Surviving Synn

by L Shannon

  Tarvyn threaded his fingers through Bailey’s thick hair and then ran them down over his broad shoulders. There was so much of him. So very much of him. He could feel Bailey’s swollen cock pushing against his thigh, demanding attention. He let one hand stray downward to offer Bailey what he needed. Beneath the loosened stays, he found a long, stout shaft that made him ache all the more. The first touch had him twitching. Tarvyn’s own body reacted with its need, and a quiet moan escaped.

  “Shh, Tarvyn, or I’ll find another means to keep you muffled.”

  “I want to taste you. Mmm, I want you to fill my mouth first,” Tarvyn begged.

  With a gentle nod, Bailey offered up that reward, rolling to his back and carrying Tarvyn to the top of his large frame.

  Tarvyn couldn’t believe the bounty. He shifted his weight to rest over Bailey’s thighs as he opened the man’s trousers and revealed what he’d been fondling. His breath caught at the impressive beauty. The man’s flesh filled his hands and was so responsive to even the lightest touch.

  He shimmied lower, moving between Bailey’s thighs. He couldn’t wait. He had to taste him. He licked over the tip and savored the sweet taste of Bailey’s essence. Then he used the moisture to slick his hand back over the length. He took Bailey into his mouth, drawing on him and rolling his tongue around the tip to take him deeper.

  Bailey’s fingers sank into his hair, catching him tight and forcing him to take more and more before letting Tarvyn fall into a rhythm of stroking over his length. But it wasn’t to last. Bailey shuddered under him within minutes and came with a grunt when Tarvyn cupped his balls and swallowed him deep.

  Damn the man for being all he wanted. All he wanted and more. M’anom. Tarvyn drew back by increments, wondering what else Bailey would want or allow. His own body still ached with need and even his hand wasn’t getting him where he needed to go.

  “Tarvyn…”

  He pulled back from where he was licking at Bailey’s partially subsided erection. “Mmm?”

  “Come up here, lad.” Bailey’s huge hands caught Tarvyn by the shoulders and dragged him upward to rest against his front.

  The sliding of his body over Bailey’s hard muscles left Tarvyn panting. “Please, Bailey, I need more.” His kiss was more gentle than demanding, and the sweet pressure eased some of his painful need. Still he let his own hand stroke over his length while imagining it was Bailey’s. Their kiss deepened, with Tarvyn taking the lead. He plunged his tongue into Bailey just as he wanted to take his lover, hard and deep. Over and over.

  Strong hands ran over his body, pulling him the rest of the way free of his tunic, baring his body to hungry caresses.

  Tarvyn released his cock and slid astraddle Bailey’s waist and continued the fervent kiss. He couldn’t hold back the gasp as Bailey claimed his ass cheeks with both hands, cupping them, stroking them. He fondled the broad chest and moaned against Bailey’s lips.

  “Oh yeah…” The answering clench on his ass made his balls tighten where they pressed against Bailey. Pleasure hummed through him. He rolled his hips slowly, grinding his cock against Bailey’s hard abdomen.

  It wasn’t enough. Damn good, but not enough.

  Tarvyn reached down between their bodies and gripped his shaft in a series of hard strokes. The motion pulled him back from the kiss and left a gap between them, a channel for Bailey to watch as Tarvyn pleasured himself.

  “Aye, that is fine to see.”

  Tarvyn continued. He watched as heat returned to his lover’s eyes in full measure, and reveled in the feel of Bailey’s cock as it grew hard once more and tapped at his ass for attention.

  Dear Creator, Bailey’s hungry for more already.

  His body jumped with joy. Would the captain fuck him? Imagining the thick cock thrusting up into him left Tarvyn quivering at the edge of orgasm. Nothing could be better…

  At the perfect moment, Bailey parted his cheeks and slid that cock over the crack of his ass, sinuous, slick, and hard as iron. As the head pressed against his entrance, Tarvyn lost his footing on the world and shuddered over into the pleasure, coming in a short, hot spray over Bailey’s stomach.

