Dragon Bone

by J. D. Cavalida

  A strangled noise rose from his throat, would've been a proper moan if his diaphragm hadn't frozen as his entire torso tensed up upon the almost-unbearable squeeze of Kana's ass. His fingers tightened into claws on Kana's thighs, toes curling when his entire length was slowly engulfed by pulsing heat and clenching muscle. He might've hissed out half a word with the short, involuntary gasps escaping his mouth—he didn't know, couldn't care less. His body piloted by some feral instinct, Elstrin drew his hips back and slammed them up. Above him, Kana yelled, his whole body jostling with the force of it, and gripped desperately at Elstrin's knee and shoulder when he refused to pause—again and again he thrust up into Kana, burying himself deep as he could, their skin slapping together. The sound carried over the ragged panting that filled the room, noises he could no longer pick apart but sparked warmth all along his spine and stomach.

  At some point Kana had bowed over him, sucking and biting at his neck and whispering things into his ear. Elstrin didn't hear his commands but obeyed anyway, releasing one hand from Kana's waist to clumsily stroke his slick, hard cock. His purr came back, a steady vibration that went from his teeth into Elstrin's skin, racing over his throat. They kissed for the thousandth time, short, drunken kisses that tasted of salt and sex. Then Elstrin felt fingertips on his sternum and hot gasping breath in his hair, "Fuck. Stop, stop, Elstrin. Slow down."

  He obeyed again and forced his hips to still. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and he was suddenly aware of the dull ache in his lower back and thighs where the muscles had tensed and relaxed in such quick succession so many times. He touched Kana's face with slack, wandering hands, stared into his hazy eyes. Wasn't quite sure what to say—Kana looked like he was having a very good time. "Sorry," he guessed.

  "No, I'm fine," Kana said with a liquid laugh. He kissed Elstrin, lips soft and tongue slick. "Let me."

  For a second Elstrin didn't know what he meant, but then Kana ground his hips down in a perfect, circular motion, tightening then loosening, and Elstrin let his head fall back with a soft, "Oh, Kana." Nothing more was said for a while. Kana rode him steadily, impaling himself on Elstrin's cock and whimpering quietly at the end of every pull back, and Elstrin found his toes curling at the exquisiteness of just lying there and feeling everything.

  The tight, unfaltering rhythm was hypnotising. Sneakily, it brought him closer and closer to orgasm almost without him realising it—but suddenly it was all too much, the fire in his blood reaching the point where it had to escape, coiled pleasure in his gut unfurling and expanding. He raised his hips to meet Kana's sink, drawing a breathless sigh from both of them, and Elstrin stroked Kana frantically in a grip that must've been at least a little painful. He felt Kana tremble around him, spasm and tighten as his nails dug into Elstrin's chest, his cock twitching and flushing in Elstrin's fist—he came with a loud, low sound that Elstrin could practically taste, thick and heavy. His ass clenched to an excruciating point, heat and wetness shooting across their stomaches, and Elstrin was gone, eyes squeezing shut and spine arching, clutching Kana close as the pleasure snapped and flooded him with warmth three times over. He muffled his cry in Kana's hair, feet sliding over the blanket, thrusting up blindly until the ecstasy waned and the room dimmed again. Panting, heart pounding, he slowed to a stop, relaxed his arms from their lock around Kana's back. Pulled him down for a long, deep kiss. Kana climbed off him and Elstrin gasped a little again at the brief, uncomfortable sensation. Their mouths parted, lips sticky and tired. Elstrin eased the condom off, managed to tie it and patted around the bed for a towel. Kana found it first and cleaned them up.

  Elstrin realised he was grinning goofily and about to giggle. He pressed the flutter of elation down as best as he could. "We were kind of loud, weren't we?"

  "There're probably a couple of people down in the slums that didn't hear us," Kana acceded, tossing everything unneeded from the bed carelessly. He flopped down beside Elstrin, drew the blanket over them and squirmed closer. He yawned, which immediately made Elstrin yawn. "Mm. Thank you."

  "Are you kidding me? I should be thanking you. That was—so fucking amazing."

  "Feeling's mutual, then," Kana murmured happily, eyes already closed, and Elstrin was not far off. Kana stroked his hair once before growing still. "G'night."

  "Yeah. Good night," Elstrin agreed, falling asleep with a smile on his face.

  Chapter 20

  Despite how well and deeply he slept, curled up with Kana, bare legs tangled together under the blanket, the moment Elstrin's alarm clock rang he woke up with a jolt. The anxiety and confusion that had been drowned out by pure pleasure last night came flooding back into the pit of his stomach. He sat up quickly, briefly dizzy as the blood rushed to his head, and hunted for his uniform frantically even though he had plenty of time. Kana interrupted by pulling him back down and giving him a slow, sweet morning kiss. It calmed him some, at least banishing a little of his restlessness. They didn't talk, and ate breakfast with the others in comfortable silence, though Elstrin's head was full of worries. Across the table, Vel gave them both one look and dissolved into sniggers, leaning into Andrew as he laughed himself too breathless to even congratulate them. Andrew gave them a now-familiar apologetic glance, put his arm around Vel and waited it out with a quiet, fond smile.

