The Grove
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,190
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,190
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
New Life
The Grove - Chapter 2
This chapter is short, a teaser if you will. Be warned, there will be homosexual content from here on out.
A sigh of frustration wafted lightly across the drying paint on the rough canvas as a handmade brush dabbed the last details on the feminine face. The image was far from perfect, a shadow of the incredible works of art produced by masters of the trade, but good for something produced by hands once used to holding a bow and knife, long-fingered and strong but still delicate.
A finger traced along the image of soft, doe-brown hair and a soft voice laced with emotion rang through the small chamber, "Mother..." He knew he would never see her again but that didn’t stop the hurt he felt at being separated from her. Aramis was never one to let go of loved ones easily.
Taking a step back from the canvas, he tucked a lock of long chestnut colored hair behind a delicately pointed ear, the beads dangling at the end of several strands of hair clinking against each other. Once the painting dried, he would cover it with a cloth and place it with the others, all portraits of his family and friends from home. Perhaps he should call the palace he lived in his home now, though he’d always felt like a stranger walking among humans.
Turning, he walked over to the basin of water kept on his mirror table and rinsed the paint from his hands, a servant would be in later to change the water. The king always made sure his favorite toy had everything he wanted or needed, aside from going back to his people.
Looking into the mirror, Aramis thought about the king, a tall, powerful man who always dressed in dark, subdued colors. The king had dark hair, long and straight, always kept in a low ponytail and equally dark eyes framed by thick lashes. Aramis knew how those eyes looked at him, it wasn’t hard to overhear talk or catch a glimpse of the king’s expression as he watched his toy dance. Same sex pairings weren’t uncommon among his people, many had a breeding partner and a pleasure partner and loved both equally. Aramis pressed lipslips together as he remembered chaste kisses shared in the forest with his friend Lest, perhaps if they’d had more time together a closer bond might have developed, but Aramis had been taken by the slavers too soon for anythto hto happen.
As Aramis lifted his hands to dry them on the fluffy towel next to the bowl, he heard the door open. The only one who dared enter without knocking was the king himself. Aramis remained where he was standing and let the king come to him, he knew he could get away with such things and often took advantage of his position as the king’s current favorite thing.
Eyes lowered, Aramis could feel the heat of the king’s body through their thin clothing, the hot summer months allowing for little else to be worn. He sensed movement and stiffened slightly as he felt a breath on his neck, the king leaning his head down close to the elf’s ear.
"Join me," the king paused, setting his hands lightly on the elf’s hips and leaning against him, Aramis biting his lower lip as he felt the evidence of the king’s desire pressed against his lower back. Focusing his eyes forward to his own reflectionamisamis struggled to stifle his reactions as the king’s lips brushed lightly against his ear lobe. "For dinner...my beloved." the king inhaled the scent of his toy before withdrawing and leaving the room without another word, leaving the door open and expeg Arg Aramis to follow.
"Divine Mother, I hate that man." Aramis thought to himself. Sighing angrily, he noticed his cheeks were flushed and his breath was coming faster than usual, there was no way the king hadn’t noticed these things. It was only through an act of will and his own passionate antagonism for the king that other reactions hadn’t shown themselves.
Composing himself, Aramis kept his shoulders straight and a slight upward tilt to his chin, showing that slavery hadn’t broken his fiery spirit, as he walked out the door to his room and strode down the hall to the king’s chambers.
This chapter is short, a teaser if you will. Be warned, there will be homosexual content from here on out.
A sigh of frustration wafted lightly across the drying paint on the rough canvas as a handmade brush dabbed the last details on the feminine face. The image was far from perfect, a shadow of the incredible works of art produced by masters of the trade, but good for something produced by hands once used to holding a bow and knife, long-fingered and strong but still delicate.
A finger traced along the image of soft, doe-brown hair and a soft voice laced with emotion rang through the small chamber, "Mother..." He knew he would never see her again but that didn’t stop the hurt he felt at being separated from her. Aramis was never one to let go of loved ones easily.
Taking a step back from the canvas, he tucked a lock of long chestnut colored hair behind a delicately pointed ear, the beads dangling at the end of several strands of hair clinking against each other. Once the painting dried, he would cover it with a cloth and place it with the others, all portraits of his family and friends from home. Perhaps he should call the palace he lived in his home now, though he’d always felt like a stranger walking among humans.
Turning, he walked over to the basin of water kept on his mirror table and rinsed the paint from his hands, a servant would be in later to change the water. The king always made sure his favorite toy had everything he wanted or needed, aside from going back to his people.
Looking into the mirror, Aramis thought about the king, a tall, powerful man who always dressed in dark, subdued colors. The king had dark hair, long and straight, always kept in a low ponytail and equally dark eyes framed by thick lashes. Aramis knew how those eyes looked at him, it wasn’t hard to overhear talk or catch a glimpse of the king’s expression as he watched his toy dance. Same sex pairings weren’t uncommon among his people, many had a breeding partner and a pleasure partner and loved both equally. Aramis pressed lipslips together as he remembered chaste kisses shared in the forest with his friend Lest, perhaps if they’d had more time together a closer bond might have developed, but Aramis had been taken by the slavers too soon for anythto hto happen.
As Aramis lifted his hands to dry them on the fluffy towel next to the bowl, he heard the door open. The only one who dared enter without knocking was the king himself. Aramis remained where he was standing and let the king come to him, he knew he could get away with such things and often took advantage of his position as the king’s current favorite thing.
Eyes lowered, Aramis could feel the heat of the king’s body through their thin clothing, the hot summer months allowing for little else to be worn. He sensed movement and stiffened slightly as he felt a breath on his neck, the king leaning his head down close to the elf’s ear.
"Join me," the king paused, setting his hands lightly on the elf’s hips and leaning against him, Aramis biting his lower lip as he felt the evidence of the king’s desire pressed against his lower back. Focusing his eyes forward to his own reflectionamisamis struggled to stifle his reactions as the king’s lips brushed lightly against his ear lobe. "For dinner...my beloved." the king inhaled the scent of his toy before withdrawing and leaving the room without another word, leaving the door open and expeg Arg Aramis to follow.
"Divine Mother, I hate that man." Aramis thought to himself. Sighing angrily, he noticed his cheeks were flushed and his breath was coming faster than usual, there was no way the king hadn’t noticed these things. It was only through an act of will and his own passionate antagonism for the king that other reactions hadn’t shown themselves.
Composing himself, Aramis kept his shoulders straight and a slight upward tilt to his chin, showing that slavery hadn’t broken his fiery spirit, as he walked out the door to his room and strode down the hall to the king’s chambers.