In this land, though, customs were so odd, he prepared himself for almost anything.

At last, the meal was over and the prince stood, motioning Lyrion and Kevris to follow him to his feet. To Lyrion’s shame, he was none too stable on his feet, the effects of the shadowberry wine having spread through most of his body now. At a signal from Talek, the two serving lads moved in to steady him.

To Lyrion’s amazement, and apparently Talek’s as well, Kevris waved them off. “I shall help him,” he offered. He lifted Lyrion’s right arm and secured it over his shoulder, then slid a supportive hand around Lyrion’s waist. Gratefully he clung to Kevris as they moved across the room.

“Your kindness toward him surprises me,” the prince said as they started out into the hall.

“’Tis what you wanted, is it not? For he and I to tolerate each other?” he heard Kevris respond.

“I did not think you had such tender qualities.”

Kevris gave a bitter laugh. “I have many qualities you have never discovered...perhaps because you have never tried.”

Talek gave only a disdainful snort as a reply. Presently Lyrion found himself guided into the same bedchamber in which he had spent the night with the prince. Kevris dropped him onto the bed and knelt beside him. Lyrion lay on his back, his thoughts drifting as Kevris gently removed his new tunic and the gold sash around his waist, his soft cloth boots, and finally his leggings.

“Your attempt to ply him with wine has miscarried, Talek. He is nearly senseless with drink and will be of no use to you for some time.”

Lyrion opened his eyes just enough to see the prince peer down at him. “You know as little of my motivations as you claim I know of yours,” Talek told Kevris. He reached out and smoothed a hand over Lyrion’s forehead. “Let him sleep.”

Lyrion heard Kevris sigh. “He is easy to love, isn’t he? I am beginning to think that his innocence is genuine after all.” He barked out a bitter laugh. “He must make a welcome change from me.”

“That he is,” Talek said with a touch of humor in his own voice. “But I have come to realize that there is a place in life for wickedness, especially in one’s private chamber.”

“So that is why you keep me.” The bed shifted as Kevris stood. Lyrion watched discreetly as he fitted himself against the prince’s body and slid both arms around his waist. “I can still please you, you know. Whether he is here or not. Besides, he may learn by watching.”

“He is new to our ways,” Talek agreed. Lyrion continued to watch, fascinated, as the two men bent their heads together and kissed—at first slowly, and then feverishly. Soon Kevris had shed his flimsy garment and stood naked before the prince, who reached down to loosen his codpiece. Lyrion had to stifle a gasp as Kevris knelt and applied his mouth to Talek’s cock, sucking with great enthusiasm. Without dislodging himself even for a moment, the prince tossed off his tunic while Kevris stripped away his leggings.

Before long the two were beside him on the bed, which fortunately was large enough to hold all of them. Though Lyrion had planned to do nothing more than watch as Kevris continued to service the prince, he had not anticipated the way in which his cock would give him away. Their obvious pleasure aroused him thoroughly, making his erection rise between his legs and his bollocks pound with an almost painful need for release. The effects of the shadowberry wine seemed to melt from his body as he drew in deep breaths of longing.

Slowly, he rolled onto his side and inched toward the entwined bodies beside him. They noticed him, and he heard Kevris murmur while the prince extended a welcoming hand. His cock was still engulfed in Kevris’s mouth, so Lyrion chose the next best thing and fastened his lips around Kevris’s erect member.

A cloud of heat seemed to settle over the three of them as they stretched out across the softness of the bed and enjoyed one another without shame or hesitation. Kevris was the first to spill his seed, though to judge by Talek’s expression, he was not far behind. While Kevris shuddered with bliss, Lyrion opened his lips and released him.

Suddenly he felt Talek’s hand on his shoulder, and Kevris drew back from the prince as well. This puzzled Lyrion, since he could plainly see that Talek’s cock was still hard and red, as though ripe enough for bursting. Yet he had pushed Kevris away.

“I am close,” Talek said, addressing both of them. “Let us not waste this opportunity. Kevris, you must help prepare him.”

Wearing the most serious expression Lyrion had ever seen on his face, Kevris nodded and shifted away for a moment. When he turned back, he held out a small vessel of the sort generally used for healing poultices and other unguents.

“You must lie down, facing forward,” he instructed Lyrion in a soothing voice. “Open your legs. We will not harm you, but we must make you ready.”

“Very well.” Foolish though his trust in them might have been, Lyrion felt no fear or shame as he stretched out in the position Kevris indicated. He sucked in a breath as long fingers dipped between his legs, smearing him with whatever the small jar contained.

“You will feel discomfort but for a moment,” Talek said, moving his hand to stroke Lyrion’s hair away from his ear. “Afterward, you will experience the greatest pleasure you have ever known.”

Since he had been in the palace, Lyrion had already experienced many pleasures, so he marveled at the notion of anything surpassing them. Yet soon enough he understood the meaning of the prince’s words, as Kevris pronounced him ready and Talek began to push his cock into the well-oiled spot between his legs.

Lyrion moaned aloud as the prince’s flesh melted into his, the oil making him tingle deep inside. The sensations grew only more intense as Talek began a slow but steady in-and-out motion. Now and then he felt the prince’s full bollocks brush against his own.

Unable to withstand the pressure still mounting in his own cock, Lyrion reached down and began to stroke himself with his fingers. This was far better than anything he had ever known in the tree. In no time, he had flooded his fist with a rush of hot seed. The prince followed him almost immediately, replacing the warmth of the oil with his own liquid heat.

