Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter 33.
Title: Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter Title & No.: #33. Alone at last.

Author: Darkling Willow

Pairing: Non.

Rating: NC - 17
Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM, Bi, B-Mod, Bond, Death, D/s, H/C, HJ, Humil, Language, M/F, M/M, Minor, N/C, OC, Oral, Preg, Rim, Spank, Violence, Voy, VS, WD, WIP.

Archive: Originals - misc. > Slash – Male/Male.
Feedback: Yes thank you very much. An author can only improve with criticism. Please rate if you do not want to leave a review.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance of places and characters to actual persons, living or dead, and places is purely coincidental.
The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Authors Notes: For review replies, comments and thank you's go to: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/14530-polinues-marines-the-would-be-mage/
Don’t forget to check out the forum for responses to your reviews, guys. :)
I’m going to ask again, is there anyone out there who’s willing to draw some pics of my boys for me? Let me know.

Summary: Things finally seem to be going his way.

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Chapter 33. Alone at last.

The stillness of the front hall of the Castle Marines was shattered by a piercing cry, and a loud crash, five voices going up in a roar.
The shouts were followed by a deafening boom, and Polinues’ voice rang out over the cold stone of the castle, his twin screaming in fear.
Through the din Leyjen and Brigale could be heard shouting for the older twin, and the massive iron chandelier in the front hall swung wildly, as it was hit by a fumbled spell, and then came crashing down to the floor, ten meters below.
The iron crumpled with a horrible crash, and the group that had been tumbling out of the dining room stopped dead in their tracks.

Leyjen jerked on Polinues’ robes, pulling him to heel, Brigale imitating the movement, and the two of them flanked Polinues, preparing to take the brunt of the fury that was to come.
Wrailan’s voice rumbled through the hall, servants and maids scattering like leaves in a stiff breeze, Arlathi pushing two of them out of the way as he ran for the safety of his rooms.

“That is it! I’ve had it with you two.” Wrailan screamed loud enough to make his own ears hurt.

Polinues struggled against the restraining hands of his two friends, screaming back just as loudly,
“I’ve had it with you too. That bastard deserves to die. You all know he’s lying!”

“Stop it, Polinues. Shut up. You are the second born son, so shut up. I will not have this any longer.”

“I don’t care! I’m the youngest, I’m the mage! I hate you!”

Polinues’ cheek rang with the slap, blood spurting from his cut lip and the boy stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet, Leyjen and Brigale just barely managing to keep him upright.

“I am the ruler of this house, I am your father, and you will obey me, you insolent pup, or I swear by all the Gods that I will not be held accountable for my actions. You will not utter another word of this nonsense, or I will lock you up for the rest of your days. As for this war that you are having with your brother…”
Wrailan drew a deep stuttering breath and his whole body shook as he struggled to gain control of himself.

His face was beet red, and his double chin quivered as he started speaking again, ignoring the half hearted objections of his wife and daughters.
“You will come to this house for Samhain. Arlathi will be allowed home on Yule. The rest of the year you will stay at the Temples. The only times I will ever again allow both of you at the same time under my roof will be on your Life day, and then only for a day. You will come home a week before, and Arlathi for a week after your Life day. And for that one day you will behave yourselves, and stay as far away from each other as is physically possible on this estate, or I swear on my grandfather’s grave that I will murder you both.”

Charlotta choked at those words, reaching out a hand towards her son, suddenly not caring where his rightful place in the family was, but Polinues squared his jaw, thrusting out his chin and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Fine. I’ll stay away. I’ll only show my face here at Samhain and my Life day. But Leyjen stays with me. He’s my servant so he stays with me at the Temples. And you treat him with the respect he deserves! No more of this badly hidden hostility. Agree to that and I’ll stop. And I’ll leave that whiny imposter alone.”
Father and son stared at each other for long strained minutes, the rest of the family standing around them, literally holding their breaths.

Leyjen’s amber eyes flamed with anger, his jaw working constantly, and he let go of Polinues’ arm as Wrailan stepped forwards and extended his hand.

“Agreed.”
The knight said in a stoic voice, his twelve summer old son shaking his hand firmly, their faces set in emotionless masks.

Leyjen growled deep in his throat, and stormed up the stairs, slamming the door to his room behind him, leaving Polinues behind with Brigale.

