Stigmata

by L M Adams

  I can’t help but feel a bit of pride. He returns with a goblet of wine for me to drink and calls for a servant to fetch a healer, ‘His idiot husband wants to keep the scars’.

  On an academic level, stitches are an interesting thing. Practically speaking… it will probably hurt like hell. Still, I do not change my mind.

  A man named Saabir is the one that comes with a healer’s kit. His head is shaved bald and he’s tall and has dark skin like most of the populace of Atum. He is, however, a son of Isis, and could not be prouder of this fact. Lucien goes to get a bath going as Saabir tends to my back.

  “Come brother,” he urges me to sit in a chair, facing backwards, so he can work on my back and I’ll have something to grip.

  His energy feels familiar, yet strange. I know we should be ‘vibrating’ on the same frequency; but I’m a cursed brother and the oddity in my energy won’t let anyone forget that fact – yet for the first time, I don’t feel ‘less than’ as a cursed brother. I can’t help what Set did, or that I’m his descendent, all I can do is make sure I don’t turn into the same type of creature. If Lucien found something in me worthy of love – it’s high time I did the same.

  “Have you always been a son of Isis?” I ask Saabir.

  “No, actually, I was born to a father who worshiped Ishtar, and a mother who worshipped Atum, but my heart did not answer either of those calls.”

  “They weren’t disappointed?”

  He chuckles low, “This is not our way – our parents encourage us to follow our hearts wherever they may take us. None should live a life outside of their purpose.”

  I sigh, “Things are very different here.”

  “Is this not the way of your lands? Do you not follow your heart’s desires?”

  “I don’t… or I didn’t,” I sigh, “in my lands I am a king of a people.”

  “You do not wish to be?”

  I pause to give that question real thought, but honestly… “I don’t know anymore.”

  “You are in a moment of transition, this is also part of the journey, hmm?”

  “Yeah,” I nod as he relaxes me again. I guess it’s okay to be confused about what you want your life to be. At twenty, at fifty… at damn near a hundred and fifty.

  It’s always about the journey.

  Lucien walks back into the bedchamber, “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” I smile at him, “I could use another drink.”

  He huffs and goes to get his idiot husband more booze.

  “I’m about to clean the wound, I warn you, this will not be pleasant.”

  Lucien comes back with a goblet and the decanter taking a knee in front of me, “He will not complain… he wants the scars.”

  I take the goblet and drink down the strong wine all at once. Lucien sets the goblet to the side and grabs my hand, palm to palm, hooking his thumb around mine, his fingers digging into the flesh of the back of my hand, giving me something else to focus on. His eyes don’t leave my own as I feel Saabir begin his work.

  The wounds are deep, and since I won’t use magic to heal it, the fear of infection is real. He has to clean the wounds well and god it hurts.

  “Yes, this will leave a good scar,” Saabir compliments.

  “The Wench is going to be cross with me and it’s all your fault,” Lucien frowns.

  “Well maybe you shouldn’t have cut me so deeply,” I get pissy right back at him.

  “You are the one that came in the hall of lions challenging me!”

  “You were being stubborn.”

  “I was not done with our fight.”

  “Well I was!” I scream, voice cracking, as Saabir pours what can only be fresh lava down my back and then presses against the fucking wound with all of his might.

  “There, the worst is done.”

  “Fuck,” I whisper and hide my face in the crook of my elbow, not letting go of Lucien’s hand one bit.

  “Well done, Capaneus, very well done.” Lucien whispers gently.

  Lucien lets me guzzle down half the bottle of booze to fortify me against the pain of the stitches, but Saabir is quick with nimble fingers as he sews up the four slash wounds. Lucien doesn’t let go of my hand even for a moment the entire time.

  The leg wound isn’t as bad, a good cleaning and wrapping a bandage around it will be just fine. He gives Lucien a small pot with salve to put on both wounds.

