An author's note: This is rated R for a reason. Adult content, adult language, violence, psychological abuse, and general angst abound.
SARAH ZAHD'S
ONE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTMARES
Within every man lies a dream, waiting to be born on wings of light and hope, soaring for the sky and everything beyond; within every dream lies a man, waiting to be born into the world with the wings of an angel, capable of pulling him to Heaven if only he repents.
But within every man lies a thousand nightmares.
PROLOGUE
The King was rich.
Now, you might imagine this to be one of those pointlessly obvious statements, but the King was rich in the way that the sun is hot, or the oceans are wet; it is a mockery of the truth so insufficient as to be laughable. The King was rich in -all- ways - wit, handsomeness, charm, composure, determination, as well as the more common varieties involving land and money and many wives and sons. The King was even rich in names, being known as Voryirn Danaad bad Simiralle Dis-Narath'yaan Pravnuk Aleksandivaar Annansyariik to the scribes, King Voryirn to his courtiers and Danaad to his mother, god rest her soul in Heaven.
In only one way was the King poor, and that was the way of love.
"My twenty-sixth son," Danaad smiled, pleased at the production of another healthy heir, and the survival of his second wife, one of his favorites. There were thirteen wives in his harem, the lucky thirteen; this was the third child this wife had borne him, all of them sons, all of them beautiful just like their father. Only were the royal line born with black eyes, speaking to those who knew of the inhuman blood lurking in their veins, their very birthright to rule over the Earth Commonwealth of Continents. Danaad was the seventeenth King of this monarchy, which held the planet Earth in peaceful, content society. His will was his word; his word was law, and his law was absolute.
While Miranda slept, exhausted from the trial of producing the little bundle in Danaad's arms, the tiny boy kept his own counsel, not crying as babies should, shirking his first obligation. Danaad found himself intruiged by the way those black eyes followed him, and smiled, stroking the ebony curls that sprang forth with such profusion. It was surely a miracle of the royal blood, that any baby could be born with so much hair. It was proving a dilemma to name the child, though, so he was taking the boy to the altar, to ask the Book what his name should be.
There had been Kings more faithful, and kings less faithful than Danaad; he strove to be a good person, and to do right by his subjects, and his faith lay in the idea that if he truly did those things well, that he would be guaranteed a peaceful afterlife, or perhaps reincarnation, and not punishment for being wicked and careless with his most precious gift, life and the ability to help others. Other than that, he would have been happy worshipping any god, believing in any sort of Heaven, for his faith lay not in the names of things but in the actions a man took to uphold his beliefs. But even if the Book did not rule his every thought and idea, he had always found it an excellent source of inspiration. Thirty of his thirty-two children had been named from the Book, in moments much like these. This was, however, the first of his children who stared at him expectantly, silent and patient, as though waiting to give approval of whatever Danaad selected.
The King shook his head. Surely, no wholly human baby was born with milk-pale skin, or perfect, delicate features instead of the round, smashed look. But even few of his children, blessed with the royal blood, had seemed so very ethereal, as though they were less human than they were anything else. And he'd thought that NO baby, no matter what kind or what strange blood, was so attentive so early. Shaking his head, he turned to the podium on which the Book rested. "Tell me your name," he murmured to the infant. "Tell me his name, God, that I may call him as you have called him," Danaad called to the stained glass above him, depicting a sleeping, black-haired child with a halo. He flipped the book, not watching where his finger fell. Sometimes this took three or four tries to find an actual name, but so far it had been a good method; he'd never landed on a boy's name when looking for a girl's, and vice versa.
Now, though, he had to question himself, glancing down at the page. He had not quite flipped very far into the Book, and his finger rested on a name that was, quite frankly, anathema. Frowning, he glanced at the infant, and was shocked to see the tiny boy smiling at him, toothless mouth open.
"I will not call my son as a woman's name," he protested to the empty air, which was eerily cold and chill. He was steeling himself to flip again when the Book lit with a blinding white light. Giving a cry, he stumbled back, shielding his child with his body as a whispering, slinky voice filled the room.
"You have been given as many sons as you are to have," it purred, too low to be female, too seductive to be male. "You will raise this boy as though he was woman, and let no one ever know otherwise. Call him as we have called him! This is our demand of you, of our blood."
Shaking, Danaad huddled around the infant, who had still not let out a peep. The light slowly melted to nothing, and he was left trembling, the Book still open to the very page he had found. Swallowing, he straightened, checking on the baby, and looked again at the letters, which has been black before, but were now glowingly, crimson red, as wet as fresh blood.
Lilith.
TWELVE YEARS LATER
The year was nine hundred and ninety nine. Almost a millenium had passed since the Great Cataclysm that had left Earth and its many warring countries in ruins. Almost a millenium had passed since the first King had risen from the ashes to gather together all the nations of the world into the Commonwealth; all that time and his memory was still held revered, his statue constantly polished and checked for cracks where it stood in front of the Palace. Its pedestal was permanently adorned with a wild froth of flowers of all colors and kinds, lewdly and radiantly brilliant with no shame at the riotous, rainbow spectacle of themselves in the face of the grief of those who had brought them. Each bright bloom had been tearfully left just that morning by the common folk. The flowers that had once been left in praise of the King's fairness were now laid there in mourning of his madness.
The current King, not as young as he once was but still just as handsome, was planning a masquerade ball. Many whispers abounded about him; all of his wives were dead, stricken down one by one in childbirth until even the youngest was drowned in her own blood. Of the thirteen deadly children, only two had survived, both girls. In his grief and horror at the idea of damning any more women to death, a madness grew within him; he took a new bride every night, and had her put to death in the morning, not wishing her to grow with his child and then die, not wishing to care for her before she went on to her reward. His thirty-four children avoided him, for most of his brides were not much older than his youngest daughters, who were twelve, twelve, and eleven now. The marrying age was thirteen, for boys and for girls, and only the King's daughters were spared being required to wed at that age, lest they become property of the church.
The brides that came to him would often weep; rumor had it that he deflowered them only in the dark, and refused to see them in the morning before they were beheaded. The King was well descended into his madness, and his eldest son, the crown prince Aarin, was twenty years old and already running most of the Kingdom. Aarin had all of the virtue and steadfastness that had once been his father's, but unlike the once-great Danaad he had a weakness: his sisters.
To say that the princesses were spoiled would have been a positively massive understatement. Where most females were not allowed to be educated, the princesses all knew to read, write, and figure; they were required to know the way of dagger and bow, to be able to protect their own virtue, and they all knew to cook, sew, embroider and weave in the way of all proper ladies. They had their own horses, their own servants, and most important, they were free to do as they pleased, as long as they did not jeopardize the royal pride - which is to say, they were free to do very little, but what they could do, they enjoyed with vigor and fire, especially the freedom to choose their own husbands. Their father, so far descended into madness, had simply said that they would never have to die by childbirth if they did not choose to; in their combined cleverness, they fought that it meant they would not be made to -wed- if they did not choose to, since how could any married woman refuse to bear a child by her husband?
Of the nine daughters, one appreciated this most, for if she had been made to wed, some very well-kept secrets would be made known very, very quickly. Lilith was twelve, about to turn thirteen on the new year. It was believed that this was a good omen, for her to reach the age of adulthood on the eve of the new millenium. Lilith had her doubts.
Of her sisters, Lilith was the prettiest, the daintiest, and the flattest. Even her younger two sisters had already blossomed, but she had not even begun to. It was a great mystery that, with Danaad gone insane, only Lilith herself knew the answer to. Some whispered that she was so cursed with knowledge, that there was too much behind her dark eyes for adulthood to find her yet. Still others murmured that she was holy; touched with divine fire, and genderless completely. When Lilith heard this, she would laugh to herself. If only, if only.
Soon, someone else would know the truth.
FIRST NIGHT
"I don't -want- to die!" Alissya sobbed, clinging to the stoic guard outside the great hall where a wedding was held each evening. Her wheat-blonde hair had been curled atop her head; her deep brown eyes brimmed with tears. The traditional emerald wedding gown clung to her frail figure, and the white veil covered her wet face. The veil was one of the only things that the guard was grateful for in this moment; it made her just another sacrifice, let him file her voice down with all the others. Silently, he pushed her, gentle but firm, into the King's chambers. He held the door shut, and tuned out any screaming.
Just like the night before.
The room was dark, and smelled of sweet jasmine incense. There was a huge bed she could dimly see, the silk rug covered with many pillows. Stumbling over one, Alissya almost fell on her face, but caught herself at the last minute, straightening to squint at the bed. Heart hammering with fear, she swallowed hard. The voice that came out of the darkness made her jump; the lamp that was lit a moment later made her cry out and shield her eyes. It illuminated the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
The King was tall, almost seven feet, and his curly black hair nearly reached the ground. He always dressed in black, stark collared shirt and straight-legged pants. His outfit clung to the long, lean lines of his body; the dark eyes that consumed all they looked at were set in a porcelain face. And now, he was smiling, gaze mindless with the hunger brought on by his madness.
Alissya did the only thing she could do. Throwing herself at his feet, she cried out, "Please, oh marvelous King; please do not kill me. I am barren - I will never become pregnant. I will be your faithful wife, if only you will let me live to tomorrow night, to see you marry your next bride."
The King's smile had vanished. Now he was staring at the wisp of a girl on the floor in front of him. "What sorcery is this?" he demanded, reaching down to haul her up by her arm. She bit back her cry of pain at his roughness.
"No sorcery, your supreme Majesty," Alissya protested. "The curse of drought. I was born without the womb to make a child, as punishment to my mother for not marrying my father before conceiving me. I can never bear any children." Daring to look up at him, she swallowed hard. That beautiful face was unreadable and like stone.
"We are already married," Danaad said slowly, frowning at her. "It is my duty as a husband to take you to my bed. If it proves that you have lied to save your skin, I will kill you, and have your entire family slaughtered to the last man, woman, child and goat. If you fail me as a wife, I will simply have you beheaded." His grip on her arm had not loosened. Relentless, he hauled her toward the oversized bed, whose quilts, the lamp now revealed, were a dark red; the pillows were many, and purple. That was one of the last coherent thoughts she had, as he threw her to the bed and tore off the beautiful wedding gown. No more tears left her, as he moved her like a doll and tore at her center, taking her virtue ruthlessly. The pain simply drew her within herself, into a dream of a happier marriage, one involving Love.
FIRST DREAM ~
Alissya
THE TALE OF MIRNAD AND THE SEA
There once was a lonely young fisherman, who lived with his family on the cliffs overlooking the Scarlet Sea. They had lived there for six generations, and Mirnad was the first to want to leave, which he found a great shame. Instead he threw himself into fishing, taking his own tiny boat out alone every chance he got; his monumental catches prevented anyone from complaining about this behavior.
