Conjuring the Flesh

by Brandon Fox

  Thane released Ander and gently eased back, then knelt above Skorri and leaned down to kiss him deeply. When they broke the kiss, he turned to Ander with an unmistakable invitation in his gaze.

  Ander went to him. He put one arm around Thane’s waist and let the fingers of his other hand slip between his buttocks where semen slicked the flesh. He ran a finger through it and traced circles around the opening, then pressed gently. His finger slipped inside. Skorri reached for Ander’s erection and stroked its length, coating it with slippery oil.

  Thane rolled onto his back and spread his legs wide. Ander positioned himself. A gentle push was all that was needed to slip inside. The intimate contact reinforced their bond. As he eased in deeper, he felt the slow penetration of his own flesh. He was able to gauge his penetration to perfectly match Thane’s needs. Soon his cock was fully in, sliding through a slick coating of oil and Skorri’s semen.

  He leaned forward and pressed his chest against Thane’s. They clung together, hardly daring to move, as they adjusted to their surging pleasure. Ander felt an echo of his own sensations flowing back through the bond and realized that, despite Thane’s fears, he wasn’t completely cut off from his lovers. Hope buoyed him, making him grin.

  “What is it?” Thane asked, his eyes opening wider as he noticed Ander’s expression.

  Best not to distract him with it. For now, he needs love. “Later,” he said. He slid his cock out a couple of inches and then back in. They both shuddered, and Thane’s phallus twitched between their bellies.

  Ander lifted himself up, then slid his hands down Thane’s body to behind his knees. He lifted and pressed the legs wider apart. Carefully, wanting their coupling to last at least as long as Skorri had managed, he began to slide in and out of Thane’s body.

  Skorri sat next to them, his cock again fully erect, watching intently. He leaned forward and slipped his fingers beneath Thane’s cock, hefting the thick shaft. A clear strand draped between the head and the tan skin of Thane’s midriff. Skorri let it coat his finger, then wiped the slick fluid over the glans and began to stroke.

  The new stimulation hit Ander like lightning. Pleasure focused in a sharp point and pushed all else from his mind.

  Thane gasped, his body stiffening as Ander pushed all the way in and released an explosive climax. They clutched each other in desperate pleasure, their bodies jerking as sensation overwhelmed them. Skorri kept stroking as Thane emptied his seed in strong jets between their bodies.

  At last Ander collapsed in exhaustion. As his heart slowed, he realized they had achieved this peak without using the elixirs and sensitizing balms employed in the art. Heartfelt passion had magic of its own.

  A soft gasp made Ander open his eyes just in time to see Skorri bring himself to climax a second time. He still had one hand between their bodies, holding Thane’s cock, but with his other hand, he stroked his own stiff erection. In seconds another ejaculation shot through the air. It splattered against Ander’s side, hot and sticky, adding to the thick aroma of sex. Skorri closed his eyes for a moment, his face blissful, then sighed and pulled his hand out from between them. “Making up for lost time,” he said. “Watching you two made my blood hot. I wouldn’t be able to sleep without coming again.”

  Ander lifted himself off Thane and picked up a cloak, gesturing for Skorri to join them. As soon as he was in place, Ander drew the cloak over the three of them. He saw Thane’s satisfied smile and was content.

  Chapter 12

  DAWN was glorious, painting the clouds with red and gold. The night had been mild, and they warmed quickly as they saddled their horses. Thane wanted to finish the trip to the lyceum in a single day, though they were only a third of the way back.

  Ander had no objection. He had grown accustomed to long rides and didn’t relish the prospect of camping once they got further into the mountains. He gnawed a piece of smoked beef and pondered the last night as they rode. If Thane still suffered from an inability to perceive his partner’s sensations through a bond, it wasn’t apparent in his enthusiastic coupling. And Ander certainly hadn’t felt any impairment; the sensations flowing from his lover had been intense.