  “Oh, Tarvyn…”

  Heat hit Tarvyn’s back with Bailey’s release. He collapsed over his lover and reveled in the wonder of the moment.

  “I—” Bailey swallowed hard. “It’s never been like that for me,” Bailey whispered in wonder. How could this man offer so much satisfaction? He folded Tarvyn’s long frame into his embrace, holding him tight through the long moment of remembered pleasure.

  Through the thin walls of the tent, angry voices filled the night.

  “Stay here.” Bailey pulled away and used his rough horse blanket to rub his skin dry. In sure, hurried motions, he pulled on his clothes as Tarvyn slowly followed his lead.

  Within moments, Bailey ducked outside the tent. He shouted to get the attention of his men. “Here! Tell me what is going on.”

  Jamie stumbled in front of him. “The monks from the local monastery have come with carts for the wounded. They have offered to help tend and move the wounded so that we can be on our way sooner.”

  He remembered the small monastery that was determined to remain neutral in the conflict. “Well, that is good news. Go back to your duties, son.”

  He looked around at all the activity. The men were already moving among the wounded and preparing them to be moved. More than a dozen men in dark crimson robes were urging four oxen carts around the edge of the camp. Even that didn’t explain the raised voices he’d heard through the tent.

  A burning sense of being watched crawled up between his shoulder blades. He turned and found Thompson glaring at him. The man approached with his hand twitching next to his weapon.

  “What bug has bitten your ass, Thompson?” He’d learned long ago to get problems out in the open right away. Especially with Thompson.

  “Sir, I’m not wanting to draw issue with you—”

  His second in command was a good man, but he was also hot headed. Bailey didn’t care for how the man’s hand kept straying to his sword hilt. “Yet you are, so spit it out.”

  “That lad…the soldier who spoke against him is near mad with fear. He swears the fellow is some sort of killer. The men, and me, too, think there may be truth to the words.”

  Just then, there was a sound of something being knocked over. A look back sent fear pushing into his gut. Two of his men dragged Tarvyn from the tent and strapped him tight against the side of one oxen cart. Tarvyn hadn’t struggled until the last straps were in place, and by then it was too late.

  Chapter Five

  The shock of seeing Tarvyn bound and helpless filled him with anger. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “He has bewitched you, Captain.” Thompson spoke the accusation through gritted teeth. “You see only a harmless lad, when he is more dangerous.”

  One of the monks who’d been watching Tarvyn’s struggle approached them. “Are you the one in charge of this group?”

  “I am,” he growled.

  “Do you know what you have captured?” When Bailey didn’t answer, the monk continued. “This one who looks like a fair and young lad is the spawn of the devil.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Indeed, he is as I say. See that strap I had your men bind his hands with? It is cut with holy symbols the demon cannot break. You are very lucky that he did so little damage among you.”

  “This is idiocy.” He strode over to where Tarvyn watched him with solemn eyes. “The lad has done nothing. He is nothing more than an innocent caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He had to put an end to the foolishness immediately. Seeing Tarvyn’s fearful expression tore at his gut.

  “I’m sorry to say, I believe your Captain has been caught within the lie of the demon’s trickery. You will have to stop him now, or he will free the creature.”

  The men, who had followed his orders and trusted his decisions for years, now looked at him as he reached for Tarv
yn’s ropes and saw him as a threat. Their loyalty was lost with their sudden turn to rebellion. Bailey was slow to react because of the shock. They converged on him in a rush that knocked him to the ground. In the grapple for holds and the attempt to subdue him, he felt the blows and the bitter taste of mutiny. In moments they pinned him to the ground with both hands securely bound.

  “Let me go this instant. Damn you scoundrels, for this betrayal.” Before he could continue, Thompson punched him hard enough to knock him back to the ground at Tarvyn’s feet.

  Thompson shook with rage. “One more word, and you will be gagged.”

