Chasing Earth and Flame

by Adonis Devereux

  Judal watched as Nevia was dressed, and she felt his appraising gaze heavy on her. “You are not planning to escape the litter that is to carry you to Belamal’s house?”

  “Whyever would you think such a thing?” Nevia looked at her reflection in the mirror. The beaten bronze did not reflect her half so well as the peristyle pool, but it was clear enough. Melenius would be pleased when she arrived at his home. Belamal, too, lived on the Nerivi hill, and she would be able to ride comfortably most of the way. The last few streets she would take on foot.

  “Daughter, you disappoint me. Surely you did not think that I would not foresee this difficulty?”

  “Foresee, most certainly. But what are you to do on the occasion?” Nevia turned to face her father. “Carry me thrashing and screaming through the city streets? Imagine the scandal.”

  “You inherited your Lorin elements from the Basur clan,” said Judal. “And your mother brought with her many treasures as part of her dowry.” He waved to the foreign guards. “Come. Hold her down.”

  Nevia saw at once her father’s plan, and when the men laid hands on her, she set her skin ablaze. The men screamed, but they held her down as Judal uncorked a vial. “Open her mouth.”

  Ginovae hesitated, and Nevia sighed in her airs. Ginovae had been useful and trustworthy, but she would never be allowed to accompany Nevia now. Nevia knew that Ginovae was unlikely to survive the day.

  Judal did not wait. The hands of his guards were rapidly burning away, and their cries were terrible. Judal himself forced the vial between Nevia’s lips.

  Nevia struggled, but some of the liquid slipped down her throat.

  “It’s like transporting a wild tiger.” Judal’s voice seemed very far away. “It can be done, but it is dangerous and troublesome.”

  Nevia felt heaviness spreading over all her limbs. Oblivion tugged at her, and she fought it.

  She lost.

  ****

  Nevia opened her eyes. Her eyelids were heavy, and she could still feel the last traces of the potion that had overcome her elements. It was not painful; indeed, Nevia felt that the sleep had been the most refreshing she had had since being torn from Melenius’s bed. But she was naked. She was lying in a bed she did not know, and seated on the end of it, as naked as she herself, sat Belamal.

  “Good evening, wife.”

  Chapter Eight

  Melenius paced around his wide, lavishly furnished atrium, waiting for Garalach’s return. The smell of burning parchment filled the night air, and he paused before his household shrine. He never was much the religious type – sure, he paid lip-service to it just like everyone else – but he was the kind of man who thought it wise to hedge his bets. Melenius’s slaves had dug their master’s statuette of Melara out of a silk bag buried somewhere and had set her up among the votive candles. Melenius had written a poem – a rather bad one, sentimental rubbish he had called it – and then had set it alight before the goddess of love.

  He considered saying something, offering up a prayer, but his mouth could not express what he felt in his elements. How could a Lorin ever fully unpack his heart with words? Language fell short of his true feelings, and what tortured him the most was the woman with whom he could bond, his rightful wife, the one with whom he could communicate in his elements was kept from him. Melenius turned and kicked over a brazier. The hot coals scattered across the mosaic on the floor, and his slaves scrambled to clean up the mess.

  “Leave it.” Melenius banished his slaves, and he knelt beside the embers. Such weak fires, nothing like the all-consuming flames of Nevia. He picked up a red-hot coal and held it in the palm of his hand. It seared his flesh, but still he took comfort in the agony. He could feel something of his wife. His waters doused the fire when his body could no longer bear the pain.

  What was taking Garalach so long?

  Melenius had heard the news. Today Judal had planned to have Nevia’s wedding to Belamal. But there had been no parade, no festivities. The city had not turned out for an event the people would have been most eager to see: the marriage of Nirrion’s most favored daughter. Why had the city been so silent on the day of her wedding? Had Judal decided to keep everything quiet, as he had with Melenius, marrying Nevia to Belamal at a country villa? But what purpose would that serve? No, there was another explanation, and Garalach would reveal all once he returned.

  When Garalach at last arrived, Melenius was lounging on a low couch reading the minutes from the latest Senate session.

  Melenius leaped up. “What news?”

