97
He had no idea what to say. He stared at the golden ringlet of leaves in his hands and then stared back up at Viscar. "How... do you have this?" This was the crown of the Old Kings. The Monarchist Party. He'd only seen it in pictures in the museum. There was little remaining of the bygone age. They were approaching the 50th anniversary by the end of the year.
Viscar didn't move from his seat in front of the fire, staring into the flames, "It is mine."
"It's yours? Where did you get this from?" He wondered if other artifacts like this still remained. He knew Jerry would have a siesta just to get a glimpse of one. He's been scouring the city's peddlers and archaelogical ruins for artifacts of the previous era, hoping that everything hadn't been burned or recycled, even though everyone knew that it was all destroyed during the Firing.
"It was passed down to me from my father."
"Who was your father?" He wondered outloud.
The fire popped loudly and then a silence of just creaking walls and muffled winds filled the pregnant air. "Lord of Avaria, King Regent of the Three Kingdoms, Lord Pyrus of Salamander Falls."
Denver choked on his own tongue and breathe, nearly dropping the crown in his hands. He almost cursed himself for being friends with Jerry who had an unhealthy obsession with history and lineage, especially of the old Kings. He had been the father of Lord Vycar, the last of the Eaglean Kings before the Revolution.
"You.. are Lord Vycar?" He couldn't believe he hadn't connected the two together. Viscar, Vycar. It was nearly identical if you replaced the title of the letter y in the word. How could he have been so blind.
Finally Viscar stood up to turn around and take the crown from him. He choked back a whimper. He could see it now. The regal high bridge of the nose and the bright sheen of the golden eyes. "Why didn't you say so?" And here he had thought Viscar was of the Southern Gyps.
Viscar placed the crown back onto the mantle, "If I had said something, would it have made any difference?"
"Yes!" He grabbed Viscar's shoulder to spin him around.
His eyes flashed gold for a moment, "In what way?"
Denver opened his mouth, throat ready to rip out a perfect excuse when nothing produced and he simply gaped, cheeks burning. It was a simple mistake, anyone would have thought the same.
Viscar pushed passed him, "That's what I thought."
Denver hurriedly grabbed onto Viscar's wrist, stopping him. "Viscar, I... I'm sorry."
"For what." HIs words still held a knife's edge against his throat.
"For my ungrateful behavior." This was so embarrassing, he groaned. "I-I thought you were a Gyps because you know... the feathers and everything, being down here in the South and all."
Viscar slowly turned his head, the gears churning through the implications. He whirled on his heels and grabbed Denver by the shoulders, shaking him hard, "I told you I had to amputate your arm and leg because they were frost bitten!"
"Yeah! But you were a stranger! The only winged race I've ever been taught about are the Gyps and how they capture Arnabs like us and eat them piece by piece, to make sure that the 'flesh' stays good for longest. They're know to prey on frost-bitten ones because they just chop the bad pieces off first and eat it and pretend they are just helping us. You didn't even show me your wings much. How was I supposed to know you weren't a Gyps." He wraggled his amputated arm to emphasize his reasoning.
Viscar's eyes closed for a moment, his shaking ceased. He breathed through his nose for a moment before opening his eyes again. They were dim, the wrinkles around his eyes emphasized by the firelight. "I see." He released the Arnab from his grip and sagged back into his armchair.
Denver squeezed his hand into a fist a few times before stepping forward, blushing like a mad hare. "I could make it up to you."
Gold eyes slid towards his direction, "And how exactly are you going to manage that?"
Military Law required for all soldiers to relieve stress at least once per week. Getting down on his knees in front of the armchair was easier than making a bed. Something conditioned in his brain after 10 years in the military. The partner or partners must always be of the same gender for additional contraceptive measures. They must be willing. The stress relief must occur in private, without disturbing the peace of civilians and other soldiers. The session must be confirmed by each member of the involved party on the Consent of Relief Form.