Mirnad was sixteen when he heard the song.
Out past the sheltering spur of the bay, the water got very deep very quickly. However, if one followed the coast, where the fishing was not so good, there was a place where the ocean was split by land, where a river poured into the water and made the pulling current that was so dangerous further out. In the middle of that river was a vast, soggy delta. Getting there was highly dangerous, but Mirnad sailed as though he was an extension of the ocean, for in that swampy, brackish vastness was one of the best delicacies he could bring back - eel.
It was a summer day like any other; he had cast his net and anchored, and lain back on his deck to sun himself in the nude. Something, however, woke him.
At first he thought it was flute music, and he was at a wedding, but even at weddings no one played music -that- beautiful. Shaking sleep off slowly, Mirnad opened his eyes and lifted his head. No flute really sounded like that, either. It was... it was someone singing. Pure, wordless, and skirling like a wild thing more than a song, but oh, it was beautiful. Mirnad had to know where it was coming from, what beautiful creature was singing.
The young human did not have far to look, for there, perched on the bow of his little boat, was a beautiful siren.
The siren was small and slim, with knowing blue eyes, cat-slanted and almond shaped; the fiery red hair stood haloed against the setting sun. The siren was also completely naked, which made it almost impossible for Mirnad to ignore the fact that the siren happened to be completely male. He's too pretty to be a boy, he found himself thinking, then shook his head and scrambled to his feet.
"What are you doing on my ship?" he demanded, in a voice that rather shook. Anxiety filled him as the beautiful man slid onto the deck on silent feet.
"What are you doing in my fens?" the siren retorted, putting hands on his hips. Mirnad blinked at him, so surprised that he blurted out the truth without thinking.
"I'm catching eels. Good eating," Mirnad muttered, trying to make himself sound gruff and manly.
Laughing, the siren shook his head. "Well, you can't eat nearly as many as you take." He prowled closer, swaying like the waves with each step, as though even being on a bobbing ship was too much like land for his legs. "But I've decided that I know how you can pay me for them."
Stunned, Mirnad could only stare at the siren, brain unable to process what he had said until he felt little wet hands at his waist. "Whoa! No, no, no, don't do that," he babbled hastily. "I, uh. I don't like boys." This was at least partly a lie; he at least thought he wasn't, but faced with a creature like this, he could not help but be attracted.
"I'm not a boy. I'm a siren. You just see my male aspect because that's your desire." Smiling, the siren spread his hands in the air. "It is hardly my doing. My name is Orion."
Shaking his head again, Mirnad tried to take another step back, but found his spine against the mast. "I don't desire any aspect of you," he protested, but the siren came closer, to touch him again, to explore all of that lovely, tanned skin.
Orion merely smiled. "You have taken many of my eels. I am collecting repayment for those eels. This will be the best thing you have ever felt, if you relax and enjoy."
"I don't want to enjoy!" Mirnad yelped, batting at the hands that slid up his chest. "I don't want to - to be used like a woman!"
That earned a momentary pause from the siren. Mirnad frowned when he realized that Orion was laughing. "What is so damned funny?" he demanded.
"You will be the one using, eel-thief," Orion purred, and pulled Mirnad down to the deck of the ship, to take what was owed to him in a way that was very satisfactory to the both of them.
Alissya's vision was broken by the sudden realization that the air around her was cold; no one was touching her anymore. The ache was a dull one, and she whimpered, curling in on herself; apparently the King had gone to his sleeping chamber, and meant to leave her here for the night.
Pulling the blanket over herself, she tried to go back to sleep, pain or not, and soon the blissful darkness swallowed her down again.
The sun had long since set. Thousands of stars glittered overhead, like water droplets on an infinite indigo path. Sighing, Lilith stretched out on the divan he had dragged onto the balcony. Alone, late at night, when there was no one to see him, he was free to be himself. All day long, in long skirts and corset, he felt very much the part of the faithful daughter. Now, though, with no one but a winking sliver moon to know, he had taken off the corset, everything but his long nightgown. The thin cotton was no barrier to the sweet breeze drifting in off the sea. Truly relaxed, he let out a contented sigh.
Since the day he had been born, his father had declared him a female child, and treated him as such. His mother had been his sole nurse in those early years, and, taught independence at an early age, had no body servants, even as a young princess. His dedication to scholarly arts and to interpretation of the Book had earned him something of a repuation of someone completely above all physical needs; the Lilith everyone knew was a studious, serious girl who never flirted, fasted to maintain a figure (not that she had to, with that secretly male metabolism and hunger) or worried about how to do her hair. She was the best at embroidery, at riding, and she knew the whole Book front to back, and many, many other books as well. Her sisters whispered that her piety was what did her in. All that devotion to such boring abstinence from all the fun things kept her blossomless.
Lilith never did anything to discourage these rumors. In fact, she did her best to help them along. The more mystery that shrouded her, and the less anyone else liked to dig into her little mystery, the better. Truthfully, she could not have cared less about the religion in the Book; it was a good cover, and a good thing to know, so she could wield it against others. Her favorite part was the one about her - Lilith, the queen of darkness. Why her mother would give her such a name, she had never known; her mother had died giving birth to her youngest sister barely three years after Lilith had been born. There were many mysteries in this one young man masquerading as a woman, most of which he didn't know the answers to himself.
Now, though, he could ignore all of that just a little longer. The moon never told his secrets, and he had told her many of them indeed. He wasn't in the mood to talk tonight, though, and simply stretched out over the soft suede of the cushion, relishing the cool air to wash away the day's heat.
Suddenly, down below, a great ruckus caught his attention. The breaking of glass and drunken laughter was loudest; Lilith frowned, glancing below. Those folks from up north, visiting one of his brothers for the social season, were quite rowdy. Perhaps it was because of their animalistic nature. For his part, when he had first seen the foreigners, Lilith had been both fascinated and horrified. The magic of Fallout, that had turned his greatest ancestors to things better than humans, the blood that made them royalty, had many forms. For those here in the capitol, at the center of the world on a river still known as the Nile, that magic took the form of the royal line, blessed with the strangeness of a power greater than themselves. For the northerners, it was far more widespread; not only their nobles possessed it, but the whole of their people. It was said that the family Simiralle was the only one so blessed, and that was why they were the Royal family, but when Lilith had seen the northerners he had quite wondered. For, where Lilith and his family were simply a little strange, they were VERY strange.
As beautiful as the royal family, but paler, every last one of the northerners, to a man, had fur. Not in the sense that most creatures with fur have fur, but in a far less natural seeming sense: their ears sat atop their heads, triangular and furred, and tails followed the lines of each tattooed spine. Whatever blood that blessed the royals had to have been reptilian in nature; that which graced these lovely, raucous things was that of the cat. Lilith longed to get closer, to see if their whiskers and slightly more pointed shape of face really was all that different, to see if they had retractible claws like the pampered pets he kept, but he knew better; the northerners were untrustworthy, and more importantly, here on behalf of his brother Jaavi. This particular brother was known as a layabout and a time waster; never having done a day's work or study in his life, he lived to drink and womanize. That was the -last- part of his family Lilith wanted to associate with. Not only did he have no desire for that kind of partying, but it would have ruined his carefully crafted facade.
Little did he know that the party loving northerners would be the ruin of him, no matter how careful he was.
The party was just getting started. One of the many lovelies he had brought with was on his lap; her sister was on the lap of his new friend, the Prince Jaavi. It was, as Kane reflected, a good time to come to the Capitol. He had traveled here with his entourage of high-priced pretties, a sort of traveling caravan of payable fun, but when he had met the royals he had been very intruiged. It was something of a secret, one that Kane kept well hidden this far south, that he was of noble blood, but apparently like could sniff out like, for Jaavi had known him from the start as one of the far-flung noble families distributed across each continent to keep order when the King's word was too far away to be easily enforced. Kane was all of northern blood, though, and it was his furred ears that had first drawn Jaavi's attention. Well, really, it was the furred ears of his women, and their fluffy tails, and soft curves and fluttering scarves... Jaavi was an easy man to manipulate, for which Kane was very grateful. He had so far taken at face value the idea that Kane rented out his harem, a thing nearly unheard of in such a proper place as this. The truth was, his harem or not, Kane had no interest in the pretty redhead pressed against him, and especially no real interest in the softness of the parts of her that were pressed against him firmest. It was nothing to be ashamed of up north, but down here the view was not so permissive, so he kept his peace, and kept his lusts quiet on this trip. Ostensibly he was here to make some money, have some fun, that sort of thing, but truly he had come to check on the state of things. His father had sent him, worried about the King's mental health, or obvious lack thereof. And from what he had seen so far, with the new millenium about to make its impact on the world, Kane was glad he was here to see everything as it happened.
However, once the Prince had imbibed enough alcohol to fall quite asleep, Kane nudged the girl off his lap gently. At his nod his lovelies - those not rented out for the night - went about gathering up their things. As he watched, a strange and wonderful scent tickled his nose. With whiskers quivering he looked around. The smell he was picking up on was that of... a sweet, innocent young male, ripening but not yet plucked. Licking his lips, he smiled. One of the girls noticed that smile, and covered her mouth with her hand.
"Carry on without me, ladies, and then head on back to the wagon," Kane said lazily, making a show of stretching. Unlike the southerners with their plain, all-concealing clothes, Kane wore mostly animal hides, eschewing fabric as too much of a pain. Each of his tattoos, spreading over his back and down his arms, was plainly visible, and he had seen many of the local women staring at him appreciatively, for his muscles were well earned and well kept. They served him well, too, as he padded silently through the garden, following the scent. He had been getting bits of this particular scent since he had arrived, but had never been able to place it. Now, though, now he was going to find its source and... well. Kane had his plans.
Climbing up the trellis was simple. Ridiculously simple, for one so agile and capable. Hand over hand he swarmed up past the jasmine blooms, nose quivering. He paused to peek through the pillars that made up the balcony's edge, but he could see nothing more than a pale hand dangling from a low couch. His mind was made up. That was the source of the smell, no denying it. Leaping up easily, he perched on the edge of the balcony, and was stunned at what he saw.
One of the royal princesses was draped over that low couch in nothing more than her nightgown, a thin, drifting thing that the wind had tugged up long, shapely legs. The pitch-black curls that pillowed under the porcelain cheek said it as surely as did her ethereal beauty. Kane could hardly keep his jaw from hitting his chest. This little slip of a princess was in fact a prince? He had wondered briefly, seeing her at a distance, if she was somehow younger than her other sisters, to be so childlike in body still, but the scent had distracted him. Well. That was two mysteries solved. And a solution offered.
