by Megan Derr
Nearby, in a sprawl of palm trees, hammocks, tents, and a makeshift table and chairs made of driftwood and barrels, the three men were playing a card game.
The lordly man threw down a card, laughed as the others groaned, and drank from a bottle at his elbow. As Rex drew close, he could smell rum. The bandit-looking fellow handed him the bottle he'd been drinking from, and Rex took a long swallow of what proved to be impressive rum—sweet and rich and potent. "The Three Kings, I presume? What are you kings of?"
"Once? Practically everything. We had more power and wealth than the actual kings," answered the lordly man, dark and lithe and elegant, that long, beautiful throat working as he drank from his own bottle of rum. In his painting, he'd been fully dressed, but here he wore only breeches and a loose, unlaced shirt that showed a hint of tattoos on his chest and arms. "Aldous ruled the sea, I ruled the city, and Nolan ruled the roads.
"What's your name?" Rex asked.
The lordly man smiled like a cat. "Jamison. Though I was rarely called that. I was the King of Diamonds."
"I was the King of Spades," said Aldous.
"And you were the King of Clubs," Rex said, nodding at the last man, Nolan, who nodded and took back the rum Rex still held. "So how did you end up here?"
"We were powerful. Kings needed us. Lords were helpless before us. People loved us or feared us, and many did both. We fought each other, we fought other challengers, we fought for a peace we all wanted but none of us could obtain," Nolan said. "All the years we waged war and gained more power, we'd never actually met each other. After a battle that cost us things we could not bear to lose, we came together to see if we could finally broker peace."
"We tried, and tried, and tried," Aldous said. "We made a vow, the three of us, and we did our best to uphold it. But others did not see as we did, and where there is discord, there is strife. And we realized as long as we existed, as long as our power existed, there would never be peace. So we gave everything we possessed to the King of Hearts, and vanished from the world—including from history. And here we remain."
Jamison added, "We and a few others in the gallery manage the many businesses, properties, and so forth that Silenus owns. We keep him wealthy and invisible in ways that do not require magic. In exchange, we live in peace. And while the world has a long way to go in that respect, at least it is not being torn apart by the Three Kings."
"Do you miss it?" Rex asked.
The three men shared a look, a soft smile that told a story no words could easily convey. "No," Jamison said. "Power like that is a drug you can't stop taking, a house you become afraid of leaving. Better to leave it to someone like Silenus, who by his nature is incapable of abusing it the way we did. Come here, pretty incubus."
"By his nature?" Rex asked, but obeyed easily, smiling when Jamison dragged him even closer, resting a hand on the small of his back, and bit sharply at his lips.
All three men chuckled, and Aldous said, "How like Silenus to never talk about himself, even to his distracting apprentice. He's a satyr, made by Dionysus to exist for pleasure—of the flesh, the mind, the heart, the spirit, and more besides. The myths would have you believe satyrs are nothing more than a roving pack of drunkards eager to seduce—or rape—every pretty nymph they chance upon. But no, satyrs merely want to enjoy the world and spread that enjoyment to others. Not to say they don't have their bad points, same as everyone else, but unlike humans, they do not amass power for the sake of having power. In Silenus's mind, all the power and wealth and magic at his disposal are merely tools. Must be why you two get on so well."
"Because all I want is to fuck and cuddle?" Rex asked with a laugh.
"More or less," Jamison said, and reached down to fondle his cock. "Speaking of fucking…" He kissed Rex hard and then shoved him back. "Let's start a new game, hmm? The winner of each hand gets a prize, and whoever wins best of seven gets a grand prize."
"What's the prize?" Rex asked.
"Today?" Nolan asked. "You. Strip, incubus. Let us have a better look at what we're playing for."
Rex laughed and unknotted his tie, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and tossed both aside, uncaring where they landed. As Aldous shuffled the cards, he slowly unbuttoned his white dress shirt and slid it off his shoulders. As Jamison dealt, he discarded the remainder of his clothes, standing naked and hard as he watched them play.
