Just a quick update to the story Made Pure. I'm about halfway done... ish. It might go longer. Anyway, mind the TWs.
Bey’s Tales
A little Uncle Zach update
The story is going to wrap up soon and then I'll probably publish it. I've uploaded an epub this time instead of a PDF. Cover's not done yet but I've worked on it.
Uncle Zach
Owen is a young man who knows what he likes. Namely, a cheap hotel room with an unlocked door and a stream of randos horny for his smooth twink ass. Then, one night the unimaginable happens when he realizes that the anonymous man using him is his favourite uncle . . . and it’s too late to do anything about it.
Instead of feeling horrified about what happened between them, Owen finds he wants more, and Uncle Zach doesn’t need much convincing.
When uncle and nephew decide to embrace the unconventional bond between them, and set off on a journey of experimentation, they discover that what they share goes far deeper than just their genes.
CW/Themes: incest, dirty talk (including use of female terms for male anatomy), bareback, cum fetish, D/s, sadomasochism, rape play, toys, gangbang, free use, piss play, prostate milking, somnophilia, dacryphilia, e-stim, voyeurism/exhibitionism, humiliation, ownership tattoo, orgasm denial/forced orgasm, cockwarming, medical play, enema/colonic, large insertions, gapes, male lingerie, possessiveness, and DP.
This is the final, published version
July 21th, 2023 (40,516 words) - Bronze subscription required.
The Wanderer – Part Sixteen
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
The Harmony, is a Bomsferth class ship, one of the first heavy cruisers to be manufactured on Earth and one of the last to use the old hybrid ion drives. It’ll be a slow ride, but the Harmony is in great condition considering it’s nearly a century old. We’ve been aboard for two days and Apple and Pytre are finding it hard to relax—they’ve never been in space before. I remember my first trip in the black so I can sympathize. To make matters worse, Darjun’s crew hasn’t been the most welcoming. They’re not unfriendly exactly, just close-lipped and standoffish. Maybe it’s just because we’re new, who knows.
I hear my name crackle over the intercom in the hallway. I’m to report to the bridge. With a sigh, I stand and put on my boots. It’s the middle of the night, Chornoboh-time—it’s going to take me a while to acclimatize to the Harmony’s 24-hour clock.
I step through the doors onto the small bridge. Darjun is in the captain’s chair, slouched back with one foot up on the console in front of him. There are others on the bridge, manning stations, and I smile when I see Ekoria is one of them. She doesn’t smile back.
“There you are,” Darjun says, sitting up. I frown as he pulls his stiff dick out of his pants and gestures to me. “Come here and suck my cock.”
I’m speechless for a moment and glance over at Ekoria but she’s averted her gaze.
“Hello?” Darjun’s eyebrows are high as he stares at me expectantly.
“This isn’t what I signed up for,” I say, crossing my arms.
Darjun gives a short laugh and shrugs, wagging his dick back and forth, like that could entice me. “It’s just that I keep thinking about that nice blowjob you gave me… I’m not going to fuck you or anything, don’t worry. Just a bit of head from time to time. Ok?”
“No.”
With a frown, Darjun touches a button on the console in front of him. “Seth? Escort our new guests to the airlock.”
My heart stops and drops into my stomach and I take a step forward. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Giving you a little motivation,” he replies, waggling his dick again at me. His smile is wide and friendly, like we’re having a lovely chat.
Obviously, we’ve made a mistake coming aboard. No, I made a mistake. Shit. Nice guy? More like psychopath.
I grit my teeth and step towards him, dropping to my knees.
“That’s better. Now, do a good job and your friends will be nice and safe.” He slaps my lips with the head of his cock and I open my mouth. He leans forward and grabs my ear, twisting it, and I gasp around the meat in my mouth. “If you think of fucking with me, not only will your friends take a swim in the black, but I’ll have Seth make good use of them first… understand?”
Furious, I can only nod, my heart pounding loud in my ears as I start working on his cock. He sighs happily, sitting back to watch me, one hand gently stroking my hair.
I’m going to kill him. I’m not sure how or when, but as soon as Apple and Pytre are somewhere safe, I’m going to gut Darjun like a fish.
With a soft grunt, he floods my mouth with his cum and I swallow it, sitting back on my heels as I wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he says, then he cocks his head, scratching his cheek. “But it wasn’t quite as good as last time. So, do better next time.” Darjun stares at me, his eyes wide, and I realize he’s waiting for me to say something.
“All right,” I mutter. “What about Apple and Pytre?”
“You know… I think they’ll stay in the airlock for a little while yet.”
I grind my teeth together, wanting nothing more than to reach out and throttle him with my bare hands. “Why?”
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me right now.”
I take a deep breath and try to smooth out my expression but I’m not sure it’s working.
“Ok, now do Ekoria.”
I can only blink stupidly up at him as Ekoria stammers, “Darjun, I don’t want—”
“Come here, honey. Don’t argue with me.” The tone is light and affectionate, but all I hear is the malevolence beneath it.
Ekoria steps up to me, her eyes downcast, and lifts her skirt. Again, she’s not wearing anything underneath and I wonder if Darjun is responsible. I look up from her small limp cock and meet her beautiful eyes. Her lips twitch and I see her chest heave as she takes a steadying breath. I mouth I’m sorry and lean in to touch my lips to her shaft. She smells wonderful, her perfume floral and softly sweet, and her heart-shaped thatch of pubic hair is silky against my nose as I take her into my mouth.
Just when I think she’s not going to get hard, I feel her begin to stiffen against my tongue, and she lets out a quiet gasp. I’ve completely forgotten we have an audience, so I flinch when Darjun chuckles.
“Do you like that, Ekoria?”
“Yes,” she whispers. Is she just saying it to make Darjun happy? I roll my tongue over the head of her cock, her precum salty and mild, and cup her small, hairless balls in my hand. Even this hard, she’s barely a mouthful.
I shift my hand from her testicles to one of the soft divots behind her dick and, using my pinkie, I prod delicately at the inguinal opening. It elicits another gasp and from the way her cock hardens further, I gather she enjoys this. I switch to my index finger and push a little harder, sliding my finger into the canal and she grabs the back of my head with moan, spurring me on.
