Lyrion's Gift [Elven Conceptions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove)

by Jade Astor

  “Some of them are,” Lyrion confessed, clearly struggling to control himself. “But most are for my own Da and Fa. This life within me will be their grandson as well as the king’s. And I doubt they will ever see or hold him, or even know of his existence. They probably think I am dead. If your father’s pain is yet so sharp after so many seasons, how terrible must theirs be right now?”

  Talek stared at him. He had no idea how to answer.

  “My father did have one good idea,” he finally said, hoping to distract Lyrion from his sorrow. To his relief, it seemed to work.

  “What was that?”

  “Sweetened toadstools for dinner. They are known to...to stimulate certain parts of the body, you know. I am a bit embarrassed to think that my mother was so partial to them. But then, perhaps that is how I came to be.”

  “We had them that night as well,” Lyrion said, his hand going to the part of his tunic that covered the mark.

  “Yes. True enough. And then, as well, they seem to have had the desired effect. So let us tell the kitchen servants to gather some. We will send a platterful to my father, too, if he still wants them by tonight.”

  As they walked on, Talek curled his hand around Lyrion’s. The gentle fingers slid through his, both receiving and offering silent comfort.

  Chapter 7

  Lyrion stood in the center of the bed, his bare feet planted wide apart. Kevris’s mouth was sucking his cock with great enthusiasm and skill. At the same time, Kevris himself straddled the prince backward. Talek lay flat on the mattress, his hands braced against Kevris’s legs, thrusting up and into Kevris’s core. The strand of jewels around Kevris’s cock swung and clacked as he pumped his hips up and down. When Lyrion glanced down, he saw that he was using his own fist so that all of them would be satisfied at once.

  Though the three moved together in a steady, almost savage rhythm, Kevris’s lips were surprisingly gentle on his flesh. Lyrion’s knees shook as pleasures crashed through him like summer thunder. Had their meal of sweetened toadstools really been that potent? It seemed difficult to believe, but their small and intimate feast for three had rapidly grown even more intimate. As the night wore on, their mutual lust only grew stronger. They had barely been able to wait until dinner had ended and they retired to Talek’s chambers before their bodies had curled together in passion.

  Kevris’s mouth suddenly drove itself against Lyrion’s crotch with much greater force. His teeth grazed the tender flesh at his base while his chin pressed his achingly full bollocks. Tingling stabs of pleasure pulsed through Lyrion’s groin. These proved highly satisfying, to be sure, but he couldn’t help wondering what Kevris felt as he rocked up and down on the prince’s upthrust erection. Talek grunted and moaned with obvious excitement, while Kevris’s own moans of pleasure vibrated his tongue on Lyrion’s cock. As for Lyrion, his enjoyment was so intense that he could do little more than gasp for breath and whimper with need.

  At last, their joining reached its inevitable pinnacle. The prince began to buck and shudder first, and his release was followed by a splash of hot seed that dripped down Kevris’s clasped fingers. Lyrion lapsed into bliss last, though only by a few moments, his chest heaving as his cock jerked and pulsed between Kevris’s lips.

  Lyrion did not think he had ever experienced a sensation so overwhelming. Even his wits seemed to abandon him. At the very moment his body stopped trembling and Kevris withdrew his lips, a great black curtain threaded with gold seemed to fall over his eyes. Then his knees finally buckled and he slumped back onto the bed. Real darkness followed when Talek angled his head and blew out the candelabra.

  The three slept curled in a warm tangle of limbs and kisses and slow caresses. Adrift in the dark, Lyrion knew not whose hand stroked his shoulder or whose lips brushed his forehead. He could not deny that each felt equally pleasurable and welcome. Then his eyelids dropped, and he slept.

  * * * *

  The next sight he beheld was daylight streaming into the room through the casements and the prince stepping from the bed. On the other side of him, Kevris still slept. Lyrion noticed that the strand of jewelry had come loose from his cock at some point during the night and lay on the floor beside the prince’s bare feet.