  As the day wore on, he forgot everything but the journey’s demands. Thane set a grueling pace, and the narrow trail they followed was treacherous. It required all his concentration and skill to keep up. The time they were saving was paid for in danger and strain. Sun on his back, together with warm leathers and boots, kept him comfortable as they gained elevation and the temperature dropped. By the time night fell, the trail reconnected with the road at the mouth of the valley where the lyceum lay. Though he was sore and exhausted, Ander breathed a sigh of relief. The estate was still hours distant, but the prospect of a hot meal and soft bed now beckoned.

  The sky had remained clear. Stars sparkled like diamonds, their reflections shimmering in the black sheet of river beside the road. The air warmed as they descended from the pass into the valley. Snow from the recent storm had mostly melted, leaving only drifts on the shaded side of trees and boulders. Profound calm filled the forest. Numb with exhaustion, Ander allowed his mount to follow the others home.

  At last they rounded the final bend in the road, and the old fortress materialized out of the forest. Its moonlit tower and walls reflected in the river, making it appear more a dream than reality. Lanterns glowed by the main gate, and candles flickered in windows, fragmented by the diamond-shaped panes.

  They rode into the courtyard and roused a groom to attend to their horses. Skorri left to join Erik in the quarters used by initiates while Ander and Thane trudged to the tower. It was past midnight, and nobody was about to greet them.

  “I’m too tired to bathe,” Ander said as they started up the staircase. “Even to eat. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

  Thane nodded, fatigue showing in his slow steps and drowsy eyes. He touched Ander’s arm as they reached the third-floor landing. “Go on to bed,” he said, pausing on the stairs. “I’ll be there soon. But I want to see Sorel and Nicolai first. They need to know what we learned, get ready for tomorrow’s work.”

  Ander blinked slowly, feeling lightheaded. Some inner force drove Thane onward even though his body was clearly on the verge of collapse. Ander’s heart went out to him. He took a deep breath and straightened his stance. “I’ll stay with you. Sleep can wait a bit longer.”

  Thane gazed into his eyes. “Faithful Ander. I don’t know how I’d continue without you.”

  “That’s nothing you need fear. I’ll always be at your side. You know it as well as I.” He felt a quickly suppressed surge of doubt through their bond. Lucian was faithful too, yet Thane lost him. He gave Thane a quick hug, then took his hand and tugged him toward the corridor. “If you’re determined to wake Sorel and Nicolai, let’s get it done. The night deepens.”

  They left the staircase and entered a corridor, dimly lit by widely spaced oil lamps. The ancient stone seemed to waver before their tired eyes, but they soon arrived at the door to their friends’ room. Thane tapped on the door. A few moments later, they heard a muffled response. They took it for an invitation and entered.

  Moonlight poured through a large window, and the embers of a fire still glowed in the fireplace. As with most personal quarters in the lyceum, a large round cushion covered in leather dominated the room’s center. The rest of the space reflected the lives of its occupants. Half the chamber was kept empty for Nicolai’s exercises. While he no longer needed to make a living as an acrobat, he enjoyed the demanding stunts and was proud of his skill.

  The other side of the room displayed Sorel’s more inquisitive and complex disposition. Two mahogany bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes flanked a writing desk that was littered with parchments and obviously got frequent use. A man-shaped target was propped up next to the door. Several of Sorel’s throwing knives protruded from its neck, heart, and groin. While Sorel was a consummate lover, he was no less adept as a fighter.

  Sorel and Nicolai lay to
gether on the black cushion. Their cocks were thick and heavy, glistening with oil; they looked as if they had only recently finished their lovemaking. Nicolai brushed thick hair from his eyes and yawned, but Sorel looked at them appraisingly, his sensual features alert. “You’re back early,” he observed.

  Thane’s expression was grim. “We came across information in Chanture. It foretells peril. There’s no time to waste.”

  Sorel sat up, alert. “Is the lyceum in danger?”

  Thane wavered slightly, then shook his head and held up a hand. “No, not yet. Not that kind of danger. But the zamindar… he’s getting ready….” He caught himself, took a deep breath. “We have to get to Fochelis. The zamindar—”

  “How long have you been riding?” Sorel asked, his voice stern. “You’re both about to collapse.”

  “We’re all right,” Thane said, but his body belied the claim. He was swaying, and his eyelids drooped.

