Constant

by Lexi Ander

  Suddenly, Mestor was over him, shushing him and nudging his nose along Sohm’lan’s cheek. “Tell me what you fear. Have you lain with a bull before?”

  “No,” Sohm’lan replied, that one word sounding like he gargled dry sand.

  Mestor’s smile was blinding. “I will make this so good that you will crave the feeling of me sheathed in you.”

  For a split second, Sohm’lan wondered if one of Mestor’s many lovers made him feel like that. Jealousy caused him to hiss until Mestor laved his length again, the split end of Mestor’s tongue teasing the sensitive glands. Sohm’lan jolted as if shot by a shockwand. Mestor’s joyous laughter was louder than Sohm’lan’s whimpering moan. He felt Mestor’s sex on the underside of his tail and he had a moment of apprehension before Mestor’s fingers worked magic over the tender edges of his sheath. The sense of being hollow grew. He had never felt anything like it before and squirmed trying to find relief.

  “Mestor, my Tori! Please! I need… I do not know what. Please, I need!” His breathing turned to heavy panting. The sound of linens tearing under his claws did not ease him.

  Mestor

  * * *

  Mestor rose to his knees, Sohm’lan’s cock cradled in the palm of his hand. “Say that again. I want to hear you call me Tori again.” He loved the nickname only Sohm’lan called him by.

  “My Tori, only mine,” Sohm’lan said, his glow intensifying with each word.

  Mestor’s energy answered, the burning in his core demanding… he was not sure what. Everywhere he and Sohm’lan touched, heat smoldered. The kaleidoscope of colors filling the room created prismatic shadows on the wall. Sohm’lan’s scales burned like polished topaz when Mestor thought they should be a fiery red to match the heat he felt under his palm.

  Testing, he touched his knuckles to the hole below the sheath opening. Sohm’lan bellowed and pushed back against his touch. Knowing Sohm’lan had never lain with another bull caused him to be extra diligent with his preparation. He was a dominant bull but Sohm’lan outclassed everyone in all categories, except for Mestor’s father. This might be the only time he got to feel Sohm’lan wrapped around him. The better he made the experience, the more likely he would allow Mestor to penetrate him again. Many bulls were like that. Most sex was the slide of scales with hand fondling, teeth nipping, and the scrape of claws. For various reasons, some did not enjoy being penetrated. It did not have to do with the act but with being held down by the weight of another body. The vulnerability of giving access to their belly was too much for many to bear. If Sohm’lan decided he could not do this again, then Mestor planned on wringing enjoyment out of every second of their coupling.

  “No!” Sohm’lan snapped when Mestor took his hand away. “Do that again.”

  Mestor gave a pleased grin before ducking down and licking the base of Sohm’lan’s cock, around the edge of the sheath, using the knuckles of his first two fingers to massage Sohm’lan’s hole. The light under Sohm’lan’s scales brightened until Mestor had to squint to see.

  Sohm’lan brought his knees to his chest as he writhed, their combined pheromones filling the room. “What you do to me, Tori.”

  Sohm’lan was ready. Quickly, Mestor moved into position. He had been ignoring his own cock all this time and when grasped his base, he moaned, struggling not to spill. Carefully, he rubbed the abundant moisture around the tip against Sohm’lan’s hole before he looked up to Sohm’lan’s brilliant blue eyes. If he said stop, Mestor would.

  “Please, Tori.” The need in Sohm’lan’ gaze threatened to demolish him.

  “Anything, Sohm. Anything for you.” Slowly, Mestor slid in, watching every nuance of Sohm’lan’s expression. At any hint of discomfort, or that Sohm’lan was fighting to stay in the submissive position, then Mestor would pull out. Sohm’lan burned brighter, the energy coming from him pulling at Mestor’s own fires. He attempted to control not only himself and the overwhelming desire to rut, but the fire burning under his scales flared, rising to meet Sohm’lan’s own.

  As he slid all the way in, he was pulled down, Sohm’lan’s legs wrapping around his hips. “Give me all of you,” Sohm’lan urged.

