by Lena Austin
Kitiarey put her meat roll on her plate and pretended to be offended. Her lips twitched before she too burst into delighted chuckles. “Aneurin, you are such a jester. That’s what I get for teasing, right, my dearest love?” Her large, dark violet eyes turned to her human bond mate.
He cuddled her close and kissed her pert nose. “I think Aneurin has more to fear from your beating him in flight class than if you rose for mating as they so foolishly think you might.” He glared balefully at the head table.
Another bonded pair snorted simultaneously, summing up all their feelings about such nonsense, and the chatter soon returned to good-natured banter.
Remo signaled a servant to clean up the spill he’d made and returned to his silent brooding. He’d never felt so cold and alone, even with that tiny warm spot that signaled a dragon bond he dared not acknowledge. Where was Quenton?
He’d fought with himself on whether to warn Jack about Quenton or not. Worse, he could see that Jack had indeed bonded with the Dragon’s Stone, though he was completely unaware of this fact. The table full of dragons and their bond mates, attracted by the subtle pull of the Stone’s possessor, was proof enough of that. Jack expressed astonishment that they’d want to be seen with the student who could barely manage to remain strapped in his saddle, much less fight or spell cast.
Remo saw no reason to enlighten him. Yet.
A tiny green dragon made of intricately folded paper fluttered like a clumsy butterfly toward them, making straight for Remo. Its delicate little wings flashed with the sparkle of the silverpoint pen and ink used to inscribe the message it carried.
He put out his hand, and the little dragon landed on his palm. The wings lifted once, and then stilled, the magic spent. Remo crushed the paper into a wad and stuffed it into his pouch with no regard for the delicate art that created it.
Jack blinked, plainly a little shocked. “Aren’t you going to look to see who sent you an origami dragon?”
Remo shook his head, his lips firmly pressed together. The color of the paper alone told him who sent it. He’d read the rest in private. “What is origami?”
Jack launched into a complicated explanation of the art of folding paper to create animals and shapes as performed by a people with yellow skin and eyes more slanted than an Elf’s, but possessing a beautiful and ancient culture. The others leaned forward, fascinated as Jack used a water goblet to create an illusion of his descriptions. He was a lousy rider, but he was a superb wizard, able to translate the “teck-naw-logy” of his adopted world to Honalee.
Remo sat back, smiling, and began to concoct a suitable excuse for disappearing from sight for the evening. The cold little spot in his belly warmed and began to spread at the prospect.
* * *
Quenton breathed a sigh of pure relief when Remo crept silently around the open door of the salle. His cock hardened immediately at the sight of Remo’s moonlight hair vying with the orb in the sky for shine and beauty. Quenton personally felt his Elf won. He knew he was just a besotted dragon in the throes of a new bond, but that didn’t matter one whit. “Hello, beautiful.” He held out his arms.
The joyous grin on Remo’s face did outshine the moon, and he leapt into Quenton’s arms with abandon. One fast, hot kiss burned between them. Remo’s nose wrinkled for a moment as they broke off. “I can’t wait until you stop bathing in garlic to hide your draconic scent from the other dragons.”
Quenton chuckled and held his Elf tight, nuzzling the white silk on Remo’s head. “I’ve been grateful they’re all bonded and never spent much time in the Lair, or they’d surely recognize my scent.”
Remo nibbled on Quenton’s collarbone and moved closer. “I cannot wait for this to be over. I want a proper bonding retreat with you somewhere. Perhaps the sea. I’ve never seen it.”
Despite his body responding to his Elf’s attentions, Quenton could easily envision long days curled up in the sands, or diving deep for food. “There’s a plant that grows on the sea floor. I hear it’s delicious. I’d get it for you.”
His lover’s hand stole up to clench in Quenton’s dark curls. Remo’s eyes burned with the intensity of his need. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, I want you. Three days was much too long.”
“There’s a bench over there to throw you over, and I’ve put a padded gambeson down for your comfort.” He suited words to action, half-carrying Remo to the bench. “Whisk our clothes away, my Elf. I’m in a hurry.”