  “Sorel’s right,” Ander said softly. His own fatigue made him thick-tongued. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight. We should rest.”

  “No, there’s too much to do—”

  Sorel rose from the cushion and went to Thane’s side, looking him in the eye. “Listen. We’re not in immediate danger, and you’ll get nothing of value done tonight. Get some rest, or tomorrow will be wasted.”

  Nicolai joined them and touched Ander’s hand. “Sleep with us tonight. The fire’s been out in your room for days. It’ll be cold as a tomb. You’ll sleep better here.”

  Ander turned to Thane, pleading with his eyes to accept the offer.

  At last Thane relented. He clasped Sorel’s hand. “I was right to come here, though I had the wrong reason.”

  They were soon stripped and nestled together on the soft cushion. Ander pressed against Thane’s side, an arm across his chest, with Sorel’s warm body behind him. Peace swept through him, and he succumbed to dreams.

  ANDER woke to the rustle of clothing. He still held Thane against his side, but Nicolai and Sorel were already up and nearly dressed. He stretched, wincing at the soreness of his muscles. His movements jarred Thane awake as well.

  Sorel looked at them and raised an eyebrow. “So you’re alive after all. We were beginning to wonder.”

  Thane groaned and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it? Why didn’t you wake us?”

  Nicolai tossed a leather shirt at him, neatly dropping the cold garment on his bare chest. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re still early enough for breakfast if you don’t linger. We’ve sent word to Anna. She’ll meet us in the dining hall in half an hour.”

  Sorel nodded. “We’re eager to hear the news from Chanture. And there’ve been developments here you need to know about. But first wash. Your smell would alarm the new initiates.”

  “That reminds me of a story Skorri told us,” Ander said. “About how you and Nicolai smelled like pine trees for a week when you tried a new oil and couldn’t get it to wash off. Is it true it turned your cocks green?”

  “I’m going to ignore that question,” Sorel said with an air of affronted dignity. “There are some aspects of the art you aren’t ready for yet.”

  Nicolai laughed and prodded his partner out the door. “Leave them be. Who knows what else Skorri said? You’ll probably be happier not knowing.”

  Ander and Thane bathed, making it to the dining hall across the courtyard at the same time Anna arrived. They all sat with Sorel and Nicolai at a table near the huge fireplace at the hall’s far end. A dozen or so initiates were still at their meals. The smell of fresh-baked cornbread and bacon made Ander’s stomach rumble. He realized he was ravenous.

  Anna leaned forward, her elbows planted on the tabletop. She radiated vitality despite her gray hair. She looked at Thane and Ander, shaking her head in disbelief. “Eighteen hours in the saddle and you’re already recovered. I wish I had stopped aging as young as you two.”

  Thane looked incredulous. “What do you mean, young? Ander’s already twenty.”

  Anna snorted, then straightened her back. “Nineteen or twenty, you’re both too frisky for my taste. But it’s probably lucky you’re so durable. You’re going to need it.” Their breakfasts were served, and Anna poured herself tea while they started eating. “Repairs to the greenhouse haven’t gone well,” she said. “There are unexpected problems.”

  Thane looked up from his plate, his eyes questioning.

  “It’s the weather,” Sorel said. “We’ve always made glass in the courtyard during the summer. That doesn’t work in the winter. Every time we pour out a sheet, it shatters as it cools. We’re having to convert one of the stables into a workshop, which takes time. And we’re having trouble finding enough dry fuel for the fires. We have to make a lot of glass.”

  Thane pondered the report, then put down his fork and shook his head. “It might not matter. When we were visiting Lord Tolmin, we learned the zamindar is preparing something in Fochelis. Maybe he had enough crystals to rebuild the leech without the ones we hid in Pella. I don’t think we have time to reestablish the gardens, not right now. We have to go to Fochelis and stop him.”

  Silence descended as the news sank in. Ander glanced around the table. Anna and Nicolai looked shocked, but Sorel wore his calculating look. “What exactly did you learn?” he asked.

  Ander and Thane took turns recounting the visit with Lord Tolmin and the contents of his letter from Ossia. By the time they finished their meal, the tale was told and Thane was stiff with anxiety.