What they were playing, he had no idea. It was no game he recognized and seemed complicated. But he recognized the look in their eyes as they occasionally glanced his way.
"You cheat like a filthy whore," Nolan said cheerfully as he threw his cards down in defeat.
"I don't know what you expect," Jamison drawled. "I was a filthy whore until I was twenty-something. If you haven't figured out all my tricks by now, that's on you."
Aldous snorted. "So was I, more or less, but you don't see me cheating at cards."
"That's because pirates are surprisingly scrupulous about rules for men who murder and plunder for a living." Jamison tossed a card down. "Repent."
"What a surprise," Aldous said, but smiled as he threw down his cards. "Take your prize, then."
Jamison rose from the barrel he'd been sitting on. "Come here, pretty, and get your mouth on my cock."
"Yes, Majesty," Rex said, making them all laugh, before he sank to his knees in front of Jamison and deftly undid the fastenings of his breeches.
There were more tattoos here, swirling sharp-edged designs that held no meaning to Rex but probably meant a great deal to the other three. All he cared about was the cock he pulled out—long and heavy, flushed with color, the tip already wet.
"Don't think about coming before we say you can, either. Now get to work." Jamison didn't wait for his reply, simply curled a hand into Rex's hair and pushed him onto that lovely cock.
It wasn't a slow, thorough blowjob. No, Jamison seemed more interested simply in using him, fucking his mouth hard and fast, leaving his jaw and throat sore, getting spit and come all over Rex's mouth as he came with a low, ragged moan.
He pulled out a few moments later, and Rex wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, licking the remaining traces of come from his lips.
Jamison stroked his cheek, smiling in a surprisingly soft way, then resumed his seat and said, "Next round?"
It was Aldous who won the second round, and he crooked his fingers at Rex. But when Rex reached him, instead of being put on his knees or his back as he'd expected, he was dragged to lie face down across Aldous's lap. "Lovely," Aldous murmured, pressing and stroking at Rex's ass.
Rex shivered as all new anticipations filled his mind—and cried out as the first hard smack came down.
"I do enjoy a good prize," Aldous said, and the next blow came down. But the one that followed took what felt like years to come and fell higher than the others.
It was the guessing that was the worst part, until Rex finally sank into simply feeling and relishing, until he was screaming and begging for release, his ass on fire and his cock so hard it hurt.
"What do you think, my loves?" Aldous asked. "Should we let him come?"
Nolan dealt a fresh hand. "Go ahead. He'll be hard again by the time I'm done with him. He's an incubus—we could do this all day and he'd ask to keep going through the night, and still be ready for another round while we pass out from exhaustion and can't get it up for a week."
They all laughed, and Aldous finally lifted Rex from his lap, turning so he sat with his back to Aldous's chest. "Come for me, then, pretty boy." He wrapped a callous-rough hand around Rex's cock, and a few hard strokes was all it took for Rex to come.
When he was finished, he whimpered softly and obediently licked clean the hand Aldous held to his lips. Aldous stood him up, and Rex heard a soft grunt before warm come smattered across his back and ass.
Then he was once more set aside and the game continued.
Surprising no one, it was Nolan who won the third hand. "Hands on the table, pretty."
Rex moaned as he ob
eyed, and wasn't surprised that formalities were disregarded—there was no careful stretching, no teasing with slippery fingers, only a hot, slick cock sliding into him, heavy hands on his hips to keep him steady as Nolan fucked him just as hard as Jamison had used his mouth and Aldous had spanked him.
As Nolan had promised, Rex was hard again, desperate for release, but he didn't have to ask to know he wouldn't be coming again any time soon.
Nolan climaxed a few minutes later, thrusting hard into him one last time before shuddering against him, biting at his throat and leaving a mark that throbbed pleasantly. He pulled out roughly, and Rex stepped out of the way as they resumed playing. He was covered in sand and sweat, come on his thighs and back, his ass sore, his throat still raw—and there were four rounds to go yet.
The fourth round went to Jamison, the fifth to Nolan, and the sixth to Aldous. By the time Aldous was done fucking him, Rex was sore and panting heavily, spread out on the table with limbs that felt like jelly.
