My Sweet Ilithil

Title: My Sweet Ilithil.

Chapter Title & No.: Somethings are better left forgotten. #6

Author: Darkling Willow

Pairing: Non

Rating: NC-17

Archive: Yes please.
Feedback: Yes thank you very much. An author can only improve with criticism.

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: I’ve been working on a fantasy novel for half my life now. It all started with one character and a name, but has grown into about a dozen characters, original races and species and a whole world. Yeah, it kind of got out of hand.
These chapters are just little oneshots, that I want to have as a part of the main story, but would never be allowed in mainstream publishing, so, I’m giving you guys a chance to read them.

Once again, thank you, Kylee, for your reviews. I wish you a happy new year, (as well as everyone else), and hope you enjoy these chapters.
I'm again sorry for the minimal amount of smexyness, but hope you will forgive me, since we are gearing down to the end...
Although a thought occurred to me the other day, would you be interested in reading Pol.'s and Ley.'s story from the start?
That is from the very beginning, from Pol's birth? Let me know, and I might just dig it up. There would obviously be much less smexy, but there you would get the whole story.
If you're not interested, I totally understand.

Summary: As Pol. is recovering from the Vampyr attack, somethings are remembered. And an accident brings him one step closer to adulthood.
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Lord Mar. stood in the shadows, just inside the door of the Healing Halls, watching his sleeping son, and Ley..

It had been three weeks since the vampire had attacked Pol., and the teen was still suffering horrible fevers, the gash on his hip had become infected only a few days after the attack, and the Healers were at a loss, as to how to stop the infection from spreading. Pol.’s body was so weak from bloodloss that it could not fight the infection properly.
The sentries and constables had done a thorough sweep of the old stables, and determined that Pol. had cut his hip on an old, broken and rusted wagon wheel, that had been laying in a manger, the broken rim sticking out over the top.
Once that had been discovered the Healers had had some idea as to the cause of the infection, but been just as powerless as before to help Pol.’s body heal itself.
The Lord had arrived a week after the attack, bringing with him his own household physician.
After three more days a healer, which the Lord Mar. had called for, came out of the neighbouring elven land of Parsiria, highly skilled in the herbal lore of the elves, the elf served as a household physician for a high ranking earl at the Emissary’s court.
As it turned out, the elf was just as clueless as the Temple Healers, although he did manage to verify beyond any doubt that Pol. was most definately highly allergic to cloudberries.
Lord Mar.’s personal physician had suggested bloodletting, but Ley. had objected violently to that, so violently that it had come to blows between the two.
Lord Mar.’s had stepped between them and pointed out to his physician that the boy had already lost far too much blood, and letting more would surely kill him.

Now it had been three weeks, Pol. had not regained consciousness, and Ley. neglected his duties and his studies, spending every waking moment at the boy’s bedside, and even sometimes he would sleep there, sitting on a hard wooden chair.
It unnerved his Lordship, the devotion the maid’s son was showing the teen, especially when he considered the rumours that had reached his ears during his stay at the Temples.

They did not look any different from any other pair of caring friends or siblings, where Pol. lay in his bed, and Ley. sitting on a chair, leaning on to the bed, his arms crossed under his head, fast asleep as well, an open book resting on his knees.
It was in the minute details that the difference was, and ever since the Lord had heard the rumours, he had watched Ley. carefully, and discovered that there might be some truth to the wagging tongues going around the Temples.
It was in the way Ley. spoke softly to Pol., the way the sanctioned cleric brushed stray strands of hair from the teen’s face, the way he would caress the fever warmed hand when he thought no one was watching, it was in the way Ley.’s eyes glittered when he watched Pol..
And thinking back, his Lordship began to see that there had been signs for years before.
Strangely flushed cheeks at breakfast, clothes ruffled after long hours of study, stealing glances across the dinner table, soft smiles, slight touches that seemed just a little bit strange, all the signs had been there, but his Lordship had conveniently ignored them, along with the rest of the family.

His Lordship started as Ley. jerked out of his sleep, stifling a frightened cry, sitting up far too fast and groaning in pain, as his back popped loudly.


Sheets of silver rain poured down from the leaden skies, the trees and grass turning a strange dark grey shade, the rush of the rain was so loud it muted all other sounds. Ley. raised his face to the cool waters, letting them soothe the aching burns all over his chest and back, the blisters decreasing rapidly as the little boy’s blood coursed through his veins…
…the loud rush of the water changed, turning into the roar of a blazing fire.

Ley. stared a the two storey abbey where the guests and initiates slept, the flames licking out of every window, the roof beginning to sag in the middle.
The air was humid, promising rain at any minute, but for the abbey it would be too late.
Ley. broke into a run, leaving his fellow novices behind where they stood huddled in fear by their abbey, a safe distance from the guest quarters.
The stables, the Healing Halls and the Grand Chapel on the other hand were not. Already embers had alighted on the roof of the stables.

