Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

4.3.

Ithildin woke up in the later afternoon: his head rested upon a muscled bronzed thigh, and Lielle's tousled locks spread across his chest. Lielle's delicate hand still clutched at the elf's cock, as if it were a favorite toy. The smell that always accompanies lovemaking hung heavy in the tent – the smell of men's heated bodies, semen and sweat; with a permeating note of orange-scented oil that Ithildin had grabbed for Lielle when leaving Trianess, because Alva loved it and all but drank the stuff.

The memories of last night (and last morning, if he wanted to be a stickler about it) were fairly confused, but what he did remember made him shut his eyes. As if, by blocking out daylight, he would stop picturing the night's debauchery, how he had rolled on the pelts with the barbarian, like a rutting animal. He had no excuse now – not rape, not trying to please his lover. It had been filthy and revolting, his mind insisted coldly. Ah, but it was sweet, sung his body still seized in the hot grip of memory.

He must have twitched then, because Alva woke up and raised his head. His green eyes opened sleepily; he looked at the elf, kissed him, and asked, "Are you alright?

"N-not sure..."

"Your voice is gone."

"I was screaming?"

"Yep. In the Ancient Tongue. Like we were putting a stake through you. I'd scream too, but I had my mouth full." Lielle smiled lasciviously.

Ithildin blushed and hid his eyes. The knee he had been lying on moved, and Kintaro sat up and stretched.

"For a night like this, I could take on the Enqins, and Selkhir, if I had to, and maybe even Trianess," he said, happily.

Alva giggled. "Selkhir, hah – Lei would have you through every orifice till you beg for mercy!"

"No woman beats a hot boy." Then Kintaro reflected, and added, "Two hot boys."

"Who is a boy here?" Alva jabbed Kintaro's side playfully. "I am at least a couple of years older than you, and as for the elf ..."

"But I'm screwing the two of you, not the other way around."

"You so logical," agreed Alva, his smile beatific, "and you planning to feed us, or what? Get me a piece of meat and a jug of wine, I'll shag your entire tribe."

Kintaro roared with mirth. His teeth gleamed large and white. Outside, someone called to him, the chieftain answered, and a dark youth they had met up with in Niyar peeked into the tent. Ithildin knew him from before. The youth had never touched him, but he was Kintaro's lover, and Ithildin had often witnessed their romps.

The youth looked avidly at the naked lovers, and said a few words in the oman, the language of the warriors. Every one of the Wild Steppe tribes spoke its own dialect of the Common Tongue made unrecognizable by the thick barbarian accent and words invented or borrowed from other languages. Within three months, the elf had started to pick up a bit of the Essanti oman, and most of it, predictably, had to do with sex. So he understood the gist of the young warrior's words.

"Inagi says he would have been jealous of the two of you, if you were not so beautiful. At least, that's the polite version," said the chief and laughed again.

"So what did he really say?" Alva turned to look at the new arrival.

"Oh, my sweet, do you really want to hear what each and everyone of my men would like to do to you?"

"Don't think it would be news to me." Lielle laughed. "But good to keep in mind, if you are no longer enough."

Kintaro brought them wine, water, a plate of bread, meats and a small steppe melon, sliced. Then he suddenly disappeared, hand around Inagi's waist. His intentions were obvious, especially since he did not even bother to get dressed. When Ithildin understood they would be free of Kintaro for the next few hours, he visibly relaxed. He had been wound taut like a bow-string the last while, and only realized it now.