Chasing Wings

by Hanna Dare

“Folk here just say ‘the kingdom.’ Boring, I know. It’s usually people from other lands that call it Valta.”

  Ormur tilted his head. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “But what’s the subject?”

  Ormur ran a hand along the edge of the pallet. “If it was wrong for you to watch me without my permission, what if I gave it?”

  “What?”

  “Suppose I chose to have you look at me as I touched myself? Would that be acceptable?” Tris could only stare, and Ormur shrugged one slender shoulder. “Is the idea suddenly distasteful? You did say I was worth jerking off to. Twice.”

  Tris opened and shut his mouth. “It’s not, you know, what you said, distasteful. I mean it wouldn’t be.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “I’d like to… if that’s, uh, what you’d like?”

  Ormur’s eyes sparkled. “Now we can make our intentions clear. Shut the door.”

  Tris’s mouth was suddenly dry and he took a hasty swig from the water cup on the tray. “The— the door?”

  Ormur got up from the bed. He moved gracefully to the single chair in the cell and sat down. “Shut the door so I can touch myself and you can do the same.”

  “Me?” His voice squeaked.

  “It’s only fair, don’t you think? If you’re watching me, I should get to watch you.”

  “Right,” Tris said, nodding rapidly. He wanted to be fair.

  He hurried over the door, going so far as to stick his head out into the hallway and look around to make sure that no one was there before shutting it.

  Tris took the chair from beside the table and hesitantly moved it closer to the bars of the cell. He sat down to face Ormur.

  The other man looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Tris admitted.

  “You’ve never touched yourself? How pure you are.”

  “I touch myself every night,” Tris said, and then snapped his mouth shut. “I mean, I’ve never done this with someone watching.”

  “I’ll start then. Join in any time.”

  Ormur unfastened his pants and pushed them down his hips. He was already half-hard, and the idea that just talking about what they were going to do had gotten Ormur that way caused Tris’s breath to catch.

  Ormur had very little hair on his body from what Tris could see but there was a nest of pale curls between his legs — a match to the silvery-white hair on his head. Tris watched as Ormur’s fingers stroked himself lightly, reaching down to tug on a pair of dark, heavy-looking balls before returning to his cock. It was as long and slender as the rest of him and growing longer with every moment.

  Tris shifted in his chair, suddenly remembering that he was allowed to play too. He drew himself out slowly. He expected Ormur to find some reason to mock him — even though the other man was hard, he still couldn’t believe this wasn’t some elaborate joke — but Ormur licked his full lips as he stared at Tris’s cock.

  “I see you make up for your lack of height in other places.”

  “Shut up,” Tris said cheerfully, because he wasn’t that short and his cock wasn’t that big, but it still felt good to impress someone. He spat on his hand and took hold of himself — thicker than Ormur’s, but he’d have to get closer to compare lengths — and began to stroke. Tris’s movements were strong and sure, very different from Ormur’s light teasing, and the other man raised his eyebrows.

  “You touch yourself every night, you say? That practice is paying off.”

  Tris’s breath was coming faster. “I’d touch you the same way, if you’d let me.”

  Ormur’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to touch me.”

  “No,” Tris said quickly, not wanting to spoil the mood. “Of course not, but can I imagine it? Is that allowed?”

  Ormur tilted his head. “Why imagine?” He spread his legs a little wider in the chair. “Guide my hand.”

  “Harder then,” Tris said, trying to make himself sound assured. “Grip it — your cock — at the base. Give yourself a squeeze so you can really feel it. Now stroke.”

  Ormur’s breath came out in a hiss and his eyes fluttered closed briefly. “You’re not as innocent as you seem.”

  “No,” Tris agreed. “I keep telling people that. Keep going now. Move your hand a bit at the top, a little twist, just like that.”

  Ormur’s cock was flushed dark and in between the strokes of his hand, Tris could glimpse a few pearls of moisture at the tip. He sped up his own hand as he watched.

  “No,” Ormur said. “You need to go slow.”

  Tris wasn’t sure whose hand Ormur was talking about. “Huh?”