Right then I realize I’m enjoying myself too, then feel immediately guilty about it—Pytre and Apple must be terrified and here I am getting a semi.
My anger is back and with it I get a little rougher. With my finger nestled inside her, massaging the sensitive nerve endings, I tighten my lips around her shaft and begin bobbing faster, my free hand squeezing her ass as I swirl my tongue over her cockhead with every pass. Ekoria moans louder and starts thrusting into my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair, then she lets out a small cry and shoots her load down the back of my throat. She immediately pulls away, taking a few shaky steps back as she fixes her skirt, her eyes once again averted.
“Aren’t you going to say thank you?”
I can’t tell if Darjun means me or Ekoria but then she murmurs “thank you” and it’s not clear who she’s addressing. Her cheeks are still flushed from climax but it’s the glimmer of tears in her eyes that are a punch to the gut. I feel sickened.
“So, you can give her head all you want,” Darjun says, smiling at his benevolence. “But you put your dick anywhere near that sweet ass of hers and I will cut it off. That hole is mine and mine alone. Got it?”
Darjun is going to die slowly.
I nod, my jaw clenched tight.
“You can go.”
It takes me a few seconds to get to my feet, my knees screaming in protest.
“What about my companions?”
“What about them?” Darjun grins wide and gives a little one-shouldered shrug.
I want to knock his teeth in, and it takes all my willpower to keep my hands to my sides. Without looking back, I storm off the bridge, and veer left towards the airlock, running the last few feet.
It’s empty.
No.
I feel like I’m going to be sick. Saliva pools in my mouth as I struggle to breathe around the planet-size hole in my chest. I retch, stumbling backwards into the passageway. All I can think about is the knife in my bag.
The deck seems to pitch and roll beneath my feet as I race towards the passenger cabins, nearly blind with tears of rage and horror, and stop in my tracks when I open the door.
“Asher?” Pytre blinks sleepily up at me, wincing at the harsh light pouring into the darkened room from the corridor. “What’s wrong?” Apple is sprawled out next to him, snoring with his mouth wide open, an unfortunate side effect of his mutilation by Turk’s hand.
The laugh that comes out sounds crazed, and I just fall when my legs give out, landing hard on the metal deck and hurting my palms and already bruised knees.
Pytre leaps out of bed to clutch at me, his grey eyes wide and face bloodless. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
I laugh again, wiping at my face with both hands and then wrap my arms around him, sobbing even harder now than when I thought they were both dead.
“You’re scaring me,” Pytre says, pushing at me, then he stops and frowns, moving his face closer to mine. I think he wants a kiss but when I lean in, I realize he’s sniffing me. “What do you smell like?”
I pull back confused. “What?”
“You smell like incense. Something sweet like that.” He sniffs at me again. “Perfume?”
For only a second I consider lying because I feel… guilty? I think about the tears in Ekoria’s eyes and I feel even worse about the momentary pleasure I’d felt with her. If circumstances were different, if it hadn’t been forced on the two of us, would I lie to Pytre and Apple then? The answer should be no, but then why am I so uncomfortable right now? It’s not like the three of us were exclusive. We’d never made any sort of promise not to stray. And what happened on the bridge… why should I feel guilty? The silence is stretching on.
Would she even come with us if I asked her to?
“What is it?” Pytre asks, hands on my shoulders.
I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “I’m going to kill Darjun.”
The Wanderer – Part Fifteen
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
A few weeks later, Apple and I are at the bar down the street, sitting up against the stage, watching the performance. I’ve got a cold can of beer in front of me, and Apple is sipping at a candy-coloured drink, the straw twisted down to reach his lips as he rests his head on his arms, his single sleepy eye on the stage. It’s become a habit for him to join me for a drink after my shift ends, no matter how late it is. I got lucky, picking up some work as a bouncer. It’s easy work and the pay’s all right and I get to drink for free—I call that a win.
I sigh and wearily lean back in my chair, squinting up at the performers. Centre stage is a man restrained in a low chair, his legs spread wide to show off the large plug in his ass. A matching pair of flat-chested purple-haired girls in nothing but towering heels and tattoos are taking turns sucking up some blue liquid into novelty sized plastic syringes and injecting it into the man’s bladder via his pisshole. They’ve already emptied the syringe three times. When the the fourth goes into the moaning, twitching man, his belly is already so distended he looks like he’s going to burst.
My own bladder twinges in sympathy.
The twins fill and empty the syringe a few more times before one of them slips a thick metal rod into the guy’s dick.
“Someone’s going to lose an eye if that thing comes flying out,” I say, then frown and glance quickly over at my companion. “Uh… Sorry.”
Apple’s brow is deeply furrowed, but it doesn’t look like he heard me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Mm… I think I’m gonna to head back to the room,” he says, yawning. “You coming?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” I help him to his feet and peck a kiss on his forehead. I haven’t been paid yet for tonight and we need that to eat tomorrow.
I’m on my way out a few minutes later when something stops me in my tracks. Nearly shrouded in shadows, a man has a woman up against the wall and from the way she’s fighting him, I figure she isn’t a willing participant. I rub my jaw, scowling. I’m not on the clock, but I can’t very well just leave the poor woman to defend herself, now can I?
Squaring my shoulders, I approach the pair and clear my throat. The woman’s eyes are wide and frightened above the hand covering her mouth, her nostrils flaring in time with her rapid breathing.
“What’s going on here?” I ask.
“Mind yer damn business,” growls the man. He’s got his dick out, a stubby little thing in his callused fist, but it looks like he hasn’t had time to stick it in her yet. The woman, taking advantage of his distraction, jerks to the side hard, freeing her face from the man’s hand.
“Help me!”
Well, that settles it. I grab the man by the back of the neck and smash his head against the rockrete wall. He struggles in my grasp, nearly slipping free, so I crack his head on the wall a few more times for good measure. The man slides to the floor in a heap, unconscious… maybe dead? I nudge him with my boot—no, not dead. His breath sounds slushy through the wreckage, but it’s there. I lift my eyes.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Thanks to you.” The woman gives me a relieved smile and my god—she is absolutely stunning. Thick, dark hair frames her fine boned face. She has a small mouth, but her lips are plump, the top one slightly fuller than its mate. Her nose is wide and set close to her face, the tip perfectly round, and above that are eyes that are so large and luminous, the pupils as black as space, that I start to feel dazed the longer I stare into them.
