Far From Home One: The Warlord's Chosen-- A M/M Fantasy Romance

12- Unsure

*** sexy times between two men ahead. Read at your own discretion ;) ***

AMER—

I must have dozed off, because I was woken by those frustratingly tender, large hands. He was all gentleness as he crouched beside me— I had managed to fall to sleep, kneeling, propped up against the pallet cushions.

When I realized I had fallen to sleep waiting for him, I feared the worst. I feared his anger and any punishment such anger would procure for me. Horrified, I sat up, spreading my legs, shoving my hands behind my back, and presenting myself to him the way Gaston had taught me. He had drilled into my head— in the little time we had— how angry his masters would become if he failed to present himself to them properly.

My sleep-addled brain sent an unholy stab of terror down my spine at the thought of the damage this huge man could do to me. Along with a million images conjured of his brutal, inhumane, sacrilegious acts during the war. The stories we had been told of the horrifying things he did to defeat my people.

I kept my eyes lowered, so I couldn't tell if my quick correction of my mistake pleased him. But his soft sigh— the one he seemed to use often with me— told me he was at least not angry. And those big hands helping me to my feet, leading me to the pallet, set my heart hammering for a completely new reason besides fear.

Although there was that still too.

There was something about the way he touched me— with reverence, tenderness, and affection— that spoke to something inside of me. Something that refused to listen to my mind; my mind that was screaming he was evil. He would hurt me. He was the enemy.

But that small bit, the part of myself that preened at his touch, refused to listen to reason. That part wanted to beg him to hold me and never let go. That part of me still held out hope for a future I had power over. That I chose for myself.

That part of myself was stupid and naive.

He lowered me to the furs, made a "stay" gesture, and moved to his pack. He was back a moment later with two jars.

He laughed when he met my eyes and held up one of the jars. He said something, then another word when pointing to the other jar. I didn't understand either word, but I figured he was naming them for me, so I tried to memorize the words.

I really needed to learn Akari as soon as possible.

He tugged at my tunic, clearly motioning me to take it off, and though I did it stiffly and reluctantly, I obeyed. With a flick of his fingers, I had removed my shirt as well. He paused to study my bare chest and stomach, his breaths coming in deeper than before. Then he was pressing against my chest firmly. I lay back, leaning against my elbows, my chest rising and falling more rapidly as, his eyes never leaving mine, the Warlord's fingers moved to the laces of my trousers.

I tried not to move, not to make any noise, as his calloused fingers deftly undid the laces, and then he was tugging my trousers down. I had to lift myself a bit to allow him to pull them down, and my blush was feverish and overwhelming when his eyes rose and then locked on my soft cock.

He breathed out a word, and then he was throwing my unlaced boots and trousers across the tent and his hands were gripping my knees. I couldn't help but cry out as he all but lifted me, tossing me further back onto the furs, now completely nude to his eyes.

My gaze darted away when the Warlord began to undress himself. He barked a few words, drawing my eyes to him, but I didn't understand.

Now fully naked, he bent over me, flipping me over onto my stomach without warning. And to my shame, I cried out in surprise again as I twisted around to stare back at him.

He chuckled, his eyes rising up and down my body, before shaking his head, muttering something, and then he was kneeling beside me. I stared up at him in fear, my entire body shaking. But I refused to run. To be the coward he had told me he thought I was.
I would submit to whatever he required of me, no matter what, so the peace between our people would last. I would protect my friends and family, even if it meant giving all of myself without choice.

My shame was compounded that it took everything in me to hide behind my fear so my arousal wouldn't surface, because the man was stunning. His long legs had muscles in places I didn't know muscles could form. His thighs were each the size of my waist, and his stomach was ridged and looked cut from stone. His dark nipples were pointed and hard with his arousal, as was his cock. I barely glimpsed it before I forced myself to look away, but from what I had seen in that brief look, he was thicker than I was by nearly half, and longer by double.

My fear finally won out over my arousal at that sight, and my previously twitching cock softened against the furs beneath me.

He sat for a moment, simply watching me, as if willing me to study him as he did me. But I kept my eyes on the tent walls as my panic began to spiral.

Then he was straddling my back and my fear spiked. A terrible sort of whine escaped my throat before I could hold it back, all of my courage, my willingness to sacrifice myself for my people, beginning to falter.

He ran a hand up and down my back, making soft, soothing noises. He stopped for just a moment, there was rustling, and then my entire body came to a complete halt and my confusion heightened to a ridiculous degree.

His hot hands, now coated in something wet and cold, although it was warmed a bit by his skin, began to work up and down my back. He stopped every few minutes, and came back with more of whatever he was massaging into my skin. I let out a pent-up breath when he began to work on a knot just above my tailbone, the moan that rose to my throat husky and involuntary.

He let out a sentence that sounded not quite angry, but definitely tense and harsh.

I could feel his hard cock rubbing against my ass, my back, the backs of my thighs, as he worked. But it wasn't as if he was deliberately rubbing it against me. Just that it was pressing against me as he moved to work my body into a puddle of goo beneath his hands.

The soreness and aches from the day of travel began to recede under his ministrations. He moved down, kneading my ass cheeks. I whimpered in pain, gripping at the furs above me as his deft fingers dug into my sore ass muscles. It hurt, but I could feel him working out the soreness, and soon it was only warm and rhythmic rather than painful.

Then he was moving down my thighs, mumbling what almost sounded like little curses mixed with words of praise. He spent the longest time on my ass and thighs, before moving down my legs, my feet, then back up just as thoroughly.

When he made his way back up to my waist, my neck, and then my arms, I was pliant and half-asleep beneath him. Then he turned me over and started all over again, but on my chest, belly, and back down to my feet. He completely ignored my now rock hard, probably leaking cock, so I did too.

I was so relaxed it took a moment to notice when he had stopped.