Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

4.11.

Alva hissed and arched when Kintaro's lips touched Alva's inner thigh. He placed the chief's hand on his member. Asked, quickly licking his lips, "Why do you always have to be on top? More fears and prejudice?"

"Had to do it once too often. Not much fun," answered the chief without stopping or showing any embarrassment.

"What, the monks would not pass up a cute boy?"

"No, they were nice to me, it was me who ran off looking for adventure. Wanted to go back to my people, learn to fight, become a real warrior. Guess how a boy pays for the training."

"What if I asked you? I never asked before. Don't you want to taste me?"

Kintaro smiled and took him in his mouth without wasting any words. Evidently, the Essanti chief did other things well, besides kissing, because the way Lielle thrashed and moaned, Ithildin had to hold his hips down. Ithildin was so turned on and hard, he nearly started moaning himself.

Lielle came with a loud scream. Kintaro sat back on his heels, licked his lips, and informed the audience, "Sweet. Like I said. Why did I bother checking?"

With a contented whimper, Alva stretched, and suddenly asked, a naughty gleam in his eyes, "So what about the rest?"

"Why do you care, carrots? You like being pegged, don't you?"

"I know someone else here who wouldn't mind a go."

Grinning, Kintaro looked Ithildin over. The elf blushed and looked away – now both men could see how turned on the elf was, and no one has even touched him yet!

"When I spread him, he'll forget what he minds or doesn't. Come here, doll-face. Let me show you how it's done." Kintaro made a move towards the elf.

Ithildin tensed, ready to resist, but Kintaro did not get a chance to grab him. Fast like a snake, Lielle slithered behind Kintaro's back (both his lovers sometimes forgot how deft Lielle could be) and caught both his elbows. Kintaro tried to move his shoulders, but Alva held fast.

"Want to wrestle, my sweet?" mocked the Essanti.

"This is not a jest, Kintaro." Alva was dead serious now. "We are neither servants nor slaves, to spread for you all the time."

The chief frowned slightly and grumbled, "I don't like being the bottom."

"Perhaps you were unlucky in partners?"

Now Alva tenderly caressed the barbarian's shoulder and let his breath tickle his neck. Nobody could resist the flute of Chevalier Ahayrre's voice. Ithildin knew this first hand. The elf could not take his eyes off the Essanti's face that showed now a play of conflicting desires. Hard muscles rolled under the tanned skin glistening with sweat – they would tense and then unclench, as the barbarian tried to harness his reflexes. Lielle was controlling him with only the sound of his voice and the tender touch of his strong hands. It was magic. Mesmerizing.

"You said we were both to be your prize," Lielle kept whispering as he caressed the back of his lover's neck and ran his hands over Kintaro's hips. "You'll get your prize in full ... everything we can give you ... don't you want to try? Just once ... submit ... let somebody else take the reign ... hand over the power ..."

"Power is not for handing over, it's for taking," rasped Kintaro and lowered his head. His loose braids slithered over his chest. "Try and take me."

He was almost beautiful at the moment, both tame and menacing – a turbulent river locked in ice, a bridled mustang, a snared beast. He drew the elf to him like a magnet. To touch him, to feel the tethered rage of the beaten storm beneath his fingers, to feel the power.

Ithildin moved closer, and the barbarian lifted his fence of eyelashes to stare at the elf. Not a trace of hesitation in that gaze, only a stark challenge. He smirked as if saying, "Go on, doll-face. Let's see if you've got the balls."

The barbarian ran his tongue over his half-opened lips in a brazen invitation to a kiss. It was as if he was teasing the elf, certain that the elf would never dare.

And, it was all worth it, if only to see surprise fill the black eyes when Ithildin attacked his mouth. Oddly, Kintaro's lips were soft and obediently opened. As if he was caught off-guard, and, forgetting all his posturing, simply relished the kiss. Then Kintaro tensed, tried to take charge, move his arms, but it was too late. Alva toppled him, and Ithildin held him to the floor and went on kissing.

The elf felt Kintaro in every inch of his skin, and with that strong body underneath, memories bubbled up and mixed with reality – the memory of this strong body beating the elf into the steppe dust ... the memory of pain, fear and loathing suddenly melded into desire. Ithildin was not deceived – at this moment, he wanted Kintaro so wildly, the desire was blinding him. So when the barbarian drew in a sharp breath and bucked underneath him, the elf whispered into the ear beneath the loosed braids, "Scream for me!"

Kintaro bit his lips but could not keep from gasping at Ithildin's every movement, smooth and insufferably slow. The elf relished his power, and the pleasure it brought. In those moments before their mutual orgasm, he possessed the Essanti chief perhaps even more fully than the chief had once possessed his captive.

"Faster ... oh, hell!" roared the barbarian, locking his knees around the elf, and let out a moan. His eyes closed. "Ith ... il ... din..."

He did scream, at last, and the elf caught the cry with his lips and drank it, like a heady wine, his pleasure joined with the barbarian's.

"Now, elf, we are quits," Kintaro whispered, catching his breath.

Ithildin thought he did not have to respond. He did not know what to say anyway.

"Anything left for me?" asked Lielle and stretched out his clever little hands. In wordless accord, Ithildin and Kintaro jumped on him and showered him with kisses.

That night, each came about twenty five times – or, at least, it felt like it, who's counting. They splattered the tent pelts with sperm, spilled the left-over orange-scented oil, marked one another with pretty matching scratches, turned two oil lamps over and nearly set fire to the tent, and, finally, fell asleep utterly exhausted.

In the morning, Alva yawned, rubbed his eyes and asked, "Sooo, Kintaro ... how come you are not asking what I decided?"

"Seems clear enough," smirked the Essanti. "But I'll ask you anyway, northerner. One word. Yes or no?"

Nobody could resist Kintaro. He was a storm unleashed, a doomsday coming. He did everything wrong, and still, nobody could deny him. He never even mentioned love to Alva, and Alva still said "yes."

The end of Chapter 4

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Young Kintaro training as a warrior. A character by Heise