The Prince of Almond Manor

by Gregory Jonathan Scott

  Deklan looked around Oakland’s small living space. “Nice. Cozy.” He nodded, dropping his arms at his sides. A sparkle ricocheted from his hand and poked Oakland in the eye. He was wearing the ring.

  Another, “Oh bollocks”, voiced in Oakland’s head. He reached for a towel draped over a chair and wrapped it around his waist. “Sorry about this.” He looked back over his shoulder and caught Deklan staring at his cocoa rear-end. He spun back around, grinning. “I just returned from swimming in the river, so as you can see, I wasn’t ready for guests. Sorry for my unsightly appearance.”

  “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing unsightly as far as I can see. You look fine.” It sounded as though Deklan had come off as flirtatious, but the noticeable nervousness and what to do with himself had taken over his ability to remain ordinary. He bent over and wrangled the ears of a nearby goat. The ring sparkled again. He pulled back and stood, looking at his hand for a moment. Deklan sighed, spinning the ring around his finger.

  Time stalled for a few seconds and all sound had gone with it. Soon after, Oakland secured the short towel at his waist, positioning it low at his hips to effectively keep his oversized dick from unexpectedly extending below the trim line.

  Was it a burden or a gift?

  Oakland’s dark broad chest remained unprotected and he determined Deklan wasn’t minding it bare. He caught him looking on occasion, but acted as though he was shifting his gaze from one part of the room to the other. Oakland was enjoying Deklan’s sneaky method at taking him in. It lifted his spirits—had given him the proof he need for being desirable to a man like Deklan.

  Oakland glanced at the ring on Deklan’s finger and couldn’t believe it’d come back. The mirror man told him the pendant and the ring would remain connected and the two people wearing them would too.

  “Don’t just stand there, come in. Please.” Oakland rolled a hand into the empty space between them. “Have a seat at the table and don’t pay any mind to the animals. They’ll relax as soon as they feel comfort having you here.”

  Deklan had taken two steps to his right and snagged a chair from the dining table, spinning it with some talent on one leg so it faced him. He dragged the chair with one hand across the floor, sat down and scooted himself forward with his knees tucked neatly beneath the table. The ringed hand dropped to his lap.

  Oakland watched him intently, finding it interesting how he kept the ring hidden from view.

  “How come I haven’t seen you around here before?” Deklan asked. “I thought I knew everybody at the manor. You are definitely an employee I would have noticed.” He sputtered, “I mean, not because you look different than most of the other servants around here. Or I mean… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” His hand went to his forehead. “It’s just that… I meant to say, you’re a good looking gent who doesn’t seem like he’d be shoveling pig poop to survive.” Another hand went to his forehead. The ring flashed. “Oh, Dagrats! No, wait. I don’t mean people shy of good looks should be doing the dirty work. Dagrats! What I wanted to say was… Oh forget it.” He huffed and made it a point to stop speaking.

  Oakland held back laughter, and acted as though he hadn’t heard a word Deklan said. He had however answered, “I keep mostly to myself and the animals I live with. I don’t socialize with anybody, servants or employer. I just do what needs to be done and then return home where I belong.”

  Oakland increased the flame in the lantern setting in the middle of the table before moving it aside.

  “I was wondering—” Deklan shifted in his chair and brought his hands to the tabletop, unconsciously exposing the ring “—when I brought you home the other night, why didn’t you want me to know you lived here?”

  Oakland glanced at the white-gold band that shimmered on Deklan’s middle finger. Instead of answering, he stood up and mentioned he should go put more clothes on since he was feeling out of place in the nude.

  “Stay!” Deklan blurted. “I mean… you’re fine the way you are. I don’t mind. It’s warm in here anyway so less clothes makes more sense. I should lose some of mine, actually. That should make you feel more at ease, right?” Following through with the persuasive bribe, he started unbuttoning his shirt, eager to keep Oakland there without additional covering.

