Chapter 2 #5
Sinewy scarlet thighs parted to straddle dappled slate-blue hips.
Drude and Hull swiftly arranged themselves with little more than a glance exchanged between them—as if they’d done it before.
Which of course they must have, Ephraim realised.
Several times, probably. Perhaps dozens.
Perhaps hundreds. For five centuries they’d known each other.
How oft had they met in wooded glades and toadstool rings and wild crags of mountainsides and done precisely this?
Had they snuck away from some fae bonfire into the night’s deepest shadows and known each other so intimately?
The thought ought to have inspired jealousy.
Instead Ephraim’s imagination ran rampant across the realms of possibility, each more exciting than the last.
And yet, none more exciting than the present moment, to which even now he scarcely believed he was permitted to bear witness.
Drude’s instrument was a splendid thing to behold.
Even Ephraim’s total lack of aesthetic instinct could not prevent him from understanding the sheer beauty in the graceful upward curve tapering toward the tip.
In the course of a few moments it had risen admirably to the task at hand.
Beneath it however there was not the purse of stones one might expect, but rather the nest of dark curls parts to reveal a hidden rose; petals folded within petals teased apart by Drude’s thick fingers amidst dewy nectar.
“Oh!” The astonished syllable escaped Ephraim before his better sense could catch it.
Both Hull and Drude turned to regard him, much to his own shame.
“Forgive me,” Ephraim blurted. “It’s just… I’ve never…” He trailed off, feeling he’d have done better not to speak at all.
Drude cocked his head and held Ephraim’s gaze. A slight smile played about his lips. “You’ve not seen its like before?”
“I have not,” Ephraim admitted.
The slight smile remained as Drude asked in a still gentler tone, “Do you mind it?”
Ephraim blinked. “No, not at all. Pray, continue.”
The smile widened. A cant of Drude’s hips slid Hull’s stamen between those dewy petals. Another sufficed to catch the head of his prick within. And then…
Ephraim was fascinated by the sight of the slate blue shaft vanishing into the crimson crevasse.
When he could tear his gaze away, he found himself fascinated likewise by witnessing Hull’s pleasure from an altogether novel vantage point; the breath stuttering in his throat, his lip caught between his teeth, his head falling back against the pillow.
A glance to Drude showed the mirror image of Ephraim’s intrigue.
To say nothing of how well Drude himself appeared, scarlet muscles rippling from throat to root, as they began to move as one, settling swiftly into a rolling rhythm that had Hull vanishing into Drude over and again with striking rapidity.
It was enough to stir Ephraim’s own mast.
Then, to his further surprise, Hull reached for him. Ephraim obeyed the summons. Hull drew him in for a kiss, as pure and passionate as any they had shared in private, which made up for the spoiled view.
When they broke off, Ephraim found Drude gazing down at him in mute enquiry; a glance to his lips and back to his eyes.
Ephraim looked to Hull, who served him an encouraging nod. He echoed it to Drude.
And so, tentatively, delicately, as if he held something far more precious in his palms, Drude descended to bestow a kiss upon Ephraim.
Ephraim had kissed precious few fellows before Hull, and none since. It was different from his Hull—none so familiar—but nonetheless terribly exciting for its strangeness. Drude moaned into his mouth as Hull thrust into him in turn. The thought dizzied Ephraim; not unpleasantly so by any means.
No sooner had Drude withdrawn then Hull gently caught Ephraim’s jaw in his palm and turned him back for another kiss; the long languid kiss of a man who knew one down to one’s very soul.
A wanton stifled sound from Hull’s throat heralded the oncoming spend.
The kiss grew accordingly more frantic. Ephraim, whose hands had idly traced his lover’s velvet ears, impulsively reached up to caress his horn.
With a final gasp Hull’s spend was upon him.
His seed poured deep within Drude’s crevasse, whereupon it was met with a guttural groan of satisfaction that trembled through Ephraim’s bones, and pearls of seed erupted from Drude’s root.
And, to Ephraim’s astonishment, his own leapt to half-mast.
The ritual’s intended effect was immediately evident even to Ephraim’s untrained mortal eye.
Hull breathed easier than he had in days.
The hue of his flesh shone a brighter blue than before—Ephraim hadn’t even noticed how it’d dulled throughout his infirmity and scolded himself for failing to perceive the injury’s effect on his dear Hull.
Drude did not collapse atop Hull, instead bracing himself on trembling arms that bracketed Hull’s shoulders. He descended just far enough to kiss him.