  He had planned to go slow, but it was as if Sohm’lan’s words unleashed a beast within him. Every time he withdrew, Sohm’lan whimpered and squirmed, barking out, “Yes!” Then Mestor slammed home, Sohm’lan’s strong hands gripped his hips, urging him faster as he dug his heels into Mestor’s buttocks.

  “Do not stop, Tori!”

  Raising up on his hands, he gave Sohm’lan everything he had. Never had anything felt this right.

  “I want everything, I want your fire,” his amor begged.

  “I… “ Mestor thrust, the burn under his scales almost unbearable. “I…” He did not know how.

  Sohm’lan curled his body and rolled them, dislodging Mestor. Everywhere they touched, scales were scorched. Why was the sleeping platform not on fire?

  “Surrender to me, Tori. Let it all go. I promise I will catch you,” Sohm’lan vowed.

  Mestor was ensnared by Sohm’lan’s burning gaze and he did what he’d yearned to do over a summer ago. “I am yours, Sohm’lan Myrmidon. Take all of me.” He released his worries and the many visions of how he could lose Sohm’lan. He focused on the now and the power thrumming through him like a lava flow and he gave it to his amor.

  The glow under his scales crested and Sohm’lan’s luminosity consumed it. Sohm’lan rolled, resheathing Mestor’s cock within his body and riding Mestor with such abandon that it took Mestor’s breath away. Through slitted eyelids he watched in utter awe until their combined glow blinded him. Then he closed his eyes and simply felt Sohm’lan’s internal heat gripping him, milking him. Sohm’lan raked his claws down Mestor’s chest, up his neck, over his arms. Grabbing Sohm’lan’s hips, he anchored his feet and thrust up. The answering moan was gratifying. He was barely holding on by a thread, but he refused to spill before Sohm’lan. He did not grab Sohm’lan’s cock but put pressure on the base, against the internal testes, with every thrust of his pelvis. His amor must have been close because his yell was followed by the heat of seed painting Mestor’s abdomen. All vestiges of smugness disappeared when Sohm’lan ground down on the root of Mestor’s cock. The effect was immediate, his testicles were stimulated, sending waves of pleasure to his core, causing him to spill with a bellow of his own.

  Sohm’lan fell on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around his amor. He wanted to shout the proclamation for everyone to hear: “Look at this stunning bull. He is mine!” But not just yet. He wanted to revel in Sohm’lan’s weight on top of him, in the feel of his scales under his palms as he spread pheromones over Sohm’lan’s back.

  “You wrecked me, Tori.” Sohm’lan’s voice sounded as if he had been screaming for hours.

  “I like it when you call me that,” Mestor confided again, sighing when Sohm’lan’s penis withdrew into its sheath.

  They rolled to the side limbs and tails still entwined, allowing him to breathe easier. His eyelids grew heavy, but he fought to keep them open. He did not want this time with Sohm’lan to end just yet. First times were special and Mestor wanted to cherish every heartbeat, every breath.

  As if he knew how exhausted Mestor was, Sohm’lan tucked Mestor’s head under his chin. “You will always be my Tori. Now sleep. When you wake from your nap, we will eat late-meal.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Sohm’lan

  * * *

  Sohm’lan loved Mestor’s huffing snore. Watching his amor sleep was one of many small joys Mestor unknowingly gave him. The scales that had been a dingy gray were now the deepest black, glistening like polished gems. The scales that were in the process of falling off and revealing the tender exposed skin underneath were pristine, looking as if Mestor had not been injured at all. He had come so close losing his Tori.

  Mestor groaned, and he hurriedly loosened his grip. He had not meant to wake his amor. Mestor practically purred like a Dar Massaga, moving again
st Sohm’lan until the room was filled with the rasp of sliding scales. Claws raked over him, causing him to arch and hiss in pleasure. Their combined pheromones were intoxicating, and he put the oil secreted from his palms to good use. When they eventually left the sleeping chamber none would doubt that Mestor was taken and well-satiated.

  When seed was cooling between them, Mestor pressed his forehead against Sohm’lan’s. “I was not dreaming then.”

  “No, love,” he raked his cheek over Mestor’s. “Come, let me feed you late-meal.”