  It was time. Kana bade Elstrin good luck and kissed him on the cheek. Shuffling out of the cafeteria, Elstrin automatically scanned the stream of soldiers coming out of the gate for a sign of distinctive white hair. Snow wasn't at the front of the group as usual—he was lingering by the back, and motioned Elstrin to come over once the other cadets had moved away. Stag was with him. There was a gun on the colonel's hip, beside a walkie-talkie that emitted a stream of static.

  Stag spoke up first. "I still think this is a bad idea. Be careful."

  "I will," Snow sighed, handing Elstrin a wooden practice sword, the very first weapon he'd used here. He took it slowly.

  "We're training?" he asked suspiciously. "What about—"

  "I'm bringing you in to see Rem."

  Elstrin blinked. "Oh. Uh—"

  "You concentrate best when you're training. In order to do this, I need your mind to be focused and alert, and the adrenalin helps too. I'm basically going to guide you through a shorter, safer version of what you tried to do yesterday. The colonel will be there too in case you stray and get lost, which shouldn't happen, but—"

  "Wait, wait, wait," Elstrin stammered, holding up his hand. "I—I don't even know what yesterday was. I can't even do magic—how can you expect me to understand all this—"

  "You wanted me to tell you about it. So I am. The longer we stand here and argue, the longer you're delaying it. I can't guarantee everybody's cooperation in even a day's time."

  "I—" Elstrin took a deep breath, turned away and stabbed his sword lightly into the packed dirt, twisting it in agitation. He wanted the big blocks of confusion in his head to just disappear. Wanted everything to line up neatly, reveal a clear pattern for him to pick apart and think straight. For a split second he wished he was back at school again, ploughing through class, running from bullies, getting shouted at by his stepfather, going to sleep frustrated and fuming…. At least there had been

  a pattern to his old life. Some sort of predictability. In here, there was training, sure, but—ghosts? Barriers? Murders and black magic? It felt like Elstrin had toppled headfirst into a dark well of secrets and half-solved events that had absolutely nothing to do with him, but he'd ended up in the middle of anyway. Nothing made an inkling of sense. There was so much he didn't know, couldn't know, and…

  He exhaled slowly and stopped trying to carve a hole in the ground. He attempted to break it all down into simple, manageable facts, and ended up with the same conclusions from last night. There was something wrong with HQ. Things had happened in the past and things were happening now, zigzagging along some obscure hidden path of connection. And Snow was offering to explain at least some of it. Okay. That was a start. He'd
just treat this like any other challenge. Something different yet again. Make sense of it as he went along.

  "Okay," he muttered. He cleared his throat. "Okay, I'll… what the hell. I'll train."

  Snow nodded and started towards a clear part of the training grounds. Stag hung around at the edge of the field and watched them. They did stretches. They jogged. Snow drank his customary bottle of water. They sparred. Elstrin lasted a few minutes before his sword slid out of his grasp, flicked aside smoothly as his thoughts turned from the fight. They started again. A little longer, this time, but not even close to a decent effort.

  "Focus," Snow said. His face was blank, his sword hand steady, his eyes hard. Elstrin swallowed, brought his weapon up and slashed, ducked, pivoted on his toes, leapt back and skipped forward, attacked, defended, got disarmed again. He didn't pause, irate at himself, and dove into a fourth spar, a fifth one, always defeated painfully easily as he grew steadily more aggravated.

  And it suddenly occurred to him that Snow was tense too. Not distracted like Elstrin was—that just didn't happen—but his shoulders weren't relaxed, his movements were stiffer, his gaze kept ticking around as if he was jumpy. They were small differences that didn't at all allow Elstrin to get the upper hand, but seeing them unsettled him. He knew by now that Snow wasn't some emotionless instructor who had absolutely no flaws, but here was the man that Elstrin thought was basically the epitome of patience and faith, in a sense—the best teacher he'd ever met and then some. Snow knew how to train him, knew the value of perseverance and encouragement, and on the field he

  was always a composed, balanced fighter. And to see that composure waver and flicker, even very slightly, threw Elstrin. It was simply shocking to know that this thing, whatever it was, was shaking up a small part of his diamond-hard resolution. It was like that time Elstrin had stabbed him all over again, that shock like cold water dumped over his head. He'd seen Snow act strange outside of training hours, but for some reason, when it happened on the field it was a great deal more upsetting.

  "Focus," Snow ordered again, parrying an attack and responding with one that carried a bit more force than necessary. Elstrin hopped back to avoid the next and took a second to silence his thoughts. If training was a step towards solving things, fixing this side of Snow, then he would train.