The couryard was teeming with commotion, the counstables and sentries fighting the flames, those who had escaped the inferno were milling about trying to find each other, still others stood around, screaming for loved ones that were nowhere to be found.
Ley. ducked and weaved his way through the crowd, colliding suddenly with a tall, silver haired knight, a knight bearing the insignia of Loctsand on his tunic.
“Lord Caronar! Lord Caronar!” Ley. yelled, to be heard over the noise, and the tall knight himself.
Lord Caronar was busy helping with the organization of the firefighting, and was shouting orders with a booming voice.
The knight paused and looked down at the fifteen year old.
“Ley.? What?”
“Have you seen the Lord Mar. and his family? Where is your son?”
“Bri. is over there, with Wrai. and his people. He’s safe.” The imposing knight pointed across the courtyard, turning back to his task without another word.
Straining his neck Ley. spotted a terrified seven year old, with raven black hair, clinging to the skirts of Lady Mar.’s nightgown. Next to her stood Wrai., and their oldest son Bel..
Ley. walked briskly across the court, the heat from the burning abbey beating on his right side with such intensity that he felt the hairs on his arm curling. But he dared not take his eyes off the Mar. family from fear of losing them in the surging crowd.

The screams from inside the fire were horrifying, people could be seen running back and forth inside, some had jumped out of second storey windows to save themselves, but the windows of the ground floor were barred.
Suddenly Ley. noticed the Lord Mar. look away from the fire, a terrified look of shame on his face, as Bri. began to point, Lady Mar. grabbed his arm and turned him around, at the same moment Ley. heard the scream.

“Mama!!”

The voice was tiny amongst the din, heard below the roar of the fire and the crowd, rather than above it.

“Mama!! Papa!! Mama!!”

Ley. stopped in his tracks, could it be?
He scanned each of the thirteen glassless cathedral windows on the abbey wall.
Each window began two feet above the floor of the abbey, and reached a height of fourteen feet.
From the base of each window there was a row of bars, nine feet high, this had been done instead of glass in the immense windows.

Between the bars of the fourth window from the front of the abbey two small hands reached out, and Pol. cried out, in frightened agony,
“Mama!!”
Ley. couldn’t breathe.

He looked over at the Mar. family, the Lady was struggling to keep herself together, while Wrai. stared off into space, his arm around his wife’s shoulders, Bel. held Bri. tightly so the foreign cousin could not point out the little frightened boy inside the burning abbey.
Ley. ran as fast as he could, as close to the window as he physically could, and started calling for the five year old boy.
The hands were gone, Ley. ran towards the next window in desperation, and there they were, the little hands, pushing between the bars, the terrified grey eyes behind them swimming in tears.

“Ley.!” the boy screamed, choking, and Ley. called back to him,
“Pol.! Run to the door! That way! Run! I’ll find you there!”

Ley. ran alongside the abbey, ducking flames and flying debris, stopping at every window to try and catch a glimpse of the tiny boy.
He heard the voice of Lord Mar., calling him, mingled with other voices, all telling him to get away, but the only voice he was listening for was the small voice inside the blazing abbey.
He heard the roof begin to cave, the screams of people burning alive mingling with the laughing fire.

At the last window, Pol. thrust his arms through, and Ley. heard him cough and choke, gasping at the clean air only inches away from his dying lungs.
Ley. noticed that the boy’s nightshirt was singed and smoking in places.
With one last effort, he called out to the little boy,
“Pol.! The door, it’s right there, do you see it? Run, Pol., run as fast as you can!”
Pol. stared back, looking quickly over his shoulder, then staring straight into Ley.’s eyes, he mouthed back,
“Help me.”
before his tiny fingers let go of the wooden bars, and Ley. saw his retreating form heading for the doorway, as fast as his short legs could carry him.
Ley. flew around the corner of the building, the roof groaning miserably, just as he reached the doorway, the roof caved in, and Ley. watched in horror as the second storey came crashing down into the lower level.

Only a few feet inside the door, just a few feet away from the safety of Ley.’s arms, Pol. stumbled, looking up at the crumbling ceiling, a beam came swinging downwards, pieces of floorboards still attached.
Ley. couldn’t scream, couldn’t even breathe, as he watched the beam swing past the little boy, the piece of burning floorboard still attached hit Pol. on the head and sent the boy flying back inside the abbey.
Without even thinking Ley. ran inside, his true form taking over his body in an instant.
Whispering an ancient language Ley. raced through the flames, picking the boy up, and craddling him to his chest, Ley. raced back out, the fire leaping and jumping out of his way, the flames bowing away from their lord.