Smiling, Kane slid down off the edge of the balcony, and prowled closer, ears perked. If this little thing was pretending to be a girl, then surely there would be those who would love to know he was not. And that was just the leverage Kane would need to get what HE wanted from this beautiful little 'princess'.
Something was wrong.
Lilith blinked, trying to shake sleep from his fuzzy head. He had not meant to fall asleep on the balcony; had he been discovered...
Suddenly he realized it was too late.
The figure above the bed was strange to him, and for a moment he thought it might have been some kind of specter, for the strangeness of its dress. Then his fogged eyes took a second look, and he saw a bare-chested man, tattooed and lean; he followed that fair skin upward, some little voice inside marveling at the sight of freckles and pierced nipples, to a sharp-chinned, feline face. The stranger was handsome, and haloed with golden blonde hair, the same gold that graced the big fluffy ears that poked out of that hair. Lilith had time to register strikingly blue cat slitted eyes before the smirk filled his sight, and lead filled his belly. There was no hiding what he was up here, like this, and he sat up fast, yanking at his nightgown to try and hide himself better.
"What are you doing here? How dare you invade a princess' quarters!" Lilith said, trying to sound threatening, but the blonde cat man only laughed.
"That seems rather impossible, princess," he said mockingly, sauntering closer to reach out. Lilith jumped when that hand touched his cheek; the nails were sharp but not claws, some detached part of him mused. "Or is there another princess here?"
Those words chilled Lilith to the bone. There was no more hiding. Swallowing hard, he shut his eyes. "Please - you mustn't..."
"Oh, I'm very good at keeping secrets," Kane assured him, threading fingers into Lilith's hair and leaning closer to get a better smell of the boy. His rising fear and panic only made him sweeter to Kane's nose. "As long as I have a reason to."
At first Lilith did not understand, but as he leaned back and saw the light in those brilliant blue eyes, knowledge dawned within him. He had heard stories of men who liked men, and it was one of those horror type tales that was spread with no real sincerity... or so he had thought.
"A man should not lie with a man in woman's bed," he protested weakly, and flinched when the stranger laughed.
"Ah, but a man is more than encouraged to lie with a woman in woman's bed," Kane countered, and kissed him, hard. "Unless you would like me to prove for many to see that you are NOT a woman..."
Lilith did not fight his kiss.
Kane was pleased with his discovery. The beautiful prince he had discovered up here, asleep and waiting to be claimed, was submitting to his wishes. If he had thought the boy even knew how to kiss, he might have hoped that the kiss be returned; as it was he was content to educate the boy, tongue sliding past reluctant lips. "Enjoy this," Kane purred, tail swaying. "I won't hurt you. In fact, it will be a whole lot of fun." Strong hands slid down Lilith's back, under his hair. Lilith could feel the warmth of his skin even through his nightgown, and he shivered, pulling away from that kiss. The blush on his face was visible even in the starlight.
"I can hardly enjoy something so - so illicit," the prince in disguise whispered. Kane only laughed.
"It's only illicit if you say it is. Sides, since you're such a sweet little virgin - don't ask, I can tell these things, princess... I think I could be persuaded to take this slow. Just so I don't break your little mind. But you'd better do what I say, or your secret WILL come out, understand? I won't fuck you now, but I will most definitely fuck you soon." The look on that pointed, feline face was a hungry, possessive one; Kane had not yet let go of Lilith's hair. It was all the young prince could do to keep his composure. The very idea of... any kind of 'fucking' filled him with anxious dread. But there was little he could do about it.
Observing his prey, Kane smiled to himself. Oh, yes, this was useful. Keep the boy frightened of sex, and he would trade anything instead of that supposedly feminine virtue of his... like vital knowledge about his family. And he could slowly, gradually blackmail the boy into sleeping with him anyway. Watching Lilith avoid his gaze, flushed and unsure, he knew that this would be a fun game to play indeed.
"What, no retort? That's good. You should be a good boy for me," Kane chuckled, and stroked his hair. "What's your name, pretty princess?"
Lilith winced, but did not pull away. "...My name is Lilith," he said quietly, ignoring the laughter that followed.
"A girl's name too? God, does your own FAMILY know you're not a girl?" Kane snorted. The silence and stiffness of the boy answered -that- question for him. "...Oh, how wonderful. It'll be our special, private little secret then, won't it? I'm Kane, by the way. Just so you know who your master is," he added, mostly just to see the pretty prince flinch again.
Oh, yes, this would be a fun game indeed. Reluctantly letting go of that soft, soft hair, Kane stood back. "Well. I think the foundations of our relationship are firmly enough set, hmm? Meet me here tomorrow night at sundown. Bring some date wine, and tell no one of this engagement, my dear." Smirking, he went back to the balcony's edge. "I'll see you tomorrow, oh princess mine."
Lilith watched him go over the edge, and only once he was gone could he bring himself to move. Woodenly he rose, stumbling inside and shutting the glass doors with shaking hands. There was no strength in him to pull the divan inside as he came in; he barely made it to the bed before he collapsed onto his pillows.
For the first time in his or her life, Lilith cried.
FIRST DAWN
The sun rose slowly, as though struggling to rise through many layers of oil, or perhaps even sand. The sky turned lighter bit by bit, fighting the night away, finally turning colors in the east. The few clouds went from dark blue to lighter blue to pale yellow and then blazing crimson and to yellow again as the sun breached the horizon, drifting upward into the lightening sky like a barge floating untended down the river, to where it would bob into the sea.
Alissya watched all of this with a surprising sense of peace. She was not afraid of her death now, waiting for the executioner to come take her away. She was not afraid of the King, of being a bride for a night and a wife never; she was not afraid of the god that she would meet in the great beyond. She was too busy thinking to really process the passage of time, and so when she realized that the sun was fully in the sky and no one had come for her yet, she began to hope that what the King had said the night before would hold true, that she WOULD be his wife as well as his bride.
It was this thought that propelled her out of the wedding bed. It was this thought that kept her from looking back at the stain, or from hesitating to wrap the sheet around herself. As the King's sole wife, she was Queen - a name, not really a title, certainly no real power, but what little power she commanded, she felt as she stepped out of that room. The guard there, who had seen only her veil the night before, could only stare at the beautiful woman that was standing there.
"I wish my own suite of rooms, as befits a Queen, and a bath that befits the very god above us," she said commandingly. For a moment the guard gawked at her, and then he snapped to attention.
"As your majesty commands!" he said, his high pitched tone belying his shock, and scrambled to do her bidding. In the twelve years he'd had this post, never not ONCE had he seen a girl come OUT of that room of her own will. Usually the executioner had to drag them out. He had been wondering where the executioner was, actually, it was getting quite late for a dawn beheading, when... well.
As he ran to summon servants for her, he could only wonder... had the King come back from his madness at last?
The suite that they took her to was lavish and oversized. The carpet was thick and violet, the bedsheets were blue and the tile in the bath was ivory white. The water in the bath was hot and plentiful, which was perhaps the greatest luxury a girl could ask for. From a minor noble family, her days of bathing had been warm, but never in a pool like this one, suitable for a dozen people of chilly relation at least. The ointments and soaps offered her were the sweetest she had ever smelled in her life, and the towels the softest. There were three women servants to wash her hair, her hands, to dry her and to perfume her, to style her hair and dress her in beautiful, expensive silken clothing.
Through all of this Alissya sat quiet, thinking. There had been little hope or chance for proper planning, before she had been married, and now that she was wife two days in a row, she could only wonder. If a mad king kept on taking a new wife each night and killing her, as she expected he would, he need never touch her again. That suited her just fine. It also gave her the time and the freedom to get herself settled and situated; any Queen should know all the secrets of her people.
She started with her servants. Focusing on the pretty girl painting her nails, she smiled. "What's your name?" Alissya asked gently. From the stunned expressions the girls exchanged she knew she had been right. Be nice to the servants, who were considered invisible but certainly saw very much, and soon she would learn much of what they knew.
"My name is Sandra," the girl answered, awed. Smiling, the Queen touched her arm lightly.
"That is a lovely name. How long have you worked in the palace?"
"My - my whole life, your majesty,'" Sandra replied, floored. "Is there a reason your highness wanted to know?"
"I just think I should know the names of my closest body servants. I am not familiar with palace life; I will need help to know what to say and whom to trust. I am hoping that the three of you can help me in such delicate areas," Alissya whispered, a bit conspiratorially. "Many people disregard what your eyes might see, but I know that you remember all that you see, where others think you incapable of remembering anything at all."
With those words, the servant girls were under her spell, and slowly, her effect spread. Before the day was out she had visited the kitchens, the stables, and the actual servants' quarters to make new friends. Rumors spread like wildfire about the queen and whatever magical powers she must have had; most people were so stunned by her very existence past dawn that anything she did or said could be believed. By noon she was the god come to earth, the moon come to earth, a witch, a changeling, a djinni, a succubus, and the avatar of the god, depending on whom one asked.
As she settled down to the lavish lunch they brought her, Alissya smiled. This was not quite what she had had in mind but nonetheless it suited her. She had no great ambitions of yet, no far reaching plans, but she had ideas, and ideas were the fuel that made ambitions great. She smiled at and thanked each and every servant who came to her that day, and it took almost forty of them to serve her lunch, just because so many of the palace staff wanted an excuse to meet her. After she had eaten, she rose from her chair with a smile.
"Please, tell everyone that a new time has come. I have convinced the King to spare my life in hopes of moving the world forward in a new direction for everyone. I am willing to listen to anything you have to say, in secret if you are fearful of retribution. I may be Queen, I may be royalty by marriage and noble by blood but we are all members of the Commonwealth; we are all people, we are all human, and I want you all to know that things can be changed for the better, if only you help me to achieve the dreams that we can set forth."
Smiling, she spread her hands as, one by one, they rushed forward to kiss her knuckles.
A plan was beginning to form behind her lovely brown eyes, a plan that would change the world forever and give a woman the power of the Throne. That plan was like a soap bubble, one she dared not look directly at lest it pop, but it was there nonetheless, and as she watched the servants crowd forward to touch the seeming miracle before them, the plan unfolded a little more, and grew there in the back of her mind.
Somewhere inside, a little voice was laughing.
The morning had been nothing more than a surreal blur.
