A Swithin Spin: A Princely Passion

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  Could he sense Antal’s emotions? That shouldn’t be possible. These things went through his mind while Antal folded a blanket and set it on the ground. Antal sat down, and Kilan tried to turn his attention to admiring the young man’s body. He couldn’t focus enough to do so. Something called to him, and he didn’t know what. The fact that he felt he should understand what was happening and even be able to control it better finally spoke to his anger. He watched Antal settle, rub some ointment or lotion into his skin, close his eyes, but Kilan was only vaguely aware of this. At the edges of his mind, something coaxed him, enticed. It drifted through his mind, into his body. He…spiraled.

  The comet?

  The moment he had the thought, other ideas rushed in. Markis had told him of the lessons he’d endured in trying to learn control. Kilan had tasted something similar when he’d tried to help Markis locate Uly’s whereabouts once. Tasted was a good word. It was more than an experience or a sensation. It entered your mouth first and then other orifices. It stroked, bringing taste buds and nerve endings alive with the flavor. Kilan had never considered power having a flavor before, but it did -- just one you couldn’t describe. Only when he met Markis’s gaze did he see someone who understood, and maybe to a lesser extent, Ryanac and Uly appreciated what he and Markis went through. They had tasted the power in sharing the abyss with Markis. The comet’s power brought every fiber of your being alive, but where nerves could give pleasure, they could also bestow pain. Kilan’s lessons were nothing like those Markis had endured. Ryanac was right. To control the comet, one needn’t fight it. One had to let go, let it fill you. Give in. Pain would cease; pleasure would begin.

  Alas, if he gave in to that desire to connect with the comet now, Markis might detect his use of the power. Markis might even detect his location. Markis said one day he’d be able to shield without even thinking about it, but Kilan’s control was too wild at present. He also resisted because he didn’t know why he felt tempted to slip into the abyss, to play with the comet. He feared what else he might be tempted to do, such as give away his presence, go to Antal, spill his feelings in a rush of words, kisses, a touch… So he resisted opening that part of himself that accessed or contained the power. Not even that thought could stop Kilan’s cock from filling out, straining in the confines of his breeches. He opened his eyes in time to see Antal glance around the clearing. Once more his desires had their true focus; Kilan only then realized how long he’d been struggling with his need. Antal stood now, hovering beside the statue, a hesitant expression on his face. Kilan had enough time to wonder how long he’d been lost in his own internal world this time before Antal reached out. Antal’s hand closed on the statue’s leg; he gasped, threw back his head, and Kilan cried out. He couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating. He was dying even as he reached orgasm, and the only thing that entered his mind was that this was the only right way to die.

  Chapter Six

  The sensation threw back his head. Eyes closed, Antal gasped. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

  During meditation, some say they feel a sensation of separation. Their mind grows clear. Some truly empty their minds of thought.

  Antal blinked, coming back to reality, words from the book he had “borrowed” from the library foremost in his mind. His hand had slipped from the statue. He hadn’t stopped thinking, but as far as the feeling of separation was concerned and his mind being clear, he’d certainly experienced something like that.

  Licking his lips and then swallowing, Antal stared at the white figure. A mild sweat had broken out on his brow. If touching that thing… Antal shook his head. Just what had happened? The idea that contact with the statue, that its ability to create such feelings was something to fear, overwhelmed him. Would he experience such a strong reaction while he…while he…if I have sex with that thing?

  Part of him wanted to find out. Part of him didn’t. Alas, that nonsensical part of his psyche that was all male and would worry about embarrassment after the fact seemed the predominant force. Antal stood, hand hovering, wavering in indecision. He let his hand drop to his side, his gaze going to the statue’s face. No help there. Just that peaceful look of serenity. For the first time since he’d arrived, that expression irritated. Even as the thought occurred to him, Antal accepted that he felt more irritated with himself than the statue. He was irritated with his own internal arguments, with his refusal to accept facts he knew were true, his inability to acknowledge he’d come here knowing all along what he intended to do. Because so much of his life was serious, he could now understand why Ryanac had suggested he do something frivolous and entirely out of character.

