The Prince of Almond Manor

by Gregory Jonathan Scott

  Oakland’s eyes had become pinned on Deklan’s strong chest, fascinated all over again by the soft dark hair that lay across it like tiny feathers and the hairy trail lining the center of his abdomen that joined darker sprouts above his open belt.

  It seemed like forever and a day by the time Deklan’s entire body had become exposed, the exquisite site had turned Oakland’s dick to solid stone.

  When Deklan stepped into the water, his reaction appeared as though there was a chill that reached his bones. His stunning chest expanded as he inhaled, muscles swelling and bunching, revealing everything he had to the entire outdoors.

  Oakland reached for him with an open hand. They stood together in broad daylight, naked and kissing. Oakland felt every inch of Deklan, impressed by the size of his Prince’s erection and how well it battled with his own.

  “Mm-mm. You smell real good.” Deklan had broken away, taking in the warm air whirling around Oakland.

  “Lavender.” Oakland picked up the floating detergent bar and led Deklan to a deeper part of the river.

  At a snap, Deklan had taken a dip below water, resurfacing moments later dripping wet. The water ran down his face, dark strands of glossy hair had come down with it, dangling in front of his eyes, the blue glimmered more brilliantly than Oakland remembered. The water trickled from his broad shoulders and down his chest, weaving in and out of the feathery wisps, his entire body sparkling beneath the afternoon sun.

  “Come with me.” As if it was the first time Oakland had seen him, he eagerly grabbed hold of Deklan’s hand and towed him to the opposite side of the river.

  Standing in the soft sand in front of Oakland, Deklan couldn’t seem to hold back his emphatic grin. He appeared ready. His rising erection determined to penetrate Oakland’s sexy black hole.

  Skillfully, Oakland had gone down, pulling Deklan on top of him. He spread his legs wide open and trembled when he felt his Prince drive his thick erection straight into him, hardly flinching at the resistant water-slickened entry. As had occurred before, the erotic buzz of Deklan’s erection sliding rhythmically in and out had pushed Oakland to that orgasmic edge. The stimulation inside him was too great. There was no holding back. He whimpered like a pet, breaking down so quickly from the extreme sensation of being speared by Deklan’s dick. He grunted, spraying his chest with his own semen at the same moment Deklan’s tensing body and thumping thrusts had indicated he was pumping sperm into his impatient sex hole.

  River water splashed.

  Body’s lashed.

  Grunts and groans had come with each jet from spitting erections.

  The scent of semen washed away the freshness of lavender.

  Oakland had gone limp.

  Deklan collapsed and huffed, “Ohmigawd, that sweet tight ass.”

  Chapter 21

  Back at the Manor, Deklan sat directly across from his mother at the dinner table, putting him to the right of his father who sat at the head. Servants had come and gone, bringing meal courses as well as keeping the drinking glasses maintained.

  There was no socializing at the beginning of dinner. The loudest noises heard were silver utensils clinking against dishware. It was almost ear piercing to Deklan, the high pitched chimes tormenting his already spiked nerves.

  The first to break silence was Deklan’s father. “It’s a pleasure having you at the dinner table with us, Lady Gretchen. Knowing you’ll be dressed in pure white, the wedding will be more beautiful.” He raised a brow while glancing at her father.

  Deklan looked at him, catching onto the subliminal hint that questioned if the chosen lassie was an intact virgin, for which if marrying him, she’d undoubtedly remain that way since his cock can only get stiff for Oakland.

  “Thank you, Mister Royal.” She giggled shyly, most likely not understanding the meaning of the compliment like Deklan had.

  Sitting next to Lady Gretchen, Deklan felt complete discomfort, couldn’t relate to her, and was only able to think about the black chap he made love to in the river earlier that day.

  How was Deklan going to get through the unsettling arrangement his parents had planned for him? He couldn’t like that girl. He hadn’t even had a chance to get to know who she was. His parents organized everything without his consent. Picked her out of a laundry lineup for all he knew.