  Garalach’s waters wrapped around him in disappointment. “I’m sorry, old friend. She wouldn’t see me.”

  “Even when you told her that you had a message from me?” Melenius crossed the room to stand before his teacher.

  “Especially because the message was from you.”

  Melenius’s earth quaked. “What?” He sat down. “Why?”

  Garalach came over and sat down beside Melenius. “You know the Akar, proud as the Master-Smith.”

  Melenius could not deny that observation.

  “And,” Garalach continued, “you’ve seen Nevia’s temper firsthand.”

  “So she’s angry with me?”

  “You were supposed to rescue her from her father’s house. She had everything arranged, and you failed to free her. Just before she hopped in Belamal’s litter, she said, ‘Any man I would call husband would not have failed to match his wits against a mere human.’”

  Melenius could have sunk into his waters and never risen again. “So, she goes to Belamal’s, then?”

  Garalach snapped his fingers, summoning a nearby slave to him. “Wine.” As the servant walked way, he said, “She’s already there.”

  Melenius knew Garalach could have continued, but his sudden silence told him more than he wanted to know. Nevia was there, and Belamal was fucking her. In her pride, she had rejected Melenius, and now she proved herself a true Akar, turning defeat to victory, turning loss to profit. Melenius indeed knew Nevia’s temper too well; she had slapped him the first time he touched her. They had fought about him leaving her unmarried for five years. She was not the kind of woman who forgave failure. Melenius had been outwitted by Judal, drugged by Lorin magic and dumped on the Kuthevi. The Chief Priest, a mere man, had beaten Melenius at his own game. What was left but shame?

  Melenius submerged himself in the dark depths of his misery. He barely noticed when Garalach shoved a cup of wine into his hands.

  “Drink, my friend.” Garalach sat near Melenius’s elbow, guiding his hand to his mouth.

  Melenius drank, but the wine had no taste. It did not warm the chill creeping across him. The waters of his melancholy were cool and inviting, a limitless expanse without memory, without pain. There Melenius would dwell; there he would forget Nevia.

  No. The waters were empty without Nevia, and thoughts of her followed him there. Melenius rose from his submersion and beheld Garalach next to him. He had forgotten he was there. “I can’t believe she would feel that way. If she was happy to be rid of me, why the quiet wedding?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Garalach rose after puzzlement rippled through Melenius’s airs. “She called off the public wedding. Instead, she told her husband—”

  Melenius dashed his cup aside. “I am her husband!”

  “Forgive me, Melenius. Nevia told Belamal how impolitic it would be to waste money on a big wedding, what with the war going on. So, she had him take what coin they would have spent and distribute the wealth to the men directly under Belamal’s command.”

  It was clever enough to have been Nevia’s idea.

  “Have some more wine,” Garalach said.

  “Why?”

  Garalach waved another slave over. “To calm your troubled elements. You need to relax.” He came around behind Melenius and massaged his shoulders.

  But Melenius’s tension remained. “Belamal will be playing knucklebones with Nistaran before this night is through.” He tried to rise, but Garalac
h forced him back down.

  “Melenius,” Garalach said, walking around to position himself in front of him. “Belamal is a popular general, beloved of his men and the republic. His men are everywhere. You might kill him, but you would never get out of the house alive. And what of Nevia? She would be slain for her apparent complicity. Irreligious ingratitude, the people will cry, for a bride to murder her newly betrothed lord.”

  Garalach was right. Even if Nevia rejected him, Melenius would not endanger her. “Then there is nothing left to do than drink myself into a stupor.” He snapped his fingers.

  Garalach knelt before Melenius and placed his hands on Melenius’s knees. Melenius was wearing a short tunic, and his legs were spread wide where he sat, as he was wont to do. He looked into Garalach’s eyes, trying to read his teacher’s elements.

  “There are other comforts than wine, Melenius,” Garalach said. He rubbed his hands along Melenius’s thighs, up under his tunic.

  “Garalach?”

  “Don’t act so surprised. We’ve been friends for many years. Are you saying you’ve never once thought about it?”