  He was going to do this. He was really going to do this!

  Deciding that the indecision felt worse than just getting on with it, Antal gathered the things he needed and placed them as close to the statue as the platform would allow. Having no more reason to delay, he took a deep breath and grabbed the edge of the dais.

  He’d felt concerned that the same debilitating sensation would overwhelm him once more, but he needn’t have worried. The stone was just stone. Even so, as he climbed up, he avoided touching any part of the figure. At last, he knelt beside it as though he were a young man simply kneeling at the side of his lover.

  “I can’t do this,” Antal whispered, even knowing as he protested that he couldn’t stop now. Even the slightly smug-looking smile on the statue’s face seemed to know the truth of what must happen. “Oh by the comet!” Saying it softly but as a curse, Antal dipped his head, closed his eyes. What was the matter with him? He never hesitated like this. Deep down inside, he accepted that curiosity had already won. Why continue trying to talk himself out of it when he already knew it was a waste of time?

  Befuddled, Kilan clung to the branch beyond endurance, but he couldn’t move. He’d cried out… Hadn’t he? He’d cried out and he’d… He’d come…but he hadn’t. As much as his body thrummed with the aftermath of orgasm, his cock remained stubborn, throbbing in unison with his heart. He hadn’t actually climaxed at all. He couldn’t explain it. Even as he tried to assess his physical state, his body relaxed. Kilan melted, easing his full weight onto the branch. The tree limb creaked, but he didn’t think the noise would reveal his hiding place. The sound could have been the branch swaying in the breeze. Besides, he couldn’t move even if Antal spotted him.

  He could do nothing but what he’d come here to do: watch Antal. That was good, exactly how it should be. Uncertain whether the thought was his, still he accepted it. As Antal hoisted himself up on the platform upon which the statue lay, it surprised Kilan to feel a grin stretch his face. Despite the peculiar events of the day so far, he couldn’t deny that Antal was worth looking at. With the thought, Kilan’s apprehension eased, fell back into normal behavior. It had felt as if someone had taken over his mind and body, or tried to, and he could understand that; the comet had that way with you. As to what had woken the power within him, maybe he felt hornier than he realized. Maybe that was why the thought of lying Antal back and spearing into him occupied most of his waking mind these days. His waking mind and, to a lesser extent, his sleeping one, for Kilan slept with an active imagination.

  Kilan gazed out from beneath his brow, drawing his head down, staring intently. Antal crouched on the platform, gazing at what looked like a fabulous erection. Antal’s lips moved, but what he said was lost to Kilan’s ears from this distance. He tried to read the young man’s lips, but the angle was wrong even if the distance hadn’t been too great. Besides, he didn’t need to know what he said to realize Antal still dithered. The sunlight caught the auburn highlights in his hair as the braid slithered around his body owing to Antal’s indecisive movements.

  “Go on,” Kilan whispered, the brightest thought in his head the need to see Antal’s body pierced. He wanted to watch Antal sink down onto that unbending member. The very fact that Antal would be doing this to himself, taking the statue’s rigid length into him, freely sinking down… Kilan suddenly rememb
ered his necessity to breathe. He was so lost in anticipating the moment when Antal climbed onto the statue that when the young guard moved over to kiss it instead, Kilan slipped to one side. He had to tighten his hold on the branch to stop from falling completely out of the tree.

  At least indecision had taken his mind off his troubles. Preoccupation with the statue had stopped Antal from contemplating his feelings for a time. He almost laughed at the thought.