From the moment Lilith had gotten out of bed, he had not quite been able to focus on anything that happened. Breakfast had been eaten mechanically, without any thought for taste or enjoyment; and it did not go unnoticed that someone as well known for her attention to detail as Lilith was going around in mismatched clothing. Whispers abounded instantly, as of course these things do, springing from the aether like devils to plague the virtuous, following her like serpents in the wake of a boat, sneaky and surreptitious.
She found herself completely bereft of the desire to eat again at lunch time, and instead retreated to her room. There she took her copy of the Book onto her bed, and opened it to her favorite part. The life affirming act of reading her namesake's story always helped her remember her balance in life.
The Story of Lilith In the Garden
or,
How the Godly Being Made the First Man and Woman in His Image
A very, very long time ago, but after the Start of Time chronicled in JAANASIITH
When the Godly Being made the heavens and the Earth
Seeing fit in His infinite Wisdom
He blessed it with LIFE
and with FREE WILL.
The emptiness before the Godly being made light
And sound and Earth and Sky
Was blank
A Slate for the writing
However
The Godly being grew tired of always knowing what would
Or could be
Written next.
And when He
in His infinite Wisdom
Gifted the new born Earth
With His light
And with his LOVE
First He made of Two
Two like of specie and soul
One of Woman
One of Man
These He called as He wished they be called
The man Aadan
And the woman
Lilith.
Lilith always had to wonder, reading her mother's old Book, why her name was in red ink anywhere it was written. She had tried asking her Father once but he had gone into a screaming fit and nearly thrown a vase at her head, the nearly only being because she ducked.
The Complaint in the Garden
or
How Lilith Grew to KNOW
As the Godly incandescent
in His Wisdom did so make
And His likeness did so take
in giving LIFE did give so too
Wisdom
Man
Not made for Wisdom
Did not notice
Aadan too busy counting and categorizing
All he saw
As was his biological imperative
As the Man.
Woman
Made For, of, and By Wisdom
Took all that the Godly gave into her
And she opened her Eye
And she SAW.
Wishing to keep true knowledge from His creations
He gathered it
Into the wood of a single tree
But it was much too late
For what was seen could not be forgotten.
Lilith
Asking why, why not, why ever
Roused the ire of the Godly star
And He did throw her from the Garden
To wander forever alone in Shadow.
Sighing, Lilith stopped there, planting her chin in her hand. To know, to know, to know, ever her curse. She couldn't wonder if maybe the first Lilith had been hiding a secret like hers. Maybe that would explain why she had never borne children once cast out. Unless she had, and it was simply not something anyone ever thought about, since there were enough nightmares to be had already and no one was really asking for more.
Eyes drawn down the page, Lilith frowned. She had somehow missed this before.
The Tale of the Second Woman
or
How the Godly light made of Man a Companion
Soon enough
Man alone in the Garden
Begged the Godly light
for a relief like that which
his other half had given.
The Godly light in its Grace
Took one side of Aadan and fashioned it in to
A Woman
More pliable than the previous.
The Godly light told to Aadan
'This is your succor
This is your wife
Shall she ever lead to Wisdom
That you will be thrown from the Gardens.
Eat not of the Tree.'
And this He told too to Avya
Made of Aadan.
Woman's nature pulled and saw
pulled Avya unresisting
No seduction there then took
The Woman's only wish
For to see the Truth as told
As forbidden was her wish.
What secret so great need be forbidden
said Woman
And ate the tree.
And she Knew.
She brought herself to Aadan
and Kissed him
to share with him the Tree
It flowed through them
In from her lips to his
Spreading through stomach and Blood
And they Knew.
Eyes opened they saw
In color
Knowing the way of everything
How it was made, how it would end
They looked at the sky and saw the seasons
Saw the cold of winter coming
With the prescience of Godly light
And took the hides of their prey
to make into clothing to put around themselves
When the snow fell.
The Godly light
Filled with fury
Banished them from the Garden
Forever to wander alone in Shadow.
Frowning, Lilith could only wonder. How had any humans lived at all, if this was really true? Or maybe the Garden really was Heaven, and to be cast to wander alone meant to have your soul trapped into a mortal, feeling body that was thrown down to suffer and strive and suffer for striving. Sighing, she shut the Book. It hadn't really helped. The true problem was still there, and she was still just a boy pretending, not the true First Woman.
Obviously.
What to do about Kane? It was a topic that plagued his mind. Lilith fidgeted and chewed his lip. The very idea of submitting to his perverse wishes was so unnerving that he found himself wondering if he wasn't more horrified because he was somewhat interested. He had always suspected that his complete lack of attraction to females was simply a result of his deranged upbringing. Was he also cursed to love as a woman is loved? Or to not even love at all, but be used as a playing piece in some horrible political game.
These thoughts would get him nowhere, and he sighed again, shaking his head to rid himself of their insidious whispers. If that was so, there was nothing he could do about it, and even if he was attracted he would drag things out at long as he could, to make sure that Kane was serious about not giving away his true nature.
Frowning, he fiddled with a lock of his hair. All these complicated thoughts had eclipsed his usual desperate daily need for a bath. Getting a good one was difficult, considering his situation, so he had begged a bathing room in his own suite, for religious purification he had said.
Pulling himself off the bed, he trudged toward the bathing room. For the first time in a long time he had not been cautious this morning in hiding his masculine essence. Tugging at the laces of his corset, he plucked insistently, until the knots gave way, and heaved a sigh of relief to loosen it. Spending so much of his time in one was giving him a tiny girlish waist and hips, he noted with dismay in the reflection from the massive mirror he had begged for. It was his one true vanity and luxury but at times being a girl all the time was so confusing that he had to spend hours staring at himself naked just to remember that yes, he really was a he, not a she, and there was the proof.
Tugging off his shirt, he made sure the door was closed, and turned on the water full blast; the basin was large enough for two, and would take some time to fill up. The water steamed as it hit the porcelain. Lilith sighed blissfully. The King who had gone to so much trouble to fit the Palace with such amenities had been brilliant indeed.
Catching sight of himself once more in the mirror, he frowned. Could hardly wash his hair without brushing it. Sighing, he tugged the door open again and slipped out, sneaking across his room to quickly retrieve the brush from the top of his vanity, with all his makeup and perfumes. Retreating to the safety of his bathing room, he sighed, shutting the door once more.
As he stepped in front of the mirror again, he smiled wryly, and pulled off his skirts and panties. Yes. Still truly a boy. Well, a man, really, or so he hoped, and soon, or else he might have to pretend to be a girl for the rest of his life.
Startled, Lilith stared at the mirror, sure that that thought must have come from the reflection, because it was certainly new to him. He had never imagined anything BUT living as a girl for the rest of his life. But the idea of impending adulthood had him realizing that he would change into a man, not a girl, and the ruse would be much, much harder to retain. Biting his lip, he frowned at the mirror. "Really, thinking such silly things. Lilith, you should be ashamed of yourself." Lifting the brush, he pulled his hair over one shoulder, luxuriating in the softness of it against his skin, and, starting at the bottom, began to brush it out. Princesses were expected to never cut their hair, and so it took many more than one hundred strokes, for it reached to his knees. He caught himself humming as he pulled the brush along - ivory and boar-bristle, the best money could buy, with a cameo of a lily on the back - a present for one Kanna-ka's night - and had to wonder at the state he was in. Surely one little kiss - well, several kisses - shouldn't be nearly so distracting. And not even very good kisses, at that.
Well, actually, how was he to know? Something inside told him with confidence that oh, those had been the best kisses, the kind that say a thousand things but foremost you are mine, but he ignored it. How ridiculous was the very idea.
But standing in front of that mirror, it was hard to lie to himself, for he was blushing.
Shaking away all such ridiculous thoughts, he put the brush aside, hair gleaming and perfectly in order - at least until he let go of it. Such was the nature of curls, and it was not his way to be vexed by this; then again, he was not really a woman, and such concerns were those of women more than they were of men. The basin was to the appropriate level; he turned the knob and sighed at the steam that filled the room. No oils or bubbles went in the water, just Lilith himself, basking in the heat and the sensation of melting from the inside out.
He took his time to soak in the water. This really was his favorite part of the day. Finally, though, he sat up, and pulled the plug. Setting it aside on its chain, he rose to his feet, to flip the switch that would bring the water overhead. Still steaming hot, it streamed over his head and down his body. Almost moaning in relief, Lilith washed his hair slowly, lazily, and when he was done doing it, he did it again. The scalding water sluiced down, and he shivered, the parts of him not under the flow cold by comparison. He rinsed thoroughly, and sighed again, this time in contentment. He had an array of treatments for his hair, his only womanly vanity, and he used his favorite next. All in all it took him nearly an hour just for his hair, and then to wash the rest of him. By the time he filled the basin for one last soak, the water was not quite steaming anymore. Lilith didn't care. With a blissful smile he settled into the water.
By no means had he intended to fall asleep.
SECOND DREAM
Lilith
DOING a FILTHY PLEASURE is; and SHORT
In the dream Lilith was in his bed, half asleep. He knew right away it was a dream, because that abominable northerner Kane was in his bed next to him. His dreaming self woke quickly.
"...What are you doing in my bed?" he demanded, dismayed to realize he was naked under the sheet.
"Only what you -want- me to be doing in your bed," Kane purred, and pulled him close for a searing kiss, swallowing Lilith's whimpers. The boy was stiff at first, but relaxed eventually, and even tried to kiss back once the heat of Kane's lust had infected and infested him. Very pleased by this, Kane bore him down to the bed, and his kisses traveled from Lilith's lips to his throat, which earned him even more pathetic noises. Some prince or princess, really. Then again, this was Lilith's dream, and Lilith's desire. So who knew what was going on?
Slowly and yet with a speed that overwhelmed Lilith enough that he forgot he was alive, much less dreaming, he felt Kane's hands slide down his naked body, and heard a moan come from his lips with the disconnected distance of ears that did not truly wish to hear. Warring with himself the entire time, he was hopelessly lost long before Kane's hand actually touched the center of his need.
The moment Lilith's climax reached him he awoke in the tub with a cry, splashing water over the sides.
Panting heavily, he clutched at the edges of the porcelain basin, eyes wide. What in the name of the holiest light was THAT? What kind of horrible nightmare was that? And why him? Why any kind of perverted dream about that - that scoundrel who had had the gall to try and blackmail him. Who was blackmailing him, Lilith had to admit. Still, it was somehow deeply affecting to know that someone knew him as a man, and was attracted to him. It went against everything he had been raised to believe.