  The biggest of the three monks standing around him with his men leaned close enough to threaten, “You should listen to your man, Captain.” His voice rustled like dry leaves; low, quiet, and ominous. “My fellow monks have told them that you have little chance of being saved. So your loss will not be so very hard for them to take.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  The monk smiled cruelly. “Oh, yes, we can. You see, your men heard noises from your tent that have them conflicted about your loyalties. They would rather believe you have been taken by the devil than what they at first suspected.”

  Bailey wanted to argue, but the fact that none of them would meet his eye, and as fast as they’d struck, told the truth. They no longer trusted him, and he didn’t care what reason they offered.

  The monk moved in closer, his breath blowing foully over Bailey’s cheek. “Do you know what my monks have told them is the only way to free your soul from the demon?” He chuckled, and the sound leached the goodness from the vary air. “Stoning. The bludgeoning of a taken man with large rocks will release the soul to its rightful path.”

  The other monks had loaded three carts with wounded and were slowly urging the oxen away from the makeshift camp. Soon his men would focus their attention on him and Tarvyn once more, and then they would be in deep shit, because he wasn’t about to justify them killing an innocent lad just to save his own skin.

  One of the others called out for help to get the cart wheel out of a rut, and the men moved off to aid him, including the monk who’d been educating him.

  He was tied beside Tarvyn but facing the cart instead of backed against it like the lad.

  “Bailey, are you all right?” Tarvyn’s voice was higher than before, a sure sign of the poor lad’s nervousness.

  “Yeah, just furious. I can’t believe they have done this.”

  “Can you get free? I can’t get loose…” The lad sounded surprised by that.

  “I can do better than that.” His hands were tied in front where he could reach his small belt knife. With a few sawing motions, his ropes sagged, and he shifted to cut Tarvyn free as well.

  That was when he understood Tarvyn’s wonder over the bindings. All that held Tarvyn was a thin, very worn strip of leather. There were intricate trinity symbols cut into the leather, which should have weakened it further. There was no way it should have held against even the slightest struggles. A flick of the knife cut through the strap like parchment.

  “Don’t move, or the men will see you,” he whispered. “I’ll distract them while you get away.”

  “No, Bailey—”

  But the chance for escape never came. Thompson shouted out from across the wagon, “The Captain has freed the demon. Capture them both. We will stone them now, before they have another chance!”

  Bailey twisted the knife to finish cutting his own bonds away. He wasn’t exactly sure of his plan. One small knife was not much defense against so many armed men. In fact, it was laughable.

  Then Tarvyn wrapped his arms around him seeking comfort, and Bailey did not push him away. Why hide this truth when looking into the eyes of death? No, he would hold Tarvyn and be happy for the lad’s affection.

  But the men did not close in on them. Their appearances grew blurred and faded, only to be replaced with a whirl of motion that left him gagging.

  Close your eyes, Bailey.

  He did as Tarvyn told him, because he didn’t wish to die in his own vomit. He closed his eyes and the wild motion all but disappeared. He focused on the feel of Tarvyn in his arms and understood that embrace for the honest blessing that it was.

  How had the lad grown so strong in so few years? If only he had gained that kind of courage at a younger age, he might have found the right person to love. Instead, he’d spent years going from woman to woman, never finding a place to be content.

  If he was given another chance, he would not make the same mistake again.

  “Oh, thank the Creator!” Tarvyn’s voice spoken so reverent was a shock that forced Bailey’s eyes open.

  The camp and field were gone.

  All around them was shining black marble cut through with ribbons of glowing silver. The floor, walls and ceiling were all made of the same exotic stone. The room was circular with several enormous thrones at the far end.

  “Where are we?”

  “Home.” Tarvyn knelt beside him, pressing his body to the marble as if to find comfort from the hard surface.

  Did the lad not see that they had been drawn here by some sorcery? Even now they could be in danger from who knew what. He reached down and caught Tarvyn by the arms, tugging him back to his feet, holding him protectively.

  Tarvyn burrowed against his body, embracing him, becoming a sweet distraction that he didn’t need just then. “Relax, Bailey. There is no danger here.”

  “How can you say that? How can you even know where we are?”