“I uh…” I say, glancing down to free myself from those dazzling eyes, and end up more flummoxed than before. Her blue wraparound dress had come undone in her struggles and it’s now hanging open, displaying a body that just takes the breath from me. The unblemished, creamy skin, long shapely legs, and soft mound of belly are enough to make my pulse race, but below her dark pubic hair shaved into the shape of a heart, she has the most beautiful, perfect little pink penis I’ve ever seen.
I stare, unable to shift my gaze for an embarrassingly long time. Finally, I reach out, wanting nothing more than to gently cradle her diminutive cock in my palm, but I just pull her dress closed. Spell now broken, I finally raised my head, my eyes lingering for a moment on the full breasts that round out the thin silky cloth, her nipples clearly outlined, then find myself awestruck once again by her beautiful eyes.
“I… yeah, glad to help,” I mumble.
She licks her lips to moisten them. Fucking hell. My dick is trying to burst out the front of my pants.
“It was stupid of me to come unarmed,” she says in a voice like velvet. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Yeah.” I shrug, scratching the back of my neck.
“I was supposed to meet my brother here but I— Oh, there he is,” she says, smiling at someone over my shoulder.
“What’s the matter?” The man looks familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why. He puts his arm around the woman.
“This man came to my rescue,” she says, her smile slipping a little as her brother’s hand slides down from her waist to grasp one plump butt cheek. “Some asshole had me backed in a corner.”
“Fucking hell. Ekoria, are you ok?” I look away as he pulls her in to kiss those full lips. “Are you hurt?”
She glances at me, her smile tense with obvious embarrassment over her brother’s displays of affection. “I’m fine, Darjun. Really.” She lets out a small laugh, pushing him away.
“Oh hey, I know you!” the man says with a grin when he turns to me and in that instant I recognize him too. The guy with the kind eyes I sucked off after my panic attack. “Thank you, my friend. What can I do to repay you?”
“It’s nothing.” I wave him off, wanting to get back to Apple and Pytre, but then he says, “Ekoria gives killer head, if you’re interested. Honey, want to—”
“It’s fine. Really.” I smile and take a step back.
“Though, it’s tough to say who’s the better cocksucker between the two of you,” he says matter-of-factly, his forehead wrinkled. He wraps his arms around Ekoria and she’s smiling like she’s won a million credits but there’s something bleak in her eyes that I don’t like. “Say… are you looking for work?”
I think he’s still talking about blowjobs, so I start to shake my head, but he lifts a hand. “I mean—I could use some muscle aboard my ship.”
Ship? Maybe we’d finally off this moon after all. A bloom of hope opens in my chest but withers a second later. We. “Thanks but… I have, uh, companions I can’t leave behind.”
“That’s fine. We’ve got plenty of room, don’t we, honey?”
“Yes. Plenty of room,” she echoes, staring up at me as his hand slips into the neck of her dress. The material shifts and her nipple, pinched between his fingers, peeks out at me. It’s the same exact shade of pink as her lips and her cock. If my pants weren’t so tight, I’d have a hell of a tent in my shorts—as it is, it’s starting to get uncomfortable. I shift in place and tear my eyes away from her half-exposed breast. “That’s… a very kind offer,” I manage.
With a tight grin, Ekoria ducks out of Darjun’s grasp, saying she’s going to get something to drink and both of us watch her walk away, her backside like a perfect peach.
“So, what do you say?” He grins me. “How about a trial run? We’re leaving for Calleron-2 tomorrow, and we’ll be in the black for at least a week. If you decide space isn’t for you, you can get out at Calleron… or the next port, if you like.”
On the one hand, I’m not sure how I feel about how… hands-on he is with Ekoria. She doesn’t seem too thrilled by it either. On the other hand, this would be our ticket out of here. And he honestly seems like a nice guy—I think about how held me so gently as I bawled in his arms. Still… there’s something just off about all this.
“It’s not up to me,” I say, finding a way out of answering him. I’d have to discuss it with Apple and Pytre before any decision was made anyway.
Darjun’s sighs and reaches out, squeezing my shoulder in a friendly way. “Buddy, that’s all right. The offer’s good until noon tomorrow if you decide you want to join our little crew. The transport is in E dock… it’s bright blue, you can’t miss it.”
I nod and return his smile. “All right.” Ekoria was on her way back, a drink in each hand. “She really your sister?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Darjun replies, turning to me, his brows high. “Why?”
I wait a beat, thinking he’s joking, but when he just continues to stare, his expression guileless, I shrug awkwardly. “Never mind.”
+++
I open the door to the room, and I’m greeted by an unusual sight. Pytre and Apple are on Apple’s bed and Pytre is nearly elbow deep inside Apple.
“I thought you were tired,” I say with a chuckle. Apple’s dick is hard but he’s not jerking himself off. His hands are under his ass cheeks, holding them open for Pytre.
Instead of an answer, Apple just says, “Gimme your dick.”
I kick off my boots, head cocked as I approach the bed. My erection hadn’t quite died on the walk home so when I pull it out of my shorts, it’s already raring to go. “I’m not sure how it’s going to fit,” I say, stroking myself. Pytre’s gaze shifts to me, and I see that he’s toying with the scar at his crotch with his free hand. I touch his cheek and he turns his head to kiss my palm.
“I meant in my mouth, stupid,” Apple says, his voice strained.
“Ok.” I laugh and circle round the bed to pop my cock into his open mouth.
His tongue swirls around the head of it, wetting it so it’ll slide easier into his throat, and I follow his cue, pushing it balls deep a few times before pulling back. I’m not going to last more than a couple of minutes, not with the way Apple’s belly is bulging and moving from Pytre rummaging around in his guts, and it looks like Apple’s nearly there too, judging by the way his dick keeps lifting its head off his belly, a long string of drool oozing from the slit. Apple’s tongue cradles my balls as I probe his tonsils again and I sigh in pleasure.