The heavens opened and silver rain ran in streams, as Ley. fell down in a small grove of trees opposite the abbey.
He lay the boy on the grass, salty tears mingling with the heavy rain.
The tiny body was trembling all over, the cool rain steaming on the burning skin. Ley. choked as he scanned the terrible injuries.
Half of his face was shattered, the skin burned nearly to the bone, a large gash in his neck, the skin blistering, breaking and bleeding down most of the right side of his body, the nightshirt fusing with the skin in places.
Ley. screamed into the night, he couldn’t let the boy die like this, but he did not know how to save him.
His own skin was blistered where flaming debris had landed on him, the ends of his hair singed, but other than that he was fine.

Except for the bloodlust that raged in his body.
The smell of Pol.’s blood was ripping at his chest, the spicy smell of the roganwood in its autumn bloom.
The fifteen year old bent over the tiny body and lapped at the wound on his throat.
He wrapped his lips gently around the seared skin, holding the boy gently around the back.
Ley. moaned with pleasure as he swallowed, Pol. whimpered.

Ley. roared as someone grabbed his hair and pulled him off the boy, dragging him behind a tree and holding him tightly, a hand over his mouth.
Ley. stopped struggling as he saw Lord Caronar and two older novices come running into the grove, the Lord Caronar, Bri.’s father, seeing Pol.
Ley.’s captor pulled him further into the trees, finally letting go when they were far enough away for the raging fire to only be a muted background noise.
Ley. tore away as soon as his captor eased his hold, and turning around Ley. was prepared to attack.

The older man stared down at him, with liquid amber eyes, his dark brown hair plastered around his face, his full lips strained with barely contained anger.
Ley.’s jaw squared, equally stubborn, he glare up a the taller man.
“What did you do, Ley.?” His father asked, in a low, melodious voice.
“What did I do!? What the hell did you do, Lyarnan!? Is he not the boy you sent me to protect?! And you leave him to die in a fire!” Ley. screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking painfully.
Lyarnan looked away, stared at the ground infront of his son, speaking slowly,
“That was not me. I suspect Narnayl. Although I am not sure. There was something suspicious about that storm. I brought the rain. Your foster sister made it rain, in order to try and save them.”
“I saved him, father.” Ley. choked on his tears and fell down on his knees, weeping softly,
“They left him in there, they saw him and did nothing.”
“I know, my son, I know. That is why I asked you to protect him. His family have grown indifferent of him. You… you love him. I need you to love him even more now. I need you to help him hold on to what little humanity he has left. Guide him away from anger and hatred, show him love and understanding.”
His father craddled him against his chest, stroking the auburn hair gently.
“I drank from him.” Ley. whispered quietly into the muscular chest, breathing in the strong scent of poppies, longing desperately to follow his father home, but knowing it would be long years before he would be allowed home.
“I know, Ley., I know. I doubt it was enough to change anything. Just be careful of never doing it again. And do not ever allow him to drink from you.”
Lyarnan lifted his son’s chin, amber eyes staring into their perfect replicas.
Suddenly his face transformed into a horrifying mask and he screamed into his son’s face,
“YOU FAILED! YOU GAVE YOURSELF TO HIM! YOU ARE BANISHED!”

Ley. jerked awake, and groaned loudly as his back popped painfully. His shoulders ached, his head pounding, his position, half on the chair, half on the bed, had been anything but comfortable.
He shook his head, rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the dream to leave him, the fear of the nightmarish end still lingering in the shadows, the conversation he had had with his father that night had most definitely not ended in that manner.
Ley. jumped slightly when a shivering hand clasped his wrist, and looking up, Pol.’s grey eye stared back at him, the feverish sheen gone, a sad smile on the teen’s face.
“I’m not strong enough.” He whispered, Ley. stroking his cheek, sushing him,
“Strong enough for what, Ilithil?”
“You were dreaming… I can’t fight your nightmares the way you fight mine.”
“You shouldn’t have to, Ilithil, I’m here to protect you, not the other way around. Rest now, sleep easy. I’ll watch over you.” Ley. whispered, kissing the teen gently on the forehead, as Pol.’s eyes slipped closed again, before he rose and called the Healer.
Within minutes Pol.’s father, the physician, the elven herbalist, and the Healers were by the boy’s bedside, and quickly came to the conclusion that his fever had indeed broken, and he was now sleeping soundly.
Ley. sat down again, picking his book off the floor, meaning to sit by Pol.’s side until the boy woke.
Wrai. left them alone, for the night, but the next morning he was by Pol.’s bedside, and ordered Ley. to return to his duties.
Wrai. stayed for another week, never allowing Ley. to be alone with the teen, but when Pol. was deemed well enough to return to his studies, and his own room, Wrai. ran out of excuses to stay.
He was also needed at home, he did, after all, have a decent sized castle, village and Thaindom to manage.

According to a letter he received during his stay at the Temples, Bri. had once again run afoul with some knight, after dallying with the knight’s oldest daughter, and his eldest son, Bel., was on the brink of going to war with another knight under Wrai.’s Thaindom, over some damages done to the knight’s wheat fields.
With a heavy heart, Wrai. left his second born and the maid’s son at the Temples, to deal with an even bigger mess at the Castle Mar., thinking that there was not much he could do until Ley.’s next Turning.

