Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

Chapter 4

Outside, fires blazed and shouts mingled with drunken singing. Yet another Essanti feast Ithildin was watching from the chief's tent. Except now he was not a despised captive, but an honored guest, who had fought alongside the Essanti and their chief. Nevertheless...

The elf sighed. He was still bound – by his own word. Lielle is alive and well, thanks to Kintaro, who will be naming his price any day now. The elf could well imagine what it would be: during their last oh-so-memorable conversation the chief had been clear enough. Ithildin was grateful at least that Kintaro had let him be alone with his beloved, probably for the last time, and had not come to pester them all night.

Ithildin was gazing tenderly at his lover. In the tent's twilight, lit up only by a few oil-burning lamps, Lielle was so beautiful. He lay in Ithildin's arms half-drunk, inebriated by caresses, voluptuous blush on his cheeks, green eyes glistening. The elf played with Alva's hair, unshorn for over a month, kissed his chapped lips, his arms covered in rope burns, and felt happy. But how long would the happiness last?

"Hell, am I drunk!" purred Alva. "Wanna take advantage of my plight?" He winked at the elf playfully, and ran a hand along the elf's thigh.

Ithildin responded with a smile and a kiss. "You ought to rest, Lielle."

"Never too tired for this." Alva moved closer.

Ithildin knew how demanding his lover could be in the grip of arousal. But now, Lielle was too drunk and too exhausted by the hardships of the last month. Ithildin wanted to keep the cozy warmth of their embrace (which, truth be told, he prized more than the fire of passion).

When Lielle was really turned on, he could make even the cool elfish blood boil, but now, Ithildin sensed, gentle tenderness was all he wanted. As if the incident with Rennarte had cooled him off, the elf thought a touch bitterly. Lielle did not blame him, was not angry, did not love him less, but he was less sure somehow, as if not knowing how to act. So the elf did not dare suggest lovemaking to him. Besides, they were in a chief's tent and Kintaro could enter any minute...

...and did. His tall frame blocked the entrance for a while, but then he pushed through, bent-over, and threw himself on the pelts beside the two of them.

"Can't hold your liquor, northerner," he laughed.

"Least I sober up quickly," Alva said sullenly. "And anyway ..."

He tried to rise off Ithildin's knees, and jabbed a finger at Kintaro's chest. "Bet that wine of yours is half hooch, it's too strong."

"Yeah, you are civilized, only used to grape-flavored sugar water."

"The Creedan wines are the best on the continent, just so you know," Alva shot back.

Kintaro laughed. Alva was lying shamelessly: wines counted best on the continent came from seashore vineyards of Marrangha.

"The Creedan lovers are best, I'll give you that," said the Essanti, not bothering to conceal the lust lighting up his eyes, and put his hand on the young man's knee.

Alva snorted.

"Been waiting for you to cut to the chase. Can't say it took you long."

"I haven't suggested anything yet, my sweet," the chief laughed. The way he was looking at the half-naked Alva – there was no doubt about his intentions.

He was ignoring Ithildin, who had to close his eyes for a moment. The elf could not endure the barbarian's predatory gaze and the feral lust he exuded.

"You suggested plenty by putting us up in your tent," Alva snorted. "Shall I strip right now? Or in five minutes?"

The Essanti moved closer. His hand traveled up Alva's leg and stroked his inner thigh. Ithildin saw how his beloved, unaware, opened his knees slightly and how his tongue darted over his lips. Lielle would lose this one battle, especially after that pitcher of wine had made him so easy, pliant and wanton...

"See, I thought you'd want to thank me personally for saving your sorry ass," Kintaro purred.

"With that very ass."

"Your choice. I like your pretty mouth too."

He inserted one knee between Alva's legs, then pushed them apart, and moved in the other knee. Now, through Alva's pants, he stroked the delicate skin of his thighs. He hung over Alva, and Alva leaned back, hardly realizing how tantalizing he looked.

"What if I say no?" The young man was licking his lips again.

"Then I'll leave. Spend the night with someone else. My men don't pass me up." Kintaro grinned, pressing closer.

"Like I'd believe you. You are not the give up easily kind."

"Who says I'd be giving up?"

Kintaro pulled Alva close in by the neck, and cut off his objections with a hungry kiss. Alva wanted to push him away, but then let his hands slide helplessly down the barbarian's chest. When the kiss broke, both were breathing heavily. Kintaro toppled Alva back on the furs, lay on top of him, lips glued to Alva's neck, and stuck a hand down Alva's pants. The young man moaned weakly, and his eyelashes fluttered.

"You can still refuse," growled Kintaro in his ear.

"So you have an excuse to rape me," Alva tried to laugh.

"Dream on, northerner. Why don't you admit you like it rough?"

"I don't ..." Alva's voice caught; he whimpered when Kintaro licked his earlobe. "Ithildin ..."

"Your elf can join in too," said Kintaro and briefly let go. He grabbed Ithildin by the wrist and yanked him over. "A three-way is not against your religion, is it, doll-face?"

The elf tore away. He could not utter a word, and silently backed towards the exit, still gazing at his Lielle who now burned with lust in another's embrace.

"Alva, I will not force you. One word. Yes or no?"

"Am I in a position to refuse?"

"Next you'll be telling me it's your sense of duty giving you a hard-on!"

"Damn ... Kintaro ..." gasped the young man, eyes shut. "Don't leave, Diné, if you go ..."

Ithildin staggered out of the tent and closed the flap.

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Alva in Kintaro's tent (some unknown historical reenactor from Russia. Or maybe not from Russia, but Ukraine)