  “We don’t know exactly when it will happen,” Thane concluded. “But it will be soon. All we can do is go to Fochelis and look for an opportunity. If we’re fast enough, maybe we can take the zamindar by surprise.”

  Sorel tapped his fingers on the table, his expression thoughtful. “We took him by surprise once. If you were the zamindar, what would you learn from that experience?”

  Thane looked up sharply. “I’m not the zamindar. He’s a bloodthirsty madman.”

  Sorel shook his head sadly. “Bloodthirsty, yes. But mad? No, Thane. He’s only smarter, stronger, and more ruthless than most men.”

  “What are you saying?” Thane asked, frowning. “You know everything he’s done!”

  “I’m not defending him. I’m only saying that he’s managed to control the kingdom for twenty years because he’s no fool. In fact, he’s probably the most devious bastard alive. That’s why I don’t take anything he does at face value.”

  Thane looked exasperated. “We saw the letter ourselves. It was stolen from an imperial messenger and was written in a tongue almost nobody could read.”

  Ander shifted uncomfortably. Thane was raising his voice, and all the initiates still in the dining hall were turning to look. He could see by the tension in Thane’s body that the mage had no patience for this argument, and he remembered Thane’s desperate urgency the day before. But Sorel had staked his ground and wasn’t about to retreat.

  “The letter only makes me more suspicious,” Sorel said. “If it’s such a rare language, why did it fall into Lord Tolmin’s hands? He’s one of the few people in the kingdom who’d be able to decipher it. And for an imperial messenger to get drunk and allow himself to be robbed in a tavern? Too many coincidences. Especially where the zamindar is involved.”

  Thane’s clenched fists banged down on the table. “Dammit, Sorel! What would you have us do? Sit here by a warm fire while the zamindar seizes his prize?” Anger burned in his eyes, anger tinged with hurt.

  Sorel surged to his feet, tight-lipped. He glared at Thane a few seconds, then turned and stalked toward the door at the other end of the hall. The dozen initiates still at breakfast watched, silent and wide-eyed. Skorri and Erik were just entering the room as Sorel left. They looked at each other in bewilderment as he stormed past without a word.

  Nicolai groaned softly while Ander blinked in stunned silence. He let out his breath slowly, not realizing until then that he had been holding it. Pain and confusion flowing from Thane through their bond had
hit him like a fist in the stomach.

  Anna pushed back from the table. “I’ll speak with him,” she said. The cold tone of her voice felt like a lash.

  Thane turned his back to the dining hall and faced the fire, lowering his head and staring at the floor. His aching frustration must have touched everyone who shared even a shred of bond with him.

  Ander reached toward Thane, but Nicolai caught his hand. He turned, saw the suffering in Nicolai’s eyes. The northerner shook his head and gestured for Ander to follow him.

  Ander was torn. Thane’s turmoil was overwhelming, but Nicolai had known him for years. Uncertain whether his efforts would help or only fuel his lover’s anger, he decided to trust Nicolai’s judgment. They left the room together. Thane remained motionless as they departed.

  They left the dining hall and emerged into the crisp air of the courtyard. Nicolai turned to face the sun, looking calmer than Ander expected. “He’s been so much happier since you got here,” he said. “I had hoped this wouldn’t happen again.”

  Ander fought to compose himself, his feelings still turbulent. “What’s wrong with him? He usually listens to Sorel’s advice.”

  They started walking toward the gate leading to the greenhouse. “It’s not Sorel he’s angry with,” Nicolai said. “It’s himself. He feels powerless and threatened.” He paused, the sadness in his face a stark contrast to his usual cheerful disposition. When he spoke again, his voice was soft as the wind. “It’s the way he felt when the zamindar captured Lucian. He was powerless to stop the torture and believed he was responsible. And now he fears it’s going to happen again.”

  The words were chilling. Ander knew the wound left by Lucian’s death was deep, and suspected that Thane’s relentless energy was a desperate attempt to divert his mind from grief. “How can we help him?”

  “First, we have to give him time. He can’t be comforted when he’s in such pain. All he can hear right now are the cries in his memories.”