And Hull, with renewed strength, seized him by the horn and devoured his mouth with fury.
A rumbling laugh escaped Drude. Ephraim waited out the kiss with his own breath caught in his throat.
“Good?” Drude murmured against Hull’s lips.
Hull gave him a dreamy nod in reply.
Then Drude, to Ephraim’s amazement, turned his gaze upon him. His eyes swept down to where Ephraim’s own stand had begun to stir and back up again to fix Ephraim with a look that seemed to run him through.
“And you?” Drude enquired.
Ephraim’s face felt very warm. “Well, I—I don’t need—”
Drude held his gaze. “But do you want?”
Ephraim hardly dared voice his own desires. Unable to meet Drude’s eye, he looked instead to Hull.
A warm and encouraging smile gleamed through the dark blue beard.
Ephraim drew in a steadying breath and returned to Drude with a stiff nod.
Drude arose. Hull’s cock slipped free from his crimson sheath. He crawled across the bed to loom over Ephraim, his brawny arms bracketing Ephraim’s own far narrower shoulders, and lowered himself to capture Ephraim’s mouth in a kiss. It was no less strange and no less wonderful a second time.
“I’m afraid,” Ephraim gasped when they broke off for breath, “I’m not quite enough for…
” He trailed off, not knowing quite what to call it in polite terms, and not wishing to offend.
But his gaze dipped between Drude’s sinewy thighs as he spoke, and this glance sufficed to make himself understood.
While his mast had certainly stirred a great deal in the course of this adventure it yet remained nowhere near firm enough to plumb new depths, no matter how welcoming.
Drude appeared nothing daunted. “Something else, then?”
Ephraim nodded.
A sly smile slid up Drude’s cheek. “My mouth, perhaps?”
Ephraim’s pulse stuttered in his throat.
It was nothing he and Hull hadn’t already done together many times over, but to hear it from such a new acquaintance, and in that deep guttural rumbling voice, sufficed to make Ephraim’s cock twitch again. A moment after, he remembered to nod.
The sly smile broadened into an eager grin.
Drude slipped lower, bestowing kisses as he went, on Ephraim’s throat, his collar, his bosom, the swell of fat beneath his shirt, and from hence onto the hem over and between the tops of his thighs.
This Drude did not raise, but rather delved through, and the heat of his mouth found Ephraim’s root with naught but thin linen—rapidly warming—to divide them.
The root rose feebly to the challenge, but rise it did.
Drude did not bear sole responsibility for how wet the linen became.
Hull, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off Ephraim. More astonishing still, he looked as though he beheld something wondrous in his mortal face.
Ephraim had but the briefest moment to marvel at it before Hull descended upon him with a devouring kiss.
In the same instant, Drude took him fully into his mouth.
“Oh,” gasped Ephraim, breaking off the kiss to do so. “This is all rather—rather—”
Both fae ceased their ministrations at once. Drude withdrew his mouth from Ephraim’s root. His breath ghosting over it would’ve sent a stronger man than Ephraim spinning into madness.
“Too much?” asked Drude.
“No, not at all,” Ephraim hastened to reassure them both. “Only—very new.”
“Slower, perhaps?” Hull suggested.
“Perhaps, yes.”
Ephraim had braced for what felt inevitable; that his lover and his guest alike should think him cowardly, frigid, and woefully dull.
Instead, both gazed upon him with a tender awe that defied all explanation.
Hull nodded to Drude, who descended again. He slipped his shoulders beneath Ephraim’s knees. His long dark hair cascaded down Ephraim’s thighs to pool in the crevice of his hips. Gently he took Ephraim’s hand and brought it to his horn, wrapping his fingers around the base where it met his skull.
Ephraim realized this was an effort to hand him the reins and let him set the pace; a gesture he very much appreciated. Furthermore, from the perspective of his aged joints, it would prove much easier to draw Drude down to him than to raise his hips to meet Drude’s mouth.
Hull, meanwhile, kissed him again, but now with light and graceful touches.
His lips alighted on Ephraim’s like butterfly wings, ever-so-softly marking the contours of his mouth as if discovering them for the first time.
His hands likewise trailed delicately over his body, the fingertips of one tracing the curve of Ephraim’s ear whilst the other smoothed up and down his ribs.
Only when Ephraim’s lips parted did Hull’s kiss delve further, and even then, lightly, until Ephraim found courage enough to tangle his free hand in his beloved’s dark blue curls and deepen their embrace.
With every breath Hull gasped into his mouth, Ephraim felt stronger, brighter, braver.