  Oakland found his obsessive response a validation of his attraction toward him. “I’ll be right back.” Oakland sprinted up the wooden chicken plank and exchanged the towel for a light linen pant his mother had made him. Even though they hung lower than the towel and showed off every bit of what he had beneath them, he felt more comfortable out of that cotton towel.

  He’d gone back to his tiny kitchen and found Deklan sitting with his shirt open, the front panels dangling toward the floor at his sides.

  Deklan leaned back in his chair with a smile. “It’s gotten hotter in here, don’t you think? We should open a window, or at least the door.”

  “Oh, bollocks” What was he up to?

  Oakland stared at Deklan, finding the man incredibly handsome, becoming choked up at how gorgeous he was with his shirt nearly off. The contrast of the white linen shirt against the dark hair neatly feathered across his chest played with his mind, causing his own dick to twitch beneath the linen pants he had on. If Oakland had said anything at that moment, the words would have come out as senseless jumble. He stayed quiet and stared at the man, imagining the treasure he’d find once all the fabric had been discarded. He quickly looked away before his fascination for Deklan had become evident, putting the front of his flimsy pants on the rise.

  From the corner of his eyes, Oakland had noticed Deklan staring at the smooth dark muscles across his chest, tracing his torso with his gaze, following the deep gutter of his abdomen until his eyes met the black hair sprouting above the linen waistband. Oakland stood still a moment and let him gawp.

  Deklan cleared his throat and turned away, then repeated, “So, why the secret?”

  “Secret?” Oakland mimicked his word. “What secret?” he said it again, sitting down in the chair across from Deklan, acting as though he hadn’t understood what Deklan meant by secret.

  Deklan smirked. “How come you didn’t want me to know you lived here?”

  “Oh, that secret.” Oakland leaned back in the chair. “I suppose I wanted to keep to myself. I don’t know. I liked you the moment I met you and was thinking if you knew I was a servant around here, you’d treat me differently, or perhaps define that the employer and the help should not socially mix.”

  “What?” Deklan looked him in the eyes. “I liked you without knowing that and with you living in this stable would not have changed what I thought of you.”

  Relief stricken, Oakland stood up and reached for a pear. “Would you like one?” He held up the biggest and shiniest fruit in the bowl and offered it to Deklan.

  “I’d like that,” Deklan replied, smiling and looking at Oakland’s chest again. He seemed to be hooked on what he saw.

  Oakland inhaled, expanding his chest for Deklan’s sake, feeling the burn of his blue eyed gaze becoming fixed on it. He grinned as he turned to retrieve the sharpest knife he owned.

  Deklan shifted in his chair and Oakland noticed him watching his hands cutting the pear into wedges. Oakland flirtatiously asked, “What’s going on behind those blue eyes?”

  Deklan had come off tense as he pulled himself out of the locked gaze he had on Oakland’s hands. His own hand was shaking as though nervous, continually twisting the ring around his finger. His hooded eyes turned soft while staring at Oakland for a stretched out period of time, holding the same dreamy trance Oakland had on him.

  Oakland’s head slowly lowered, recognizing the ring Deklan had been spinning around his knuckle. It was the ring the mirror man had given him on the night of the celebration—the one he thought had vanished along with midnight. Oakland gently placed his open hand over Deklan’s, letting him know it was okay to speak whatever was on his mind. He found the contrast of his dark hand over Deklan’s incredibly
sensual.

  Deklan lifted his gaze to meet Oakland’s, and had given in to his oncoming smile. Slipping his hands from beneath Oakland’s, he removed the ring from his finger and softy whispered, “Let me have your hand.”

  Without reluctance, Oakland placed his palm into Deklan’s. The warmth he’d felt from him was beyond anything he could have explained. At that moment, he connected with Deklan even more, as though a ghostly influence had passed between them.

  Deklan looked straight into Oakland’s gray eyes and slowly slipped the ring onto his finger. Rays of light beamed around the room as if a force of magic had derived from the matrimony. Coming from the makeshift bedroom at a higher level, there were additional light beams shining.