  Before Mestor could protest or convince him to spend more time on the sleeping platform, he rolled out and crossed to the double doors. He had left his bags by the main door. The food he had ordered was laid out on the sideboard in warming containers. The smells caused his stomach to grumble.

  Returning to the chamber, he set the luggage next to an armoire, then rummaged inside for his rarely used casualwear. When he turned, Mestor was dressing, his tail happily swaying from side to side. In no time, he was leading his amor to the low table where he made them both heaping plates before settling next to Mestor on a colorful cushion.

  “You spoil me.” Mestor smiled down at the number of his favorite dishes.

  “You probably have not had a proper meal in days,” he replied, raising a clam covered in sweet date-paste to Mestor’s mouth.

  “Ariafella snuck me some marinated white fish once or twice,” Mestor confessed. “It did not sit well in my stomach, but I was not going to complain. Those nutrient solutions taste like swamp water.”

  With little prodding, Sohm’lan was able to get Mestor started on the food. Conversation halted as they ate their way through the dishes. They slowed down as their stomachs became slightly distended. The persistent weariness Sohm’lan had ignored the last few days dissipated.

  “They had to put me in stasis.” Mestor wiped his mouth. “Shaneva and I had a long talk while I was in the Dream.”

  Sohm’lan sighed in relief. At least he did not need to figure out how to broach the subject. He listened as Mestor told him about visiting her. When he finished, Sohm’lan shared his own story. “I am waiting to hear from her. She has something to show me, but I do not know when she will call.”

  “I am worried,” Mestor confessed, following Sohm’lan as he rose to store the leftover food.

  “As am I. She has experienced trauma, but she skirted talking about it.” Sohm’lan poured them a glass of honey wine to share. “This geas chip business needs to end peacefully. The mysterious people she talks about sound vile, though that might be my protectiveness skewing my judgement.”

  Mestor’s grunt sounded like agreement. “She does not want us saying anything yet because of Canry’s visions?”

  “She did not say more than that,” he replied, sitting back down on his cushion. “I know better than to pry when it comes to farseeing. There can be many reasons why the vision cannot be revealed. I have no desire to test fate and elicit consequences.”

  “Normally, I would say a vision set that far in the future would become obsolete quickly. The future is not set but this past summer has proven to me that several pathways can end with the same result if I act prematurely.”

  Sohm’lan frowned. “I thought you only saw pivotal points in the immediate future.”

  “When I initiate farseeing, yes. But…” His Tori squirmed in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “For the last summer, visions have been coming without me seeking them. They were different. They sometimes gave me glimpses of more than one summer into the future. Promises of what would come if I was patient.”

  Sohm’lan sat back, tweaking his tail painfully. Mestor was talking about their future, though he was trying to hide it. When Mestor meant to go on, Sohm’lan held up a hand, asking him to wait. How had he known Mestor was talking about them?

  As he searched, he artlessly stumbled upon how. He faintly heard a noise in the back of his mind. When he focused on it, he realized that he had been practicing what Shaneva taught him by shielding his mind. Something was getting through, barely, and when he opened himself, Mestor’s voice practically boomed. He was thinking loudly.

  “Poseidon’s balls! Why did I have to mention that? He is going to know then; he will think this is all a farce and leave me. What am I going to do? All the visions said if I told him, he would run the other way. I cannot lose him, not when I just got him.”

  “I will never leave you, Tori,” he admonished.

  “What?”

  “What?” Sohm’lan smiled. “You are not shielding your mind. It is almost as if you are screaming your thoughts.”

  “No,” Mestor breathed.

  He chuckled. “Yes, did Shaneva not show you how to shield?”

  “Well, yes, but I was sick and not paying that much attention.” Mestor was embarrassed. It was cute.

  “I had a couple of days with her. Let me show you. If you want to talk to me, there is a way to ‘knock’, though I do not know if we can keep our conversation private.”

  He spent several minutes showing his Tori how to shield, not only his mind, but his quickening. Mestor’s smoldering gaze made concentrating hard.

  “Being this connected to you is intoxicating and arousing.”

