Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

4.2.

Some distance away, the elf fell face down in the grass. He wanted to stopper his ears from Alva's cries and moans, but suddenly realized he was straining to hear them instead. Imagining two naked bodies, one bronzed, one golden, twisting in the wild dance of passion; Lielle's pupils, dark and huge, unseeing eyes, half-opened scarlet lips, and the barbarian's strong fingers clutching at his lover's hips, his feral grin, beads of sweat on his temples, black braids snaking down his shoulders when he moves to the delirious beat, faster and faster, until ... Ithildin sighed realizing he had been holding his breath the last few minutes.

Lielle always cried this way when he orgasmed under a man. Kintaro liked to hear his lovers cry. They were a good match. Great gods, how well they were matched – the barbarian and the aristocrat, the man he hated and the man he adored, the one who lay with him first, and the one who lay with him last ... They were together now, and he ...

The elf shuddered and sat up when he heard footsteps. Even if he could not see in the dark, he would have recognized Kintaro by the way he moved. And even if he could not see in the dark, he would have known the chief was ready to go at it again, because he has had a chance to experience his potency personally.

"Your turn, doll-face," smirked the Essanti.

"As you wish." The elf rose and began to take off his tunic.

"Not here," Kintaro yanked him. "Come."

Ithildin lost it immediately, gasped and shook his head. "No, please!"

He clutched at the barbarian trying to pull him down to the ground. "I don't want him to see this ... please."

Kintaro laughed, threw the elf over his shoulder and strode to the tent. There, he dropped the elf to the floor in a heap, and began undressing him. Ithildin obediently let his tunic and pants be pulled off. Throughout the ordeal, he kept looking away, at his Lielle. Alva lay on the floor, arms thrown behind his head, naked, spent and languid; his hair was tangled, his skin glistened with sweat. When he finally noticed what was happening, he rose on his elbow and watched Kintaro, surprised.

"Kintaro, let him be," said Alva. He caressed the barbarian's thigh. "Come here instead."

"I said I'd choose my own prize when I free you from the Enqins. And he agreed," said Kintaro, grinning.

"That's true, Alva," the elf assented, listless.

"I choose. My prize is the two of you."

Alva sat up. He sounded completely sober now. "Let him be, chief. I will not allow it."

"Don't worry, he'll like it. The sweet little elf wants me, yes?" Then, with one hand, Kintaro clenched the elf's wrists, and, with another, grabbed his chin to cover the elf's mouth with his.

Kintaro's words were so insulting that Ithildin froze at first, not quite believing what he had heard, and then his assumed indifference shattered to hell. The elf thrashed violently trying to push the barbarian away. When Kintaro had let go of his mouth, the elf was in a frenzy.

"You! You! How dare you! I never ..." he spat out a few more words in his own tongue, the more damning kind.

"Stop it, Kintaro!" shouted Alva.

"Why do you think he is flipping out? He is too chicken to admit, 's all. Not even to himself."

"What tripe! He hates you!"

"My ass he does! I saved his life!"

"After attacking them and killing his kin, and ..."

"Oh, that's what he told you!" Kintaro laughed. "Yes, naturally, the elves do not lie, they merely omit. Perhaps he omitted who had loosed the first arrow? How he shot a fifteen-year old who rode up to them, unarmed? Who had ordered the elves to attack?"