“I can see you’ll forget how to undress, if you remain impatient for the rest of our days.” Yet their clothes vanished, to reappear on another nearby bench. Remo eyed the broken spear and strips of cloth on the floor next to the bench. A slow grin twitched his lips, and his slanted green eyes glowed for a moment. “Going to tie me up, lover?”
Quenton reached down and hefted the spear shaft. It was good, solid oak. “You once enjoyed being spread with a branch to hold your legs apart. Do you still?”
In answer, Remo attacked one of Quenton’s nipples, nibbling and biting on the firm flesh. One of his delicate hands reached down to cup Quenton’s balls and massage them gently.
Quenton smiled and threw his head back, enjoying the dual sensations from a lover who knew precisely how to please. That Remo remembered as well as he did, even after so long, pleased Quenton. “I’ll take that for a yes.”
With a sly glance, Remo withdrew and danced away with a teasing grin. “I should make you catch me, as we often played.”
“Too easy.” Quenton lashed out with a bit of magic, catching Remo off guard and binding the Elf’s ankles to the floor. “You forget you’re not in the forest now, but upon man-made things.”
Remo laughed, even as the magic moved, forcing him to spread his legs wide. “I forget nothing.”
Quenton knelt before his Elf, spear shaft and straps in hand. He felt Remo grasp his hair, not only for balance but also for the pleasure of his dragon’s lips wrapped around his cock. While Quenton’s mouth watered, he had other plans. He tied one limb to the spear shaft where earlier he’d carved a notch to fit the Elf’s trim ankle, then repeated the procedure with the other ankle. Then, and only then, did Quenton’s mouth and teeth find the inside of Remo’s thigh. The Elf’s cock twitched against his hair and cheek.
Remo groaned aloud. “Teasing dragon.”
The dragon in question murmured against the tasty flesh, “I’ve barely begun to tease, lover. We have all night, since tomorrow is a rest day.”
“Oh.” Remo’s hands were free to do what they wished, including fetch things with the simple Elven magic all the fair folk possessed. “Well then, perhaps you’ll like what is in my hand.” A small vial smacked into his palm.
Quenton eyed the odd bottle of dark red, viscous liquid. “What is that?”
Remo grinned. “A thing Prince Jack brought with him from the non-magic realm. It’s called flavored lube. This one tastes like the finest berries, mixed with honey.”
“Honey?” Quenton’s greed for honey was the same as any other dragon. He all but snatched it from Remo’s hands. “How do you use it?” There was no cork. “Better still, how do you get it open?”
Remo reached down to the odd white top and used his thumb to pop open a portion of the top. From a small hole rose a sweet, berry-laden scent. “Use a small amount anywhere you wish to lick or fuck.” Suiting words to action, he tipped the bottle until a small drop fell onto the head of his cock, and he rubbed it in. “Taste.”
Now that they were alone, Quenton could indulge his fondest wish and be himself in front of Remo. He flicked out his forked tongue and tickled both ends to do as commanded. The sweet liquid exploded with flavor on his tongue. “We must acquire this potion for ourselves. Perhaps someday the prince will take us to that mundane world?” He eagerly dribbled more on his lover’s twitching flesh, allowing the liquid to flow gently down the valley of Remo’s ass.
Remo moaned but wisely made no protests. His back arched, allowing Quenton’s arms to lift and flip
him on his stomach, making use of the soft quilted gambeson like a pillow. This game they’d played full often, and he would not interrupt while Quenton pretended to be the victor and he the helpless spoil of battle.
Quenton eyed with pleasure the tasty morsel quite literally spread before him. His tongue flickered to lick his lips, and his mouth watered to taste that moon-white flesh before the dessert of berry honey and rosy pink ass. His already heated cock hardened enough to pound dwarven metal. The sweet scent drove him nearly mad, but he disciplined himself not to bite but nibble.
The tasty muscle his teeth teased jumped and firmed while his Elf moaned and squirmed helplessly. “Teasing dragon!” was all he got out before Quenton’s tongue found his ass and ate the berry honey from it with relish. Perhaps it was best Quenton’s command of Elven was not extensive, judging by the colorful language spewing from his lover’s pale lips.