  “Rest… he needs to rest, most importantly – keep it clean. If any sign of inflammation shows, call for me again immediately. I reside in the chambers of Isis as steward; many know the way to me.”

  “I thank you for your care son of Isis,” Lucien bows his head.

  “I thank you for your strength son of Atum,” Saabir returns the show of respect and then looks at me oddly for a moment, “Fortune on your journey, brother.”

  “Thank you… brother,” I smile gently.

  Lucien closes the door behind Saabir and turns back around looking at the room, “Well, you have left a bloody mess everywhere. I am surprised there is any left in your body.”

  “I’ll get it cleaned up,” I hobble over to the table and take another wine jar in hand, guzzling as much as humanly possible.

  “Oh, aye? I’m supposed to let you clean the rooms while you’re hurt?” He huffs, “Let’s get you in the bath, I’ll clean up after you’re in bed and resting.”

  “Going to pamper me?” I give him a lopsided grin as I lower the wine.

  “You are drunk,” he grumbles.

  “A bit, going to spank my bottom?”

  “Now you are ridiculous, come.”

  We move into the large bathing chamber; the larger pool sits empty in the center of the room. He’s prepared the smaller pool and I can see the steam rising gently from the perfumed waters. He did promise to pamper me with perfumed baths, I grin.

  “What has you grinning then, Bloodsucker?”

  I shrug and hiss as my wound pulls.

  He huffs, “Come now,” he steps close to me and begins unlacing my cloth pants. I can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed and turn my head away, so he won’t see.

  He doesn’t make a big deal of my embarrassment, we both know moving my arm, stretching my back in any direction is just pure agony for me. I could probably manage it; but I like the way he’s touching me, taking care of me. It feels good. So I let it feel good, I let it be okay to be loved and cared for and I let it be okay to feel fucking awkward about being on the receiving end of that care.

  When he rolls down my pants, getting to his knee, my manhood stirs. I hold my breath and pray he doesn’t say anything.

  “Your leg is gross.”

  I sigh, well of course he’s going to harass me… just not about being a horny little slut.

  “You’re acting like it’s my fault when you’re the one who cut me up.”

  He shrugs.

  “And I thought wounds in battle were marks of honor, it should be sexy to you.”

  He stands grinning, “Oh, aye; you want to be sexy to me?”

  I huff, “Of course you have to make it awkward.”

  He shrugs, “Get in the bath.”

  I shake my head and turn away stepping down into the smaller bath that he’s prepared, “You don’t have to boss me around all the damn time either…” I groan as the water, just on this side of boiling, turns my muscles into jelly instantly and I stumble to the low bench before I drown.

  “Stop being so stubborn, and I won’t boss you around so much.”

  “Are you really calling me stubborn?”

  “Aye,” he grins.

  I roll my eyes.

  “You’re banged up to high hell because you won’t listen,” Lucien stands above me, hands on his hips, angry again… angry because I’m hurt.

  I grin, “And I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth.”

  He huffs, “Of course you will. I guess you’ll need help washing in your feeble condition.”

  “Most assuredly,” I chuckle low.

/>   He gets undressed quickly as I sit on the bench in the water near the edge, enjoying the sight of him. My heart begins to pound, equal parts excitement, equal parts anxiety. I’m not ‘fixed’, everything isn’t all better. The only thing that has changed is my courage and determination to reach back when he reaches out to me.

  The look in his eyes is full of hunger, there is no doubt that he wants me, as I am, flaws and all… he wants me.

  I do my best to hide how much I enjoy his attentions as he begins washing me gently. He’s so careful of my wounds, intent on his work, not seeming bothered at all to serve me as a body slave. He has me turn around to get my back and as I lean on the side of the bath, I close my eyes and pray I’ll feel the heat of him against me, ready to make love to me.

  My heart falls a bit as he has me turn back around to face him; he didn’t do anything ‘fun’ at all.

  Perhaps it’s time for me to employ some of my newfound courage. I’ve been dropping hints that I want to be sexy to him, but perhaps I have to be a bit more straightforward… Lucien can be a bit obtuse.