  Sohm’lan struggled to ignore Mestor’s rumbled confession. “Wait until I am in a foul mood. You will shield like a professional,” he warned. They would get tired of this connection, would they not?

  “Perhaps, if I did not find your temper as—”

  Sohm’lan hiss-clicked, pushing Mestor playfully.

  Mestor sobered. “We are not to tell anyone, and we are not to swim without six to eight guards. It is easy for me to add four more Monticore to my detail. I would only need to do the same for the rest of the family. With the unrest Timsah Gadrius is causing, that change would be easy to explain. You, on the other hand…”

  He had a point. Sohm’lan did not swim or even leave the palace with guards of his own. Normally he was with one or more of the Vondorians, but on rare instances he was alone.

  “I am taking Shaneva’s concern to heart. I considered bringing Captain Hesperos partway into our confidence. While on Valespia, I do not think your family will think it odd if Monticore come with me into the water. At home will be another situation.”

  Mestor rose, crossing to the doors where he quickly spoke to one of the guards in the corridor.

  “Prince Mestor, it is good to see you about, looking healthy and whole.” Sohm’lan recognized Captain Hesperos’s voice.

  “Do you have a moment for me and Warlord Sohm’lan?”

  “Most definitely!”

  Stepping back, Mestor widened the entry. Captain Hesperos stepped through. “I was just checking on the Monticore before I retired for the evening.”

  “Have you had late-meal?” Sohm’lan gestured to the sideboard. “I believe everything is still warm.”

  Captain Hesperos brightened. “I am starved. The incident this afternoon interrupted my meal and I have not had time to eat since.”

  He sat and waited while Captain Hesperos dished up a plate, his gaze repeatedly returning to the deep hue of Tori’s red ridge, the sheen of his black scales, and the persistent smile. Mestor’s obvious happiness warmed his heart. He was responsible for that.

  Captain Hesperos dug into the food like a shark who happened upon a lazy school of fish. They kept the conversation light. Mar’Sani did not typically speak of business while eating. It was the time for connecting with people and family, building bonds.

  He poured them more honey wine, bypassing the harder Blue Ice when Captain Hesperos finished his sweet cakes. “We were talking about increasing the number of guards on the royal family indefinitely.”

  Captain Hesperos nodded. His scales were well kept, the color of the rainforest edged with tan and an unusual dark blue but did not have the shine of a lover’s touch. “After what happened this afternoon, I had already changed the roster, adding an additional two to the four-person details. I assigned
eight Basilisc instead of four to Mestor’s room this afternoon because of their lack of experience with offworld protection. They simply do not have the training or the knowledge.” Captain Hesperos glanced at Mestor. “I am exceedingly sorry, Your Highness. I thought with the extra personnel, I could give the Monticore some time off. This trip offworld has taxed them more than expected. One was supposed to stay in the room with you, but the Basilisc I gave orders to ignored them. I am deeply sorry.”

  Mestor held up his hand, halting Captain Hesperos’s apology and explanation. “What happened was not your fault. No one had any idea that those fools were conspiring.”

  Captain Hesperos’s shoulders slumped, relief washing over his expression. “After I spent the afternoon questioning the six former guards, I worked with the captain of the Basilisc to separate those affiliated with House Cordyl. They all were placed in custody and sent to the starship that will be returning to Atlainticia shortly. The overconfidence of those six was fortuitous for us. They believed the meeting the Council of Neighn and the Galactic Imperials granted Timsah Gadrius meant the throne would change hands. They were still confident they would be released when I last saw them.” Captain Hesperos shrugged. “We are going to need to clean house once we return home. I have a meeting with Emperor Valdor tomorrow regarding those plans.”

  Sohm’lan hated leaning so heavily on the Monticore. As bodyguards for the royal family, they were the deadliest branch of the military, and their loyalty above question, but they barely had the numbers to protect the Vondorians and ensure the security of the palace in Thrace. With all their number on active duty since the royal family was offworld, plus those who were sent into battle, the long-term duties would weary the Monticore. Like everyone else, they needed periods of downtime. Now Sohm’lan was going to require more from them.