“Pol.?” Ley.’s voice was almost timid, as he pushed the door to the teen’s chambers open, and peered into the room.
Pol. was sitting, crosslegged, on his bed, a large book in his lap.
Ley. entered, closing the door gently behind him, and slid the bolt into place, locking the door so they would not be disturbed.
Pol. looked up, and the look in his storm grey eye froze Ley. to the floor.
Ley. swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling like a five year old caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.
Pol. stared at him silent for long, long minutes, digging down deep into his soul, Ley. felt as if he was being cut open, and all laid bare for all to see.

“You drank from me.” Pol.’s voice was low. Accusing, and almost hateful.
Ley. swallowed again, and with an obvious effort, trying to sound casual, he answered,
“Well, you asked me to, and when have I ever denied you anything…” he trailed off, mumbling the last few words into his chest, Pol.’s stare becoming harder.
The teen stood from the bed, and said again,
“You drank from me. You pulled me out of the abbey fire, and drank from me as I lay dying in your arms.”
Ley. opened his mouth to speak, but his breath caught in his throat, and all that escaped was a strangled moan.
He looked to the floor, shame threatening to burn him alive.
“I was burned, bleeding, dying in your arms and you drank from me.” Pol. accused again, and Ley. sank to his knees, moaning desperately,
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I was weak… I was only fifteen, a kid… I didn’t know how to save you… I thought maybe…”
“You thought maybe what? That I was an easy prey? That no one would care if you drained me, and left me for dead? That they would think I had escaped on my own and died in the grove? What did you think?”
The scorn and accusation in Pol.’s voice cut Ley.’s heart until it was a gaping wound.
“Never! I thought that maybe I could save you if I gave you my blood… I couldn’t resist it, Pol.. The scent of your blood has always been like a drug to me. Intoxicating. I was just a kid myself, and I couldn’t fight the urge. It had been weeks since my last drink when it happened, and I just couldn’t resist you.”
Ley. was pleading, his hands clutching the peach coloured skirts of Pol.’s robes, tears filling his eyes as he continued,
“I didn’t think you would remember. You were so young, and your injuries were so bad. I thought you had remembered the first time you kissed me, but you only remembered that I saved you, so I did not want to ruin that and tell you the truth. I did rescue you from the fire, not that it redeems what I did afterwards. How can you remember it now?”
Pol. stood over the elder cleric, looking down at him with a disgusted stare.
“I had a dream.” He spoke low, his voice rumbling in his chest, Ley. sobbed as he stared back up at the teen, knowing that this would either break them both or bring them closer than ever.

One of Pol.’s hands brushed slowly over the skirts of his robes and tenatively his fingers wrapped themselves around Ley.’s right hand, where it clung to the velvet, and the boy continued, without looking into Ley.’s eyes,

“Just before my fever broke. I had the same dream I’ve had so many times before. I was standing outside, at night, in a grove of trees. The rain was falling in silver sheets, the earth gasping in pleasure, drinking it in. I was wearing black robes, girt with a sword I have never seen before. Then you were standing behind me, you were naked, wrapping your arms around my shoulders, and kissed my neck. I was prepared to give you all of me, give into you with everything that I am.”

A single silvery tear spilled over Pol.’s lashes and slid down his cheek, but his voice did not waver, he drew a sharp breath and continued, a sadness in his voice that drew blood,

“But then the dream changed, and I was in the abbey. Alone, frightened, I couldn’t find my parents. There was so much smoke, and heat, and everyone was so afraid. I ran to find my parents, but the grown ups didn’t see me. They just threw me aside, fighting to get away from the fire. I saw my parents outside, through a window. I called for them, I screamed for them to help me, but they just turned away. Then you were there, and you told me to run for the door. I did. I ran as fast as I could. But just before I reached the door, the abbey crashed down around me. I knew I was dying. I knew I would never survive this.”

Pol. sank down to his knees, his legs giving out under him, and Ley. craddled him to his chest, stroking the soft brown hair, pressing his lips against the fragrant skin, his heart hammering with joy.

“The fire whispered such horrible things to me, burning away my nightshirt, melting the skin from my face. Then something changed. The fire was quiet, it bowed away from me, it shrank away from you in fear, in respect. You walked in to the abbey, and held me so gently, and carried me out of the fire. And the fire didn’t touch you. It respected you, it feared you.”

Ley. sushed the teen, pressing his lips against Pol.’s lips, claiming him with a deep kiss, not wanting what he knew would follow to be spoken out loud.
Pol. kissed him back, claiming Ley. equally back, but when they broke the kiss, Pol. whispered quietly,

“You are a Lord of the Aaenda. You are the Lord of Fire.”

