Far From Home Two: The Monster's Heir-- a M/M/M fantasy romance

31-- What is Not Understood?

SAGE—

When I pulled out of Ember, ecstatic to see my cum dripping down his ass and onto the furs beneath him, the sight the physical proof that his body was now wholly claimed as mine, we turned as one to face Llyric. The boy had been nearly silent the entire time, and I was grateful for his understanding.

When I saw the love and empathy in his eyes, and the pleasure though his cock was limp against his thigh, I couldn't keep myself from leaning towards him and stealing a kiss. When I pulled away, my lips were replaced by a sleepy, sated Ember's.

Ember was asleep soon after, followed by the still heavily-drugged Llyric, leaving me to watch the two men who had my heart and soul in their hands as they slept in each other's arms.

It was another week before Al'iya would let Llyric leave Ember's rooms. By then, Llyric had gained a bit of weight, the bags under his eyes had significantly shrunken, and he had enthusiastically broken her no-sex rule multiple times. The first time he strode happily into her workroom, with me following with shame likely written all over my face, Al'iya simply stood and glared the both of us down for what felt like an eternity. There were love marks all over both of our necks, bite marks on mine from when I had at first refused his advances— Ember sported the same— and Llyric nearly whistled with happiness.

The moment he was physically able to get hard, the medicines either no longer affecting him or possibly Al'iya had made a change to them, he was on both Ember and I even worse than he had been before. Clingy and needy, he was either on one of our cocks, both, or in between us with one of us in his mouth. We were both happily exhausted, drained, and guilty. We'd tried to hold off, tell him he wasn't supposed to do anything physical or sexual until Al'iya told us it was alright, but our man was... adamant. And far more stubborn than I'd ever given him credit for.

"No. Sex," Al'iya grumbled, rolling her eyes when Llyric giggled. Then, in Akari, "What is not understood in those words?"

I blushed and kept my eyes lowered, wishing I hadn't learned so much Akari in the few weeks while Llyric healed so that I wouldn't have understood the healer's words.

"I'm sorry," I replied in Akari, trying to appease her. "Llyric... much..."

I paused, trying to remember if I knew the Akari words for fucking persistent and stubborn as hell, or maybe just fucking horny and demanding, but Al'iya held up a hand and rolled her eyes.

"It's good. Means he's healing, I suppose. Don't push him, though. Gentle."

"Of course," I agreed, knowing my pronunciation of the words was pathetic. But she understood, for she nodded and began checking Llyric's scars. She had taken the stitches out the day before, but the wounds were still angry and raised. Every time I caught sight of them, of the proof that Llyric had tried to end his own life, it took my breath away.

Tristan walked in then, his eyes flickering over our very obvious signs that we'd had sex the night before with only a detached amusement before turning to Al'iya.

"I brought the kli'yurn, ma'am," he said in near-perfect Akari. What was it about children that made it so easy for them to learn languages like some people learned to tie the laces on their shoes? Even Llyric was learning faster than me, though he was probably six or seven years older than Tristan. He rarely spoke, but I knew he understood far more than I did, because of the way he sometimes directed me in things others had said in Akari.

"Mama," Al'iya grumbled. It was a daily back and forth between the healer and her adopted son. She wanted him to call her Mama, he refused.