Friday, August 30, 2019

Freebie Friday: Heart of Stars, Part 3 (m/m)


It takes a bloody battle, the death of several of his men, and a near death experience of his own for Afron to see what lies in his heart for Makara. Now the barbarian won't let anything stand in the way of their destiny -- not even the prostitute's petulant (if half-hearted) refusal to see him.


Makara jumped at the words, though he quickly took a deep breath to settle himself. No. No more Afron. He fluffed out his hair, gathered his courage around him, and went to tell Afron to leave. He stopped on the balcony and perched himself on the rail, trying to look nonchalant as he pretended to ignore the throng of noise rising up from the ground floor.

He ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips as the barbarian sauntered through the lobby below. Even from this distance, the foreigner's musky male scent filled Makara's nostrils. Or perhaps he just imagined it did. Either way, he drew in a long, lingering breath through his nose and held it in until his chest hurt. He let the breath out slowly, cocked his eyebrow as the barbarian's head lifted and that violet gaze locked on him. Makara shivered. He toyed with the ruffles of his shirt as the barbarian mounted the stairs, eyes intent on him.

Afron gestured to the hallway behind Makara.

Makara folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin. "Didn't I make myself clear last time?"

Afron nodded. "I heard your words."

"I meant them."

"Just like you meant them the time before that? Or the time before that?" Afron chuckled and shook his head, took a step closer.

"Unless you have some other business here"­ -- and Makara had no idea what that could be -- "or some issue to discuss, I suggest you leave."

"There is much to discuss." Afron grunted and nodded down the hall again. "But talk can wait. I cannot."

Makara suppressed another shiver -- though just barely -- and slid down from the railing. He shook his head. "I told you--"

Afron closed the distance between them in two strides of those powerful legs. He fisted his hands in Makara's shirt and ripped it open, pushed Makara back against the railing, and claimed Makara's lips in a crushing, bruising kiss that gave more pain than pleasure and said in no uncertain terms he would not be denied. Afron slid his hands down to grope Makara's ass, raising Makara off the floor and grinding his hips against Makara's none too gently.

Makara surrendered to the kiss, wrapping his arms around Afron's neck, his legs around Afron's waist, and clinging. He allowed Afron to devour his mouth -- gave Afron's lips and tongue dominion over his -- allowed Afron to lean him precariously back over the railing. Blood rushed to his head, making his temples pound, though Makara would have sworn Afron alone caused the effect.

Afron broke the kiss at last and straightened. He let Makara slide down to stand as he stepped back and again nodded to the hallway. "Attend to me, my whore."

"I'm not your whore," Makara mumbled, though his actions just then would have surely proven otherwise to anyone who saw them, even if they hadn't been standing in the region's most famous house of pleasure.

Afron chuckled deep and low, filling the space around them with a rumble like distant thunder. "You will be my whore today, will you not? Will you refuse my desires?" He sniffed at Makara's neck as he trailed his index finger down Makara's chest. "Are they not your desires as well?" he whispered, breath hot on Makara's skin. "Do you not weep for me when I am gone? Does your cock not weep for me? Do you not count the hours until we are together again?"

His words fanned a fire that burned deep in Makara's soul, and Makara wanted to melt at his feet. "Yes," Makara whimpered, both embarrassed and elated at his show of submission.

Afron turned and walked down the hallway a few paces, then faced Makara again. "As do I."

To be continued...

Friday, August 23, 2019

Freebie Friday: Heart of Stars, Part 2 (m/m)


It takes a bloody battle, the death of several of his men, and a near death experience of his own for Afron to see what lies in his heart for Makara. Now the barbarian won't let anything stand in the way of their destiny -- not even the prostitute's petulant (if half-hearted) refusal to see him.


Makara winced at the slam of the door as yet another unsatisfied customer stormed from his chamber. He scowled down at his still flaccid cock. "You're going to have me turned out onto the streets!"

But he couldn't very well force a feeling that wasn't there. His cock -- and his heart -- wanted Afron and no other. That the unruly organ swelled and hardened with thoughts of the barbarian didn't help at all. He sighed. An Attendant without a cock was as good as... well... almost nothing. He would simply have to find customers who didn't wish to be penetrated. He had other talents -- he had a pair of hands and a tongue, after all. Though even the thought of sliding his lips around a cock that didn't belong to Afron made his guts twist and bile rise in his throat.