  “If I do what you want then you do what I tell you.” His lips were parted and looked so lush that Tris felt dizzy. “Seem fair?”

  “Whatever you, uh, say.”

  “Then take your hand away.”

  Tris groaned but managed to obey. He noted that Ormur kept moving his hand in firm strokes.

  Ormur’s mouth twisted; he looked pleased even if he didn’t smile. “Run your fingertips down the length. Lightly.”

  Tris dragged the pads of his fingers along his aching cock.

  “A lighter hand than that. It should feel like a secret whispered in the night. Better. Keep going,” Ormur purred. “Now trace your fingers over your balls. A glancing touch. How does that feel?”

  “Maddening,” Tris ground out. “I want— I need more than this.”

  Ormur’s eyes sharpened to something wicked. “You’ll get it. Take your hand up to your mouth— No, not that hand. Now suck on your fingers.”

  Tris reluctantly took his hand off his balls. His other hand he used to grip the edge of his chair. He shoved two fingers into his mouth.

  “Good,” Ormur said. “Get them good and wet. Now slip them back down between your legs. All the way to the back.” He did smile this time. “Find your hole.”

  “Uh…”

  “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I can’t make you. I’m the one behind bars after all.”

  Tris very much wanted to keep going and he hoped that if they did, Ormur would forget he was in a cell. Tris adjusted his position on the chair, shoved his pants down his thighs, and finally sent his fingers searching. He reached his opening and hesitated. “What should I do?”

  “Push a finger inside. Slowly, but do it.”

  The tip of Ormur’s pink tongue showed between his teeth and that, more than anything, kept Tris going. He worked his index finger into his opening. It burned a little but didn’t hurt.

  “How does that feel?” Ormur asked.

  “All right, I guess?” Tris realized that didn’t sound especially sexy, so he deepened his voice. “Hot. And tight.”

  Ormur smirked. “Imagine how my cock would feel.”

  Tris’s eyes widened because he couldn’t imagine it fitting. Still, it was an interesting idea.

  “How— how would it feel?”

  Ormur shifted in his chair, his body moving liquidly. “I’d push inside you. Deep and then deeper still. You’d feel it everywhere. Do you know how hot my cock feels right now? It would burn you, Tris, so deliciously. When I come it will light your body on fire. You’ll never forget the feeling of me taking you so hard you’ll forget your own name.” He sucked in a soft and sighing breath. “Tris. You can touch your cock now.”

  Tris blinked and realized he was sweating. “Wh—what?”

  “Your cock,” Ormur said very precisely. “I want you to bring yourself off. But keep that finger in there. In fact, add a second finger. Pump it in and out.”

  Tris awkwardly gripped his cock with his other hand and began to pump. He tried to get that second finger in, but it seemed impossible.

  “I can’t.” His voice sounded whining, but his cock was so hard. “It hurts.”

  “Good,” Ormur said. “It will make it all the sweeter when you come. Move your hand, Tris, stroke harder.”

  “You too,” he managed to get out. “I do what you say, you do what
I say, remember?”

  Ormur nodded and Tris threw his head back and squirmed. The second finger had somehow fit inside, and he pumped his cock faster to compensate for the getting-close-to-painful stretch. With difficulty, he focused back on Ormur.

  “Your shirt,” Tris said. “Would you lift it up?”

  With his other hand, Ormur raised his shirt higher up his slender torso. Tris glimpsed dark nipples and he opened his mouth to pant.

  “Touch it — your nipple. Twist until you can feel it.” Ormur seemed surprised and Tris grinned wildly. “Bit o’ pain, right? It’ll feel so good when you come.”

  Ormur grasped the hard tip of his nipple between his fingers. He twisted and his back arched up from the chair as he groaned, deep in his throat. His hand moved over his cock faster, almost a blur and then it was erupting between his fingers and onto the bars. Tris crowed in delight — it was the best thing Ormur had ever thrown at him.