  “’Tis time for me to assemble my ministers,” Talek said, stretching his graceful and well-muscled limbs. Random red marks adorned his magnificent body in several places, left there by the ardent kisses of Kevris and Lyrion himself. “They become lazy if I do not call them to account every morning.”

  He crossed the room, wrapping his body in a long length of soft red cloth, and peered into the corridor to summon a servant. Lyrion heard them speak in hushed tones before the prince shut the door again.

  “I shall take my bath in the Wardrobe,” he informed Lyrion. “The servants will prepare fresh baths for the two of you as soon as I am done. You may rise at your leisure.”

  “Thank you. I should like to rest a bit longer.”

  The prince paused to bend and touch his lips to Lyrion’s forehead. “Indeed. You must rest as long as you need and whenever you need. ’Tis the way one deals with these…conditions, I understand.”

  “My condition is not so far advanced as to require special treatment, surely,” Lyrion replied, amused. He did not feel any different, though the mark seemed to have grown again when he looked back down at it.

  “We must take no chances,” Talek said, adjusting his wrap around his shoulders. “I shall not allow the slightest harm to come to you or the future prince. Therefore you must take special care with everything you do. Promise me this.”

  “I do,” Lyrion said. The prince stepped away, and he closed his eyes as a warm wave of exhaustion swept over him. He slept again until he felt Kevris touching his shoulder to rouse him.

  “My limbs are quite sore from the night’s activities,” Kevris said. “I heard Talek say our baths were waiting. I should enjoy a hot soak, to be sure. Let us go before the servants run off and the water grows cold.”

  As he climbed out of bed, he spotted his strand of jewels, still lying on the floor. He bent to pick them up.

  “Why do you wear those?” Lyrion asked.

  Kevris raised a brow. “They are meant to keep the prince’s attention,” he said. “’Tis a trick I learned when I worked in a brothel many years ago. But perhaps I don’t need them any longer.”

  After a moment’s consideration, Kevris straightened up and left them where they were.

  The two of them wrapped themselves in their own robes and walked together to the large corner room where the prince kept his ornate tunics along with other fine garments and shoes. The same servants Lyrion had seen on his first day at the palace had already stoked the fire and were heating an entire row of buckets. Twin tubs stood ready at one side of the hearth.

  “You may go,” Kevris said with a wave, dismissing the servants as soon as they had poured the water into the tubs. “We are perfectly capable of washing ourselves and would prefer to soak privately.”

  The two left without argument. Relieved that they would not be watching him or listening to their conversation, Lyrion shed his robe and lowered himself into one of the tubs. He noticed Kevris glancing over at the mark as he stepped into the other.

  Resting his head back against the edge of the tub, Lyrion let his thoughts drift and his body melt into the comfort of the warm, scented water. The palace had so many delights he could never have imagined in his own village. His son would be happy here and want for nothing. He would also be a prince—destined for great leadership and wealth. He allowed himself to imagine Talek as a father, his handsome face aglow with pride and affection for his son.

  Yet Lyrion’s heart grew heavier as he thought of Da and Fa, Gregar and Sehru, and everyone else he had been forced to leave behind. He even missed the bleating of the azhi herd that awakened him each morning. At the time he had been foolish enough to complain about being roused from bed so early and expected to share in the chores. Now he would have welcome
d the homey noises that had annoyed him then. And Da and Fa would work their small farm alone. No doubt Alderman Igby had withdrawn his offer of land by now. Perhaps he assumed he was the very reason Lyrion had disappeared.

  Gradually he saw Kevris climbing out of his bath and reaching for a drying cloth. Since the water in his own tub had begun to cool, Lyrion followed his example. While he was still patting down his skin, Kevris rolled his cloth out on the floor in front of the hearth and stretched out on it. Casually he rubbed at his cock with his fingertips for a few moments. It looked very different without the jewelry, Lyrion marveled—more natural, of course, and somehow more powerful.