He pressed his nose against Viscar's crotch, rubbing it against the bulge. A whisper of a noise came from above, fingers brushing into his long hair. He inhaled deeply, the musky scent of Viscar's manhood filling his brain. Using his teeth he pulled the strings that tied Viscar's pants in the front, letting the natural weight of the thick material fall. The half-hardened member sprouted forth, tapping Denver against the cheek. He could feel the heat radiating as he engulfed the member in his mouth sucking it deep down into his throat.
A rumbling groan sent shivers down his back and straight to his groin. He bobbed his head up and down, swiping the underside with the flat of his tongue. Viscar choked out a strained, "Denver," as his grip on his hair tightened. Taking that as encouragement, he swirled his tongue around the head a few times before withdrawing and prodding the opening with the tip of his tongue. Then without warning he deepthroated the length once more, making a few more rounds before he felt the contractions of muscles and a whimpered moan.
He barely had time to prepare before his mouth was filled. His throat hurriedly swallowed, drinking every drop. Finally the fingers loosened from his hair and he leaned back, biting his lip as he stuck a hand down his own pants to relieve himself. He barely got the front of his pants undone before hands pushed him back on his back and Viscar's lips were on his, his tongue prodding.
He moaned loudly as a warm hand brushed against his own member and gave him a rough squeeze. Tears sprang as he arched against Viscar's solid body. He wrapped his good arm around Viscar's neck, ravenously growling into the hungry kiss. Viscar's other hand found it's way under his shirt and began tweaking at a nipple. He spread his legs further, doing his best to wrap them around Viscar's hips. He broke away from the kiss and begged, "Please."
He hadn't really needed to say anything because before he knew it, he was flipped onto his stomach, his pants pulled down to his thighs, his cheeks spread and a tongue probing his hole. His arm scrabbled around searching for something to hold onto, but only found air to fist around. He cried, his voice filling the underground lair. He trembled under the ministrations, feeling like he was going to explode. He muttered, "I'm going to come..."
But as soon as the words left his mouth, the presence disappeared. He mewled at the disappearance, raising his hips shamelessly, wriggling. In a moment fingers replaced the tongue and he made another desperate noise, gyrating into the fingers.
This was different somehow from the millions of times he slept with his brothers in arms. His body was on fire. His mind barely had time to comprehend what was happening aorund him. Everything was real and unreal at the same time.
He barely understood when the fingers left his body after so many careful rubs against his prostate that sent sparks flying in his vision. Pain yanked him out of his reveries and he screamed through gritted teeth. "Viscar, it's.... it's too big." He whimpered somehow.
A hand brushed against his hair and he leaned into it. A hushing noise soothed some of the pain, "It's okay, just relax." He tried. He tried to relax and he took deep breathes. It was a long time since he'd been penetrated, he usually did the penetration. After a few more seconds of calming his nerves forcibly, he nodded and groaned painfully as Viscar continued filling him. Eons, moments, millenias, he couldn't tell, passed before he felt the tickle of Viscar's pubic feathers against his ass.
Two hands ran up and down his sides as he breathed loudly. A hand roamed down his back and brushed against his tail, eliciting a lewd gasp from his mouth as he threw back his head, the muscles in his core tensing with heightened sensitivity. The hand returned quickly, stroking his fur as Viscar began to slowly move back and forth. He couldn't help the embarrassing moans and noises coming from his mouth. He brought a hand to his lips to bite, smothering some of the sound.
Viscar shifted, shoving one leg over to the side further, then thrust in again, hitting him directly in the right spot that made fireworks go off in his head. He couldn't think if he made a noise, only that his hips snapped back again, earnestly trying to get more friction against that spot. He no longer had control over his body. His head was swarming with pleasant whiteness, more and more heat building up below his belly button.
Then every muscle began to tense and he knew he was done, he hadn't even needed help from a well placed hand. He just screamed Viscar's name and his cum spilled onto the wooden floor panels, as hot cum spilled into him as well. He jerked his hips a few times involuntarily before he collapsed into his own spunk. He whimpered as Viscar pulled out, the liquid squeezing out onto his legs slowly, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He shuddered, and laid there, unable to move or think.