"Do we need to bother with the seventh round?" Aldous asked, tossing Jamison an amused look. "Hmm, my wicked lovely? Or shall we just have done since you're going to rig it to be a draw."
"What—" Rex drew a breath and let it out on a bit of a whimper. "What happens with a draw?"
"The grand prize goes to all of us," Nolan said.
Rex laughed. "What's the grand prize? You've already fucked me senseless."
"Oh, my boy, we've only just begun," Jamison said.
As one, the three men rose and smoothly discarded their clothes. Naked, they were even more beautiful than they'd already been. It wasn't hard to picture them as kings of the world, with so much power they'd nearly destroyed themselves and all they'd built.
Rough but gentle hands touched him, soft here, hard there, pinching and squeezing, caressing, fondling, and smacking, until Rex could only moan and writhe as best as he was able beneath hands that would not let him move much.
Jamison pushed fingers roughly into his mouth. Nolan teased his well-used hole with slick, questing fingers, and Aldous dropped a hot mouth around his cock, sucking hard and leaving Rex incapable of doing anything but holding fast to the table and coming with a scream.
The delightful torment continued until he'd come a third time. Then he was turned around and teased anew, until finally Nolan pushed his cock into Rex's mouth and what felt like Aldous's slid into his body.
After that, Rex gave up on thinking again, only focused on sucking and being fucked, the sea-smoothed wood rubbing his skin, sure to leave still more marks, the hot sun beating down, adding to the heat they were generating, making him dizzy, sweaty—
Nolan and Aldous came nearly at the same time, one hand clamped tightly in Rex's hair, Aldous's so tight on his hips that there would probably be bruises.
Rex drew in a deep breath as Nolan withdrew his cock, moaning again as Aldous pulled out. He had barely gotten his breath back when he was taken again, Jamison once more pushing into his mouth, ruthlessly fucking it, and someone else—someone neither Nolan nor Aldous, but intimately familiar—claimed his ass.
He would have laughed if he weren't so busy being fucked out of his mind. He held fast to Jamison's hips, sucking hard, swallowing him down as Jamison came with a shout.
From behind him came only a soft grunt, smooth hands running fondly up and down his spine, and then Rex was finally allowed to draw proper breath. The same smooth, gentle hands drew him up, back against a familiar broad chest, arms wrapping around him. He turned his head and looked up, meeting Silenus's kiss.
"Having fun?" Silenus asked, nibbling at his lips a moment. "What do you think of my kings?"
"Playing card games was never this much fun at college," Rex replied, making soft, pleased noises as Silenus gently brushed sand from his body.
The kings laughed. "Come and play any time, Assistant Curator. We're always here."
"I will certainly be visiting again," Rex said, and then Silenus was pulling them from the painting. He pushed up and kissed Silenus soundly. "Did you need something?"
Silenus laughed. "Always—but I only came to find you and see if you wanted to go out for dinner."
"Sounds like fun," Rex replied. "Let me go shower."
"I'll come help," Silenus murmured, and took Rex's hand as they walked idly through the gallery to their own rooms.
The Bastard Son
Mordred was swimming in the cool, jewel-blue waters of his lake when the familiar tingle of Silenus's power rippled through his domain. He merely kept swimming, turning neatly in the water as he hit the small cluster of rocks in the center and picking up speed as he headed back to the dock.
Since it was a swimming dock, rather than one intended for boats, it was relatively close to water level. Mordred reached up and hauled himself onto it, slowly standing as water sluiced down his naked body. He reached up to free his hair from the almost painfully-tight knot into which he'd put it while he swam, leaving the damp, heavy mass to fall around his shoulders and halfway down his back.
Bright morning sunlight warmed his brown skin and made his countless tattoos shimmer, save where the black ones drank in the sunlight as though parched.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," he finally greeted, bowing slightly as Silenus drew nearer.