Ley. wanted to scream as his true form forced itself out of him, his eyes changing, his canines elongating and the black wings sprung out of his back with painful rapidity.
He flexed his wings above them, Pol.’s eyes wide with shock.
As Ley. slowly drew his wings down, wrapping them around the two of them, Pol. molded himself against Ley.’s chest and kissed him deeply, before he laid his head on Ley.’s shoulder, and whispered,
“I forgive you. I am yours now, and nothing can ever change that.”
Ley. held the teen close, whispering back,
“I gave myself to you that night. I gave myself to you again when you asked me to. I give myself freely to you, ever time I drink from you. Just like you give yourself to me every time. But when you drank from me, you took something that never should have belonged to you. And for that I must pay. Some day, not right now. Now, I want to be with you, and forget the world.”

Pol. rose to his feet and pulled Ley. to the bed.
They unlaced each other’s robes in perfect silence, laying down on the bed together, Ley. resting on all fours above Pol., his wings slowly receding.
Ley. kissed the teen gently, nibbling at the pierced lower lip, before pushing his tongue past the full lips, tasting the sweetness on Pol.’s tongue, trailing the arch of his palate, before returning his attention back to the lips.
His slender fingers ghosted over Pol.’s chest, finding one nipple and teasing it to hardness, he tugged at the steel ring making Pol. moan and arch his back into the touch.
Pol.’s hands played over Ley.’s sensitive ribs, making him shiver and twitch, the teen’s slender hips gyrating slowly, grinding his growing erection against Ley.’s thigh. Ley. lay down on his side, deepening their kisses, alternating between biting and kissing Pol.’s neck, to his earlobe, and then back again.
Slow but determined, Pol. pushed Ley. down on the bed, and rose up to his knees, straddling the elder cleric, pushing his ass down on Ley.’s half hard cock, the only thing between them two pairs of thin linen trousers.
Pol. leaned over Ley., grabbing his lips in a demanding kiss, he slid his hands over Ley.’s muscular chest, first playing with the nipples, and the piercings above them, then slowly he ghosted his fingers up to Ley.’s collarbones.
Ley. gasped out, thrusting his hips up, arching his back almost painfully, as Pol. pressed on the round studs above his collarbones, wriggling his ass against Ley.’s erection.
Pol. pressed on the piercings again, with the exact same results, and he could feel Ley.’s cock jump at the touch.
Pol. broke their kiss, and nibbled at the soft skin of Ley.’s neck, his nostrils flared at the familiar scent of poppies that seemed to be so uniquely Ley.’s.
Slowly he bit his way down to Ley.’s chest, sliding his abdomen against the straining erection below him. Twirling his tongue around one dark red nipple, he tweaked the other one, with his fingers, flipping the steel ring playfully.
Ley. was becoming competely undone in his hands.

Pol. rose up, Ley. moaned in disappointment, and looking up at the boy he moaned again, the sultry look on the young face was absolutely sinful.
Ley. let his head fall back, his muscles trembling with sensation, as Pol. slowly unlaced Ley.’s trousers and pulled them off him.
First Pol. pressed his chest against Ley.’s groin, biting hard at the bottom of his ribs, making Ley. thrust desperately with his hips.
Pol. traced a twisting line with his tongue down to Ley.’s navel, twirling around it for a couple of breaths, then ran the underside of his tongue down the underside of Ley.’s cock, turned around, and licked a line up the straining cock, before he wrapped his lips around the head and sank down over the throbbing shaft, taking Ley. in almost to the roots.
Ley. moaned, his fingers digging into the down pillows, he bit down on a corner of the blankets to stifle his cries.

Pol. thought he looked a little comical, his face flushed a delicate pink, a white cotton sheet between his teeth, and a wild abandon in his flaming eyes.

Pol. sucked hard, as he pulled up, then flicked the tip of his tongue against the slit, Ley.’s leaking precome coating his mouth, and Pol. moaned, humming hard as he sank over the cock, slowly.
Ley. threaded his fingers into the soft brown hair, grabbing tight, the teen looked so licentious with his full pink lips stretched around Ley.’s cock, which made it all that much more delicious. Ley. let his head fall back, enjoying the sensation, as Pol. dragged his tongue up the underside of his cock, twirling it around the head, and pushing the tip of his tongue into the slit.
Ley. let him continue until he was on the brink of orgasm.
Then he pulled the boy up into a greedy kiss, as he unlaced Pol.’s trousers.
After a bit of struggling they managed to get the teen naked, and Ley. made Pol. sit on his chest, his knees under Ley.’s arms.
Ley. lapped at the butternut coloured scrotum, suckling gently at it, before he licked slowly up the fully erect cock, and leaning over him, Pol. thrust his cock into Ley.’s eager mouth.
Despite the length that Pol.’s cock had grown to, Ley. took him in to the roots, swallowing hard as it hit the back of his throat.
Pol. shuddered at the sensation.
Pol. grabbed a handful of Ley.’s hair and pulled roughly as he thrust his hips into the tight cavern of Ley.’s mouth.
Ley. held his hips gently, controlling the thrusts a little, but he enjoyed being the one controlled enough to let the boy thrust hard and deep.
Pol. moaned and gasped above him, his eyes closed, his thrusts erratic and desperate, Ley. sucked as hard as he could, he knew the boy was close.
Pol. gasped loudly, and held his breath for two heartbeats.
Ley. felt the cock in his mouth twitch, and with a long soft moan, Pol. came in long, hot spurts, Ley. swallowed, mouthful after mouthful, the strong taste reminding him of the autumn blossom of the Roganwood, as always before.
Pol.’s muscles were trembling, he bent down over Ley., and thrust his tongue into Ley.’s mouth, lapping at his own taste.
Ley. wrapped his arms around the strong back and kissed back, swirling the last remaining moutful of come between their tongues.
Pol. broke the kiss, and Ley. groaned wantonly as he watched Pol. swallow his own come, with a devilish grin.
Neither spoke a word, Pol. reached for his nightstand, and out of the drawer he pulled a small vial of oil.