  Deklan tried to be cordial to the girl and her family, but the situation he was in had cut at his insides like an old rusty wood hatchet. He stayed quiet the entire evening except for a mention of, Hello, yes, no, thank you, and soon to say good bye.

  The thought of what had taken place at the dinner table was upsetting Deklan. A female for him to marry was absurd. He’d already taken claim to the person he wanted to be with. He and Oakland were meant to be together as he had recently proven, not him and some handpicked lassie. He knew she’d be deprived of his erection, never be able to get it to rise if aimed at a vagina.

  Deklan had resented the girl sitting at the table next to him, even though he hadn’t any idea who she was. It hadn’t seemed right to dislike that girl as much as he had, but his parents had put her in that bad situation. His loathing was well engaged, for the entire bunch sitting at the table.

  He had a crazy idea that his masculine boyfriend would bust up the dinner party and claim him—take his man. But of course, that would be imprudent. Oakland would only look borderline wild standing in the middle of the dinner table reaching a marriage proposing hand to the one he loved. Deklan had a smirk on his face at that heroic idea, wishing like mad it would actually come true.

  It had taken about ten minutes after dinner had finished for Dante to escort everybody to the parlor adjacent the dining room. The seating was more comfortable there and a better place to deliberate about the wedding plans for Deklan and the new Missus Royal.

  The two fathers had gone off together in front of the fireplace, and behind them, the mothers were sitting in facing chairs with cups of tea, chit-chatting about their pretty jewelry as if they had no say in the matter.

  Deklan and his new girl roamed the room in a purposeless manner, hardly speaking and looking at things placed here and there as if they were in a small town marketplace. It was a scratchy interlude for the both of them, clearly not going well for Deklan, but the parents and the giddy girl seemed to think it was.

  They all smiled while he was drowning in anxiety, nearly turning purple at the whole idea of marriage to a girl. He had a sudden attack when he thought about how true royal’s inaugurated a marriage, where an audience stood around a bed chamber and watched the newlyweds lose their virginity together. At that moment, his pretty shade of purple had turned green and he thought he was going to cough up his liver. He held his stomach and mumbled, “Ohmigawd, I’m going to be sick.”

  “You were saying?” Miz Gretchen asked.

  Deklan waved a hand at her and said, “Oh, it was nothing. Just a little pre marriage frights.”

  As though there was limited time on everybody’s clocks, wedding plans were made quickly and agreed before the group had broken up—the ceremony would be carried out over the coming weekend—taking place that soon.

  It was decided.

  No questions asked.

  Deklan was getting married.

  To a lass.

  In four days.

  After everybody left, Deklan caught up to his parents in the second level hallway. It seemed as though they were trying to get away, but he wasn’t letting that happen until they heard him out. He yelled, “Why are you doing this? Don’t you know this isn’t going to work?”

  “You don’t seem to understand, Deklan,” his father retorted, turning away.

  Deklan followed. “Understand what? That you are doing this for your own benefit and not mine? I can’t marry Gertrude, Greta, Grace or whatever her name is.”

  “It’s Gretchen, dear,” his mother clarified.

  “My point. I don’t even know the bird,” Deklan’s voice increased an octave.

  “I can clearly see y
ou don’t understand,” Dante jumped back in. “This is for your benefit and you will need to go along with the plan.”

  “And then what?” Deklan fought back.

  “And then you will live happily ever after. That’s what,” Sir Dante assured.

  “You are confusing the message, Father. This isn’t a fairy tale. Neither Happy nor Ever After will exist in this situation. They don’t go together and shouldn’t be used in the same sentence.”

  “It does for your mother and me.” Father knew best.