With a groan, he hauled himself up out of the tub, grimacing expressively at the ... residue he left in the water. Pulling the plug once more, he rinsed fervently, and thoroughly scrubbed all over again, feeling naughty, and a bit racy, or what was that word - sexy, was it not? How insane this all was. One meeting, one man with - with a tail instead of a conscience, was all it took to make him into a slavering, mindless, idiotic typical teenaged boy whose life was ruled by his nether appendage?
Groaning, he ran a hand over his wet hair, slicking the water out of it as he climbed out and reached for a towel. Wrapping it around the long mess of his hair, he snatched another to put around his body, and fled the bathing room, not looking back, where his reflection in the mirror was staring after him with a wicked smile.
SECOND NIGHT
Alissya watched as her husband, the King, was married to a new wife from her covered, canopied seat on the sideline of the proceedings, and smiled. Never before had she had so much freedom, and as the King retreated to his somber bridal suite with his sobbing little girl of the night, she rose to motion to the servants. A grand feast was collected from the kitchens and set out in mere moments.
Massive trestle tables groaned under the weight of literal tons of food. There was roast suckling pig, steaming with apple in its mouth, surrounded by greens and potatoes. Lobster lay on platters by the dozen, dishes of butter all around, along with scallops, caviar, shrimp, and chocolate ganaches delicately arranged on little trays. Asparagus and snappeas lay amidst creamy garlic sauces; overflowing baskets of fruit lay at every corner. Whole stuffed turkeys sat there, leaking their bready, headily-scented filling, accompanied side by side by smaller, similiarly stuffed chickens; and a massive venison roast juicing eagerly onto its silver platter.
Dried figs and dates lay in dishes next to raisins, sugared pineapple, oranges, and pieces of banana cooked in caramel sauce with cream. Pitchers of cold water, colder milk, hot cider, hot coffee, and fresh grape juice were on every table at regular intervals. Corn cobs were piled onto a tray next to a basket of glistening, steaming rolls. Date wine was flowing freely from the fountain that had been specially designated for this purpose. Dyed pistachios in the royal colors - red and purple - lay patterened in a vast crystal dish, to show the symbol of the Commonwealth, the sphere with the star inside of it. Melon was sliced in artistic shapes and fashioned into birds and flowers, next to real flower centerpieces who wafted gentle nightblossom perfumes over the tables.
The servants were bringing in benches, and chairs for the High Table, where the best wine was, and as Alissya surveyed the hall with a pleased smile, she nodded.
This was her kingdom.
Lilith did not go to the feast.
After his bath he had gotten dressed again; properly in skirts and corset - and paying attention this time - she went to the library as her usual self, to try and study some, or so she wanted people to think. What she really needed was some alone time to think things over.
The problem running around in her head was a circular one. It started with being a boy, and then went to Kane knowing that, which led to Kane wanting him, which led to Kane kissing him, which led to him wanting Kane, which led back to the problem of him being a boy under the corset, petticoats, and fancy horn hair combs.
But the library did not serve its usual purpose of calming and distracting her. Instead, it made her all the more irritated, for being surrounded by her friends and realizing how useless all her reading and research was in a situation like this.
This one came down to nothing more than gut instinct, and doing what had to be done. With a sigh, she pushed hair behind one ear, and leaned against the table. What to do, what to do?
What COULD she do? More importantly, what could he do to keep up the pretense that he was a she at all? And with every passing moment, his father lost to madness, he was starting to wonder more and more why he bothered to lie about it anyway. But the problem lie with Kane, more than with his masquerade. And it had little to do with Kane's threat of blackmail, and everything to do with how conflicted and downright interested in Kane in a sexual way... which he was supposed to ignore. He was a girl. Supposedly. So maybe getting distracted with a man would be fortuitous. Was he intended to be a girl? Was that why? WAS he Lilith come back, hiding in a boy's body, hiding in a girl's seeming? Was there any real way to tell?
An insidious idea had crept into his head. The northerners would doubtless not stay. Maybe when they left he could accompany them. But that was taking a great many things for granted, assuming that Kane wanted more than some illicit, perverted sex with a prince in disguise, not to mention presuming that leaving the palace would be any kind of good decision... it was all so confusing. Lilith, who had never felt this way before, had no idea what to do, how to deal with this mess. There was no reason he should be attracted to another man, much less a man whom he barely knew, who was extorting kisses and soon much more from him.
With a groan, he threw himself back in his chair, scowling fiercely. It was then that he noticed the growing darkness outside, and he groaned, running a hand through his hair nervously. Duty hauled him to his feet, or so he told himself, and he left the library, making his way back toward his suite of rooms with a somber, heavy tread, heart filled with solemn dread.
The night was not so balmy this time, clouds looming overhead, tinged red from below from all the lights of the great capitol city. Humidity threatened in the air, the rains that came every day since the Great Cataclysm were back with a vengeance, and thunder rumbled in the distance, lightning flashing out over the ocean, and quickly coming toward shore.
Kane did not mind the promise of foul weather. At home, it did not rain with much regularity, and when it did, it was usually cold enough that it was snow rather than real rain anyway. He sat perched on the balcony's edge, eyes shut and nose quivering at the electric charge in the air. It would have been dark out just because of the storm, even if the sun were still centered high in the sky. The wind whipped his hair around his face, and pulled at the fur of his tail, but still he waited for his prince there.
The boy was not as late as Kane would have expected. When Lilith stumbled out of the balcony door, shielding his eyes with one painted hand, Kane grinned and leapt down. "Perhaps you could invite me inside, princess," he greeted, loving the blush that spread over Lilith's pale cheeks. But the boy, still in skirts and corset, stepped back and pulled the door open for him to come in, not meeting his gaze as the feline northerner strolled into his room as though he had -every- reason to be there. Kane surveyed the room with one eyebrow lifted, shaking his head. Vanity, countless combs and ointments, clothes everywhere... a cat on the bed...
That made him smile. The idea that Lilith was already predisposed toward cats was definitely a pleasing one; it had promise for the future. Because as he glanced back at his little princess, seeing her demurely avoid his gaze, he knew that no matter how much information he got out of this pretty little crossdresser, he would still sleep him with him. Maybe even keep him. But those were thoughts for later. For now, he had groundwork to lay.
Lilith's mind was racing. Here he was, alone in his room with the sole sane person who knew he was a he. The silence stretched out until he could no longer keep control, and he finally glanced up at Kane, biting his lip. The expression on the man's face was a hungry one, one that earned a flush from Lilith as he looked away, unable to face the desire that was plain in his eyes. That gave Kane all the opportunity he needed, and he stepped forward quickly, to pull Lilith against his chest and kiss him, hard and insistent.
Letting out a muffled squeak, Lilith pushed ineffectively at his chest, but without any real sincerity, whimpering into Kane's lips before folding against him and kissing back shyly. The feel of Kane's tongue invading his mouth filled his head with memories of the dream he had had the night before, and he jerked away with a cry, panting heavily. Kane frowned, touching his cheek.
"What's wrong?" he murmured, sliding his fingers into Lilith's hair, marveling at its softness. Lilith flushed scarlet, and looked away, Kane's proximity doing strange things to his insides.
"You should not be here," Lilith said softly, shivering, and made the mistake of glancing up at him again. He barely had time to realize Kane was moving closer, and then their lips were crushed together again, and he could barely breathe for the heat and consuming need of Kane's kiss. Fingers laced with his, Kane's hands warm and connecting, and Lilith bit back a moan, unable to contain the wild spark of lightning dancing through his veins.
"Of course I should be here. I -am- courting a princess, after all," Kane laughed, smirking at him and cupping the back of his neck, savoring the embarrassed look that flashed over Lilith's painted face. "I might even ask your father for your hand in marriage."
Lilith could only stare at him, stunned. The very idea was - was - but... a husband who would corroborate his story... biting his lip, he could barely shake his head. "I-it's too early to talk of marriage, thank you, no matter WHAT kind of leverage you think you hold over me."
Smirking, Kane slid his other hand around Lilith's waist, down to his ass. "Then it's a good thing you can't get pregnant, my princess, because I'm definitely going to fuck you before the wedding." Mostly he said it for the priceless look on that pretty pale face, which was even better than he had expected - wide eyes, spreading blush, plush lips parting to protest. With a chuckle he squeezed the softness under his hand.
"H-how dare you speak to me like that- how, how dare you - get your hands off me," was the weak denial that was all Lilith could muster. After that dream last night all he could think about was Kane, those hands being -on- him, and the very idea that he could want this was as much anathema as was letting anyone be so vulgar to him, groping him like a common whore. And yet there was so little heat he could muster for rage; it was all gone to lust, all his strength and fire having deserted his wits for Want instead. With a shake of his head to galvanize himself he batted at Kane's hands, but the feline was insistent, and did not let go.
"And pass up on this? Not a chance, my pretty princess," Kane purred, kneading his ass in a very cat like way, an insufferable smirk on his face. All too clearly he could hear the ragged, affected edge to Lilith's breathing; the blush that crawled down his cheeks to his neck and then under his shirt no doubt spread even lower. "Remember just where you stand with me, hmmm? Just try to enjoy it. It might be the most fun thing you've ever done, if you do."
Whining, Lilith squirmed in his grip, not liking the way his body was reacting, and liking even less the possessive, hungry look on Kane's face, that said Lilith belong to him now, and he was only claiming him slowly to toy with him, as cats toyed with mice. A whimper escaped him as one of those roving hands slid lower, between his legs from behind, to grope him more insistently, and it was not until he felt a breeze on his leg that he realized that Kane was pulling up his skirts. "S-stop that!" he cried, struggling, but Kane only pulled him closer, chest to chest, using the hand still pressed somewhere very inappropriate to keep him where he wanted.
"Not a chance. I want to see what belongs to me, and I want to see it without all these ridiculous layers. I knew you were a boy the first time I smelled you." Dropping the skirts, he went for the corset's laces instead, savoring the humiliation on Lilith's face when he rubbed him through his skirts. "No hiding something like that from me, pretty. Now are you going to behave, and let me take your clothes off? Or are you going to be a bad little princess? Because I am definitely not above punishing naughty princesses." That smile was pure lechery. Lilith found his stomach twisting and his cock twitching all at the same time.
"D-d-d-don't you dare," Lilith protested, but he stopped fighting him, and let Kane undo the lacing of his corset. Those long fingers trailed up his back teasingly, and when the corset finally fell away, they remained, tracing designs on him through the thin, billowy fabric of his shirt. Shivering, the boy tried to step away then, but the hands skated downward, to push all his skirts down at once, leaving his feet trapped in many layers, but the rest of him clothed only in pretty, ruffly, girly panties. Mortified, Lilith tried to grab his skirts up again, but Kane stopped him, picking him up to deposit him on the bed.