The two boys left the castle, Brigale trailing behind the infuriated novice, sitting down on a root of one of the massive willow trees by the shores of the Peolin Sea, as Polinues stood at the edge of the water and screamed out his frustration at the top of his lungs.
By the time the twin suns had sunk below the eastern horizon Brigale had taken a stroll back to the castle to beg for some food which he brought back out to the willow grove.

Polinues’ voice was gone, and he plopped down on the ground with a rasping sigh.


“You all done, Polinues? Want to talk about it?” Brigale asked as he sat down beside his friend, dropping an apple and a bread bun into Polinues’ lap.
Polinues coughed, taking a large bite out of the fruit, his grey eye dark and almost blank.

“No. There’s nothing to talk about. It was only a matter of time. I knew either father would give up on us, or we would end up killing each other. So, I guess it will be a few more years before I kill him. Where’s Leyjen? Did you see where he went?”

“Yeah. He stormed up to his room as soon as you shook hands with your father. I think he took offence when you said that he’s your servant.”

Polinues groaned loudly, letting his head fall forwards, and hang down for a few moments, before answering.

“Oh, that stupid idiot. We had an argument like two years ago and I called him that, and the fight went on for more than a year. I guess he thinks I meant it that way, now. I don’t. I don’t see him as a servant.”

“How do you see him then?”

“Like a brother. Like a family that gives a shit about me. He takes better care of me than any of them ever have.”

“Is he alright?”

“How do you mean?”

“You know. After the injury. It messed his head up pretty bad, didn’t it? You said so in your letters. Is he all back to normal? Like he was before the attack?”

Brigale’s black eyes sparkled in the darkness, and Polinues felt a strange chill run down his spine.
He drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around his shins, resting his chin on his knees.

“I’m not sure. Most of the time he’s fine. Most of the time he acts all normal. But then there are moments when he just turns into someone else. He doesn’t recognize people, or places, and can’t remember things that he’s known for ages. And sometimes he gets angry about something that we worked out years ago. I think he suffered some internal damage.”

“I agree. But don’t worry. He’ll be alright. He’ll get better, it just takes time.”
Brigale rubbed slow circles on Polinues’ back, squeezing his shoulder gently.
The younger boy nodded slowly, digging his chin between his knees, and rubbing his eyes to stop the tears from surfacing.

The silence between them became strained, and Brigale nudged his friend slightly, to try and break the awkwardness.

“Come on, show me a magic trick.”

“I don’t do magic tricks. I’m not some parlour magician.”

“I know you’re not, but you know some pretty awesome tricks. Show me something.”

Polinues elbowed Brigale in the chest, just hard enough to hurt, then thrust his hands out infront of himself towards the dark Peolin Sea, his splayed fingers bursting into flames.
Brigale yelped, then laughed, his black eyes sparkling with the light of the flames.
Polinues played with the flames for a few minutes, tossing tiny balls of fire into the air and between his hands, drawing excited giggles from his friend.

After a while Polinues grew bored and leaned into Brigale and whispered conspiratorially,
“You think that’s awesome, wait ‘til you see this.”

The words rumbled deep in Polinues’ chest, Brigale could feel the vibrations running through the slender boy, and the flames began to leap and bound between his hands, while they grew larger and brighter.
Polinues rose up on his knee, then braced one leg behind himself, while he rose to his feet, knee bent at a ninety degree angle.

The fireball between his hands was the size of a large pumpkin, a swirling mass of white flames, and his grey eye was pale in the flickering light, his face completely entranced by the magick.

Brigale fell back with a shout as Polinues spoke the spell, thrusting his hands out, the flames shooting out over the dark waters, fanning out infront of them.
The boy’s voice was steady and calm as he spoke in a thundering tone, the flames dancing over the water, fanned some twenty meters out over the water.
Brigale stared open mouthed at the display, his heart hammering in his throat, fear and admiration fighting for control in his mind.

The spell fizzled and went out like a candle flame, when a heavy weight crashed into Polinues’ side, and Leyjen’s voice hissed in the darkness, which seemed darker after the brightness of the flames.

“Are you crazy, you little shit? Are you just begging for your father to kill you? I’ve told you to keep it secret.”

The cleric and novice rolled around on the ground for a little while, Brigale rising to his feet and watching them, tensed and ready to bolt to avoid Leyjen’s anger.
Polinues mumbled something less than pleasant, but the words were lost into the moist ground of the grove, as Leyjen straddled the prone boy.