  He decided to join Kevris in front of the fireplace. The two lay comfortably naked with the heat drying their skin.

  “I like this. It makes me comfortable,” Lyrion said. He was tempted to touch his own cock, now that he felt warm and tingly from the bath, but he managed to restrain himself. “I have never known anyone quite like you before, Kevris.”

  “I’m sure you haven’t,” Kevris said. His smile seemed more genuine this time—not one of his usual smirks.

  “May I ask you some questions? I have so much to learn about this place and the people here.”

  “Ask what you want. I’ll answer what I can—providing ’tis nothing I need to keep secret for my own preservation.”

  Lyrion did not quite understand what that meant, but he forged ahead. “Where do you come from? Have you a home someplace nearby?”

  Kevris shrugged. “I have always been a drifter. I scarcely remember my own village, which I left as a barely grown boy. I won’t burden you with the details of my actions when I left home—suffice to say I did what I had to in order to survive. Those years took their toll on me, though. By the time I made my way to the palace and gained entrance as a servant, I had little memory of my old home.”

  His casual tone surprised Lyrion. “That did not make you miserable?”

  “No. In fact, I preferred it. Those I left behind did not wish to see me for who I really was. Perhaps they could not have in any case.” He paused, his brows sinking on his forehead. “They were simple people, and I suppose they meant well in their own way, but there was no way I could have lived among them.”

  “Was it because of…your hair?” Lyrion asked, frowning. He could not imagine why any village would reject one of its own people, though Kevris would certainly have stood out. “It is of a most unusual hue.”

  Kevris laughed and raked a hand through his red locks, making them ripple like flames. “I suppose that may have been one of their problems with me, but not the only one.” Dropping his hand and lying back, he sighed wistfully. “Perhaps I did question my own decision for a time. But the first time I set my eyes on the prince…and the first time he invited me to his bed…I knew I had made the only possible choice for my happiness.”

  “Does he really make you happy, though?” Lyrion blushed. “I mean…I have heard the way he speaks to you. Sometimes he is most harsh. It even hurts me. Yet you do not seem to mind.”

  “’Tis not that I don’t mind.” Kevris turned his head on the drying cloth and assumed a nonchalant expression, but Lyrion detected a flash of pain in his eyes. “I know why he does it. You met his father?”

  “Yes.”

  Kevris nodded. “For most of his life, Talek watched the king slowly go mad over the loss of his mother. Is it any wonder he associates love with an agony intense enough to rob a man of his wits? He wraps his heart in ice so no killing flame will ever touch it. I think, though, that you have begun to melt it a bit.”

  “I have tried—not just for my sake, but for yours. I figured out what that word means, you know—concubinus.”

  “Yes, I expected you had by now. You will have it easier—you will be his consort. ’Tis a far more stable position, befitting one who can supply him with an heir. I confess I wish I had your gift. My life with him might have turned out much differently. However, I must make the most of what it is. One day, perhaps, Talek will speak freely of love as well as feel it—not just for me, but for you as well.”

  Lyrion looked down at the floor, considering his words. “I am aware you did not care for me at first. ’Tis not that I blame you—only that I am glad you no longer feel that way.”

  “I do not. And I am not afraid to share him with you, since if not for you, he might not be able to love at all.” Kevris folded his arms under his head. “I am sure you could see why I felt as I did, though. In spite of his flaws, I love Talek, and I thought you would take him from me.”

  “That was never my intention. I was carried here against my will, after all—though I have come to enjoy my life with both of you.”

  Kevris nodded. “When the soldiers first brought you, I was more angry and jealous than I have ever been in my life. Yet now I see it was the best possible turns of events where Talek is concerned.”

  “I am glad my coming here has been beneficial.” Lyrion’s voice caught. “And yet…”

  “You still long for your village, don’t you?” Kevris asked.

  Lyrion nodded. “Sometimes, when I sleep, I dream that I have returned. ’Tis a sweet dream, but over too soon.”