  Tarvyn pushed up against his front, rising up to press their lips together. When Tarvyn drew back he said, “We’re in Niflheim. This is my home. I assure you, there is no danger for us here.”

  “Only a fool claims there is no danger in hell.” A deeply accented voice flowed into the room though they remained alone.

  “Hell?” Bailey whispered the word. Was this hell? How had they gotten here? How would they get away? The monk’s accusations pushed back into his mind.

  “Ralyn!” Tarvyn spun about in a circle. “Where are you, my brother?”

  “Then I shall call you a fool and present you with the matching hat.” A strange creature grew from nothing more than a column of smoke, forming itself right before Tarvyn.

  The beast was about six feet tall and had the look of a young man in the face and somewhat in the body, except that his skin was covered in pale blue-green shadows. He was dressed in strange blue leather leggings and matching boots, but wore nothing on his upper body except a long, pale-green cape, which fluttered to his ankles and didn’t appear to be attached in any visible way.

  “Who are you?” Bailey would have grabbed Tarvyn to hold him back, but the lad was already out of his reach and throwing his arms around the creature, which enthusiastically returned the back-slapping embrace.

  “Who’s the flesh?” the creature asked as he pulled back from Tarvyn.

  Tarvyn caught Bailey’s hand and tugged him forward to stand before the stranger. “This is Bailey, m’anom.”

  “T’ay! T’noklyn? Aeshlyn avayla tol...” His strange words faded off as he pulled them both into a brief hug.

  “What did he say?” Bailey asked, stunned by this turn of events. A wide, happy smile covered Tarvyn’s beautiful lips. Whatever had been said was a good thing. He tried to think around the truth of what he witnessed. If the creature was a demon and they stood in hell… His lover was a demon. The reality hit him like a punch to the gut. Tarvyn was a demon…but did it change anything? Or everything?

  “He said he’s happy for us.” He turned back to the other man. “Speak English, Ralyn. I don’t want to translate everything.”

  The green demon shrugged. “Sure. So when will you see Pahele about your soul?”

  Tarvyn’s smile slipped a little, and he wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “What’s wrong, Tarv? Pahele’s not so bad… Wait a minute! You haven’t given him the talk yet? Tarvyn.”

  Tarvyn shook his head, sending his blond hair wavin
g. “It never came up.”

  “What never came up?” Bailey asked.

  Tarvyn’s friend pulled Tarvyn slightly to the side so they both faced Bailey. “Tarvyn shouldn’t have let this go so far without telling you the truth. Now I’m going to. We...” He motioned to Tarvyn and himself. “...are Synn demons. We live here in Niflheim, which is another name for hell.”

  Bailey might have backed away from the crazy lad except that Tarvyn’s fingers still held him leashed close to them both.

  “I’m sorry, Bailey—”Tarvyn ducked his head, tucking it against his shoulder.

  But Ralyn twisted Tarvyn’s shoulder, forcing him to face him. “Don’t you be sorry for being who you are. He will either accept it or not. You cannot change who you must be.”

  Tarvyn’s eyes pleaded and held Bailey locked in some truth from which he couldn’t escape and maybe didn’t want to. To be sure, Tarvyn was a strange lad, but he didn’t seem very demonic. “Tell me more.” It was the best he could offer.

  Ralyn was the one to continue. “Synn demons can be claimed by a soul mate and freed from service for a hundred years if the union is blessed by the Creator.”

  “How…?”

  “The mate is sent into the Hall of Souls, and he must find and retrieve the demon’s soul where it is kept safe. If he is meant to succeed, then he will do so.”

  Now he was curious. “What can stop a person from finding the soul?”

  “The hall protects millions of souls. There have been some who went in and have never returned. They wander the hall for eternity as shades for lack of finding their desire. Others have returned afraid of what they found within.”

  He was having a hard time grasping all the mystical talk. “Is it possible?”

  “Oh, yes, many succeed.” Ralyn’s voice held a deep kind of awe. “Some return with the soul within moments of entering. Their love was sure. They knew the soul of their mate without doubt. But it is not a quest taken lightly.”