  He felt afraid. As ridiculous as that seemed, he feared doing this foolish thing. He felt even more afraid that he’d enjoy it. Although happy and carefree when it came to sex, he didn’t indulge as often as some Swithin his age did. He didn’t do many of the things his friends enjoyed. Antal was well aware that Markis had bought Uly one of the vibrating crystals that the Swithin formed into adult toys, but although he found them pleasant enough, Antal had never used one by choice. If a lover wanted to introduce them as part of play, then fine with him, but he preferred flesh. For Antal, sex involved two living, vibrant beings, not artificial means. You couldn’t get more artificial than this. For some reason he found the crystals…passive. He used them on a lover if they desired it, but one could just lie back and let the vibrations do the work. He disliked that. Using them as a form of…torment was more to his liking, although he’d never expressed his feelings so clearly before today. However, taking that phallus into him wouldn’t be exactly passive; he would have to provide the physical movement. Antal accepted he was not a passive lover, preferring control, although under these circumstances the thought made his laugh abate ruefully. Was he truly such a control fanatic? He faced that as a real possibility. He’d have control here, but he seldom longed for penetration. He preferred mastering the proceedings rather than lying back.

  He wanted this. As much as he resisted doing something so idiotic, he also longed to act foolish. He wanted to forget responsibility, duty, doing the right thing. He could do what he liked with the statue, and it wouldn’t be as if it could protest. What could one truly do, though, with an unfeeling, nonsentient thing such as this?

  Tilting his head, Antal stared down into that peaceful expression. A fleeting thought flashed through his mind. If he was going to subject his body to that unyielding hardness, he could at least connect with this thing as though it were a being. Although he laughed inwardly at wishing to show the statue some respect, he lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss against those pursed white lips.

  If the kiss is to show it some respect, do I do it in hope that it might show me the same respect when it comes to penetrative sex?

  The idea refused to fade. The more Antal gazed at that expert carving of a straining erection, the more he considered that, yes, perhaps the kiss had been a silent plea to the statue or the universe or whatever made his insides quiver in a strange mixture of anticipation and dread.

  The kiss hadn’t been what he’d expected. The smooth surface created an interesting texture under his fingertips. He should have realized that it would have a more profound effect against his lips. Lips were as sensitive as fingertips, just in a different way. The kiss…was like kissing velvet, although even that analogy didn’t truly describe the statue’s surface. It felt smooth but unlike marble. It had some grain to it, some texture, and yet even as Antal ran his fingers over the statue’s hip, the idea of velvet returned to him. Hard yet soft. Velvet over marble. Similar to a man’s cock.

  This time he did laugh. He couldn’t help it. Yes, that was a good comparison. It still failed to convey the incredible sensation, but it suggested a similar idea.

  The statue was inanimate, unfeeling. Why kiss it? Kilan wasn’t sure the question mattered. From the look on Antal’s face, he’d found the experience pleasurable. A low sound issued through the clearing: Antal’s gentle laughter. Kilan wanted to make Antal laugh, and with the thought came some sort of answer.

  Lowering his gaze for a moment, Kilan examined his feelings. He liked Antal. Antal was likable. No one hated the young man. He took pleasure in seeing Antal smile, hearing him laugh. Up until now, Kilan had viewed sex as most young people of his race did. The Swithin never used sex against one another. No one became intimate without knowing each other’s expectations. Kilan laughed during sex. He could imagine Antal was also one to laugh in the heat of the moment. Not everyone did. Kilan wanted fun. Antal was fun. Was it any wonder he felt an attraction for Uly’s Sonndre? He might have broached the subject of sex, just for fun, but lately Antal’s mood did not constitute a diversion or a pleasure. He was snappy, bad tempered, often seeking isolation. This was so unlike Antal that Kilan’s relaxed interest had become something more serious.

  Kilan grew concerned. More than anything else, he wanted to put the smile back on Antal’s face. If he thought he could do that, he would have hinted at his feelings some time ago. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, just wishing to share some pleasure, some amusement. Antal’s recent mood forbade any advances. Then when he’d heard Ryanac suggest that Antal come here and have sex with a statue, he’d had to tag along. He liked Antal. Kilan wanted to make sure Antal was all right. Kilan was here because he cared. Kilan was…completely lying to himself.