  I clear my throat gently, “I would like some touch.”

  He huffs, “I’m not playing kinky games with you while you’re hurt, Capaneus.” He looks at me intently, “do not provoke me.”

  “No, I mean the soft way.”

  He looks shocked for a moment, “Are you saying you wish for… for…”

  “Love touch,” I finish for him, smiling a bit, “I want to…” I clear my throat, “make love tonight… tonight… it’s important to me, I want to never forget it.”

  He licks his lips as his eyes fill with hunger, “And you mean it this time? This is no trick?”

  “No,” I whisper, “I want you, Lucien, my husband… to make love to…. to me.”

  He still doesn’t seem sure.

  “I’m probably going to still have a panic attack, but I’m willing to try and fight, every day… if you still are. I want this to happen Lucien… I’m a nervous fucking wreck… but… I … want this to happen.”

  “Are you sure your sickness is not feeding off the pain and the booze?”

  “Maybe… a bit, do I have to go cold turkey for you to love me back?”

  His stern features soften, “No, Bloodsucker, you don’t. You won my love and respect this night. We will do this the way that you need to do this.”

  My heart fills with love, “Thank you.”

  He moves closer and I force myself to breathe in through my nose, and out through my mouth… trying to control my emotions. He starts slow, with just a gentle kiss to my cheek as one hand comes up to rub my good arm softly. I relax into the pleasure, I focus on him, his scent, his touch, his love.

  He goes between washing me and touching me expertly, until I’m confused about what is really happening. But I won’t complain, not at all, because he’s touching me again – the way he used to… with love.

  Somewhere he loses the sponge and his hand wraps around my hard cock, I inhale sharply.

  “Hold me, Capaneus.” He orders low and I wrap my arms around him, ignoring the pull and pain of my body.

  “I have missed you,” he murmurs, and I clutch him to me tighter. “Don’t come, don’t you dare come, you are in control. I am not your father.”

  I nod against him as my stomach begins to knot. I groan low as he works me to the edge.

  “Stay with me, Capaneus, stay with me.”

  “Tell me you still love me, say the words,” I beg him crying, trying to fight back my demons.

  “I will always love you, Capaneus, I never meant for this; but I love you.”

  I whimper against him caught in a tug-of-war between the man I want to be – the man who can love Lucien back, the man who deserves love – and the man my father made; the man who can love no one without abuse, the man who could never deserve this kind of love.

  My entire life is on that edge, on that precipice, I am a thing of the between. I am the painful parting of soul and sinew. The keen edge of light and dark, the stunning mixture of blood and meat – I am the king of the half-souls, I am the crowned prince of the demimonde.

  For the first time I give myself over to it, I give myself over to the loss of control. I give myself over to him.

  My body grinds as I all but fuck his touch, pushing and pulling my cock in his tight grip. Water sloshes with waves of heat rolling around us… scorching my flesh. I let the fever take me, I wish for the blood ocean to boil in his fire! Oh goddess help me – let me burn.

  Power fills me, strange and new, yet familiar and old. This strange magic stares back at me, filling his eyes – ice and earth set ablaze in glory. The air fills with a roar of damnation… or salvation… or both… or neither… or nothing… or all. Is it not true that the two things are one and the same? For isn’t the salvation of one often the damnation of another?

  “I love it,” I moan and cry, “I love your touch, oh god help me I love it.”

  “Say my fucking name!” He demands.

  “Lucien,” I scream as my sack tightens with pleasure and pain.

  “Who is the only man that you love?!”

  “Lucien,” I cry out to all who would hear me.

  “Then say it! God help you say it now!”

  “Consent!” I cry out with heart and mind and body and soul, and I fucking mean it. “Consent,” I weep, my mind turned to mush under the rolling power. I am but a bag of bones.

  Please make love to me, for once, show me what man-love is.