“Tsk, tsk. Such a vocabulary. My noble ears burn. Perhaps you would prefer I did this?” Quenton lifted his face from between the two white globes of Remo’s ass, squirted the liquid confidently back where he’d removed it, and stood to lift his Elf by the waist until Remo was impaled on his dragon’s aching cock. Quenton turned, sat on the gambeson, and supported his Elf carefully between his legs like a delicate harp to be played. “Now you may bounce and ride to your heart’s content.”
Never one to be slow in reacting, Remo took quick advantage of the reversal and used his hands on Quenton’s thighs to control his up and down motions despite the spear keeping his legs spread wide. “I could use magic or change back into a wyvern so I had wings to beat.”
Quenton laughed. “And a tail to sting me? I think not, my lover Elf. I’ve just healed from the last buffeting. We will fly together without wings soon enough, for I fear my longing for you has made my body most anxious for release.” He bit his own lip, praying for a few seconds more to give his love all the ecstasy desired by both.
Remo grunted with his own pleasure. “Indeed? Another time then, for I, too, am --” He interrupted his own sentence with a sharp, soft cry. His own orgasm flew skyward and glittered in the moonlight as it fell to the wooden floor.
Now Quenton felt safe in permitting himself release, and he let his own orgasm soar as if it had wings of its own. Soon he would be able to tell his Elf of his new quest, and they would celebrate Prince Jack’s continued life.
They panted in each other’s arms for a brief moment, and then Remo himself whisked away the spear spreader. “Sorry, my lover dragon, but that was growing uncomfortable.”
Chuckling, Quenton fished his hand deep in his pack and brandished the distinctive blue bottle of Elven wine. “I knew you would when you were ready. I would keep you spread and available for my lust always, if I could.”
The Elf mage snorted and manifested two goblets, floating midair and awaiting their fill of the sparkling liquid. “I know it, but we have better things to discuss than your fantasies. What did your queen say? Please tell me we will not be at odds.”
Quenton filled the goblets and took one to salute his love with. “Indeed, we are not enemies, for my queen has given me a new task. I am now permitted -- nay, even ordered, though I would do it gladly in any case -- to befriend Prince Jack and ascertain if he is indeed as noble and true as you say.”
Remo sipped delicately from his goblet and raised one silver eyebrow at his dragon. “Indeed? That is good news on the surface, but would it not be easier simply to be honest with the prince?”
“That’s what I’d prefer.”
Both Quenton and Remo started guiltily and spun around. Leaning against the door was Jack himself, with Aneurin hovering disapprovingly in the background of the starry night.
Jack pushed himself casually away from the doorframe and sauntered in. “Gentlemen, in the language of my adopted world, you have some explaining to do.”
Chapter Six
Duplicity. Plainly, Remo would be accused of the dishonorable crime. He hung his head, knowing such a charge could easily be laid upon him with no small amount of truth.
Quenton stammered and choked on his wine, at a complete loss.
Jack ushered his dragon inside, then closed the door firmly. His face was grim, but not angry. “You guys really don’t know much about humans, do you?” He shook his head and sat on a bench.
“They know even less about you.” Aneurin quietly gave Quenton one sniff, raised his eyebrows, and sat down on another bench near the door.
Many might assume Jack’s bond mate guarded their meeting, but Remo wasn’t fooled. He was far enough away not to crush Jack if he changed and charred the miscreants to ash before Quenton could also shift.
Quenton gave Aneurin’s position a nod of acknowledgement. “I remind you I breathe poisonous breath that harms the skin as well. Let’s not think of killing our loves before we have given full consideration of all.”
“Remind me to discuss that with you, if your breath is chlorine, as the myth… legends tell.”
Jack cleared his throat and held up a conciliatory hand. “Ease up, guys. No one needs to get mad. I think we need to have a -- truth-telling -- session.”
Quenton nodded. “This I agree to do. But why do you stumble over your words so?”
Remo answered for Jack, whose lips were twitching with suppressed laughter. “I remind you that Jack is from the non-magic realm. His language was different, and I think we would not recognize his phrasing were he to directly translate. Some words require a cultural reference.”
Aneurin’s mutter from the door was nonetheless audible to all. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Jack manifested a steaming mug in his hands, causing Remo to start. “Sorry. Finally caught the hang of teleporting objects tonight, and I see no reason to waste a perfectly good cup of ja… coffee.” He grinned. “See? There’s an example. I almost called this brew in my hands by one of its many nicknames, java, named for one of the places where the ingredients come from.”