  Then he realized he was on the brink, with the pleasure building at the base of his spine. He gazed at Ormur stretched out and vulnerable on the chair, his narrow chest heaving and his cock still pulsing. “Ormur— I’m going to— look at me. Please.”

  Ormur raised his head. His eyes were half-lidded and he reached up with one hand to tug at the fullness of his lower lip. “Do it. And you’d better come harder than you ever have in your life.”

  Tris bit his lip so he didn’t cry out — he felt like he might shout the house down. Suddenly the room went white and then dark and he could feel his whole body shaking. It was like flying, soaring up up up — then falling —

  He felt a sudden thud against his hip and opened his eyes in surprise to find himself on the floor. “Oh. I guess I fell off the chair.”

  “Yes, you did.” Ormur was standing, looking at him through the bars. He was holding his trousers up with one hand and Tris wondered if Ormur had gotten up to try and catch him. He felt touched at the possibility.

  Tris managed to stand up, getting somewhat tangled in his own pants in the process. He faced Ormur, straightening his clothes and finding himself unable to stop grinning. “So that was— I mean, it was… You know.”

  “Yes,” Ormur said dryly. “You’ve put it very eloquently.”

  Tris got that feeling that ‘eloquently’ meant he was acting like a fool. He was fine with that and smiled wider. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but you did and it was… wonderful. So thank you.”

  “You said that already.” Ormur’s tone made it seem like it was of no concern, but his cheeks were flushed beneath his freckles and his eyes were still dark with desire. Tris thought he was very pleased.

  “I’m going to clean this up,” Tris said, eying the splattered bars and small puddle he’d managed to make on the floor.

  Ormur lay down on his pallet, looking more relaxed than Tris had ever seen him. “Fine.” He rolled over to face the wall. “Just don’t make too much noise.”

  “Do you need more water?”

  “Yes, and perhaps some food.” Ormur shifted languidly, giving Tris a glimpse of the curve of his cheekbone. “I feel like I may finally have an appetite.”

  Later, lying in his own bed, Tris didn’t have the energy to send himself off to sleep the usual way. Instead, his mind drifted sleepily to his previous partners. There hadn’t been very many. Lyssa, the wheelwright’s daughter, had been shy and sweet, but their teenage fumbling had been more awkward than satisfying. She’d been confused when he would talk about leaving the valley; for her there was nothing worth seeing out in the world. It was a relief when she announced she liked someone else. Tris had danced at her wedding feast two years ago with a light heart.

  There’d been the innkeeper’s wife who’d let herself into his room one night when he’d been traveling. He’d delighted in her full body and her boldness in asking for exactly what she wanted, and appreciated how clearly she explained the things Tris didn’t know how to do. He’d stayed an extra night.

  A man with a wolfish grin had taken his hand unabashedly and led him into the backroom of a tavern in Ens. That had been unexpected. Tris hadn’t realized just how free and open the people were in that country, or what the symbols on the sign above the tavern were advertising. Once he’d got over his surprise it had been great fun and just as educational as his time with the innkeeper’s wife.

  Then a hasty encounter with a barmaid where the appeal for both of them was that he was just passing through town and they’d never have to see each other again. And that was the entirety of his sexual history. Nothing to regret and plenty of good memories. But none of those encounters consumed his thoughts or set his body on fire the way Ormur did. They’d never even touched and yet it had been incredibly powerful.

  Tris had never worried overmuch about his looks. Sandy brown hair, brown eyes, skin that was usually tanned from all the time spent outdoors — nothing special among the folk in his valley. He was a bit vain about the width of his shoulders and the rounded muscles over them, and maybe too the slight cleft to his chin. Lyssa had called him handsome; the innkeeper’s wife said he was a fine, hearty lad, and the man in Ens had started to call him pretty then stopped. “Pretty is too delicate,” he’d said while tracing Tris’s jawline. “You could probably sling me around like a sack of flour, but there’s something wholesome about you. Like you’re fresh from the farm.” Tris didn’t want to admit that he was.

  Still, he was nothing compared to Ormur. Ormur with his silver-white hair and beautifully brown skin. His wide-set eyes over high sharp cheekbones. A quick temper and even quicker wit. The graceful way he moved and talked. His hands. Oh, his hands.