  Lucien and I and we… rise out of the water and fall back onto the white and gold marble, perhaps it should hurt, but pain is pleasure when you are one such as me.

  His large body above me as he settles between my thighs. God help me, I lift my leg and open myself to him, welcoming him to me. Then there is only sensation – his lips upon mine, his tongue in my mouth. His hand gripping my thigh as he widens my legs further.

  The heat of him as his cock probes my rose gently, his skin on mine as he pushes forward slowly. My tears as I cry, his heart as it breaks, my soul as he takes.

  He is the King of Souls – why on earth did I ever think I would escape him?

  There are no words to speak or to hear between us as he makes love to me, rough but not too rough, soft but not too soft as his cock takes my rose for the first time – the first time that will ever really count anyway.

  His body working me like a well-oiled machine, rubbing the spots that feel good inside, the parts that feel so fucking good, the parts that craved his loving touch. His cock thick and hard demanding my body as he lays claim to my innocent heart… taking it back from the clutches of my father.

  My hands slick on his wet skin as I try to press him closer to me, needing more, wanting more. Fuck, I’m going insane with the wanting.

  He breaks the kiss and nuzzles my neck; god help me, I turn my head already knowing what he wishes. Goddess as my witness he can have it, he can have it all.

  The feel of teeth that are more than human puncturing my flesh setting my synapses on fire. My fingers digging into the thickness of his hair as I come, goddess help me I come, he comes god help him he comes, and that raging fire of spirit and soul increases, demanding sacrifice. How close he is to ripping out my fucking throat, so close to turning me to little more than bloody meat – the only thing holding that leash around his neck, the only thing holding him back… is my love. We play in the realm of madness, and there is glory here, if you accept it.

  He couldn’t have me the way that needed me, the way that he loves Jaevia, without my love. Without the sure footing and everlasting power of love, a pure son of Atum can never let go.

  The Paxi control the beasts, the madness… with the power of love – with these marks. But how could he risk marking me, claiming me, when half of my heart still belonged to another man?

  But no more, no more… Lucien will be it for me and I shall be it for him.

  One man and one woman – and another man who’s worth a damn. Or at least
starting to believe it.

  115

  Jack – Man Love

  He pulls from me and collapses on me, his head lying low on my chest, his body between my thighs, our hearts beating as one. We’re both trying to learn how to breathe again, or how to be made of flesh and bone again.

  “That was very intense,” I moan and shift my damaged leg, stretching it out.

  “Aye,” he still sounds a bit out of breath, “that is what our first time should have been, Bloodsucker.”

  “I know,” I sigh, “I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you that way, that night.”

  “No matter, your journey still brought you to me, that is all that counts in the end.”

  “Still, I should have done better, I should have found a way to talk to you, or deal with my stepfather’s…”

  I feel his tongue lick me.

  “What are you doing?” I stop my awkward apology.

  “You taste like chocolate?”

  I raise an eyebrow… “Did you just taste my come in the middle of my apology?”

  “Aye, I was curious… you taste like chocolate?” He sits up, the most incredulous look on his face.

  “Yes, I’ve been told that, and I have noticed it… I taste like a dark salty chocolate.” I raise an eyebrow.

  He stands up, hands on his hips looking down at me with a frown. “Well now I know why the Wench gives you more blowies, you’ve got chocolate coming out of your dick, Capaneus! – you know it is her favorite,” he waves a hand towards my penis. “And you keep this knowledge from me?”

  “I wasn’t…” I stop confused, not really sure where his mind has gone. Good Lord but he’s an odd fellow. I sit up, groaning a bit at the pain that flows from my shoulder, neck… and things lower.

  “How am I supposed to compete with chocolate come, Capaneus?”

  “It’s not a competition!” I snap getting frustrated that I can’t keep up with his jump in conversation. God, the man was just plundering my asshole, can I have a minute without his berating me?!

  “Oh aye it is, she gives you at least three times more blowies than she gives me.”

  “You’re keeping count?”