Leyjen leaned over him, and hissed into his ear,
“I’ve told you time and time again, your father isn’t the only one you need to hide your magick from. There are others who are trying to find you, others who wish you harm.”

Polinues thrashed around for a few minutes, trying to get the cleric off himself, but when he realized that wasn’t going to happen he gave up and went completely limp.
Leyjen sat ontop of him for a few more minutes, just for good measure, then sat down beside him, letting Polinues sit up.

“You mad at me?”

“Why should I be mad at you?”

“You stormed up to your room when I agreed to father’s demands. I thought you were pissed at me.”

“I was at first. It was what you said about me being a servant. It brought back some old feeling, but I just sat down and thought about it for a bit. I recalled why it hurt me so badly to hear you say that, and then I came out looking for you. That’s when I saw that idiotic display of yours. You could have just as well sent up a fucking flare, come on, I’m over here.”

Polinues frowned for a bit, crossing his arms obstinately over his chest, and Brigale groaned with irritation. He thought both the clerics were acting like idiots.

The silence grew heavy between the three of them, and finally Brigale couldn’t stand it any longer.

“So, what about me then?”

The two clerics looked up, their eyes round with surprise, and Leyjen chuckled,
“What do you mean, what about you?”

“Well, the two of you seem perfectly pleased to leave me here, all by my lonesome, with your jerk-off brothers. So, I’m asking, what about me?”
Polinues tittered into his sleeve, and Leyjen rolled his eyes at the squire.

Climbing to his feet Polinues draped an arm over Brigale’s shoulders and said cheerfully,
“I’m not leaving you behind, I’m leaving you in charge.”

“In charge of what?”

“Torturing my brothers, and watch out for my sisters. What else is there?”

Brigale snickered, his black eyes sparkling again,
“Yeah, someone has to put those jackasses in their place, I guess.”

“And you can always write to him, Brigale. And since you’ve turned fourteen winters you can always come and visit Polinues at the Temples. Visitors are allowed for upto ten days at a time, and he’s got a big room at the Cloister.”
Leyjen smiled, despite the trepidation he felt at the thought of having the two boys together at the Temple.

The boys cheered and hugged each other, then turned and started jogging towards the castle.
Leyjen remained in the willow grove, his heart heavy and thundering in his chest.
He didn’t want to go back to the castle just yet.
He wanted to sit there and enjoy the scent of the water, the willows, the sand of the beach and the heavy scent of the Roganwood, and avoid sleeping as long as he physically could.
Since his injury his dreams had been disturbing to say the least.

They had been a confused mixture of glistening fangs, bloodied lips, and blazing azure eyes, as well as little Polinues. Polinues writhing on white linen, his face contorted with screams of pleasure.

Leyjen shook himself hard to rid himself of the image that seemed to have lodged itself in his brain, but it didn’t help.
The image only became sharper and his blood rushed south.
The moons had already risen when he finally made his way back to the castle, on shaky legs, his knees dirtied from the soil of the grove, his moans a secret guarded by the ancient willows.

Wrailan Marines made good on his word.
He sent Leyjen and Polinues back to the Temples only two days later, Arlathi was allowed to stay at home for nearly a moon, since he had been suspended from his studies by one more mentor.
This was the fourth mage that had given up on the boy in six years.
The thirteen summers boy was not showing any improvement, at all.

Brigale went to the Temples four times in the six moons between Polinues’ Life day and Samhain, spending the allowed ten days each time.
Polinues started lagging behind in his studies, and Leyjen had a bad relapse just before Mabon which landed him in the Healing Halls for nearly a week, when Brigale and Polinues had started a fight with some of the fourth stage clerics, and Wrailan had to come to the Temples to smooth things over.

Brigale was only allowed to visit every other moon after that, and only for five days at a time. Polinues moped around for a fortnight before he got over it, and went back to his normal irrepressible self.

Shortly after Yule Leyjen began preparing for the Turning of the Stage.
He had been supposed to receive it the year before, but it had been postponed due to his injuries after Tisék’s attack.
He had been given the choice to either remain a year behind for the rest of his studies, or work to catch up, and finish his sixth stage in only two years instead of three.
He was still mulling it over when Beltane came around and he turned 24 summers.


Left, right, left, right, right, right, left, and tucked under the tip of his tongue.