  Tris pulled his pillow over his face and groaned.

  There was no way that under ordinary circumstances Ormur would look twice at someone like Tris. The man was frustrated and scared, and even though it had been Ormur’s idea, Tris still felt he had taken advantage of him. The problem was, the wrongness of it all somehow made it more exciting. Which was even more wrong. So very wrong.

  Tris groaned again.

  He couldn’t let himself imagine heroically rescuing Ormur and the two of them going off somewhere to be together. But it was impossible not to.

  Tris was used to brief moments changing his life. He’d been chasing dreams of dragons for years and that had been after only one short flight. He’d spent weeks around Ormur and now Tris found himself wanting to risk everything for him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ormur was still asleep when Tris brought his breakfast the next morning. Tris hadn’t expected him to be all sunshine and smiles, but he was hoping for more than the sleepy glare Ormur gave him. Granted, Tris had been so eager to see him that he’d gotten there extra early. Ormur’s hand — one of the very hands Tris had spent the night dreaming of — waved in dismissal before he pulled the blankets up over his head. Tris left the tray and tiptoed away.

  On his way back into the main part of the house, he encountered the Earl coming out of his study. The old man locked the door behind him before glancing at Tris.

  “Good morning, m’lord.”

  “Is it morning already?”

  “Well, the sun’s not quite up yet but it’s on its way. Hard to tell with the fog.” Tris looked at him more closely. The Earl still looked well, but for the first time he seemed tired. “Did you sleep at all, m’lord?”

  The Earl rubbed at his face. “No, I forgot to go to bed. I was checking all my calculations. The formulas I used to work the spell to call the dragon. I needed to know if there was a mistake.”

  Tris tried not to lean in. “Was there? A mistake?”

  “There couldn’t be. I’m sure of it.” His hand went to the necklace he wore beneath his robe and Tris could glimpse the red gemstone at the end of the chain. “The spell I used to create the amulets worked. I’m still here, still healthy.”

  “But maybe it works only part of the way?” Tris suggested carefully. “The calling, like you said— Could that be… well, a bit off?”

&nb
sp; The Earl stared off, his face uncertain. “This is my life’s work.”

  “The man in the cage, my lord,” Tris said urgently. “If there’s been a mistake you need to let him go.”

  The Earl shook his head, but he looked troubled as he wandered away.

  Tris spent the afternoon practicing with Marius. He’d finally judged Tris competent enough not to stab himself and announced he was loaning him a real sword.

  “Practice with it,” Marius said as he handed Tris the short sword. “Carry it around. Hold it every spare moment until it’s as familiar in your hand as your own cock.”

  Tris had a sudden image of Ormur’s hand. And of that hand wrapped around… Tris hastily took some practice swings. The sword was definitely heavier than the wooden one, but the grip felt worn in all the right places and easier to hold. He remembered playing at swords as a boy, hitting boulders and poking at sheep. Now here he was with a real sword in his hand.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Marius said, smiling beneath his mustache. “It’s got good balance for all it's not much to look at.”

  Tris spun and slashed, moving the blade in the moves Marius had taught him. He wondered if the sword had a name, like Hope-bringer or Stabby.

  “Has it seen many battles?” he puffed.

  Marius barked a laugh. “Battles? Kid, this kingdom hasn’t seen a war in my lifetime. But that sword’s certainly taken care of a few would-be thieves and all-round assholes.”

  Tris stopped suddenly, feeling a bit queasy.

  “What do you think a sword’s for?” Marius asked, amused. “Waving around in a parade to get the ladies damp?”

  “I guess, I just thought…” He had dreamed of being a knight once. Of fighting for a just cause that conveniently didn’t involve spilling anyone’s blood. Like so many of his dreams, it was childish and didn’t stand up to the reality of the world.

  Marius smacked the back of Tris’s head. “Stop thinking. That’ll get you killed.”

  Marius had him run through a series of drills with the real sword, but for sparring he took out the wooden ones again.