Apple lets out a strangled cry, and I think for a moment that I’m cutting off his air for too long, but as I go to pull back he quickly grabs the back of my thighs and holds me in, his throat muscles closing in on my cock as he sends a streak of white flying over his belly. I grunt and blow my own load, shooting it directly down his throat as he convulses against me, Pytre’s fist going like a piston inside him. Pytre moans, reaching his own climax and I gasp, pulling my cock free, my dick tender and balls aching, and fall hard on my ass off the side of the bed.
Apple lets out a contented groan, his eye closed and expression blissful for a moment, then he frowns.
“Oof… go slowly.”
I sit up and watch Pytre withdraw his arm, Apple’s sphincter stretching taut and shiny pink over the bulge of Pytre’s thumb joint, then Pytre’s hand slips free and Apple’s innards bulge out, red and shiny like a wax rose, before shrinking back into his body, his loose hole winking slowly.
“Now, I can sleep,” Apple says and yawns wide before turning on his side and snuggling into the pillow, unbothered by the wet mess he’s made.
“Not yet,” I reply, sitting on the bed. “I have some news.”
“Hm?” Apple cracks his eye open. Pytre stops dabbing at the little puddle of cum on the blanket and looks at me, his forehead wrinkled.
“Good or bad?” asks Pytre.
“That’s the thing,” I answer with a shrug. “I’m not sure.”
Taking the Piss
“Hey! Hey you! Wake up, you lazy, good for nothing dew-beater. I need to take a piss!” the emperor roared from His massive four-poster bed.
Scrambling quickly to his feet, Kalsmish gasped out a reply. “Y-yes, Your Magnificence. My apologies, I-I need to prepare.” He chided himself for drinking that glass of small ale before bed—it wasn’t prudent to make Emperor Terssifus wait while he emptied his bladder.
“I don’t give a rat’s arse about your preparations, you cunt, get over here. I’m near bursting.”
Kalsmish gulped and scurried to the emperor’s bed, unbuttoning his trousers as he ran up the stairs. “I’m coming, Your Magnificence. I’m sorry, Your Magnificence. I am ready to Receive.”
Emperor Terssifus grunted and shifted His gargantuan bulk to the side, shaking the mattress like an earthquake, and strained to grab the funnel for the Imperial Exductor, His sausage fingers waggling a few inches short.
“Let me, Your Magnificence!” Kalsmish handed the funnel to the emperor and quickly fed the tube from the other side of the device into his own penis as Terssifus began urinating into the funnel. Terrified that the funnel would fill before he was ready to Receive, Kalsmish began turning the crank even before the tube poked through the second sphincter into his bladder. He winced as it finally sank in the whole way. This was only his second week as the Imperial Waters Holder—it would be a while before his piss-hole was well-seasoned to the task. He watched with some trepidation as pale yellow urine from his own bladder crawled up the slightly transparent fish-skin tube, so he turned the crank faster. Finally, the suction took hold with a quiet popping noise and the urine reversed its course, chased by the emperor’s deep-yellow waters. Kalsmish glanced over at the emperor—the Imperial Stream was still going strong and Kalsmish hoped his bladder wouldn’t fail him as his predecessor’s had.
Closing his eyes, Kalsmish said a silent prayer and tried to relax, willing bladder to expand as the Imperial Waters filled him. He gasped from the pressure building but kept cranking and cranking until finally the emperor tossed the funnel away, wrestling Himself back into the only sleeping position His huge mass would allow.
When the last of the emperor’s urine was pumped inside him, Kalsmish drew out the tube, squeezing his shaft hard at the base so he wouldn’t lose a drop of the Imperial Waters. He panted quietly, shivering as the need to urinate seemed to take over his every thought. This was the most he’d taken yet and on a full bladder too—it seemed impossible to move. He knew there was only one way he would make it through the palace and down to the Imperial Receiving Well without pissing himself… and he didn’t like it one bit. He’d managed to avoid it thus far by limiting his liquid intake, but he’d been stupid with that glass of ale. Hand trembling, he placed the tip of the glansplug into his piss-hole and began to screw it in slowly, grimacing as it grew wider the deeper it went, stretching him out. He paused when it felt like it was going to tear him and waited until his hole became accustomed to the width, the pain receding. Then, he closed his eyes and, with a whimper, turned it once more all the way around until the huge pink pearl decorating the glansplug sat flush to his cockhead. Kalsmish’s knees felt like gelatin and he broke out in a cold sweat. Leaving his trousers behind, he carefully locked his hands below the bulge in his lower belly and began the arduous journey to the well to dispose of his precious cargo.
Each step was agonizing—the heavy pearl swung his penis back and forth like a pendulum as he walked, adding to his discomfort. Even breathing seemed to make the pressure in his bladder unbearable… but he had to bear it—there were at least a hundred other servants who would kill their own children for the honour of Receiving and Carrying the Imperial Waters for the emperor.
“Look at you,” said a low, purring voice. “You have quite the burden, I take it?”
Oh no. “Yes, your Grace. A glorious burden,” he said. The emperor’s son Prince Makhiel slipped from the shadows like a predatory feline, a huge grin on his face. “I must make haste,” Kalsmish said nervously.
“Do you, now?” Makhiel said, his eyes narrowed with mischief as he matched Kalsmish’s slow, waddling pace.
Kalsmish forced himself to smile, a trickle of sweat running down his cheek. “When I have finished, I can come back and provide my usual service… if the Prince so desires.”
“Oh, the prince desires all right,” Makhiel replied, stepping in front of Kalsmish. “But he desires his needs met now.”
Normally, he actually enjoyed servicing the Imperial Prince, but all he could think of was getting to the well before he burst—he gave an apologetic head bob and tried to dodge around the prince but Makhiel stopped him with a hand to his chest.
“I really do insist.”
Though Makhiel was the kindest of the emperor’s nine sons, refusal of any sort was a death sentence and Kalsmish wasn’t certain he’d make an exception for him.
Sagging in defeat, Kalsmish could only nod.
“There’s a good boy,” Makhiel murmured, stroking Kalsmish’s cheek with one hand while the other cupped the quail-egg-sized pearl with the other, weighing it. “Delightful. You should be made to wear a bauble such as this in your cock at all times. It’s pleasing to the eye and lovely to touch. Does it feel as good as it looks?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Kalsmish lied, trying not to wince when Makhiel began to toy with the glansplug, tugging it softly.