Leyjen tore his eyes away from the glinting lip ring, as it began its routine once again, trying to concentrate on the ancient texts he was supposed to be studying.
The Temple Novice across the table was becoming far too much of a distraction.
Polinues had sprouted up like a weed in the past moons, nearly reaching Leyjen’s chin, and his body was maturing far too fast for Leyjen’s liking.
Leyjen was finding it increasingly hard to resist the urges that the boy’s scent invoke in him, the way Polinues’ smile made his heart flutter, the way he imagined that Polinues’ hands lingered a moment too long on his back when they hugged or how he cuddled too close when he climbed into bed with Leyjen after one of his nightmares.

“What?” the soft voice drifted across the table, low with a hint of the beautiful sounds it would be once it got out of puberty.

Leyjen looked up again, feigning surprise as he’d been doing more and more frequently over the past year, and the grey eye peering at him from the depths of the evergreen hood stole his breath.

“Nothing.”
He shook his head with a strained smile, thrusting the quill into the inkwell, then hesitating looked back into the shadows of the hood.

“It’s just that annoying tic you have, when you’re concentrating.”

“What tic?”

“You flick that lip ring left and right, constantly. I’m amazed you haven’t torn it out yet.”

Polinues flashed a broad smile across the table, leaning towards Leyjen so he wouldn’t be overheard,
“I almost did. Last week. Jorad made some stupid joke about the length of the High Clerics robes at breakfast and I nearly bit the ring out when I tried to smother my laughter.”

Leyjen snickered behind his hand, bending low over the tome he was reading as the Temple Cleric who was overseeing the library looked up, glaring at the two of them.
Polinues grinned wide, his shoulders shaking with subdued laughter.
When Leyjen picked his quill up again, and continued his work, showing no signs of wanting to chat, Polinues turned back to his own reading.

He was studying the laws of their order once again, in preparation for his own Turning of the Stage.
He had reached the final year of his second stage, and the last few moons before his Turning had to be spent in minute study of the rules and regulations and spiritual doctrines of the One Lady’s True Faith.
Leyjen’s studies involved even more advanced reading, since he was taking his sixth stage, and would be anointed as a Temple Cleric.
Polinues was dreading the ceremony, both because of its endless sanctimonious bullshit, and because he hated seeing Leyjen in pain.

A week after Beltane Leyjen entered the meditation chambers, for the mandatory three days.
In the mean time Polinues got himself and Brigale into all sorts of trouble, which they lied and cheated their way out of.


The early summer heat beat on the brick building, and the air in the room was stagnant, despite the wide open window.
There was no breeze to move the air, the warmth and humidity making the room feel like a sweat lodge, nothing but glaring sunlight and the lazy buzzing of insects coming in through the open window.
Leyjen rested his head against the simple wooden headboard of the bed, reclining on the piled pillows and blankets, his eyes half closed.

His head was pounding, the new ceremonial piercing, a third ring in his left eyebrow, was thudding in unison.
His snow white robes were unlaced to the waist, his chest half exposed, yet it did nothing to alleviate the heat.
The three days he had spent in meditation and fasting, confined to a tiny solitary cell, and deprived of sleep for two nights, which was then followed by the long ceremony of the Turning, which was followed again by night long festivities, had left him weaker than ever before.
He suspected it was due to the injuries he had suffered the year before, but it still caused him worry.
Thankfully he was now confined to his room for the next two day, as per the laws of the order, and Polinues had rushed through his obligations to be able to join Leyjen in the afternoon.

Leyjen looked at the boy, where he sat at the foot of Leyjen’s bed, staring at the floor infront of his feet, twiddling his thumbs, pondering something.
Leyjen let his eyes fall closed, thinking Polinues would start talking once he got his head around whatever it was that was bothering him.
Without opening his eyes Leyjen became aware, that Polinues had lifted his head and was looking intently at the Temple Cleric.

“Did it hurt?” Polinues asked shyly.

Leyjen didn’t move, only asked back,
“What?”

“The third ring in your eyebrow, did it hurt?” the boy’s voice was rather deep for his age, even though it still cracked on occasion as was common with boys of only 13 summers.

Leyjen chuckled a little,
“No, it didn’t hurt. No more than the last one. I’ve mastered the pain. I mastered it at my fourth stage. So will you. You just need to practice more.”

He gingerly touched the new steel ring, wincing at the pain that barrelled through his skull.
Polinues returned his attention to the floor, clenching and unclenching his hands between his thighs.
Leyjen watched him from underneath heavy lids, the boy was mulling something over in his head, but Leyjen couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.