  "Okay. Sorry," he said quickly, dodging another blow, but he brought his sword up and blocked the rest until he could shift into the offensive. He attacked, then stopped attacking, ducking often, trying to tone the pace of the fight down. The first trickle of relief came when swords connected, finally, with the right amount of sharp crunch and jarring impact—Elstrin ignored it as he was ignoring everything else. They were back to a normal old spar. He'd literally done it hundreds of times. It would probably last through the water break and into recess, and it'd mess with his mealtimes as usual. People would watch, the sun would get hotter, they'd run around, they'd bow afterwards and his limbs would get shaky. Good. He was focused. Gaze tracking the dull flash of swords, drop of shoulder, twist of hip, scuffing of boots upon dirt. Muscles aching, lungs burning, sweat rolling slowly down despite the late-autumn chill.

  Then—something that wasn't sweat, colder, drier. Elstrin ignored that too. Spun to avoid a slice, knocked aside a hard stab, swept his sword around to hack and hit. Met Snow's eyes for the briefest of moments. He saw the hint of a smile there. The resolution was all back now. Reassuring. He ignored it.

  The cold dry something gave a gentle nudge, and it happened so quickly and seamlessly Elstrin swung his fist across thin air before he realised things had changed. His sword was gone; he was gripping nothing, fingers digging into his own damp palm. He was breathing hard until he noticed that he didn't need to. The training field was empty. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and though the light seemed to imply an overcast day, there weren't any clouds on the blank grey-blue sky stretched above him. The scraggly trees on the edge of the area shimmered inconsistently; beyond them, there was only vague space, no buildings, no wall. The main gate stood close by to Elstrin's left, not supported by anything, just a pair of huge iron panels standing on the dust.

  "You did well," Snow said from behind him. Elstrin turned to find him approaching calmly, making no footsteps. He walked up to the gate and put a hand on it. It seemed to shrink and retreat without moving away. Elstrin blinked, and Snow was holding the doorknob to a normal-sized steel door. "This is something like the antechamber," he said, gesturing to the field. "I made it look like this. With enough control from both of us, I can make it look like anything. When you came through yesterday I was taken off-guard, and you saw—well, more than saw, really…. It was raw,

  unshackled energy. Very dangerous. Now I've kind of sugar-coated it for you, built a little bridge over this vast ocean of what is essentially my consciousness."

  Elstrin took another look around. He went to the door and tried to open it. It didn't budge. Then he poked Snow in the arm. He felt incredibly real. "Wow," he said. Kana had been right when he'd said he didn't know what it would be like. Never in his wildest dreams would Elstrin have expected something like this.

  "Are we done?" Snow asked, twisting the doorknob.

  "No!" Elstrin exploded, slamming his palm into the cold iron. "What the fuck is going on?" he

  said loudly. "Where are we, how did we get here, are we actually in your head or are we physically somewhere else? What's going on with everyone else right now? Can I—"

  The indistinct trees rippled violently for a second and a rush of icy wind ruffled their clothes. "Calm down," Snow said. "If you stress out enough you'll break the bridge and things will get ugly. Yes, the antechamber, in this case, is accessed through my consciousness. We can't stay for long. Come on through and I'll explain on the way."

  He opened the door. A neutral grey light shone through. Elstrin felt an almost magnetic tug

  emanate from it and pull him forward, while at the same time the gentle coldness pushed at his back. He gave Snow a panicked look and, unable to fight it, stepped through. Snow followed. The doorway zoomed off. They stood in blank nothingness, until suggestions of shapes and shades loomed in and out of sight, lines and colours appearing and connecting. It seemed to happen delicately and gradually—Elstrin watched each sketchy thread scribble itself into existence—but in no time at all, there was stone and honey-golden sunlight and birdsong and the smell of some faraway place he had never been to before. They were in a long outdoor corridor, flanked by thick stone columns that supported a high, arched ceiling. Faded frescoes peered dully down at them. Their clothes had morphed into simple loose shirts and pants made of a light, comfortable fabric; Elstrin was in black, Snow was in grey. Dust motes drifted lazily about, catching the sunlight, making the warm summer air glitter.

  "We're in Rem's world now," Snow said quietly, staring up at the faded murals on the long

  ceiling. "You might have noticed a circular symbol on our maps of HQ. It's the most important place in the entire army base, possibly more. Here we are. The easier way to travel here is obviously to just walk in and use the normal door, but the magical barriers in inner HQ are too strong for you to handle. I can bring guests in via mental bridges, but of course that's less stable, especially when multiple people need to come in at once."

  "So—whoa. Let me get this straight. We're in a garden—" Elstrin glanced back. The corridor stretched on for a very long way on either direction until he thought it finally bent. "We're in a very big garden, there's probably a freaking castle somewhere here—and we're in HQ?"

  "We're inside the dome. This is a constructed reality. It's what Rem wants us to see and interact with. He controls everything in here."

  "Oh my god." He stepped to the edge of the corridor and, afraid that everything would shatter, raised one cloth-shoed foot and put it down on lush green grass. It crinkled softly under his weight. He took another step like he was walking gingerly out onto a frozen lake. "Holy shit. Why—why does this even exist, Snow? Why'd yo
u bring me here?"

  "Let's walk." Snow motioned Elstrin back onto the hallway and paced unhurriedly along, his fingertips resting together in front of him. He looked incredibly thoughtful, and also incredibly… comfortable. Like he came here often. "We have lots of time. Where do you want me to begin?"