“All right. Turn around,” said the prince, twirling his finger in the air. “Come now.”
Kalsmish did as he was told, eyes averted as a group of cup bearers passed them in the gallery. He heard Makhiel spit into his palm and braced himself, leaning forward. The prince hadn’t even entered him and he was panting from the increased pressure of the position. Tears rose in his eyes making the grey and white tiles shimmer in his vision.
The initial push wasn’t so terrible and for a moment he thought it would be fine, then Makhiel hilted himself and Kalsmish couldn’t hold back his wail. He’d never felt so full.
Makhiel just chuckled and began thrusting, not caring that Kalsmish began blubbering and whimpering as the prince’s cock seemed to press his distended bladder harder with every plunge.
However, something began to break through his discomfort—Kalsmish was legitimately worried his bladder would pop like a balloon, but he was starting to feel a razor-sharp pleasure from his desperate urge to piss, something truly unfathomable. His cock grew hard, the screw threads from the glansplug digging into the walls of his piss-hole, creating another level of pain-laced ecstasy.
“Mm… you seem to be enjoying yourself more than usual,” Makhiel said softly in his ear. “You naughty thing.” He wrapped his long fingers around Kalsmish’s shaft and started stroking him. “Do you like this?”
“Y-yes, Your Grace,” Kalsmish managed, his voice a strangled croak. He was hurtling towards completion and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He moaned, pushing back into the prince’s thrusts, oblivious to anything but his need… until Makhiel stopped jerking him and began quickly unscrewing the glansplug.
“No… no,” begged Kalsmish, bucking against the prince as his pleasure began to peak. “Please, no, I’m going to—” Then he screamed as the plug popped free, his orgasm cresting like a tidal wave, sending piss and cum flying in a single far-flung stream, and screamed again when the second pulse hit, pleasure and pain as one, his body quaking and writhing out of his control. Kalsmish barely registered when the prince let out a deep grunt, signalling his own culmination—his climax was monstrous, unending, all-consuming. At last he collapsed on his knees, his howl ending on a rattling sigh, and he buried his face in his hands, weeping.
“That was superb,” said the prince with a satisfied chuckle. When Kalsmish didn’t respond, Makhiel touched his shoulder gently. “Kal?”
Kalsmish looked up, his eyes streaming. “What have I done?” His bladder ached like a knife had speared it, but that was nothing compared to the terror he felt.
“What do you mean?”
Sobbing, Kalsmish gestured to the copious yellow streaks covering the tiles. “I-I have failed Him. Oh what am I to do?” They would disembowel him slowly for this.
Squeezing his shoulder kindly, Makhiel tutted. “Never fear, my darling Kal. All will be well.”
“How? It’s impossible!” Kalsmish wailed, tearing at his hair in grief and horror.
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” replied the prince, putting a finger to his lips and winking. “Oh come on, lad. Stop it.” He said when Kalsmish continued to bawl. Makhiel leaned down to pull Kalsmish to his feet and then delicately dabbed at his tears with the edge of his silken neck scarf. “Hush, you poor soul. Hush now. Your prince is ordering you to stop.”
Kalsmish’s breath wouldn’t stop hitching in his throat, but he did his best to stop the tears from flowing, wiping his face with both hands. “Truly? You won’t tell of my dishonour?”
“Dishonour? It’s just piss for god’s sake. It’s an awfully silly tradition. Why do you have to act as my father’s chamber pot just because he’s unable to leave his bed?”
Hiccupping, Kalsmish stared at his feet, relieved but still ashamed. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he whispered.
“Think nothing of it.” Then Makhiel’s voice got sly. “I’ve only got one condition.”
Kalsmish glanced up. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“You come directly to me the next time my father overfills you. I quite enjoyed your enthusiasm and desperation today… it made for a delightful enhancement to our usual.”
Blinking up at Makhiel, Kalsmish nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ll come to you.” He gave the prince a shy smile. “And it certainly did.”
The Wanderer – Part Fourteen
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
Apple is no longer straddling my lap—we’re sitting side by side on the bed watching Pytre as he slowly undresses in front of us. He’s keeping his eyes averted and his cheeks are so red they’re almost burgundy. After painstakingly folding his shirt, he places it on the other bed and starts on his pants. Apple lets out an impatient sigh as Pytre fumbles with his belt buckle, but I shoot the naked young man at my side a warning glare.
“Really… you don’t have to do this,” I say to Pytre when I see how hard his hands are shaking. Pytre just lifts a pale, freckled shoulder, the corner of his lips twitching up in a nervous smile. “I’ve been naked in front of other Rimers thousands of times,” he says, pulling his pants off one leg at a time. “This isn’t so different.”
But it is.
His pants get the same careful treatment as his shirt, and then Pytre is standing before us in only a pair of short grey boxers. He folds his arms over his chest for a moment, looking up at the ceiling like he’s looking for guidance from Rime himself, then he takes a deep breath and pulls down his underwear.
“Finally,” Apple says and I elbow him in the side, but he ignores me and crawls forward on the mattress to get a better look.
I’m not sure what I was expecting—Pytre’s the only eunuch I’ve ever seen naked—but it’s not… this. What Pytre has looks like a second belly button, the kind that protrudes a little, surrounded by a short orange growth of pubic hair. I suppose I assumed there would be ugly scarring, something befitting this sort of mutilation, but Pytre’s genitalia—or lack thereof—is as neat and tidy as he is. I lift my eyes and see that he’s staring at me, his chin slightly lifted, like a challenge.
Meanwhile, Apple is peering closely at Pytre’s groin and tapping his lips with his forefinger, his brow furrowed.
“That is a very professional job,” he announces. “I’ve been with a few Disciples of Rime,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me with a grin. “Maybe more than a few.” Apple turns back to Pytre and smiles up at him. “But this is the nicest work I’ve seen.”
Pytre frowns, obviously uncomfortable with the close scrutiny and uncertain about the compliment.
“How young were you?” asks Apple.