Quenton sipped his wine, feigning more aplomb than he possessed. Remo could feel the twang of his nervousness like badly tuned harp strings. “This explains much. We did wonder whence you came, and how you got to the human realm.”
Remo caught Aneurin’s wince and wondered at such an emotional reaction to a simple statement. “This sounds like a tale.”
Jack’s frown deepened, and he sipped his hot beverage, his eyes clouded with thought. “A long one we don’t have time for. What the non-human allies seek to know probably boils down to a few sentences. The rest can wait.” He took another sip. “You can ask Aneurin for details later, okay? He’s better at this than I am.”
“Then tell your allies what they need to know, Prince Jack.” Quenton leaned forward eagerly.
“My father tried to steal me on the night of my birth, probably to be a blood sacrifice.” Jack paused and his words faltered, stopping and starting as if he chose his words with great care. “He failed, but he created his own enemy that night. Bad enough when you’re evil to those who have a chance to walk away, but babies? Kids? Mother hid me away where I’d be very difficult to find, but she couldn’t erase all those first five years of living in Honalee. I grew up with a fascination for creatures that didn’t exist in that mundane realm.” The loving smile he bestowed on Aneurin could have lit the entire room.
Aneurin’s golden eyes were the lamps that reflected the light of that love.
“Jack and I bonded early, but were forced to separate often. We have not had more than a few months together as adults to fly as we ought. That’s why we’re so clumsy.”
“Yeah well, what’s done can’t be undone.” Jack stood up and paced around the salle, never getting out of earshot. “I just hope that sonovabitch who fathered me didn’t sacrifice my little sister. I’d like to have a sister, and not just because she’d be the heir to the throne.”
Remo bit his lip, hard. The growl had ended on such a wistful note, but now was not the time to reveal all. Instead, he too would reserve hi
s grander tales for another day. “I believe it is now my turn, for it is a short story. In the past few centuries, it has been deemed unwise to bond with a dragon. The last Elf who did died at the breath of his own dragon. He was my uncle, and my first teacher.”
Quenton reached out and caressed Remo’s trembling hand. “To love a dragon is…” He grimaced. “The Elves say it is the same as loving a beast.”
Jack’s grimace matched his own. “Gotcha. Say no more.” Jack met Aneurin’s loving gaze. “But you, Quenton, have the most explaining to do of all. I think I’ve been remarkably patient in waiting to find out why a dragon pretends to be a human lord and then is ordered by his queen to befriend me.”
Remo could not spare his love this task. It was Quenton’s burden and duty, and Remo would surely lay bare all instead of what was necessary. All he could do instead was lay his head upon Quenton’s shoulder and offer his unspoken support, so he did.
Quenton caressed his hair with his cheek and sighed. “Indeed, you have been most patient, Prince Jack.” He drew one deep breath, and plunged as if he dove off a cliff. “I have been a spy in your father’s court since Cadell usurped the throne. His hatred of dragon kind is well known.”
Jack’s lips twitched. “Go on, Quenton. I can see how having you there would be useful, and with good reason, I’m sure.”
“That also explains the bathing in garlic.” Aneurin’s nose wrinkled. “Those of us who are bonded are less trusted by the independent dragons. Who knew if one of us would foolishly betray Quenton if we sniffed out what he was?”
Quenton jerked a short nod of his chin. “I’ll be grateful to smell like a dragon again, ’tis true. May I never smell the stench of garlic again once I am free.” He stared defiantly at Prince Jack. “A few weeks ago, my task changed. The Dragon’s Stone was stolen from our queen’s lair.”
Remo raised his hand. “Permit me to remove the frown from Jack’s face. The Dragon’s Stone is an ancient artifact created by a wizard who loved dragons, but could not bond with one. No dragon would have him, and so his obsession grew into madness. He created the stone and infused it with all his mage energy and his wish to control dragon kind.” He gave a wry smile for the irony of it all. “In his madness, he fed all into it, including his own life force. But, in doing so, the madness was purged from him though we knew it not. His young daughter found his body and the stone. She was the first to bond with it.”