He sighed and fell back onto the bed, chuckled bitterly at the absurdity of the situation. He'd sent Afron away last time, told the barbarian never to come back. And Afron hadn't. His cock stiffened, as if reminding him those hadn't been its wishes. Makara groaned and rolled over onto his side, hugged his arms around his middle, wishing they were Afron's arms. No use, though. The more he allowed Afron to use him, the deeper in love he fell, and the more he realized Afron would never return that love.

Not that he blamed Afron. Fancy title of Attendant aside, he was a whore -- just a piece of meat like any other. He served a purpose, did it well, and earned his money. He wasn't a real person with anything to contribute to society. Afron had trusted him, on occasion, with details of barbarian life, but that was a far cry from sharing their worlds. Just as well he'd sent Afron away. He'd done the right thing, though the knowledge didn't fill the empty, aching void in his heart. He rubbed a hand absently over his chest and closed his eyes. Maybe things would look better in the morning.


But the next day greeted him with more of the same -- loneliness and longing, and a burning desire to see his barbarian. Makara went about his morning ritual, bathing with the required scented salts, anointing himself with cologne rumored to drive even the purest of men wild with lust, and rimming his eyes with the etching pencil, though not as dark as his employers would've liked. He chose a fluffy white shirt and a pair of silky black breeches; slid them on over his naked ass, enjoying the soft, luxurious fabric as it hugged his body and tickled his cock. Makara admired himself in the mirror -- his short dark hair and well-built frame -- thinking he looked rather desirable today. Not that it mattered.

He paced to the door and opened it, grabbed the book off the wooden shelf just to the right of the opening. He flipped to today's page and frowned. No appointments. Makara sighed. Word of the limp-dicked whore had apparently spread. How long before the Nulphillium revoked his privileges and booted him out the door to find his customers on the streets? And how long would he survive that?

One of the other Attendants came dashing up the stairs, breathless. "Afron is here."

To be continued...

Friday, August 16, 2019

Freebie Friday: Heart of Stars (m/m)


It takes a bloody battle, the death of several of his men, and a near death experience of his own for Afron to see what lies in his heart for Makara. Now the barbarian won't let anything stand in the way of their destiny -- not even the prostitute's petulant (if half-hearted) refusal to see him.


Afron glanced up as the giant torfruk swooped overhead, momentarily blocking out the sun and casting a dark shadow over half of his caravan and making the horses toss their heads and snort. Damned birds. Nothing more than rats with wings, really  -- just as ugly, foul, and hard to catch.

"We must be near the carcass."

He grunted and nodded at his lieutenant. Torfruks only fed on fresh kills -- and usually only on kordons. If they could find the body of the behemoth, there would be a good amount of meat to take back to the tribe.

Afron sighed. By the ancients, how he hated this! He was a Chieftain, a strong leader in charge of an army of men just as strong. Barbarians like him, mostly, but there were some outsiders -- a motley handful of humans, minotaurs, the largest dwarf he had ever laid eyes on, and a dishonored and exiled elf. Brave men, all of them. They deserved to hunt, not be reduced to scavenging; picking the bones of a bird's leftovers.

But food was scarce in winter. They were lucky today's weather had turned off without swirling winds and snow squalls. Next to Afron, the elf, Chebalo, sat up straight in his saddle and cocked his head.

"What is it?"

Chebalo's eyes went round. "Ogres!"

The word hadn't had time to leave his lips before the first of their enemy dropped from the trees above. The forest erupted into a cacophony of chaos -- grunts and shouts, metallic clanging, furious neighing, stomping of hooves, the ogres' fanatical snarls and screams.

Afron counted twenty ogres, perhaps half as many again, as he pulled his sword, Bloodslinger. The polished metal glinted in the sun for but a moment and then he slashed it across the belly of an ogre, soft flesh giving satisfying purchase as he pressed the attack. He pulled a dagger from his waist and stabbed the thing in the eye for good measure.

He threw back his head and gave a shout of victory before reentering the fray. Slashing, stabbing, kicking, and clawing, Afron fought on as more and more of the enemy surrounded and pounced on them from above. He slammed his foot into the chest of one ogre and spun his horse away, finished another off with his sword.

