[FINISHED]One of the best known original m/m romances in Russia, loved by many. It won the Russian Wattys 2015 Award, now it's available in English too.
Alva Ahayrre is a Creedan nobleman and a courtier, a beautiful and frivolous redhead...
In the next three days, Alva hardly went near his own tent. He spent all his time with Kintaro. The chief seemed tireless, and he could not get enough of his green-eyed lover's body. They tried every position, and every kind of lovemaking, except anything that would make Kintaro the passive partner.
Alva had long understood that the chieftain was only willing to dominate. Whether because it would be unbecoming a nomad chieftain, or because that's what Kintaro preferred, but he never went down on Alva and never let himself be penetrated. The northerner never asked any questions, and submitted willingly. In spite of his aggressive appearance, the Essanti was gentle enough, and never hurt Alva ... much.
Kintaro, fanart by Anna Valerius
К сожалению, это изображение не соответствует нашим правилам. Чтобы продолжить публикацию, пожалуйста, удалите изображение или загрузите другое.
Whenever Alva took food to his prisoner, he tried not to look at him. He felt wounded by the elf's haughty indifference. The young man still wanted the elf, and could not stand the idea that the elf found him repulsive. He had no desire to rape, he dreamed that this lovely body would answer to his touch, the lips would form endearments. Yet, he understood clearly that this was not to be. He might as well have hankered after the Moon. Alva swore never to touch the elf again, and was determined to stick to his promise at any price.
On the fourth day after the momentous feast, a messenger bird (flown at the behest of Nero Nekrossa, the King's mage) came for Alva. Not surprisingly, the King was enquiring after the mission's outcome. Alva wrote a short note, where he told the King that he was coming back with good news, and readied for the return trip. He worried that Kintaro would not let him go, but no. The Essanti were said to love easily and part lightly, lengthy liaisons being rare among them.
Kintaro gave Alva three horses — for him, for the prisoner and for the gifts and provisions. He and his men escorted Alva for a day beyond the camp. They spent the last night together, and Alva's screams and moans filled the steppe at night. At dawn, the Essanti and the Creedan said their last passionate good-byes; Kintaro leapt in the saddle and rode off with his warriors, never looking back. Alva turned his small caravan to the Creedan border. He planned to complete his mission first and then think about returning the elf to his kin.
Alva's lovely prisoner was docile when he got in the saddle in the morning and dismounted at night. He rode listlessly, evidently not caring where he was being taken. Alva saw that traveling on horseback was hard for the elf, and that the pain sometimes clouded his consciousness. Alva realized that the elf had suffered more than was apparent at first glance, and that he was taking a turn for the worse.
When Alva accidentally touched the elf's hand, he was shocked to feel the normally cool skin burn with fever. He had heard that the elves did not suffer human ailments, and that they sickened and died only from grief. This seemed likely now. The change of fate made the elf come back to life, but the new-found clarity of perception brought with it memories that must have seemed so awful to him that he longed to die.
At the next stop, the elf fainted and toppled, unconscious, from his horse into Alva's arms. "I will not let him die," Alva thought, distraught. He held the light body to him, smoothing the loose hair back and kissing the feverish lips, all good resolutions momentarily forgotten.
He pulled out his most prized possession, carried on all journeys: a Scroll of Magic Portal. He broke the seal and read out the incantation. The scroll crumbled into dust, the space compressed and then burst into a rainbow oval. He was looking at the portal into Fanneshtou – the Temple of All Gods, one of the oldest buildings in Pandeia, which housed mages, monks, sages, soothsayers and healers, and where every traveler was sure of getting help (provided, of course, that he could pay for it).
Alva checked that the horses were well tethered. He was not going to unsaddle them, as he planned to be back within the hour. The elf came to, but was still too weak. Holding the elf in his arms, Alva stepped through the portal.