"Look at these," he purred, hooking fingers in the waistband of those panties, earning a horrified look from Lilith, accompanied by a pleading whimper. "My, my. My little princess, pretty as she is..." Kane smirked, licking his thigh and savoring the ensuing squeak, "does not in fact fit in to her panties!" The boy's erection strained at the fabric obscenely, and Lilith could only whine and try to avoid any more of the hands that he kept telling himself were so unwanted.
"No lying to me, little boy, I can see what you want." Kane was not about to show him mercy; he pulled the panties off all at once, tugging them down to bind his ankles with them. "Your lips can lie but this certainly can't," he laughed, and licked at the wonderful scent of Lilith's need, avoiding the obvious.
Gasping at the feel of cold air on his hard cock, Lilith whined, and squirmed, but Kane's hands were strong, and he was pinned to the bed without any hope of getting up. He didn't want this! He couldn't. It was wrong, oh so wrong, but oh, god, it felt so good... And that was all before Kane's demanding tongue found him properly. Crying out, he thrashed in that ruthless grip, mewling with pleasure when that hot, wet mouth enfolded him completely. It did not take long to make the boy lose control; after all, he had never so much as touched himself before, much less felt the touch of another anywhere nearly so sensitive. And at his age, the age by which most were married already, for to have no release until then... well. Kane was not surprised by the ease of which he got Lilith to come, and, relishing the taste, he licked the boy clean afterward, still purring. Lilith could only lie there, whimpering, eyes wide and unseeing where he stared up at the ceiling. Smirking, Kane sat back, licking his lips, and eyed him smugly.
"Now. I do believe that makes it your turn," he crooned, waiting for the look on Lilith's face. He got it as the boy sat up like a bolt, terrified.
"No! I can h-hardly do - do that!" he nearly wailed, and Kane couldn't keep from laughing.
"Then you're going to have to even things out some other way, hmm?" Kane said with a wicked grin, tugging on a lock of Lilith's hair.
"But... but that -was- evening it out... that was for... for you not... not telling," Lilith protested, squirming.
"Oh, no. When I make you feel good it is hardly you doing ME any favors. You have to make me feel good. Fortunately for you I know how you can do that." Removing his shirt, Kane laughed, loving the blush on that pale skin, the nervous light in his eyes. "Because you simply must obey me, and it would do you very well indeed not to forget that, hmm?"
Wincing, Lilith nodded brokenly, and bit his lip, trying not to look at all that fair skin. "Right. What... what do you want me to do?" Since he was refusing to watch, he did not realize that Kane had taken off his pants as well. This time he did not resist when the man pulled him into his lap - at least until he felt skin against skin. Yelping, Lilith wriggled, but that only earned him a tighter hold, pressed against Kane's chest, that insistent hardness firmly poking into his thigh, dangerously close to its ultimate goal.
"Mmm. Just keep still, for now, my princess," Kane laughed, and kissed him again, wrapping one arm firmly around his waist. That was all it took to keep him where he wanted him; when his other hand snuck down to grope Lilith's ass again, the boy tried to squirm away and could get nowhere. "I want to touch you."
Panting, Lilith pushed against his chest weakly. "N-not there, not - " He squealed, struggling fiercely now, but there was no escape. Kane's hand was firmly wedged between his cheeks, finger tips poking lightly at his balls, kneading and massaging, and Lilith felt his face flame. There was no way to get away.
"Don't you dare tell me what to do, princess," came the warning, purred and too gentle for the way Kane was touching him. "I get to do what ever I want with you. And the more you fight me, the more fun I get to have making you. Do you understand me? You are -mine- now. No way out. I am going to touch you here. Often. More importantly I am going to stuff my cock in this pretty, tight little hole of yours," and one finger pressed dryly against him, earning a cry, "and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me. Fortunately for you, I believe in training first, so before I do I get to teach you just how happy you should be to have me touching - and fucking, and owning - you."
Lilith barely heard him. That hand did not go away, and it hurt, and something was trying to poke inside, and there, and it was all he could do not to start screaming and kicking and not care who found them. His struggling was doing him no good, but a moment later, there was a wetness with the hand on his ass, and the finger trying to penetrate him slid in with sudden ease. Lilith squealed, and tried to jerk away, but again it was of no use. One insistent finger, slippery now, was hard to deny, and the pain was not even very noticeable. Lilith would have preferred it if it hurt, honestly, just so he could remember how bad this was. Was supposed to be. It felt disgusting, of course, but for some reason once Kane's finger was buried in him, arm keeping him tight against that strong chest, it ceased to matter at all, and he could only muffle a moan. Suddenly the hardness of Kane's cock against his leg was not repulsive but intruiging, and his squirming went from terrified escape attempt to aroused and eager, little body rocking in Kane's hold. The northerner swore hastily, and tried to still him, but damn, the sight of the boy wiggling like that - the idea that he was so turned around by pleasure that he would do such wonderful things... well, it made Kane's erection even more insistent where it leaked against that soft, soft skin. In fact once Lilith started to move he bit his tongue and tried to encourage him to keep going. The only thing he could think to do was, in retrospect, possibly a bad decision, but in that state of mind Kane was no genius. Without any warning a second finger found the first in that slippery hole, and stuffed them both in.
With a shriek, Lilith stiffened, feeling suddenly split in half. That was oh so much, and once again Kane was kneading, but now, with those twin fingers stuffed into her and moving with every motion of his hand, well, now it was a little more distracting. The pain was nothing compared to the sick pleasure of being full, and of being full there. Lilith wanted to fight it, but there was no way he could. So he simply kept squirming, mewling soon at the wonderful feeling of it, hard all over again and well aware that Kane was rocking against him as well by now.
It did not take very long at all of that feeling to make Kane remember just how long it had been for him, after all this traveling through a foreign land where men of his persuasion were so rare. Later he would swear that was the only reason he had come so soon, and that it had little to do with the gorgeous, whimpering, squirming little prince in his lap, but they both knew the truth. Lilith, wrapped up in the amazing rush of sensations both on his skin and under it, was pulled along with him, and neither of them heard themselves scream as they climaxed.
It took Lilith a long time to remember where he was, after, but when he tried to move, the feeling of those fingers inside of him was more than reminder enough. Gasping, he squirmed away, something Kane no longer fought. He was sticky, and messy. Making a face, he shifted to roll off the bed.
Frowing, Kane looked after him, a glassy expression on his face. "Where are you going?" he mumbled.
"To take a bath. You made me -quite- sticky," he answered disapprovingly, but when Kane rose to follow him, he did not protest.
Alissya lay in her vast, empty bed, well stuffed from the feast, and sighed with contentment. The day had gone just as planned, and here she laid, unvisited by her husband who was probably leaving his new bride about now. Sleep danced around the edges, sparing no time for the plans she wanted to nurse. The whole day had been very exhausting, and it was but moments before she found herself dreaming.
THIRD DREAM
Alissya
The Tale of Tristan and the Magic Book of Spells
or
HOW TO SUMMON AN INCUBUS
The book Tristan had found was full of treasures, little spells to make life easier and more amusing. An invisibility spell, a karmic retribution incantation... all of these things left Tris twitching with anticipation for the moment he could truly use them. Leave it to his mum to write these spells when she was his age. He half suspected she'd left the book where he could find it intentionally, just to let him fiddle around. None of them seemed very dangerous. There was only one that really made Tris feel like his stomach would try to leap out of his mouth.
The summoning was simple, ridiculously so - a circle, a calling, the waiting. Tristan was not so sure he believed in demons, but the book said (in his mum's ridiculously illegible handwriting) that this kind of demon were usually very friendly and had no interest in causing harm to the one who had called to them. There was more, but it was faded and beyond comprehension. Something in the back of his mind warned Tris that any information missing from the notations of a demon summons might be highly important, and without it this could be dangerous. However, he was not a teenaged boy for nothing, and that worried little voice of reason was readily ignored in favor of the promise of this adventure.
Here in the crystal room, he knew he could manage this kind of a complicated spell. The whole room was shaped and sculpted for the amplification of power, and already laid into the floor in silver was a pentagram. Painstakingly drawn symbols were dull red chalk against the translucent crystal of the floor. One tiny globe of light hung from the center of the ceiling, reflected to give the room a brilliance to rival the sun. However, today its light was a deep ruddy amber, and so the glow was more that of a lazy summer sunset. The seven sided room was spacious, and today it thrummed with power as Tristan fetched the last of the candles from the ebony cabinets that took up three walls. Almost taller than his five feet, each candle was red as blood and smelled strongly of cinnamon and something else that made Tris' mouth water, though he could not place it. With meticulous care he arranged the candles at each point of the great star, stepping back and nodding slowly at the whole setup. Everything was right. He went over and checked everything, once, twice, three times, once correcting a single line of chalk, and finally lit the candles from a stick of incense before setting that at the opposite end of the circle.
Finally, he was satisfied. "Perfect," Tristan grinned widely, stepping back and planting his hands on his hips. Now there was but the ceremonial garb, which he had also luckily found in the cabinets. Scrambling out of his legging and tunic, he worked his way into the plain, unbleached cotton shift, stuffing his clothes away where they wouldn't interfere with anything. Grabbing the vial of catmint oil the spell said to keep on hand, he shut the cabinet and moved back to the edge of the circle. Bright hazel green eyes skimmed over everything one more time, and he nodded, pleased. Setting the bottle of oil down next to him, he swallowed and took a deep breath.
"Nan dya kish rian dam andias kaat. Miri an danai sata tato. Nan ya krish tadan. Mirian dana ishta," he intoned from memory, the voice just barely out of adolescence even and confident even as he fought not to fidget. Six times the book had said to repeat it, and so he did. Each time the words left his lips, the room got hotter. By the time Tristan finished, he was sweating. The candles flared, flames bulging and rising higher, until they licked the ceiling and Tris was shouting. Something was happening, that was for certain, and it kept going even after the spell was done. Red sand spun at the center of the circle, growing until it pressed against an invisible wall. The roaring screamed through the room, the very crystal humming with the vibration as the candle flames leapt and arced violently. Just as Tristan was about to try and dispel it all, it stopped, just like that. The screaming stopped, the humming drew to a close, and the candles stopped trying to catch the world on fire. And all at once, the sand vanished.
What it had been hiding was a great thing, with huge, leathery red wings caped around a tall, muscled male body. A remarkably human face smiled down at the boy, marked with handsome features and coal black eyebrows and hair from which two little horns poked out cutely. A long, twisting tail arched through the air and wound around his thigh. The demon looked almost completely human, except that it was red and winged and wearing leather pants. Well, not that humans didn't wear leather pants, but they did not look as good, because this was not just any demon. It was an incubus, and Tristan didn't even have a clue.