As the Temple Cleric let his eyes fall shut to block out the painful sunlight, he heard Polinues stir again, then ask quietly,
“Leyjen, do the third stage piercings hurt much? I mean, it’s your chest…”
He touched his own chest carefully, as if the cold piercing pin was already doing its work there.

Leyjen sighed, opening one eye slightly, and moving his head slowly from side to side in negation,
“You’ve asked me that twice before, with both of your piercings. You should know the answer by now. I can’t understand why you are so afraid of them. You haven’t cried out since your initiation, but still every time you’re nearing the end of your Stage, your fret about it for months. None of them hurt as much as the first one, you know that.”

Leyjen watched as Polinues lifted his hand slowly to touch the steel ring that had been pierced into the nape of his neck at his initiation when he was five summers old.
Thin fingers barely touched the scarred skin, before he let his arm fall back into his lap.
Polinues hated touching the ring, it had burned into his skin the night he was caught in the abbey fire, and noone had been sensible enough to remove it before his wounds healed, so now the ring was fused into the skin.

Muttering, perhaps more to himself than Leyjen, Polinues’ eyes scanned the wall above the bed,
“It’s still your chest. It’s different than all the others.”

With an irritated grunt Leyjen shrugged his robes off his shoulders, the soft cotton pooling around his elbows.
“I know. I guess it hurts more than your eyebrow, or nose, or even the lip, but it’s really not that bad, once you’ve mastered the pain. Here, look at mine, it might give you an idea of what it will be like.”

Leyjen closed his eyes again, the headache worse than before, as Polinues climbed up the bed, and resting on his knees beside Leyjen he studied the piercings closely.
Leyjen stifled a moan, shivers running up his arms and legs as Polinues’ breath ghosted over his warm chest.
The teen’s soft fingertips pushed and prodded at the two rings, pierced into the skin at the edge of each areolae, the nipples responding as Polinues grabbed hold of one ring and lifted it up.

To distract himself, Leyjen asked,
“Why are you so afraid of the piercings. I know it’s not the pain that you’re afraid of. It’s something else.”

Polinues studied the rings in silence for a few more moments, his warm breath playing over the already stimulated skin,
“I’m afraid of the Gods, not the piercings. What if the One Lady decides she doesn’t want me to study in her Temples? I mean, what if she doesn’t want me? What if the Dragons don’t want me to study their magick either? What if I am unworthy of my powers?”

“Why are you afraid of the Gods? Why shouldn’t they want you to become a cleric? Do you really think that the Shadow Dragon would have given you your magick if you were unworthy? Why should they want me anymore than you?” Leyjen asked back, trying to fish out of the boy the reason for his questions, his headache pounding worse than ever.

Polinues didn’t answer, Leyjen felt him shift on the bed and opened his lips to ask the question again, feeling Polinues’s breath on his face, then the boys lips pressed against his, tenative but demanding.

Leyjen moaned into the awkward kiss, his hands grabbing the bedsheets and the skirt of his robe in a spasmodic grip, his arms tangled in the sleeves, so he couldn’t push the boy away.

Polinues’s ministrations were clumsy, but it was obvious that he knew what he wanted and that he knew the basic consepts, his hands, suddenly cold against Leyjen’s naked chest, slid down trying to find purchase around his waist.
Leyjen sat up to try and free his arms from the confines of the heavy robes, Polinues misunderstood the movement, and kissed him again.
Leyjen’s lips parted slightly, and he kissed the boy back, a momentary lapse in judgement, as he managed to gain control of his robes.

Grabbing Polinues around the shoulders, he screamed,
“Polinues! What the Hell are you doing? By the Wraith Dragon himself...”

He pushed the boy with all his strength, Polinues flying off the bed and landed hard on his back on the floor, his breath rushing out of him.

Leyjen jumped up, his anger thundering in his veins, mostly headed southwards, Polinues cried out as he scrambled on all fours underneath the simple wooden breakfast table in a corner of the room, as far from the bed as he could get.

As he curled up underneath the table, the boy whimpered, tears streaking down his face,
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Leyjen… I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it… I had to know…”
Leyjen’s anger was spent before it even began.

In the eleven years that Leyjen had known the boy, he had only seen him cry in fear once, the evening when Leyjen had shown him his scars.