  Melenius saw Garalach with new eyes. His teacher was much older than he, but being Lorin, he aged slowly, so his face was still the picture of manly youth. His dirty blond hair, which flowed like water, betrayed not only his mixed heritage but his Lorin nature. Garalach had many lovers, male and female, and he never made any effort to hide his preference for both sexes. What did that matter to Melenius or any other man of substance? A man might do what he liked if he had the means to do it. Melenius, too, had had his fair share of amiable encounters, both male and female, but unlike Garalach, he never gave. He took. Melenius had never understood how Garalach could allow another man to enter him and so utterly dominate him.

  He had never thought of Garalach that way, but now that the offer had been made, Melenius felt blood rushing to his cock. He spread his legs a little wider and sat back, wordlessly giving Garalach the go-ahead. Nevia was getting hers; why should he not get his?

  Garalach’s hands traveled all the way up Melenius’s thighs and threw back his tunic, revealing his long, half-hard penis lying against his leg. Garalach licked up Melenius’s inner thigh until his lips reached the tip, and with one swift bob of his head, he swallowed Melenius’s cock.

  A shock of pleasure shot through Melenius as he felt his penis go all the way down Garalach’s throat. His teacher obviously had had a lot of practice. Melenius hardened quickly, and Garalach was obliged to pull away.

  “I’ve never deep-throated something so massive,” Garalach said, wiping spittle away from his lips. His eyes were shining.

  Melenius responded by taking Garalach by the hair and forcing his mouth back onto his cock. Garalach took the penis in both his hands and stroked it up and down as he rolled his tongue around the head. He then fell into a pattern of stroking and sucking, the palm of his hand slipping over the tip, turning Melenius’s cock into a spear. Pressure built along the length of his shaft, and Melenius thrust his hips against Garalach’s sucking. He would release in his mouth and make him swallow his seed. The thought of dominating Garalach turned him on more, and he slowly stood, not letting Garalach remove his mouth. He took Garalach by both sides of his head and guided his mouth with his hands, moving it in rhythm with his thrusts.

  But Garalach pulled away and rose. Melenius’s seed burned for release. Garalach extended his hand and said, “Come.”

  “Where are we going?” Melenius did not put his hand in Garalach’s.

  “To your bedroom, where we might better enjoy each other.”

  Melenius’s bedchamber had oils and other implements for sexual play, and doubtless Garalach wanted to use them. He probably also found it uncomfortable kneeling on cold stones in the atrium.

  “I don’t suck cock,” Melenius said.

  “That’s all right. I’ll suck enough for both of us.” Garalach’s winds rose up and fanned the fires of Melenius’s passion. “Fuck me.”

  But all Melenius could think about was Nevia.

  Garalach must have read it in his eyes. “She’s with Belamal . . . getting fucked right now.”

  Melenius’s fires dimmed at the prospect, and Garalach seized the moment to kiss him. He reached down and released his own erect penis, pressing it against Melenius’s. As his tongue sought to part Melenius’s lips, his hand stroked both their cocks simultaneously as if they were one.

  Melenius broke the kiss. If he was going to fuck Garalach, it would be on his terms. He turned and walked down the hall. “Follow.” And he heard Garalach’s footsteps run up behind him.

  When they got to the bedchamber, he called for a slave to prepare the oils. “The rosy one.”

  As the servant lit a small flame under the copper basin in which he poured the oil, Melenius commanded Garalach to disrobe.

  Garalach was naked almost before the words were out of Melenius’s mouth. He put his hands on Melenius and helped him out of his tunic. Then he ran his hands through Melenius’s chest hair and played with his long, black locks. Garalach was shaved – his chest, belly, and penis – after the Skenje fashion for men. Melenius was at that moment proud that he stuck to his Faror roots. He would take this effete submissive like a real man.

  “Exotic,” Garalach said, stepping back and looking over Melenius’s body. “I’ve never had one like you.”

  But Melenius had had plenty of shaved little men like Garalach.

  “Didn’t you leave something unfinished?” Melenius asked, his cock twitching in the chilly night air.

  Garalach slid down Melenius’s body and wrapped his arms around Melenius’s thighs as he ran his tongue down his shaft. Melenius shuddered again, and Garalach swallowed the length, pushing it to the back of his throat and holding it there.