  The flashes of light were known to Oakland, coming from the pendant on the bedside table. It had the same reaction when the two jeweled trinkets were together before. The pieces fit.

  At that moment, he understood there was a definitive connection between two people. The right two people. It was clear to him their souls had finally met and a bond secured with the return of the ring.

  Oakland dropped his gaze, hiding the signs of his weakening emotions from Deklan’s view. He was a grown man, supposed to be strong, but sentiments deeper than he could have ever imagined had taken over. It was a reaction of happiness—one that only factual love could produce. His eyes welled up. He blinked to disguise what had come on. At the moment a tear had fallen to the wooden surface, he felt his hands had been squeezed by Deklan.

  “It’s you,” Deklan had softly spoken. “My striking prince I thought I’d lost. I missed you terribly. How had I not known?”

  Oakland spun the ring and glanced at the upper deck where he knew the necklace lay. He looked back at Deklan with a boyish smile.

  Without losing Oakland’s gaze or grasp, Deklan stood majestically in front of him and asked, “Can I kiss you?” like he’d done once before.

  Oakland was in the exact place he wanted. The very place he was supposed to be. With the man he was meant to be with. He stood, moved in and took Deklan’s lips against his. The kiss was warm and the man’s touch felt gentle, yet complete with masculine strength.

  “I’d missed you so much, Oakland. Like an important part of me had been taken away that night,” Deklan’s voice had gone quiet—the warmth of his tone embracing Oakland’s ear.

  There were no objections from Oakland when he felt Deklan drawing him closer, the hair on the man’s chest lightly brushing against his, rising anxiety with a necessity to feel more. Deklan’s tongue turned aggressive, enthused to take what had just become his.

  Giving in to Deklan, Oakland had let the man take control. Of its own will, Oakland’s erection had grown thicker, firmly climbing the deep center of Deklan’s abdomen. Anticipation within him developed when he felt Deklan stiffen too. He was addicted to his Prince, wanted to lay with him, open himself up, and share more than a heartfelt kiss.

  Chapter 18

  The morning had arrived too soon for that first night Deklan and Oakland spent with each other, neither of them had any desire to go their separate ways.

  By far, it was the best night of Oakland’s life and he wouldn’t have traded it for ownership of the great big world. He’d known for a long time he was physically attracted to the male gender, and when he connected with Deklan, found they fit as perfectly as a locket and key, and his distinction for that stunning man had intensified.

  In days past, Oakland had only dreamt of another man’s touch, self-confessed the idea wholly, however, had never acted on his desires for reasons he’d been informed that two men in love was an abnormal act against nature. He never understood how desires of one’s heart could be identified as such bad behavior. To him and probably many others, that conception was indeed absurd, as well as pain inflicting whenever mentioned that two devoted souls must remain apart.

  In his day and age, Oakland had been forced to keep his secret tucked away, only commencing his hidden urges behind closed doors where nobody knew what he was up to. Even though most of the human race had considered him a rapscallion, he fulfilled his sexual desires with the use of his own black hand, imagining he was being dominated by a real man laid out over top of him, penetrating him, pushing his passions to the limits of no possible return.

  His imaginative fantasies had finally turned real when he connected with Deklan, and the way the man had introduced himself to his body seemed all too natural to be considered anything other than the way it was meant to be. After feeling the incredible sensations Deklan had put him through, Oakland’s own hand and buttered vegetables would ever be able to fulfill his sexual pleasures again.

  Deklan and Oakland slipped in and out of slumber the entire night, making body connecting love from dusk to dawn at each waking moment. Once Deklan found his way in, Oakland had a difficult time letting the man go.

  Oakland was most comfortable with Deklan bearing down on him, yet a few times, had laid Deklan back to bury his thick black cock of eleven inches deep inside the man, pumping semen into him the way he’d begged him to do. The entire time Oakland moved in and out of Deklan, the man’s eyes had glazed over and his teeth ground harshly as he growled. Deklan’s verbal moans and gleaming face had given all the clues he wanted every injection Oakland was able to offer, and the moment Oakland proposed to vacate the man’s thrashing body, Deklan gripped sturdy and held him in place.