“I don’t honestly know. I don’t remember what was there before so I must have been very young,” Pytre replies, glancing at me again. I think he’s looking for reassurance, so I give him a sympathetic smile. But honestly, I feel all sorts of conflicted as I sit there with Pytre naked in front of me. I find his emasculation shocking… but then again… weirdly arousing. Also, I have so many questions, but unlike Apple, I don’t want to pry.
“So?” Pytre says. I know he’s talking to me—the challenge in his tone is unmistakable.
“So… come here.”
I think this surprises him a little because his brows quirk up. Had he expected me to reject him? I’m almost offended he would think me so shallow. He doesn’t move.
“How am I going to put my cock in you if you’re way over there?”
Apple snorts and Pytre’s hazel eyes widen. I like the way his ribcage expands a few times quickly, his breath coming fast between parted lips. I think about the way he was when we met—not so calm and serene are you now, padre? I grin and hold out my hand and Pytre steps forward to take it.
+++
I feel like I’m participating in some sort of weird ceremony, the way Apple is hovering over us. Pytre’s on his back and I’m kneeling between his legs, one hand priming my cock, the other gently stroking the inside of his thigh. He looks as anxious as I feel. I mean, this is downright fucking ridiculous if you think too much about it and I’m trying not to do just that.
“Here,” Apple says, drooling some lube from the bottle onto my dick. My little helper. I roll my eyes.
“Thanks. I think I can take it from here.”
Pytre’s staring up at me, his expression unreadable. I should be kissing him or something but we somehow skipped ahead to the final act. I blame nerves and Apple’s meddling.
“Ready?” I rise up a bit on my knees and point my cock at his pucker, positioning myself over him.
Nodding, Pytre closes his eyes. He’s holding his breath.
“Breathe.”
“Ok.” He smiles faintly.
I push the head of my cock against his hole and for a few anxious seconds I think I’m just going to blow my load right then and there. He’s wincing so I guess he’s in pain—he’s so tense I’m amazed I can get my dick into him at all. I give another little push, and I know this is right around the spot it usually hurts the most if you’re not used to it or aren’t prepared. He gasps and lets out a tiny squeal before grabbing my arms, his nails digging in.
“Breathe,” I repeat.
“Stop!” His eyes are clenched shut and his teeth are bared. I’m painfully aware how difficult this must be for him… and I can’t stop thinking about those fucking cannibals… and I want throw in the towel, but then his brow smooths out and the muscles in his jaw relax, “Ok. I’m ok. Go slow.”
I dutifully ease in as gradually as I can, but it’s driving me mad. He feels so good and the way his breath keeps hitching in his throat is making it hard to pace myself.
“Doing ok?” I ask to distract myself.
Pytre nods, opening his eyes briefly to search mine before snapping shut again as I give into my lust a bit and slide in the last few inches in one motion. I pause again, taking the time to bend my elbows and press my lips to his. It’s like kissing a live wire—my insides go all gooey and I gasp as Pytre slips his tongue into my mouth. All right, this is going better than I expected. Then I feel something something hot and hard against my asshole.
“No,” I try to say but my mouth is slow to release Pytre’s and now it’s too late—Apple’s cock is inside me and I let out a timid little moan, anticipating the panic to hit me like a brick.
But it doesn’t. Huh.
Pytre’s looking up at me, concerned.
“Did you just…”
“No,” I say, my voice a bit unsteady. “Not yet.”
“How’s this?” Apple asks, his hands at my hips as he begins to thrust.
“It’s, uh, good,” I admit. Apple’s motions are driving me deeper into Pytre, and I’m definitely going to cum too soon, but I let Apple pick the pace anyway—I’ve never been on the receiving end for fun, only pay, and somehow that makes it feel different. Not necessarily great, but like I said… good. Helps that I’m balls deep in Pytre while it’s happening.
Pytre’s brows are knitted again and I can tell he’s in some discomfort—he reaches up to take hold of my waist and encounters Apple’s hands. His hazel eyes go wide with understanding.
“Oh, I see,” he says, his face flushed. I can almost see the gears going in his head—is it just me or does he looked turned on by what’s happening?
Apple starts going a bit faster and I grimace. “Ah crap.”
“What’s wrong?” Pytre asks.
“I’m close.” I shut my eyes tight, breathing hard. If only I can think of something to distract me, but my mind is blank except for what my dick and ass are experiencing. “Really close.”
“Ok.”
Is that just acknowledgement or permission to cream his insides? A thought crosses my mind an instant before I let loose and I pull out, spraying Pytre’s smooth belly and chest with my cum. He’s not taking prophylactics like Apple and me—I have no idea whether that means I can spread some disease without having it myself. Better safe than sorry… but if this is going to happen again, and I hope to fuck it does become a regular thing, Pytre’s going to need protection.
Pytre seems a bit shocked that I just came all over him, and I just shrug as I loom over him on my knuckles, trying to catch my breath. Meanwhile, Apple pulls out and gives my ass a stinging slap. I don’t know if he came or not, doesn’t seem likely, but I know that Pytre hasn’t. In fact, he looks sort of… deflated now that it’s over.
“Was that ok?”
Pytre glances away, and when he meets my eyes again, his smile isn’t genuine. “It was fine.”
Fine is not a word you ever want to hear after sex. I start to apologize for the hasty, graceless act I just subjected him to, but Apple surprises me by pushing me out of the way. He gives me a brief, sly look, sits back on his heels, and quickly cracks the knuckles of both hands like a showman. “I’ve got this.”
Apple goes quickly down on his belly on the bed and touches his tongue to the little mound of flesh that used to be Pytre’s cock. Gasping, Pytre tries to sit, but Apple shakes his head, smiling, “Hey, I said I’ve got this. Don’t worry… you just lay back and enjoy. Ok?”
“Uh. Ok.” Pytre sounds uncertain and looks over at me for guidance. Shit. I realize I haven’t thought this through. When Apple had said he wanted Pytre to join in, I’d assumed it meant I’d have the both of them… not that I’d have to share Pytre with Apple. I don’t know how I feel about what’s going on. The smile I offer him is weak, I know, but he seems dazed with what Apple is doing to his anatomy so I guess he doesn’t notice I’m not really on board with this.
Stupid and childish—that’s how I feel jealously watching Apple lap and suck at Pytre.