Tingling heat flooded over him and a buzzing filled his ears as he shivered, light-headed, under a great wave of dizziness. Ahead of the fighting -- just beyond the line of trees -- a ring of light appeared, shimmering and undulating until it formed the shape of a person. He steered his horse toward it, away from the fighting, and blinked several times, unable to believe his eyes. Makara. Afron couldn't help but smile. Soft, creamy skin, sweet pink lips just parted, perfect body covered by a robe, but that didn't matter. Afron didn't need the visual -- he knew that body completely, every crease, curve, and dimple. Knew how to make it sing. And it sang for him now, not any audible sound, but one Afron felt in his heart and soul, in his bones. Ridiculous that he should think of such things with a battle raging just paces away, but there was nothing for it. The vision took him, claimed his mind and his will.

The light grew brighter over Makara's heart, turning from yellow to orange to red, and then to a fierce sparkling white. It morphed and changed, finally settling into the outline of a star. Warmth enveloped Afron and he glanced down at his body to see a mirror image of Makara's star on his own chest. Over his own heart.

A sudden dawning made his legs and arms shake and a thick lump of guilt lodged in his throat. Makara was his Heart of Stars. He'd known it, suspected it in any case, for the pain of leaving Makara had grown each time, to the point he'd considered buying Makara outright and dragging the man along with him. Yet he hadn't. He'd done nothing but take, never giving anything back but a handful of coins. He'd denied his true feelings for Makara -- after all, what kind of chieftain fell in love with a whore? He had been wrong, though. So very, very wrong.

Makara had hinted he'd felt the same, though he'd never given voice to the feelings. But the way he arched to Afron's touch, the way he called Afron's name, and held tightly to Afron even after the throes of passion had subsided... and the way he hung his head as he watched from his window when Afron left each time... Afron closed his eyes and looked away, unable to bear the knowledge of what he'd put Makara through time and time again.

When he opened his eyes again, the vision of Makara had faded from view, as had the light and warmth from Afron's body. He shook himself hard to dispel his grief. He had to get to Makara. He had to fix this -- had to make things right before it was too late. If it wasn't already. Makara had said their last time together had been their last.

To be continued...

Friday, August 9, 2019

Freebie Friday: NSFW As You Wish, Part 5 (m/m, BDSM)


It's been a long time since Rex indulged his needs. He wants to, he just...can't. Can he trust Declan to help him? 


Rex trembled. This was everything he'd ever wanted. Bound, at Declan's mercy. He nodded and held his breath as Declan unzipped his pants and reached inside to pull his hard cock forth.
Declan held Rex's balls in one hand, lifted Rex's cock with the other, and ran his tongue along the underside of Rex's shaft.

"Fuck!" Rex forgot about the memories, about the fears, about everything but the feel of Declan's hot, slick, magical tongue. That tongue snaked up his length and wrapped around him, flicked over the head of his cock and across that little membrane on the underside that made Rex want to come almost immediately.

Declan took his time, working Rex into a frenzy of tightly wound need. Rex thrashed his head from side to side. The metal of the shackles bit into his wrists, the pain spiked out along his arms and into his chest where it settled into a deep warmth. It felt like coming home. He smiled and let his head fall to his chest again. This... This was what he'd wanted. What he'd desperately yearned for.

Declan looked up. "Tell me what you want."

Rex blinked at him through hazy, teary eyes. "Your love." The enormity of the admission dawned on him and his eyes widened.

Declan didn't speak, just went back to his work of pleasuring Rex. Licking, sucking, nibbling. Rex surrendered to all of it, didn't try to hold back, just rode the pleasure until the throbbing built to a crescendo inside him and he called Declan's name as he filled Declan's mouth.

Declan milked every last drop, then sat back on his heels. He looked up at Rex for several minutes, and Rex began to worry he'd said too much.

Declan stood and unzipped his pants, reached inside to stroke his cock. He pressed himself tightly against Rex, held onto the back of Rex's neck while he jerked himself off, forehead smashed against Rex's. He cried out and arched against Rex, the warm splash of his release connecting them. Declan squeezed Rex's neck. "You've always had my love."

Rex swallowed a thick lump of emotion that had nothing to do with fear or anxiety. Declan had given him so much more than an orgasm. Declan had given Rex back his passion. He looked over Declan's shoulder at the items hanging on the wall. "Declan?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Get the flogger."

Declan studied him. "Are you certain?"

He nodded.

Declan retrieved the flogger and came back. "How do you want this?"

Rex sucked a deep breath in through his nose, held it, and let it out through his lips. "Naked, and with my back to you."

Declan closed his eyes for a brief moment; tears stood in them when he opened them again. He smiled. "As you wish."