  “Are you sure about that?” Deklan turned his gaze to his mother’s saddened face. It was not a happy expression, but more a look of concern. Mother was the one who knew best, and by her appearance, she wasn’t agreeing with any of it. A Mother knows, and if Deklan was correct by what he had seen in her, she knew the marriage to a girl wasn’t right, that he needed a boy as his companion, not a girl. Deklan had known she’d been aware of his male attractions long ago. He had identified that by her polite comments and the way she had never pushed girls on him, and how she’d always worked at changing the subject when his father tried to.

  “Your mother is fine with this, Deklan. I know her better than anyone.” He put his arm over her shoulder like he would have done if she was a chum, jostling her closer to his side. Her tense body was a certain sign she wasn’t content, but Dante was oblivious to it or hadn’t wanted to see what he should have seen.

  Deklan mumbled, looking to the floor, “You’re wrong.”

  “What did you say?” His father tilted his head. “Be sure you are ready for the weekend. You’re getting married to Lady Gretchen and that’s final.”

  “Why are you treating me like I don’t have a mind of my own,” Deklan yelled.

  Dante raised his voice above Deklan’s. “What I am witnessing right now, I can clearly see you don’t have a mind of your own. Somebody around here needs to do the thinking for you since you’re not.”

  “Forget it.” Deklan turned away and left. It was as if he was falling uphill, stumbling all over the place but not getting anywhere. “I need to go. I can’t be here right now.” He kissed his mother on the cheek and walked away.

  “Don’t you go out and muddle this up, young man,” his father hollered.

  Chapter 22

  A knock at the door extracted Oakland from his evening slumber. His body jerked and for a moment felt like he was hovering out of sync with the real world. He clumsily pulled his trousers on and answered the door shirtless.

  It was Deklan. The evening had instantly gotten so much better.

  “Run away with me,” Deklan blurted out, squeezed through the doorways open crack, kissing Oakland as he passed.

  “What? Now?” Oakland squealed.

  He pulled both of Oakland’s hands into his. “Yes. Now. Run away with me. Tonight.”

  “I’m happy to see you and would love nothing more than to take to the hills with you, but I have already made up a bed for the night. Other than that, you’re supposed to be getting married in a few days. Shouldn’t you be storing energy for the big night?”

  “Then let me stay here. With you. I can’t go back into that house. They’ve all gone mad.” Deklan gripped harder. “I can’t marry that lass. I don’t know her, nor will I be able to share a bed with her the same way I share one with you.”

  Conflicted with emotions as to how he should be feeling, Oakland pulled away. He was angry. Confused. Sad. Infatuated with a man the world would not let him have. He wanted to run off with Deklan so nobody else could have him, but it would only make matters worse, for himself and for Deklan.

  Right when his face had turned gloomy, Deklan spun toward the door as if he had a plan to leave.

  Oakland’s heart rate sped up, beating hard and loud. “Wait,” he mumbled. “Don’t go.” He reached out and placed both hands on Deklan’s shoulders, squeezed comfort into his tensed muscles at the moment his head tilted forward. Oakland moved closer to hug him from behind, feeling Deklan tremble when his arms wrapped around him. There was noticeable sobbing coming from Deklan. The man was breaking apart by what his parents were planning to put him through.

  Deklan reached up and gripped Oakland’s wrist, his touch to Oakland felt shattered, a weakness he hadn’t sensed in him before. Oakland’s source of strength had normally come from Deklan, however at that moment, the Prince was leaning on Oakland. The home Deklan lived in had tossed his soul aside, and by what they were doing told him they hated him the way he was.

  Deklan spun around in Oakland’s arms and looked at him, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so lost right now I don’t really know where I belong.”

  Oakland stroked Deklan’s face with the pads of his thumbs and brought him tighter to his chest. Their hearts raced against each other’s as if attempting to swap places. Backing away, Oakland held Deklan’s face in his hands, looked him in the eyes and kissed him. “You belong here with me. We both know that. You can stay as long as you need to.” He offered as if the home was his.

  Deklan nodded. His watery blues had begun to dry. He chuckled, shyly telling Oakland how much he loved him.

  What did he just say?