Teeth clenched, I move up the bed to be beside Pytre and I slide my arm under his neck so at least I can be part of the “fun”.
So far, Apple’s ministrations seem not to have any effect on the ex–Rimer. Pytre’s forehead is creased with confusion and he’s just lying there motionless with his hands clasped an inch above the cooling cum puddle in the centre of his chest.
“Are you ok?” I ask, real quiet.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s that fine again. It occurs to me then that I don’t know anything about the workings of total castration. Can he even climax? Or, will sex only ever be something he’ll tolerate because it makes me happy? That’s depressing as hell.
“Oh.” Pytre’s eyes squeeze shut.
“Oh?” I ask. I noticed the flush is back in his cheeks. I look down at Apple. His mouth is completely covering Pytre’s scar and from the way his cheeks are moving, I’m guessing his tongue is hard at work. His eye opens and he sees me watching. Pulling away, he smiles, showing me that the small, belly-button-like nub is now protruding stiffly from Pytre’s groin, slick and swollen from Apple’s attentions. Apple grins wider and licks his tongue up the bottom side of the hard protuberance and Pytre lets out a soft moan.
Holy shit. My dick’s getting hard again.
I quickly kiss Pytre and my tongue’s accepted without the slightest hesitation. I breathe in his groans and sighs, clutching at him as he writhes against me. Then he goes stiff in my arms, but the noise he makes isn’t one you’d associate with pleasure. I back away, staring down at him with concern. He looks alarmed, his gaze distant, but the way he’s breathing makes me think he’s actually still enjoying himself. I glance at Apple and see he’s still slurping away at Pytre’s tiny boner.
“What’s wrong?” I stroke the side of Pytre’s face, bringing his eyes to mine.
“Apple just put a finger in my uh…”—his eyebrows meet above his eyes—“Oh. Oh.”
“Two,” Apple mumbles indistinctly and I’m impressed with how hard he’s working at Pytre. Is he doing it to make Pytre happy or to make me happy? Maybe both.
“Oh Rime,” Pytre mutters breathlessly, his eyes shut tight again, head shaking slowly from side to side, obviously losing himself to Apple’s touch. I grin, pressing my hard dick against his hip and he shifts to grab it. He holds it, just squeezing in what I guess is the same rhythm Apple is using, and I let out a pleased growl. I run my fingers up Pytre’s hairless chest and find one of his perfect pink nipples. Lips resting against his temple, I grab his nipple and begin tweaking the hardening bud.
“Oh,” Pytre gasps again.
“Like that?”
“Ye—Oh.”
“Harder?” I wish he would stroke my dick instead of just squeezing it, but I don’t want to distract him from what I know is building up inside him.
Pytre nods quickly, so I start twisting and pinching his nipples, going from one to the other. He’s going to be sore later but right now the noises he’s making are driving me wild and I can tell he’s close.
It’s like an earthquake when he finally cums. I feel it in his chest first: a trembling that ripples through him, followed by a long, quiet moan and a shudder in his belly… then bam—he cries out, his hips bucking so hard that Apple has to hold on tight or be thrown off with a broken nose. Pytre’s hand crushes my cock and I gasp in pain, but it’s worth it to be on the frontline watching the ex-Rimer’s first orgasm.
When the last shockwave dies, I wince and pull my dick out of his grasp, rubbing my poor strangled shaft as I watch his eyelids flutter open. He looks drunk and the smile he gives me only adds to the image.
“You good?” I ask, chuckling.
“Mm.” He laughs. He’s slowly swirling my cum around on his belly with a finger and seeing that puts some more vim into my erection.
Apple’s sitting on the foot of the bed, his legs tucked under him and slender cock poking up from his lap. The smile he gives me is a bit smug.
Quickly untangling myself from Pytre, I grab Apple and force him face down on the other bed. I shove my cock hard into his hole, and begin to ram into him, really mashing him into the mattress. I laugh a few minutes later when I look over at Pytre and see that he’s rubbing his scar, his eyes on me and Apple. Apple’s asshole clamps down on my dick, and I hardly hear his moans with his face pressed against the blankets, and I send my second load of the day into his guts with a growl.
Ok… I might be on board with this arrangement after all.
The Wanderer – Part Thirteen
Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. It’s currently in 1st person/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi
Tags: prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)
The second his dick pushes into me, I realize this is a serious fucking mistake. Panic hits me like a punch in the gut and I scrabble forwards on my hands and knees, desperate to escape. My vision’s blurry and not just from the sweat pouring into my eyes—I feel like I’m having a stroke. My client, probably wondering what the fuck is going on, doesn’t move for a few seconds. The guy then comes over and puts his arms around me, patting my back gently as he goes tut tut in my ear. I lean right into his embrace and sob on his shoulder for a while, just bawling like a fucking baby.
When the tears have run their course, I pull back, face warm with embarrassment but he’s just staring at me with sympathy in his brown eyes. He’s average looking, maybe even on the ugly side, but there’s something about those eyes that makes me wonder why he has to pay for sex—surely someone else can see he’s a decent guy. That’s scarcer than water around here.
I think about trying again—I mean, he only just got the tip in… maybe after a few thrusts I’d be fine. I need the money. We need the money.
But just the thought of giving it another go has me trembling again.
“Give me your pad,” he says.
I frown. “Why?”
“So, I can pay you.”
“But—”
“Buddy, you look like you need it.”
After some arguing back and forth, he agrees on a blowjob in exchange for the credits. Down on my knees, I go all in and give him some of the best head I’ve ever given… but all the while, I’m wondering what it’ll take to open my hole for business again. What if my whoring days are through? I certainly won’t miss it, but what else is there? I think about Pytre’s suggestion: bodyguard. I did all right with that blaster at Turk’s, didn’t I?
I try not to gag as my throat is suddenly flooded with cum, swallowing down the guy’s load like I enjoy it, then give his cock a quick tongue bath to clean him up.
Satisfied, he thumbs my pad and pays me the original price we’d agreed on for a full fuck not just a blowjob, but he won’t back down.
I watch him walk away as I rub my mouth. Nice guy. Again I wonder what’s he doing on a shithole like Chornoboh-7.