“Ilithil… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. You just startled me… come out from under there. Please? Stop crying, I’m sorry, come out…”
Leyjen begged, reaching under the table, but Polinues only shrank away from him, crying harder.
It was nearly soundless, only a sharp sob now and again, nothing more, but the tears fell in rivulets.

When pleading didn’t seem to work, Leyjen got down on his knees and made to crawl under the table to get him.
Polinues’ reactions were not what Leyjen expected.
With a hoarse scream Polinues lunged at Leyjen, the fury of the attack surprised the cleric so much, that he didn’t manage to defend himself.

Leyjen fell backwards, with Polinues’ fist pounding into Leyjen’s chest, they rolled across the floor, both trying their best to subdue the other.
When Leyjen was beginning to fear the boy’s rage fuelled strength, he found an opening and pinned the boy underneath him.
Their faces only inches apart, Leyjen stared into the healthy grey eye, Polinues staring back stubbornly, tears of anger flowing down his temples.

Leyjen took a few measured breaths, his voice hoarse when he spoke,
“That’s why you’re afraid that the One Lady doesn’t want you in her temples?”

Obstinately Polinues turned his head, looking away from Leyjen’s amber eyes.

Anger burst in Leyjen’s chest, his headache so bad he was seeing stars, and with a furious growl he grabbed Polinues’s chin hard, forcing the boy to look at him.
Without thinking Leyjen sank down ontop of Polinues, and pressed his lips against the boy’s full red lips.
Polinues resisted for half a breath, then wrapped his arms around Leyjen’s shoulders, thin fingers tangling in his short auburn hair.

Leyjen moaned loudly as Polinues yielded to him, and deepend the kiss.
Leyjen’s tongue slipped over his lips, tasting, teasing, then retreated, only to have Polinues’ tongue mirror his exactly.
Polinues gasped greedily when Leyjen pressed his hips down, rubbing his erection against Polinues’ thigh.

When the boy thrust his hips upwards, Leyjen broke away from him, pushing himself up on all fours, and Polinues gasped in horror, scrambling away from the cleric in a panic.

Leyjen stared after him, his eyes were pure amber, the pupil only the slightest horizontal sliver, his canines longer than they should be.
Leyjen panted as he willed his body under control, the amber receding to human irises and the pupils rounding out, the canines retreating, never taking his eyes off the boy, where he clung to the foot of the bed, shaking with fear.

Leyjen sat back on his heels, slowly running his hand over his face, waiting for Polinues to speak.

“You. You… You?” was all the terrified thirteen summers old could manage, Leyjen could hear his heart hammering in the thin chest.

“Yes. I.” was the simple answer.

Leyjen had waited eight years to get this off his chest, to tell the boy the truth, but now that it was time to talk, he couldn’t find the words.
He closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples to ease the headace, the rustling of Polinues’s robes against the floor escaping his notice.

Polinues knelt before him, softly cupping the young man’s cheek, and reaching up, kissed him gently, as he broke the kiss Leyjen rested his forhead against the boy’s forehead, and Polinues whispered,
“You saved me from the fire.”

Leyjen’s heart broke.

He opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t, he nodded instead, and kissed Polinues again.
Rising to his feet, he lead Polinues to the bed, and laying down the boy nestled into his embrace. They lay silent for some time, before Polinues stirred.

“I’m sorry. I just had to know if it was true.”

“If what was true?”

“I’ve heard the older novices and clerics gossiping. They’ve talked about you, that way. I remember when I saw you with Amraeen. I saw you with Tisék once. If my feelings were true. Jorad says it’s disgusting, but I… I don’t know. I’ve had dreams…”

Leyjen grimaced, if there was gossip going around he would have to quelch it before it reached the ears of the higher ranking clerics, or his benefactor, Lord Wrailan.

Threading his fingers through Polinues’ light brown hair, he inquired,
“Dreams? What sort of dreams? What feelings?”

Polinues squirmed uncomfortably,
“Strange dreams. I’m outside somewhere, in the dark. It’s raining, and then you’re there. Standing behind me, touching me… I’m naked.”
The last words he whispered into Leyjen’s ear, lithe fingers running under the waistband of Leyjen’s robes.

“And that’s why you’re afraid that the Gods don’t want you? You’re afraid that the Goddess doesn’t want you in her clergy, or that the Shadow Dragon finds you unworthy of your magick, because you have dreams about me? About us, naked.”