Ley. wriggled under him, as Pol. dripped a few drops onto his fingers, then reached behind himself and pushed a finger inside his own ass, making Ley. cry out.
Ley. moved to help him, but Pol. put his free hand on Ley.’s chest,
“No. Let me… I want you to watch me.”
Pol. arched his back, throwing his head back, and pushed another finger deep inside of himself.
He pulled them out slowly, relishing the sensation, then pushed them in, hard and fast.
Ley. never stopped moaning, as he watched his seventeen year old lover finger himself.
Ley. stole the vial of oil from Pol., and coating his own cock, he stroked it gently, he knew he would not last long if Pol. kept going at this.
The impish grin that Pol. sent him, told him Pol. knew exactly what he was doing.
“Do you want me?” Pol.’s voice was husky, full of promise.
Ley. couldn’t answer.

He only nodded his head desperately, and gasped loudly when Pol. pulled his fingers free, grabbed Ley.’s cock and lining it up against his stretched hole, sat down.
Ley. sank in to the roots, Pol. grimacing at the pain, but he did not stop until he had all of Ley. inside of his ass.
Pol. stopped there, breathing hard, he pushed his ass down, letting the muscle relax, Ley. did not dare move.
After a few minutes Pol. moved again, rising up ever so slightly before sinking down again.
The next rise was a little higher, and the next a little higher than the one before.
Soon Pol. was plunging down on Ley.’s cock hard and fast, Ley. thrusting up with the same intensity, both of them moaning with pleasure.

As Ley. came closer to orgasm, he sat up, and grabbed hold of Pol.’s lean body, raining kisses and bites over his chest, when he finally spilled himself into the lustful body above him, he sank his canines into the bulging muscle of Pol.’s left breast.
There wasn’t much blood to be drawn from there, but this act had never truly been about the sating of his bloodlust, as much as it was about sating their shared sexual kinks.
Pol. cried out in painfilled pleasure, shooting his second load onto his own stomach and chest, Ley. licked it up as the blood ran down from the bite and mingled with the teen’s semen.
Their muscles twitched and spasmed slightly, as they collapsed onto the bed in a heap, Ley. wrapping his strong arms around Pol. and pulling the teen close, Ley. whispered into his hair,
“I love you, Pol., I love you so dearly.”
Pol. nodded, twisting around he kissed Ley. deeply, whispering back,
“I love you too, Ley.”
They fell asleep wrapped around each other.

To Pol.’s astonishment he woke to find Ley. still in his bed, and he was even more surprised when Ley. fucked him hard and desperated, before slipping away into the morning fog, just before the bell rang for morning prayers.
The morning quicky made Pol. late for his studies, because he had to run down to the bathing halls for a quick shower, to wash away the evidence, but the shower could do nothing to soothe his aching ass.

To Pol.’s utter amazement he returned to his room, after his evening duties at the Healing Halls to find Ley. waiting for him.
Ley. was gentle and caring in his love making that night, but Pol. could feel a strong desperation in the elder cleric that had not been there before.
That night they fell asleep spooning, Ley.’s half hard cock still inside Pol., the teen painfully aware that Ley. was crying quietly into the back of his head, but when Pol. asked Ley. said nothing was the matter.
The following morning, Pol. woke to the sensation of Ley.’s mouth around his cock, Ley. leaving him before Pol. had caught his breath after coming so hard he saw stars.
The following year passed in this manner, Ley.’s wild carelessness making Pol. nervous.
But whenever Pol. tried to speak to Ley. about it, Ley. either got angry and pushed him away, or turned his thoughts away from it, by dragging the teen to bed, or where ever else they could have a quick fuck without being discovered.

The summer after the Vampyr’s attack Pol. turned eighteen, and the two were allowed to go to Castle Mar. for a two week holiday.
To Pol.’s delighted horror Ley. continued his strange behaviour, constantly daring fate to reveal the true nature of their relationship.
Thankfully Pol.’s family was as utterly oblivious as ever before and the first week passed without incident.
The second week, on the other hand, started badly.