  “So that is what you dream of when you are resting in my bed?” An angry voice erupted behind them. They leapt up and turned to see that the prince had entered the room. A storm was brewing on his face now. “I have given you everything—my palace, my protection, and my heart—and still you long for your dull, backward village stinking of farm animals’ dung?”

  “Can you blame me?” Lyrion retorted, his eyes flashing with outrage. “It is my home! A home you took me from!”

  “You will never return there” the prince vowed, his voice shaking with rage. “I shall lock you back in your chains if I must!” Striding back to the door, he bellowed for his servants. They returned, their faces pale.

  “You will do no such thing,” Kevris said, wrapping himself in a drying towel.

  “Won’t I?” Talek turned on him with an expression that looked nothing less than murderous. Then he jabbed a finger at the servants. “See that this ungrateful wretch does not leave this room until I send for him,” he shouted.

  Chapter 8

  Talek stalked into his bedchamber and uncorked a jug of shadowberry wine. He drank deeply and greedily, savoring the slightly painful burn as it slid into his stomach. One jug, he knew, was scarcely enough to dull his senses—fortunately, he had an entire bottlery at his disposal. He would go through every container in his store if he had to. At some point, the ache in his heart would have to stop.

  The door to his chamber scraped against the stone as it opened. Kevris entered, still wrapped in his drying cloth. Talek cursed himself for not ordering the servants to detain him in the bathing room, too.

  “I must speak to you about your treatment of Lyrion, prince.”

  “From your tone, I assume you have come to defend him. How interesting. I thought you would be thrilled that he has been demoted to captive status again.”

  “You know very well that I am not.”

  Talek took another swig from the jug. “Surely you cannot blame me for the fate that has befallen him. He asked for it himself—in quite specific words, I believe.”

  “He did nothing of the kind, as well you know. He expressed a longing to see his own village again. Never did he say he was not happy with you or with any of your gifts. You deliberately interpreted it that way so you would have an excuse to punish him.”

  “Who are you to question my judgment?” Talek turned on Kevris, his face flooding with heat as his anger rose all over again. “Having heard that, should I allow him to wander freely about the palace, perhaps with an eye to escaping? Kindly remember that my heir still rests inside him. That was the entire reason we brought him here, after all.”

  “Yet you have come to value his companionship for other reasons as well. Do not bother to deny it—it is obvious to me.”

  Talek scowled, and his haughty tone softene
d. “No,” he said slowly, “I shall not bother to deny it. Yet I must also confess that you were right about him all along. His sweet manner and flattering words are but a ruse. He feels nothing for either one of us.”

  “’Tis amusing—I was about to say the same thing of you.” Crossing the room, Kevris faced him boldly. “Many in this palace say you have no heart at all. I happen to know differently—that you do indeed have one. I even know the reason you never show it—though I cannot help but wonder if you do.”

  “You are very free with your tongue.” Talek raised the jug again. After he had emptied it, he still held it between them, running his lips over its rim. “There are some princes who would have it cut from your mouth for such insolence.”

  “That may well be so. But you are not such a prince, and never have been. What of your father, though? Would he go so far to prevent me from speaking the truth? And if he did, would it be a symptom of his madness?”

  “You know nothing of my father’s madness. I admit I will not maim you, but I command you to remain silent on matters that concern you not.”

  “The king concerns me because he concerns you. Is that not one of my functions in your household—to share the burdens that oppress you? And I have always believed, no matter how often you deny it, that your fear of madness is what causes you to banish love from your life.”

  Talek lowered the jug from his face. “As I said before…you know nothing of such matters. You would do well to leave me now, before I forget I am a civilized man and do something to you we shall both regret.”

  Kevris pressed on as if he had not heard. “Part of what disturbs the king when you go to visit him is that he sees the face of his wife echoed in your own. You told me so yourself the afternoon we went there together.”

  “Yes. What of it? Does not every man resemble his mother a bit? I mean—Lyrion’s will not, but no doubt the child will resemble him. ’Tis nature’s way.”