“You were right,” Lyrion said, panting, as the three lay together afterward. “’Twas amazing. The pain you spoke of was almost naught.”

“I am glad of that,” Talek said. “We must thank Kevris, too, for assisting our joining.”

Then Kevris gasped.

“Look,” he said quietly, pointing. Lyrion followed his wide-eyed stare down to the middle of his own body.

The mark on his abdomen was glowing.

The next morning, Talek summoned his scribe to the throne room. The man who had examined the scroll confirmed that the ancient document did indeed speak of a glowing mark as a sign that the Bearer had conceived a son. According to the lore, six full moons would pass before the infant kicked his way through the fleshy pouch that would form on the Bearer’s front. The mark, it was written, would grow throughout the waiting period to signal the growth of the small body within.

The assembled ministers murmured and gasped at these revelations. Only Lord Qath dared to stand and address the question Talek knew they had all formed in their minds.

“Have you a specific reason for asking such questions, prince? Have you seen such a mark on the captive?”

“He is our guest, not a captive, and everyone who was in this room when he arrived saw the mark.” Talek barely caught his temper before he blurted out too much. Reining himself in, he sank back into his tall-backed chair and drummed his fingers on the carved wooden armrests. “However, you may set your mind at ease. My interest is purely academic.”

“I still think you should prepare yourself for disappointment, my prince,” Qath said with a slight bow. “We must remember that the scrolls tell stories in ways that may not reflect literal truth. We cannot be certain what the original writers intended.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Talek said.

Later that day, after he had quickly taken care of the council’s business, he returned to his private chambers in search of Lyrion. Talek found it surprising how little he cared about taxes, legal disputes, and the improvement of fields and dwellings in his kingdom since Lyrion had arrived. Even now, as he walked through the stone corridors, he began wondering what Lyrion was doing at that very moment, and how he had occupied himself while Talek met with his ministers. He spared a thought for Kevris, too, who had stayed away since the incident in the bedchamber the previous night. Talek regretted causing his first lover so much pain, but for now, he saw no way to avoid it.

He entered his chamber to find an appetizing sight before him. Lyrion lay on the bed, obviously fresh from a bath, his dressing gown lying open so that his skin could finish drying in the air. He was fingering his Bearer’s Mark, which had grown larger and a shade redder than it had been the night before. Or was that Talek’s hopeful imagination?

Lyrion was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice Talek slip into the room. He looked up, startled, when the prince dropped onto the bed beside him. His face immediately relaxed into a genuine smile. Talek breathed in the sweet scent of the bath oils that clung to his skin.

“Are you experiencing any discomfort?” he asked, laying his hand over the one Lyrion rested on the mark.

“No, though I am a bit nervous. Bringing a new life into the world is somewhat overwhelming.”

“That it is. Even I never imagined quite how it would feel. But ’tis exciting, too, is it not?”

“Yes.” Lyrion’s cheeks flushed. “My Fa used to say that being a father was the most difficult, but also the most rewarding, labor in the world. He would probably tell me I am not ready for so daunting a task. Yet I feel prepared to accept the challenge, even if I make mistakes.”

“You will be an excellent father,” Talek said, resting his chin atop Lyrion’s head. “I hope I can follow your example and do likewise.” He lapsed into a troubled silence. “On the subject of fathers—I have a request to make of you. You are free to refuse, but you would aid me greatly by agreeing.”

“A request? Of me?” Lyrion blinked in surprise. “I fail to see how I could assist you, prince.”

“It concerns my own father. As I mentioned, he is…well, not all he once was. I must make my daily visit to him soon, and I wondered if you might accompany me. He will, after all, be our son’s grandfather.”

Lyrion’s eyes widened. Talek gazed into them, captivated by the twin pools of liquid green he longed to bask in. In fact, he would have liked nothing so much as to toss off his own clothes and join Lyrion in bed for a while. However, as always, duty summoned him.

“Will you come?” he prompted.

“I would be honored to meet the king—your father,” Lyrion said. Talek couldn’t help but laugh at his awestruck expression. “I have never seen a king before. They are unknown in my part of the world.”

“You need do nothing out of the ordinary. I will present you as my guest and see how my father responds. We must introduce him to the idea of a grandson slowly, especially given the unusual circumstances surrounding his birth. Sadly, there is no way to predict his reaction to any situation.”

“I see,” Lyrion said. Talek doubted, however, that he really saw at all. How could he?

Not long afterward, they stood together at the entrance to his father’s private suite, waiting as a servant prepared the old man for visitors. Just before they started inside, Talek gave Lyrion’s hand a brief squeeze.

“Remember not to take anything he says too seriously. My father often makes little sense. If he confuses you or becomes confused himself, simply nod and agree with him. Soon enough he will move on to another topic.”

Lyrion nodded, but Talek noticed a flash of trepidation cross his face. He wished there were some way he could make this ordeal easier on him, but perhaps it was better to stride directly into the dragon’s den.

The servant motioned to them. Talek gave Lyrion’s fingers a final squeeze and tugged him forward. “Come,” he said.

As soon as they stepped inside the first of his father’s many rooms, Talek saw Lyrion’s mouth open in wonder. Every wall, from floor to ceiling, stood covered in mounted wooden swords. Each had been carved in a different style and painted in a different color, some quite startling. The blades were short, long, curved, straight, thick, and almost impossibly thin—and every one completely harmless.