Balendir had not been expecting a summons today, or even the open invitation that had come humming down to the darkest levels of the Courts. But, intruiged by the power behind the request, he took up the offer and followed the portal to the crystal room.
The sight that greeted his eyes was strange and welcome all at once. A boy, certainly no more than thirteen, positively lovely - fair skin, long chestnut waves of hair, and glittering eyes of green and gold - just standing there, that beautiful gaze stunned, almost as though the child had not expected to see anything at all answer his call, much less the impressive sight that was Balendir.
Odd, the demon mused, that this call would invoke his male aspect, and not his female. Particularly since it had been issued by a teenaged human boy, which were notorious for their needs. Some scholars of his race thought their kind might have been INVENTED by teenaged boys. But this one seemed different. Innocent, somehow. Balendir could smell it on him; the heady, intoxicating scent of that innocence filled the room and he licked his lips, forked tongue black as night.
It was the sight of that tongue that sparked Tristan out of his stunned observation of the demon, but he shook himself out and a brilliant smile spread over his face. "Hi! I'm Tristan. Sorry to haul you here, but I had to see if the spell would work. I can let you go if you're busy. What's your name? Do you know my mother? I got the spell from her book, see."
It was all Balendir could do not to laugh. "Slow down," he advised, voice deep and promising, sending a strange shiver down Tris' back. "You did not... haul me. I answered the invitation you extended, and as it was to any of my kind, I cannot guarantee that I have answered this call before." The kid was bouncing where he stood, so excited it made Balendir's teeth hurt. "You may call me Baal."
Tristan nodded eagerly, eyes bright. He had done it! He had really conjured a demon! This was amazing! His sister Rhapsody would doubtlessly refuse to believe this. "So you didn't know my mum, then... it's really nice to meet you, Baal. You can sit down if you don't want to leave," he said hopefully. Conversation with a demon! Oh, yes, this was so cool. "Get comfortable."
Get comfortable. Balendir felt the power of the circle sapping away with those words, and he smiled just a little bit. Ahh, how ignorant, this one, to say those things so easily. He did sit, though, wings folding against his back as he settled down. To give a demon any freedoms when he might turn against you... ah, yes, a fool indeed. Balendir would make quite the prize of him. "And if I do wish to leave?"
"Well, then you can go, I guess," Tristan said, a pout threatening his full lips. "I don't want to keep you here if you really don't want to be here." Glancing up at him hopefully, Tris inwardly hoped very dearly that he could get Baal to stick around for a bit.
"How generous you are," Balendir murmured. "Why do you wish me to stay?" The obvious reason - at least, to Balendir - had hardly even crossed Tristan's mind.
"Because chatting up a demon is bad ass. And I am really bored," Tristan confessed with easy honesty, a grin crossing his face.
"Do you know what kind of demon I am?" Balendir inquired, amused.
Tristan bit his lip, tilting his head in thought. "No?" he finally said, smiling sheepishly. "What kind?"
"I am an incubus. Perhaps you have heard of my kind," Balendir smirked, taking in the sight of the boy with a bone deep hunger. Oh, but to ravage such sweetness... a delicious promise.
"Nope," Tristan chirped, shaking his head as he, too, sank to the ground. "I haven't, actually. What do you do?"
...Oh, this was too perfect. Balendir chuckled and smiled wickedly, which was probably the first indication Tristan got that this was a little bit more than what he had bargained for. "Incubi and succubi - our female aspects - are sex demons. We are conjured for... services."
Tristan nearly choked, eyes huge as his jaw dropped open. "Wh- what?!"
"Yes, little one. Your mama summoned my kind so they could fuck her. Although I doubt that is why you called me here," Balendir purred, loving the panic and yes, sudden desire rolling off the boy. "Or is it?"
If he had been standing, Tristan would have taken a step back. His head was spinning and it was all he could do to remember to breathe, swallowing hard. "N-no!" he protested. "I didn't know!"
"Do you want to?" Balendir wondered, chuckling a little and not making any threatening movements. "Know, that is?"
"No!" Tristan yelped, scrambling to his feet. "No, I do not!" His protests were vehement and fierce, but even as he spoke, doubt curled in. Desire, heat, hormones - the whole lot of them had to wonder. Like hell if he wanted to have sex... but there was the hunger for knowledge there. As well as contact... sensation... something.
"I see," the demon said calmly, smiling slightly. "Please, relax. I will not touch you if you do not wish me to."
Tristan stared at him, shifting a bit nervously. "Well... alright. And if I want to send you home?"
"Then I will go," Balendir assured him, spreading his hands out and dipping his head in acquiescence.
"Well, okay, then," Tristan said, recapturing his composure and straightening a bit. "'Cause I don't want to. Um. Lose it yet."
Balendir merely smiled. "Perfectly understandable." But there was still the smell of arousal there, the inkling of desire. "But there are steps between desire and... losing it, as you put it."
Torn between blushing and asking more questions, Tristan chewed his lip and finally nodded a little. "I guess." He did not have a clue as to what those steps were. "But I don't... really, um. Know what exactly it is you're talking about."
"And yet you want to," Balendir purred, smiling a little. "If you can admit it to yourself, I can give you what you want." In that moment he looked more like a lounging panther than the demon he was, a lazy smirk on his face.
Tristan swallowed, hard. "It's kind of scary," he finally said, twisting his fingers together behind his back, eyes trained on the floor.
"The unknown is always feared," Balendir murmured, shifting to rise to his knees. "So perhaps the only answer is to learn."
One eyebrow twitched upward, and Tristan snorted. "You are good," he confessed, grinning and shaking his head. "Just what do you want to do to me?" The thought made something in his stomach twist, something dark and burning with anticipation.
The demon smiled slowly. Hook, line, and sinker. The boy was his, and the very thought of what he would do to the boy inspired his tongue to flick out over his lips hungrily. "I could strip you and lick... touch." Slowly he rose to his feet, tail coiling with anticipation. "Anywhere you want."
Trying to pretend that he was NOT reacting on a very base level to those words, Tristan swallowed. "And... no more than I want?" he said slowly, nervously. Balendir's smile did not fail
"Of course. You must merely say the words," the incubus assured the boy, extending one hand just inside the circle. "But you must also come close enough to... touch." The lustful smirk on his face made Tristan's insides coil with anxiousness and anticipation.
"Right," the boy agreed, and took a few steps closer, having to remind himself to breathe as he approached the demon. "I want... to... to feel."
"Then I will make you feel," Balendir purred, and stepped right out of the circle to slide a hand around Tristan's shoulders, pulling him closer. The boy let out a squeak, startled by the incubus' movement. The circle was supposed to bind him! If he was freed, then could he be trusted at all? But the body he was now pressed against was hot and solid, powerful, and Tristan had to swallow a whimper. Balendir's hands were large and strong, smoothing over Tris' back, the unbleached cotton hardly a barrier at all against the searing heat of the demon's skin.
"H-how.." Tristan breathed, staring up at him, hands flying up to press against Baal's shoulders. "The circle!" There was no real effort in the squirming he engaged in, struggling just enough to test the demon's determination to hang onto him.
"You freed me from it a while ago," Balendir chuckled, giving Tristan enough space to duck out, should he wish, though the heat of his hands was now against the boy's lower back, making it somehow harder to breathe.
"...Oh," the boy nodded, making an effort to swallow. Okay. He could escape. Did he want to? Oh, hell if he knew. Wide eyes stared up at red skin, red eyes, that evil - and yes, now, he knew evil, he was wrapped in it - smirk... it was enough to make him shiver. But it was not the shiver of fear, but a strangled sort of need, and he splayed his hands over the muscles of the demon's chest, licking his lips and taking the step to close the distance.
Balendir tolerated this with a widening of that smirk, arms tightening as the boy came closer. Rather than speak, the incubus merely leaned down and trapped those parted, full lips in a searing kiss, claiming the untouched boy with ridiculous ease. The helpless whimper Tristan gave was swallowed down and savored by the demon; there was nothing sweeter than this. Tris himself was more than a little dizzied, letting that forked tongue delve into his mouth. Weird, the sensation, but the heat generated by it made him quiver and clutch at the diamond-hard skin under his fingers. When Baal finally pulled back, smirking, Tristan half thought he would fall over, the world spinning. The look on that sweet face - glassy eyes, swollen lips, flushed cheeks - positively delicious. "Feeling anything yet?" Balendir chuckled, one hand rising to slide into the wild mass of Tristan's hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp.
With another little whimper, Tristan swayed, eyes threatening to shut. Damn, he had inherited the family curse. Leave it to the demon to touch his hair. "Y-yeah," he breathed.
"Do you want more?" Balendir pressed, smiling and pulling Tristan harder against him, hand slipping over the curve of his back to grip his ass and draw him closer, grinding them together slowly and relishing the startled gasp that escaped Tristan's lips.
"Aah~!" Tris yelped, arching under that touch. Baal was hard, and so was he, and Tris could FEEL it, pressed against his belly like some dark promise, trapped under leather. The boy dared to look up at the demon, eyes wide. "Th-that's..."
"Feels good, does it not?" Balendir smirked, and let go of Tristan, fingers trailing down the boy's arms and taking his hands, guiding them toward the laces on his pants. "You can feel it, should you wish." He watched the boy lick his lips, fingers twitching as he hesitantly took hold of the ends, bringing a smirk to Balendir's lips. Little tugs slowly pulled the laces out of their knot, and the leather loosened.
Pausing, Tristan looked up at Baal a bit nervously, opened his mouth as though to speak, and then shut it again, nodding slowly as he tugged on the leather to loosen those pants. The demon's hands slid down to help, working the tight hide down to free a pulsing erection, so dark a red it was almost black, its thick base throttled by ebon curls. A startled look crossed Tris' face, quickly followed by one of hunger as he took stock of that sight. Damn.
Again Balendir reached out, catching at Tristan's hands. "He does not bite," the incubus said, a smirk twitching his lips upward as he drew those fair skinned hands to his cock. He heard the boy's breath catch in his throat, and he knew why, seeing the stunned wideness of Tris' eyes. Thick and hard and... hot. Burning. It was all Tristan could do not to yank back, but Baal would not let him, those big hands pressing his own little ones against that throbbing monster.
"What if I want him to?" Tristan shot back, worked into a strange mood, where fear left him for a quaking moment. He knew he was grinning impishly, and was rewarded by the demon's sudden burst of laughter.