“Yes.”
Came the timid answer, the boy squirming again, throwing one leg over Leyjen’s thigh and thrusting his thin hips against Leyjen’s hip, drawing a decadent moan from the cleric.

Leyjen turned on his side, pulling Polinues closer, fluttering kisses over his face, and whispered between them,
“Don’t you think that the Gods would’ve done something about me then, if that was the case? I’ve had dreams about men, I’ve spent my nights in the arms of men and women… I’ve lusted after you most of this passed year.”

“Is that the reason you’ve pulled away from me lately?”

“Yes. I’ve been afraid of losing control. Like now. Look what I’ve done… You’re only a child… this is so wrong.”

“I’m almost fourteen, let me tell you! I’m not a child any more.”
Polinues sat up in the bed and began to furiously unlace his evergreen robes, Leyjen rushing to stop him.
The sudden movement jarred his headache back into full throttle, and sinking back down on the pillows he groaned.

Polinues had managed to unlace the top of his robes, and loosen the skirt, but stopped and leaned over the cleric, concerned for a moment.
When Leyjen didn’t show any signs of dying right there, Polinues pulled loose the laces of his robes and squirmed out of the folds of cotton, before he lay back down beside Leyjen, rubbing his crotch against Leyjen’s hip.
Leyjen rolled on his side again, the orange afternoon sunlight glaring off the white washed walls hurting his eyes, but the soft lips pressed against his made him forget the pain.

Polinues’s small fingers quickly unlaced the waistband of Leyjen’s robes, and slid down to the waistband of the thin linen trousers they wore underneath their robes. Leyjen guided his hands as he pushed his tongue into the tight mouth, running over Polinues’ palate, Polinues imitating his every move, teeth nibbling at his lower lip, tugging at the ring.

Polinues’ hand was barely big enough to reach around his throbbing cock, Polinues hesitated when Leyjen wrapped his fingers around it, showing the boy how to touch him.
Slowly Polinues found the rhythm, long, hard strokes up and down, Leyjen moaning into his mouth, thrusting his cock into the boy’s hand.

Polinues heard the blood rushing in his ears as Leyjen’s strong hands pulled loose the waistband of Polinues’ linen trousers, and his right hand slipped under them, rubbing against Polinues’s half erect cock.
Polinues bucked as Leyjen wrapped his fingers around him and gently rubbed him to full hardness.

Leyjen broke their kiss, and they lay forehead resting against forehead, panting, as Leyjen stroked Polinues slowly but hard, Polinues’s breath coming in quick, hard gasps, he lost his rhythm and pulled his hand away from Leyjen’s painfully throbbing cock.

Leyjen was half wild with longing, so he whispered to the boy,
“Trust me?”

“Always.” Came the panting answer.

Leyjen pushed Polinues’s trousers down to his thighs, then pulled his own down, and scooted down on the bed a little.
He pulled the boy closer, nibbling at his neck and shoulder as he wrapped his hand around both his own cock and the boy’s, and began stroking them in unison.

Polinues began moaning loudly, pleading for something he didn’t quite understand.
Leyjen kept kissing him, breaking the kiss to tease the skin of his neck and shoulder, until he felt Polinues’s muscles contract, the thin hips thrusting erratically into Leyjen’s hand, and with a soft cry Polinues came, thin spurts coating Leyjen’s hand and cock.
Leyjen tried to smother Polinues’s cry in the crook of his neck, as he felt the familiar pressure begin in his own balls.

He whispered into Polinues’s ear,
“Just a few more moments, I’m coming, stay with me.”

Polinues’ thin body was trembling, Leyjen leaned over him, wrapping his lips around the novices jugular, suckling at the skin, pumping his cock harder, faster, the boy’s come arousing him more than he thought possible.
The feeling of Polinues’s softening cock against his own raging erection drove him over the edge, and biting into Polinues’s neck, thick, hot ribbons shot over Polinues’s abdomen and his own, stars bursting in his head, and Leyjen nearly screamed as he felt the faint metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

Shaking, sated beyond words, Leyjen rolled onto his back, Polinues already half asleep rolled into the crook of his arm, still panting slightly.

Leyjen looked down at the mark he’d left on the boy’s neck, it was an angry purple lovebite with tiny beads of blood seeping through the damaged skin.
Fighting against the urge to bite and drink his fill of the fragrant blood, he raised his right hand to his mouth, and licked the combined semen off his fingers, his cock twitching at the taste.