+++
I can’t work the door code with my arms full, so I lean my forehead on the glowing button, waiting for Apple to let me in. After a moment, the door opens a crack.
“Oh, it’s you,” Apple says with a relieved sigh, letting me in. He’s wrapped a towel around his head, half covering his face. As soon as the door closes, he pulls the towel off and tosses it on the bed.
“You don’t look half as bad as you think you do,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t be so vain.”
Apple’s single blue eye glares at me—the green one was lost to Turk’s violence and the wreckage hides beneath a silver eye patch that he never takes off, even to sleep. Despite the doctor’s nimble fingers and fine stitch work, the right side of his mouth is permanently twisted up, puckering in the corner where it meets the shiny pink scar zigzagging up his cheek.
I could mourn the loss of Apple’s prettiness, but there’s something weirdly appealing about his new battle-hardened face.
“I’m not vain. I’m ugly,” he says, staring down at the packages I dumped on the bed.
“If you were so ugly, would I do this?” I cup the back of his head and plant a kiss on his soft lips while giving his backside a good firm squeeze. I frown, measuring his ass cheek with my hand. He was still losing weight. “Apple, you have to eat.”
“What’s the point?” he says, heaving another sigh, but I can see the way he’s eyeing the package of cookies.
“Go on. I got them for you.”
He grins, pecks another kiss on my lips, and sits down to tear into the cookies. I touch my mouth, shaking my head. Funny how kissing is so… normal now.
“Where’d you get the credits?” Apple asks, his mouth full. He brushes a few crumbs from his bare chest and goes in for another cookie. “You worked?”
“Yeah.” I sit down on the corner of the bed and take a cookie for myself. It’s not very good—it tastes old and slightly rancid, but that’s all I can afford.
“And?”
“And it didn’t go well.”
“Oh.” He stops stuffing his face to take my hand.
Yesterday, when I was starting to mentally prepare myself to go back out on the streets, he shared a few stories about being brutalized by clients at the brothel—an attempt to commiserate over our unfortunate experiences. All it did was make me feel weak. If he’s able to function with all the shit he’s been through, why am unable to? It was one time.
“I panicked,” I say, looking down at his hand holding mine.
“It’s ok,” he says gently.
“It’s not ok,” I growl, taking my hand back and standing. “We’re going to starve to death because I can’t get my head out of my ass.” I pick up the other packages of food, all of them cheap and recently expired, and stack them on the storage unit near the foot of the bed.
“I can—” Apple starts, but I shoot him a warning look. He lets his shoulders fall and stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why you don’t want me whoring no more. I been doing it so long I can’t remember not doing it.”
“Because I don’t want you to.” I run both hands over my shorn grey hair, closing my eyes with a sigh. “I’m going to try again tomorrow.”
“Ok.”
“I just… don’t understand why it’s happening. It’s not like they hurt me that much…” I feel Apple’s arms come around me from behind and I hang my head, forcing myself to think about Turk’s men. I feel sweat prickling my armpits.
“It’s ok.” Apple rests his chin on my shoulder. “Tell me what happened today?”
I think about the sheer ball-squeezing, gut churning panic. “I just couldn’t go through with it.”
“Fucking or getting fucked?”
“Getting.”
“What about fucking? You ok with that?”
I honestly don’t know so I shrug.
“Do you want to give it a try?” Apple’s hand slides down my chest and he slips it into my pants, cupping my soft cock and balls. I shrug again, but I know I’m not going to be limp for long.
“C’mon.” Apple leads me back to the bed and has my lie down on my back while he undoes my zipper. “Up.”
I obediently lift my hips so he can strip my bottom half bare and then he straddles me. I’m getting flashbacks to the last time we made lo—
I close my eyes and shake my head. The last time we fucked.
It takes a few minutes before Apple can get me hard enough to penetrate him, but when he settles down on my dick, he tilts his head back with a moan, feeling me swell and get harder inside him. “Oh that’s nice.”
“Mm,” I grunt in reply, holding onto his skinny hips.
“Feel good?”
“Mm.”
“No ill-effects?” He starts to slide up and down my cock slowly like a human piston and my dick gives a happy twitch.
This time I smirk and shake my head.
“Want me to go faster?”
“Yes, please,” I reply.
“Like this?”
“Yeah…”
The door clicks and Apple’s head whips around, his body freezing in place with my dick buried deep.
“I’m sorry I, uh, didn’t realize you were…” Pytre stammers. “I’ll go.” He’s been cleaning rooms for Drenner to pay for our room, sometimes ten hours a day. I figure he’s probably exhausted and wants to lie down, so I start to lift Apple off me, but he puts a hand on my chest.
“I think you should stay,” Apple says to the ex-Rimer. “And join in.”
“What?” I think Pytre and I blurt it out at the same time.
Apple’s laugh jiggles my dick and he turns back to look down at me, his blue eye twinkling with mischief.
“Watching you two dance around each other is frankly exhausting,” he says, jouncing up and down a few times, injecting a little life back into my flagging boner. “You both want it but can’t figure out how to actually get around to doing it.” Apple grins, wiggling his hips.
“Apple, I don’t think—”
“I know what happened at Turk’s is what is fucking you up… but you’ve been acting extra weird since you found out Pytre’s a eunuch,” he says then glances over his shoulder to where I’m guessing Pytre is still standing. “And you’re confused because you thought he wanted you but suddenly he’s backed off and been treating you with kitten gloves and you have no fucking idea how to tell him you want him. I’m just saying you could fix that now.”
I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel any more mortified than I’m feeling right at this moment and I just want to sink into the bed. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look Pytre in the eye again.
“Kid gloves,” I mutter, rubbing my face. “Pytre… I don’t know what—”
“Yes.”
My eyes pop open and my lungs stall and I’m not sure if I imagined Pytre’s answer but his next words remove all doubt.
“Yes… I’d like to join in.” He comes into my line of vision and I see his cheeks and ears are bright pink. His hazel eyes lock with mine. “But I don’t know how.”
Apple tosses his head back, the scar on his cheek becoming a deep crevice as his smile goes wide. “Thank fucking holy Rime,” he says.
“I don’t think Rime would approve,” Pytre says. For a second I think he’s being serious, but then a slow grin creeps across his face and I laugh.