Silenus chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss Mordred's cheeks and then brush a final kiss teasingly across his mouth. As always, Mordred smiled faintly, even though such an impertinent gesture would result in a cuff upside the head should anyone else try it. "Centuries you've been with me, Sir Mordred, and still so formal. Most people cease with the formalities when they're naked around me." He drew back and winked. "But you maintain a barrier even after all the times I've had you in my arms—and my cock in your mouth."
"I would never behave so improperly, Majesty," Mordred replied. He'd been foolish enough to drop formality once, and it had cost him everything.
"No, you wouldn't, sweet boy." Silenus brushed back a strand of hair. "Not yet, anyway. But sadly, I did not come to enjoy your company."
Mordred's curiosity stirred. Silenus had been so casual, he'd assumed this was simply one of his infrequent, idle visits. He certainly would not have minded passing a few hours in pleasure with Silenus. He'd never love Silenus the way he'd once loved… someone else, but that wasn't what Silenus expected anyway. Silenus loved many, and waited for the day he would also love one. "Is there trouble in your esteemed gallery?"
"It's not quite trouble yet, but there is definitely something prowling about that should not be. I came to see if you would mind dealing with it."
"I am always honored to serve." Mordred touched one of the tattoos on his chest, and in a burst of soft, shimmering light, he was dressed in dark clothes and lightweight leather armor. A touch to a tattoo at his wrist, and he held his sword.
As always, Excalibur thrummed in his hand, alive in its own peculiar way and saturated in magic. Arthur, that selfish, greedy, arrogant bastard, had not been able to bear it when his favorite killing tool had finally torn free—and offered itself instead to Arthur's bastard son.
Mordred had driven the sword through his chest and reduced him to ashes. The remnants of Camelot had carted off his ashes to be properly buried at Avalon, more out of peace of mind than respect. They'd asked Mordred to join them, but he'd refused.
He'd had no desire to spend more time amongst the people who had used and betrayed him, time after time after time. Especially that unfaithful bastard—
Mordred bit the thought off before he could think the name. He'd refused to do even that much since witnessing the betrayal that had cut deeper than even learning his own father wanted him dead.
Shaking off his gloomy, tiresome thoughts, he raised the sword to Silenus in salute. "By your leave, my liege."
Silenus nodded, and with a whisper of magic, Mordred vanished from the small slip of world that was his home, his domain, and appeared in the room of the gallery that housed him.
Around him were pictures of other w
arriors, from myriad times and places. The only thing they all had in common was that they had sworn themselves to Silenus, to fight in his name and protect his realm—which for now took the form of an art gallery.
Over the centuries, Mordred had inhabited by turns: a vase, a statue, a necklace, a mosaic, and a tapestry. But the pocket domain all those forms contained had changed little. However complicated his life had become before he'd eschewed it, he'd always been a simple man at heart.
He cast out his magic, feeling for the interloper creeping where he was not meant to be. Though the powers at Silenus's beck and call usually meant only those meant to be in the gallery could access it, there were always exceptions. Most of them were powerful, and came with nefarious purpose. A few were simply bumbling fools.
Mordred hoped it was the latter; they were far simpler to deal with. But if it was the former, he would attend it forthwith, as was his sworn and happy duty.
There. The Special Exhibits, somewhere near the prisoners. Most of the beings in the Special Exhibits were there by choice, but a handful had been imprisoned—either for attempting to harm Silenus or the Gallery in such a way Silenus deemed they would be a threat again if released, or because they'd threatened the wider world and Silenus had stopped them.
If the uninvited guest had managed to find his way to that area, of all the places in the gallery, then the chances of this being a misplaced human or some other triviality had lessened significantly. Damn.
Mordred pushed his magic out again as he drew closer, trying to get a clearer read on his foe, but whoever they were, they possessed skill enough to block magic such as his. So definitely not a bumbling fool, merely a greedy one.
As he reached the small collection of rooms that housed the prisoners, he pressed a tattoo on his left hand, summoning his buckler. His larger shield would only be in the way in such confined spaces. "Surrender now, knave, ere I spill your blood for daring to trespass."