  Oakland froze and waited for his blood to flow after stopping from the lack of a beating heart. It wasn’t surprising to hear Deklan say those three words since he was feeling the same, but shocked that he said them so soon. Oakland gushed from hearing him say what he’d said, and glad he was the one Deklan said that to.

  Deklan kissed Oakland one more time before letting him go. A smile crept over his face.

  While holding Deklan close, Oakland sensed a change in him—he could sense the man was troubled when he arrived, but once in the loving comfort of his arms, felt his mood switch almost instantly. There was no denying the two of them were two halves of the same soul, predestined to be together. There was too much of a connection between them to be anything other than mates.

  As though shy and afraid of denial, Deklan softly asked, “Do you mind if I sleep here with you tonight?”

  He wouldn’t have had to ask twice, or even finish the question. “Of course you can. You honestly don’t even have to ask,” Oakland disclosed.

  Deklan’s gaze had been deeply concentrated on Oakland while running his knuckles down his dark bare chest and around to his back where he locked his fingers in place to hold him close. “Thank you. I promise I won’t be a bother.”

  Oakland’s head tilted to one side when he said, “The real bother is that I don’t have any nightgowns for you to wear. You will be forced to either sleep in what you have on or take to the sheets in the nude like I do.”

  “I’ll be most comfortable sleeping with nothing on. Less confining. Hope you won’t mind a naked man in bed beside you?” Deklan perked up a bit and ran a sleeve under his nose to wipe it clean. He sniffed and then goofishly chuckled. The Deklan charm was slowly returning.

  “That suits me perfectly. I’ll copy that decision,” Oakland said.

  “Settled then. Which side of the bed will be mine?” Deklan asked, dabbing his eyes with his cuff. He smiled, his white teeth shining.

  “I’m a lefty, so that means you get the right side by the window. The bed is small, so we will have to sleep pretty close.”

  “That won’t be a problem for me. Cuddling is good and I’ll probably be holding on to you most of the night anyway.” Deklan started undressing.

  Oakland doused the lanterns around his tiny home except for the one on the table next to the bed. It let off an easy yellow flicker that mixed with the silver-blue shimmer coming in the window from the moon outside. Oakland liked the way it made Deklan’s skin radiate blue-violet on one side and white-gold on the other. The trail of hair marking the center of his abdomen acted as a division line between the two subtle tones. Oakland’s caramel skin, however, appeared royal-blue next to Deklan’s and the sharp contrast between the two of them was one erotic image.

  It had taken no time for Deklan to take his place on top of Oakland. The
y kissed the way a new couple would, which led to a slow romantic connection with Deklan sliding in and out of Oakland at the pace of a snail.

  The same as before, their time together was the finest and wasn’t easy to separate once the moment had arrived. They made love in Oakland’s bed a few times throughout the night, transferring semen the way two men could only do. If Deklan had been a wolf, he’d have certainly marked Oakland off limits to the rest of the pack.

  Oakland had become preferential to receiving Deklan, watching the man’s rhythmic movements over top of him, taking in the way his chest expanded and his abdominal muscles flexed with each forward thrust. There wasn’t anything better on earth than to have his Prince moving his erection inside him. It was a closeness he couldn’t describe.

  When the man ejaculated with such unbounded intensity, Oakland valued every bit of that life Deklan had injected into him. It was as though Deklan was making Oakland a part of him, completing his body with what it needed.

  Satisfaction had overcome Oakland as Deklan’s frothy molten flowed toward his heart and settled in, laying claim on him for life.

  Was it possible for two people to bond so quickly?

  Their tie was solid when they found those few moments to be with one another, and Oakland wondered if that was because the two of them were held so far apart by the human race, or if it was because they were true soul mates, unable to live apart.

  After the shared affection and amusing conversation, sleep had finally come to them both—Deklan’s fleecy torso tightly pressed against Oakland’s backside, his wrapped arms holding him with warmth and unbreakable love.

  Chapter 23