Bri., now a strapping young man, four moons shy of twenty, sat in the prow of their little row boat, a fishing rod hooked under one leg, and watched Pol. intently.
Pol. sat crosslegged in the bottom of the boat, near the stern, his peach coloured robe unlaced to the waist, his book resting on his knees, but his eyes were looking distantly over the dark water of the Peolin Sea.
“Do you love him?” Bri.’s deep voice sounded loud, although he spoke quietly, and Pol. started slightly.
“Huh? What do you mean? Do I love who?”
“Ley.? Do you love him?”
“Love him? Yeah, sure… as much as I love you, I guess.”
“Gods, I hope you don’t…”
“Hang on, what are we talking about.”
Bri. arched an eye brow, and abandoned his pretense of fishing, leaning the rod against the side of the boat.
“I’ve noticed the way he looks at you. There’s no mistaking that look. There is simple attraction, there is plain lust, there is unfortunately love, and then there is that look. And Ley., well, he has that look when he looks at you.”
“And what look is that exactly? Don’t try and be all deep with me. We both know there are mud puddles with more depth than you.”
“I’m not trying to be deep with you. I’m just trying to talk to you. No need to be an ass about it.”
Bri. sighed as Pol. rolled his eyes at him, and the young knight ran his fingers through his raven black hair, scratching the back of his head, a tic Pol. knew meant that the knight was trying to be serious.
“That look,”
Bri. put immense meaning into those two words, pausing slightly before he continued,
“That look is so different from the others, because it’s so subtle. It can mean so many things, when you don’t know exactly what you are looking for. But when you do know, it’s as plain as day. It’s this crazy, wild abandon, like you are willing to lay down your life for the other person. Like your life is just a pointless farce if the other person is not a part of it. That nothing matters, other than the other person’s wishes and longings. Am I making any sort of sense?”

Pol. looked away, out over the dark waters, trailing the shoreline, until he found the small family graveyard, on the far side of the grove of weeping willows.
There stood a small figure, leaning against a white stone tomb, dark purple robes gently billowing around him.

“You’re making perfect sense, Bri.. I’ve noticed it too. Lately there has been this emptiness about him, like there is nothing left for him in this world, except for me. But whenever I try to talk to him, he just shuts me up or pushes me away, claiming nothing’s wrong. And yes, I love him. I love him more than I love myself sometimes.”
“So, you’ve slept with him?”
Pol. groaned inwardly as he realized that had been the entire point of Bri.’s questions.
The knight’s mind was a one track mind, unfortunately, although sometimes Bri. managed to make Pol. forget that.
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will cast a spell on you, that makes your dick shrivel up and fall off.”
Pol. threatened with a vicious look, then answered,
“Yes. I have. And it’s unbelievable…”
“Ick! I don’t want details! Sorry. I just don’t find men attractive. Not in that way. But hey, if that’s your thing, then that’s your thing.”
Bri. pulled a face, and Pol. blew a raspberry at the knight.
“It’s not just that, Bri. He’s the only one who’s ever made me feel loved. Do you remember, when I was initiated into the Temples, and the abbey burned down?”

Bri. nodded his head slowly, the memory was sore for him also, for it had been the last time he had spent time alone with his father. Back home in Loctsand he’d had to share his father with twelve older brothers, brothers that by now had been dead for seven years, along with their father.
Pol. gave him a moment to remember before continuing,

“My parents woke up, grabbed Bel. and ran out. They left me behind, Bri. I was trying to escape, and saw them through a window, but they turned away. They turned away and did nothing to save me. Ley., he risked his own life, running into the fire and pulling me out.”
“I remember. I saw you, but your parents told me to stay quiet, that it wasn’t you. The second time you called for them, your father told Bel. to hold me and keep my mouth shut. I later started to believe that it was all a bad dream, but I told my brother, Flarin, and he told me to never forget it.”

They both fell silent for a few moments, then Bri. cleared his throat awkwardly, and in a halting voice said,
“I know you love Ley., very much. But I want you to know that I love you too. I mean, I don’t go for men the way you do. I think of you as my brother, the last brother I have left, my younger brother. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. I mean, I’ve been by your side for the last seven years, and the Gods know that we’ve had some crazy times, but I’ve never regretted it, not one bit. Well, maybe, I regret it when we turned Lanja’s wedding gown orange, but anyway… Just, remember that. I’m your brother, for better or for worse.”
Bri.’s black eyes sparkled softly, and Pol. smiled back, nodding his head, trying to find his voice to tell Bri. that he felt the same, instead this came out,
“Aww, you really are just a huge sappy oaf, aren’t you, sweetie.”
Bri. burst out laughing, leaning forward aiming a swing for Pol.’s head, and suddenly many things happened at once.