  Melenius’s cock swelled. He clenched his ass and pressed deeper. Garalach stood his ground but then pulled away and began stroking with both hands again. His saliva dripped from Melenius’s penis.

  Melenius grabbed his cock and slapped Garalach on the mouth with its tip. “You want this?”

  “Yes,” Garalach whispered, looking up into Melenius’s eyes.

  Melenius indicated the bed with a nod of his head. “Make yourself ready for my entry.”

  Garalach climbed onto the bed and got on his hands and knees. The crack of his ass was shaved, too, but Melenius was unsurprised. This was what he was used to with pleasure slaves – tight, clean asses where he could bury his cock.

  The slave passed Melenius the oil, and he poured it on his cock and then dribbled the remains on Garalach’s backside.

  Garalach looked back. “Be gentle. I’ve never had one so big inside me.”

  Melenius nodded. He would not be gentle. He mounted Garalach, and with his knees half bent, he positioned the head of his penis against Garalach’s entrance. He felt his partner tense up, so Melenius slapped his ass. He did not plunge in at once but rubbed the tip up and down between the cheeks, causing Garalach to gyrate his hips.

  Melenius adjusted himself, putting his feet in front of Garalach’s knees so that he could drive straight into his friend’s back passage. He clutched at Garalach’s waist with one hand while with the other he drove his cock halfway into Garalach.

  Garalach moaned and snatched up the bed sheets in clenched fists. “Easy!”

  “This is easy,” Melenius said. He pushed his hips forward until his pelvis rested against Garalach’s smooth backside. He was all the way in, and Garalach howled. “Peace!” Melenius reprimanded his lover.

  Garalach held still, and Melenius waited for him to get used to his girth inside him. This happened to him regularly, especially when breaking in a new youth. In time Garalach relaxed and dropped to his elbows, giving Melenius deeper access.

  Melenius reached under and stroked Garalach’s cock, causing him to lean back and fish for a kiss. Melenius obliged him, still holding his cock steady as he jacked Garalach off. Their tongues explored each other as well, and the tempera
ture in the room shot up. The two Lorin burned in the fires of their passion, and unlike his congress with Nevia, there was no mitigating frost to offset Melenius’s elements.

  Slowly Melenius tried Garalach’s back passage, and when he was sure his friend was accustomed to having his massive cock lodged there, he released Garalach and pounded hard. All his frustration and anger, all his despair he drove into Garalach. He hunched over Garalach’s back and slammed Garalach’s head into the pillows, holding him there while he rammed as hard as he dared. Garalach’s muffled cries answered his efforts, and he reached under to fondle Melenius’s hairy balls. Still farther back his hand strayed, seeking Melenius’s hole.

  Melenius sneered at the attempt. He spun Garalach around on his cock so that he was sitting in his lap. There, entwined in a hug, the two kissed and fucked. They scratched at each other’s backs and slapped each other’s buttocks. Garalach jacked himself off while bouncing on Melenius’s cock.

  “It’s splitting me in two,” he cried, the joy of his airs singing all around him.

  Melenius threw Garalach forward so that he lay flat on his back. Melenius, leaning forward on his knees, pushed deep into Garalach’s slick back passage again, the pressure of his cum mounting with every thrust. He kissed Garalach’s mouth again. He grabbed Garalach’s cock and stroked it forward, across his belly. Garalach gripped Melenius’s buttocks and matched his rhythm, pulling him deeper with every push.

  Melenius’s cum was at the tip, and he knew that with a couple more slow thrusts, he would spill his seed deep inside his friend. Bracing his weight with his left arm, he put his right forearm against Garalach’s throat. “I’m going to come.”

  Garalach threw his legs up higher, locking them around Melenius’s waist. “Give it to me.” His voice croaked against the pressure on his throat. His face reddened, and his waters wept.

  Melenius slowed his pace. His cum was inevitable, but he liked to savor the moment, especially during anal sex. He was conscious of Garalach’s asshole wrapped around the girth of his cock, squeezing it and begging for him to ejaculate. In, out, long slow strokes as Melenius held back the cum.