  Oh he cared well enough; he didn’t lie about that. He cared, but he also felt intrigued. Antal had control, whereas Kilan never felt in control despite the level of responsibility that constantly weighed so heavily on his psyche. To see Antal falter, to struggle emotionally… That had intrigued him. If someone like Antal faced difficulties, then maybe there was hope for him. None of those reasons was why he’d followed him, though. Simply, the thought of watching Antal of all people sodomize himself on that gleaming white phallus… Kilan bit at his lip, silencing his moan. He bit down harder as Antal ran his hand over that gleaming erection. From the look on Antal’s face, that felt good to the touch. If it felt good to Antal’s hand, how would it feel sliding in?

  While reaching out with his hand, Antal allowed his mind to fall silent -- not exactly blank of thought, but focused. Every part of his being centered on how that marvelous cock would feel to the touch. He grasped it. He felt disappointed at first -- although that cock felt as wonderful to the touch as any other part of the statue, and he’d spent a few minutes running a hand here, stroking with a finger there so he knew how wonderful it felt to touch different parts of the statuette -- it was no different. Even so, a small gasp escaped his mouth, for he also felt somewhat dismayed as he couldn’t account for the strength of desire that suddenly coiled in his belly and lower parts. He wanted to put it down to just the thought of what that cock would feel like sinking into him, but he knew better than that. Something was happening here or existed in the clearing… He didn’t know what or how, but something was affecting him. Maybe the cause was mystical or maybe a natural occurrence; it didn’t matter to him. He sensed no malice, but that didn’t mean he liked feeling so out of control. That troubled him the most. Antal no longer felt as if he had a choice. Something called to him.

  He began pouring lubricant onto his hand before he accepted none of his questions mattered. He would go through with this. He just didn’t know how he would reach the ritual’s end. Meditate? He’d orgasm before he got into the required position.

  Two more concerns made Antal hesitate, but then he applied the lubricant anyway. If he had sex with another male, he penetrated more often than he received. The statue offered only one position -- one where he’d have to look at that beautiful face. It would have felt somewhat rude to turn his back on such a wondrous expression anyhow, but looking toward the face, he couldn’t help but think it felt as if the statue would be staring at him. Not that he had an option. Whoever had carved the effigy had set the marvelous cock at an angle. He had no choice but to face the sculpture. Anyway, doing so offered him better leverage. Even to take the sizable offering -- Antal’s gaze flicked to the offering in question -- it would take some positioning. It would require the one position that Antal hated.

  It wasn’t the idea of sinking onto that solid length
that he disliked but the crouched stance he would have to take initially in order to achieve it. Without giving himself more time to think, telling himself he didn’t want the oil he’d applied to the figure to dry in the breeze, Antal stood, swinging one leg over the statue until he finally straddled it. He resisted the urge to look around the forest. No one watched. He was just letting his nerves get the better of him, searching for some excuse not to go through with this.

  Still fearing Antal would change his mind when he poured what could only be oil into his hand, Kilan made a little humpfh sound and laid his forehead against the tree branch for a moment. He panted, needing more oxygen. Looking up, he watched Antal’s hand glide up and down that solid length and felt a responding pulse in his cock as if Antal’s hand glided up and down his erection instead. Oh what he would give to take the place of the statue.

  It dawned on him that he’d chosen the right place of concealment when Antal swung his leg over the figure. Unconsciously aware of it until now, Kilan accepted that even though he couldn’t see the most intimate part of Antal’s body from this position, he had a better view of Antal’s face. That was what he wanted to see, and he did see. He witnessed the moment of penetration played out on the young man’s features. Never mind that Antal gasped. Never mind that his eyes closed, probably of their own volition. Kilan could see what he wanted to see: every sensation, every emotion played out in the tight frown, in the parted lips, in the movement of the head, in the hesitation, in the straining muscles and jutting cock. Antal sank down, and Kilan gaped, almost too scared to breathe, in case even that slight movement interfered with the magic of the moment.

  Magic it was indeed to see. He stared, straining not to blink, wanting to take the image into his memory. If he faced a lonely night, he knew what image he would conjure up for entertainment. When Antal gasped and threw back his head, his eyes now open, Kilan’s body convulsed. He pressed his groin into the tree. The only thing preventing him from humping the branch like a dog was his caution and not wishing to draw Antal’s attention.