The bobber on Bri.’s fishing line ducked under the surface, and the rod nearly fell in.
Bri. made a desperated dive for it, just as it was about to slip over the side, Pol., rose to his feet, rocking the boat dangerously.
Bri. was standing as well, struggling with the fish, reeling it in with a shout.
As the golden trout broke the surface, Pol. made a grab for the fishing line, holding his book in his other hand, at the same time Bri. swung the fishing rod towards the middle of the boat, the trout flopping into Pol.’s legs and then to the bottom of the boat.
Pol. flailed as the heavy fish smacked against his thighs and the heavy book flew out of his hands, into the Peolin Sea.
Bri. made a wild grab for Pol., but only managed to rock the boat, so that Pol. fell backwards into the lake.
Pol. gulped water as he dropped beneath the surface, his book spiralling down only inches away from his hands.
He reached out to grab it, but the heavy book sank too fast, and the voluminous robes hindered his movements, and his lungs were beginning to burn.
Pol. kicked the water to reach the surface, but the skirts of his robes tangled in his feet and looking up, he saw Bri.’s terrified face screaming at him from the boat, so far away.
Pol.’s lungs felt like they were about to burst, he gasped, water rushing down his windpipe, and staring into Bri.’s black eyes he stopped moving, sinking frightfully fast.

Bri. was too shocked to move as he watched Pol. plunge backwards, head first into the cold lake, but as soon as the boat began to rock from the wave, Bri. fell down on his knees, and screaming the novice's name, reached a hand into the water.
Bri.’s heart thundered in his throat, as he watched Pol. struggle against the velvet robes, then suddenly their eyes locked and Bri. realized the novice had given up.
Bri. didn’t bother pulling his clothes off, he took a deep breath and dove into the water, after a few strokes straight down, his hand wrapped around Pol.’s wrist and he pulled as hard as he could.
Bri. managed to get a hold around Pol.’s chest, but the saturated robes were too heavy.
Bri.’s lungs burned, and his head thudded painfully, as he pulled his fishing knife out of his belt and cut the laces of the robes.
They sank a little deeper as Bri. fought to get the cleric out of the tangle of robes.
Bri.’s vision was narrowing fast, he knew it would not be long before he would start drowning too.
With a last desperate effort he kicked at the water, the surface darkened with every kick, he opened his mouth to draw in breath, knowing that if he breathed water they were both doomed.
Sweet air flooded down his lungs, making him cough, and Bri. gulped it down, hard enough to make himself dizzy.
A few seconds passed before he remembered the lifeless Pol. in his arms.

With aching muscles Bri. began swimming towards the shore, the row boat and the catch of the day both forgotten.
He felt like the swim took him days, the shore taunting him just out of reach, he was about to give up when his knee scraped against the bottom.
Bri. gasped painfully as he rose to his feet and pulled Pol. by his arms to the shore.
A shout drew his attention up the bank, and Hiram, one of the nurse maids, came running down the bank, and into the water. She grabbed hold of one arm, and helped Bri. pull Pol. out of the water.
Bri. fell down beside the lifeless novice, gasping and coughing, Hiram called Pol.’s name, slapping him on the cheeks but there was no response.
Bri. looked up as the young woman rubbed Pol. chest hard, still calling his name, then pushed at his stomach, but there was no response.
Finally the girl bent over him and blew air into his mouth, when nothing happened she tried again, and again, but there was no response.
Hiram cried out, a painful sob, and looking over at Bri. she shook her head,
“He’s gone. There’s nothing I can do.”
She tried to rise, but stumbled a few feet up the bank, before she fell down on her knees and sobbed into her apron.
Bri. knelt beside Pol..
The novice’s lips were pale blue, dark circles around his eyes, a little water trickled out of his mouth.
With a scream of rage, Bri. smashed his fist into Pol.’s chest, and pounding on the thin chest, Bri. screamed,
“You little shit! You can’t do this to me! I’ve lost enough brothers! I’m not losing you! Come back! I tell you, come back!”

Pol. gasped, and choked.

Bri. instinctively rolled him over on his side, and Pol. kept gagging, and coughing up water, gagging so hard he threw up.
Bri. rubbed the novice’s back, urging him to cough, and to breathe slowly, as Pol. began gulping down air so fast he began hyperventilating.
Hiram soothed Pol. as well, until his breathing slowed a little, then Bri. turned him on his back again and hugged him close to his chest.

“You little shit. I thought I’d lost you.” He whispered into Pol.’s wet hair, rubbing circles on his back.
Ley. and the Lady Mar. came running down the bank, followed by a couple of servants carrying blankets.
Just as they came down the grassy slope and on to the sandy beach, Pol. looked up into Bri.’s black eyes, and confirmed that he would be just fine by whispering hoarsely back,
“I am never in my fucking life getting in a boat with you again.”
Bri. laughed so hard, that Cooksie was certain he’d finally lost it.