  “Don’t pull out,” Deklan begged several times. “Stay. Let me have all you’ve got to give me. I’ve waited too long for you, Oakland. Way too long.”

  Lying together in sexual lockdown was well past due and if a count had been noted for how many times their bodies had fused with semen transferals into each other’s bodies, the guess might have been ten at minimum throughout the night.

  As they’d found out, there was no denying they linked together perfectly and as the night had gone on, Oakland’s body effortlessly drew in every frothy ounce Deklan was able to eject from his nine inch erection. The bond he experienced when Deklan introduced himself to him for the first time border lined on a dream, however, what he felt inside had told him it was all real. From the moment Oakland laid back and spread his legs, he was hooked and couldn’t get enough of his prince sliding his cock in and out of his butter slickened asshole. Repeating what Deklan had mentioned earlier, Oakland also begged, “Please”—he released a gasp—“don’t pull out. Inject me with all you have.”

  Pushing his hips into Oakland’s rear end, Deklan answered, “I’m gonna give you every bit.” He grunted and thumped into Oakland, making him rock with each forceful thrust.

  Oakland hollered at the moment his orgasm buzzed through his entire body. He couldn’t control his outburst. The bulbous head of his thick black dick expanded and spit semen everywhere, blowing white froth across his dark chest and face, the contrast appearing that of large cord linked pearls. The scent of his own sperm clobbered his septum, setting his mind into orgasmic overload. He continued ejaculating, several spurts shooting clear above his head, slamming into the wood planks covering the wall.

  “Your gorgeous breakdown is setting me in motion, Oakland,” Deklan winced. His face immediately contorted. “Here it comes. Gah! Take my sperm. Suck it from my thick white dick.” He fell against Oakland’s chest, back arched and body jerking. His pelvis struck Oakland’s chocolate taint with a hard thud, gluing to him stiffly. Then, changing to short rhythmic thumps, matching each palpitation of his power ejecting prostate, blowing white hot sperm into his boyfriends butt.

  Deklan grunted. He growled. He roared. His entire body had gone completely firm.

  Oakland was nearly crying—the sensation too great. He begged, “I need you, Deklan. Put every ounce you have inside my body. Please.” He locked his legs around Deklan’s back, holding the man in place.

  Oakland had taken Deklan’s kisses. Each thump of his Prince’s hips matched the rhythm of his penetrating tongue. Deklan’s body continued trembling on top of Oakland until the
last spurt had left his body.

  Before Deklan pulled out of Oakland, he asked, “You feeling okay, Love? Had I reached all the right spots inside that beautiful body of yours?”

  “My uncontrolled reaction should have been the clue you were looking for. That’s how great you felt doing what you’d done to me.”

  Deklan laughed. “You are perfectly pearled—amazingly attractive under a bit of whiteness.”

  “Are you referring to my manly discharge or your extraordinary body?”

  Deklan dropped down, chuckling. “Both. But… mostly me.” He kissed Oakland again—gently as though in love.

  After attaining the sleep he needed, Oakland had woken first that morning, finding he was lying tightly on top of Deklan’s left side. His head lay on Deklan’s chest, comforted by the hair against the side of his face, hearing his heart thump, adding to his tranquil wakening. His cocoa leg crisscrossed over Deklan’s and his hand tightly gripped the thick base of his Prince’s erection, the silken hair warm against his fingers.

  Oakland left the idea of making love again up to Deklan. He’d found out during the night that Deklan was certainly more aggressive than he was when it pertained to a sexual encounter, but still, Oakland would have his legs over Deklan’s shoulders if he so much as pressed the head of his cock against his black begging sphincter.

  Deklan let out a groan, stretched hard and thrust his strong rugged hips upward against Oakland’s hand, his slate hard erection sliding in his boyfriends straining grasp, unable to reach finger to thumb.