"Then he will," Balendir growled, and ducked down, biting at Tristan's shoulder sharply. A harsh gasp escaped the boy as he arched, breathless laughter in its wake, and suddenly the hard heat in his hand wasn't nearly as threatening, and Tris began to skate his fingers over it curiously, feeling empowered at the growl the incubus gave against his skin. Teeth grazed his neck and he quivered, wrapping his hands around that cock and stroking it hesitantly, slowly, his hands barely able to encircle it completely.
"Good," Tristan murmured, head tilting back to allow those sharp teeth access to the thin, delicate skin of his throat, shivering at the low hiss of hot breath on his neck as he explored his prize with only the sensation of touch, finding ridges and veins and heat, everywhere the heat.
Finally Balendir pushed him away firmly. "Enough of that," he said roughly, the purpled head of that cock slick and leaking with its own juices. Tristan reluctantly let go, grinning a bit at the fun of teasing the demon.
"But you're so cute when you growl," the boy retorted, smirking impishly.
Balendir fixed him with an even stare. "Teasing me will end with you flat on your belly, impaled on this," he warned, one hand wrapping around that monstrosity of an erection. "Is that what you want?"
Tristan's mouth went dry, and he had to swallow a couple times to banish that mental image and the overpowering rush of heat that went with it. He didn't really want to, or so he thought, but then, the very idea... oh, it was so hot. "I..." he hedged.
The incubus was only a bit surprised, but he smiled and chuckled. "Of course. Now strip. It is your turn," he said with a lazy flick of one hand. "You wanted to feel, after all."
Hesitation again slowed Tristan's hands as he reached for the hem of the shift, pulling it off slowly and revealing a gangly, lean young man's frame, short and slender, his own erection bobbing against his belly proudly. A flush stained his cheeks and as he dropped the shift to the floor, he folded his arms over his chest. He knew he was hardly anything nice to look at.
Balendir, however, disagreed. That body, verging on adulthood but not quite; the shy stance, the uncertainty on his face... the lust underlying it all, spurring him on... a masterpiece, this one. The demon stepped closer, catching Tristan by the shoulders and pulling him down, settling on the floor and yanking the boy into his lap. Tris tumbled with a squeak, clutching at broad shoulders to keep his balance. "H-hey!" he protested, squirming, hyper aware of the cock pressed against his thigh and ass. Merely chuckling, the demon pulled Tristan's back against his chest, one hand sliding down the boy's chest to capture his erection.
With a sharp cry Tris arched into that touch, hips lurching desperately. Nobody had ever touched him there like that, and it was a very different sensation from the familiar feel of his own hand. Hot, powerful, foreign... Tristan was whimpering and wriggling, responsive little body writhing into the demon's skillful touch. "Do you like this?" Balendir wanted to know, lips against the boy's ear as he savored the friction of Tris' squirming in his lap.
Thighs trembling in the battle to open, or close, or open, they weren't sure which, Tristan choked back another cry and pressed himself back against Baal hard, hands flying to wrap around the large red hand wound around his cock. "Y-yeah," he got out, panting harshly. "Please... oh, shit..."
Chuckling, Balendir slowed. "Too much?" he wondered teasingly, fighting the urge to grasp those lovely little hips and bury himself to the hilt in what promised to be a deliciously tight ass. "Or do you want more?"
A strangled mewl was his only reply as Tristan lurched into his hand. "M-more," he finally got out, eyes tightly shut as he thrust his hips into that exquisite grip.
"I can give you better," Balendir purred, biting at his earlobe as he slowly let go of Tris' cock, smiling behind the boy's back. Better indeed. He couldn't help but smile at the dark gaze Tristan fixed on him, desperate lust sparking there.
"Please," Tris whispered, clutching at his wrist in entreaty, rocking his hips down against the hard heat pressed up against him. That was more than Balendir could, or wanted to resist, and in a moment the squirming little bundle of delicious reactions was face down across his lap. Chuckling at the undignified squawk the boy gave, the incubus slid his hand over the boy's ass, up his thigh and between his legs to toy with his balls lazily. Tristan yelped and struggled, earning the other hand splayed over his back, pinning him down. Something twisted at that feeling, something dark in the pit of him, relishing the strength that made him helpless, and he let that questing hand part his legs, shivering at the brush of hot fingers over that most private part of him. It felt... odd, but not bad. Tantalizing, and he whimpered a bit.
Beautiful. Utterly perfect, Balendir mused, gaze roving over the fair, freckled skin, the curve of back and ass... he had to have this. The need to mark that pale skin rose up in him, and with a light slap of his hand against that ass, he had Tristan squeaking and jumping, struggling against the demon's hold. "Relax," the incubus soothed, chuckling and stroking fingers over the abused skin. The tip of his tail curled around the bottle of oil that sat on the floor, bringing it closer. A smile crossed his face as he opened it and the scent of catmint hit the air. "You'll enjoy this, my little pet." A moment later one oil-slicked finger was rubbing lazily at his entrance, making Tris catch his breath and hold it, trying to decide if he should pull away or move closer.
The demon answered that for him after a moment, working the tip of his finger into that unbelievably tight heat, mouth watering at the way the boy's back arched eagerly. "Ai~!" Tris cried out, body instinctively clutching at the intruder. Then... well. Wow. Ooh. A whimper worked its way free of the boy's throat, and he leaned back, hips moving onto that hand, panting at the sheer level of sensation that was swamping his body and making him twitch. "Oh, shit... please, please, more," he begged shamelessly, eyes tightly shut, ass raised up into Balendir's hand. Amused, the incubus obliged him, reaching deeper, then moving back and mimicking a thrusting motion, slow and steady, that had his little human pet crying out and rocking onto his hand.
"Are you sure you don't want me to fuck you? If you want... more?" Balendir wondered with a lazy smirk, a second finger working at that tight entrance, demanding entrance and spurring the boy to yelp and arch all the more. Tristan was so lost, struggling just to feel those fingers in him harder, and the thought... so used... he whimpered.
"I do," Tris whispered, quivering. "I want you to fuck me." He couldn't place the moment he'd changed his mind, but he had, and something in him DEMANDED to be assuaged. It sapped his strength to say the words, nails digging into the demon's thigh where he clutched at him, turning to fix him with a pleading gaze. Balendir smiled slowly, and scissored his fingers in that tightness, stretching that sweet little ass and making Tristan gasp in startlement.
"That is a good pet, my pretty little one. Feeling it yet?" Balendir smirked, watching that lithe little body arch in his lap. A bit reluctantly, he refrained from teasing Tristan too much, well knowing that that young body could only take so much before it gave under the pressure.
"Y-yea," came the quivering reply, the boy's eyes shut tightly as his lips parted wide to pant for breath. "Yes." The words gave way to a helpless whine, accented by the lurch of Tris' hips as he strained to get more of that sensation in him. Balendir was not about to allow this, keeping the squirming boy well pinned and preparing him with methodical care. No sense in hurting the little morsel, not when he was already so eager.
There was something in the way the boy wriggled, his body arching for more, begging to be touched and thrilled. Balendir would certainly return, whether Tristan called him or not. A slight smile curved the demon's lips, and he shifted finally, considering Tristan ready enough. Removing his fingers, he shifted, pulling Tris into his lap once more, savoring the pitiful moan the boy gave at the loss of those fingers. He paused for a moment, then nodded, putting the boy's back against his chest and the hard length of his cock up against Tristan's ass. Taking a moment to slick more of the oil over his length, he nuzzled at Tris' back, for once having a care for his new pet. "Hold still, and relax, or this will hurt," the demon warned, rather reasonably, and grasped Tristan's hips firmly, lifting the suddenly tense boy up. "I said relax," Balendir repeated, nudging the head of his erection up against the slicked pucker of Tris' entrance. It was all the boy could do to remember to breathe, and somehow he managed to relax, which was a good thing, as the demon did not give him too much time to do so.
With one lazy, slow thrust, Balendir buried himself in Tristan's tight little body, drawing the boy down onto him until that delicious ass was resting against his thighs, and his little human pet was gasping and squirming on his cock ever so prettily. The invasion hurt, but in a delicious, slowly burning sort of ache, making Tristan pant and wriggle, wanting more and driving him to rock against the demon. With a body made for sensualism, it was quite easy to reduce him to a quivering batch of vulnerable nerves.
Balendir growled deeply, arms tight around Tristan's body as he held the wriggling boy down against him. Hot and tight, the mortal was perfectly delicious, and it was with aching slowness that the demon gripped Tristan's hips and levered him up, relishing the cry that escaped his pet as he began to fuck him languidly, breath hot on his neck. The incredible tightness and responsiveness of the body wrapped around his cock left him no doubt; this would be a short but spectacular ride.
For Tristan, however, it seemed to last forever, the repetition of those deep thrusts that split him so deep it was hard to breathe something he clung to. Pressure built, pleasure raged, and even as he was coming with a strangled scream, he passed out.
From there, Alissya's sleep only deepened, into one without dreams, but a smile remained on her face all night long.
As soon as Lilith stepped into the bathroom, Kane grabbed him to kiss him again. They barely made it to the tub before Kane's hands were groping down his back insistently, and Lilith had to pull away insistently, just to start the water. "You - you are simply horrible," the boy informed him, flushing at the look that Kane turned his way.
"Hush, my princess," Kane chuckled, smirking at him. Still flushed, Lilith made a pretty picture, bitemarks on his throat and bruises on his hip, and inwardly he was very smug about marking the boy so plainly. "And get into the tub."
Doing as he was told, Lilith climbed into the bath, a little embarrassed to see Kane climbing in after him. In but moments they were knee deep in steaming water, and then Kane was pulling Lilith into his lap, and they were kissing.
They spent the rest of the night that way.
This time the girl wasn't crying. She wasn't wailing, or fighting, or even whimpering quietly under the veil. No, she stood tall and silent, dark brown hair visible under the bottom of the veil, where it was too short to hide all of that chocolate brown mess. Miranda was here for a reason, and nothing would distract her from her mission.
She was older than the usual bride selected for the King, already fifteen, but she was smart and beautiful. The intelligence was hardly what mattered in this situation but she had been chosen for her quest for more than her looks. As she walked into the nuptial chamber, without any urging from the guard who stared at her in awe, she readied the knife deep in her sleeve, and waited.
When Danaad pulled the girl toward the bed, she didn't cry like they usually did. He tore at the filmy green dress; it came away in his hands like cobwebbing. Shoving her down onto the sheets, he was too wrapped up in his lust and the imminent coupling to realize that one of her hands was behind his back, and had been since the dress came off.
When the knife came down, he did not scream.
End Part One
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