Viscar on the other hand, had other ideas and scooped him up, arms raising him off the ground and into a bridal style fashion. He carried them to the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. Still floating on the afterglow, Denver sighed happily, letting himself forget about everything. He sighed as Viscar returned with a clothe and water, wiping his ass and limp member. He didn't even remember drifting off, until he woke later cold and sore.
He looked around, rubbing his eye with his hand. "Viscar?"
There was silence.
Frowning, he pushed himself upright and swung out of the fur bed. "Viscar?" He called again.
Again no response.
"Viscar!" He yelled louder, anxiety building up in his chest. He winced as he hopped towards the door when it swung open. Viscar stared down at him still holding onto the door. He blushed. "Oh... there you are."
An arm wrapped around his waist giving him more support than his one leg. His lower back screamed with thanks. Viscar's rough voice tickled his sensitive ears, "You shouldn't be out of bed yet."
He let himself be picked up again and dumped back onto the bed. "I... I thought you left me. You know, use then lose."
Viscar's brows knitted together, making a noise of exasperation. "If anything, I would dump you outside, this is my home afterall. I wouldn't just leave it."
He flushed, again he was being irrational because his mind had already built an answer around his questions. "Sorry, yeah. I just... feel a bit vulnerable." He mumbled the last part, his eyes drifting to the wall, embarrassed to admit his anxieties. He was a soldier. He shouldn't feel vulnerable.
A hand brushed hair out of his face and he melted into the bed. "I thought I should give you some room, since you might have been feeling some regrets." There was pain in Viscar's eyes, like when he had told him off about being a wishy-washy captor.
He sat up again and grabbed Viscar's hand gently, pulling him closer. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Viscar's letting his actions do the talking for him. He pulled back slightly to whisper, "Before I found about who you really were, I was having conflicting feelings about hating you but at the same time harboring... attraction for you. Since hating you isn't really an option, I'm just starting to really find you attractive." He smiled as Viscar pushed forward into another kiss.
He pushed back, fighting for dominance as they wrestled tongues and bit at each other's lips. His lungs burned when the kiss didn't stop and he had to break away gasping. Viscar retracted swiftly, but he grabbed his shoulder to make sure he didn't leave completely. "No, I just don't have as big of lungs as you do."
He tugged Viscar closer to him, drawing him into the bed. "Sleep with me?"
Viscar paused for a moment before he bent down and reclined into the bed, wrapping an arm under him and then turning so that he was safely tucked into Viscar's larger body. He sighed.
This was what he had been wanting all this time. Safety. That was the only thing that had kept him from accepting Viscar's help. He didn't think it was safe to, but he knew now that he was just being assuming. Viscar was protecting him. He was safe.
As he closed his eyes, he muttered a question that had been bugging him since finding out the real identity of his captor, "How old are you anyways?"
The chest pressing against his face vibrated with laughter. "I am turning 97 this year."
He fell asleep thinking he had just slept with a man three times his age. Well, at least he only looked to be about 40.
Viscar didn't move from his seat in front of the fire, staring into the flames, "It is mine."
"It's yours? Where did you get this from?" He wondered if other artifacts like this still remained. He knew Jerry would have a siesta just to get a glimpse of one. He's been scouring the city's peddlers and archaelogical ruins for artifacts of the previous era, hoping that everything hadn't been burned or recycled, even though everyone knew that it was all destroyed during the Firing.
"It was passed down to me from my father."
"Who was your father?" He wondered outloud.
The fire popped loudly and then a silence of just creaking walls and muffled winds filled the pregnant air. "Lord of Avaria, King Regent of the Three Kingdoms, Lord Pyrus of Salamander Falls."
Denver choked on his own tongue and breathe, nearly dropping the crown in his hands. He almost cursed himself for being friends with Jerry who had an unhealthy obsession with history and lineage, especially of the old Kings. He had been the father of Lord Vycar, the last of the Eaglean Kings before the Revolution.
"You.. are Lord Vycar?" He couldn't believe he hadn't connected the two together. Viscar, Vycar. It was nearly identical if you replaced the title of the letter y in the word. How could he have been so blind.
Finally Viscar stood up to turn around and take the crown from him. He choked back a whimper. He could see it now. The regal high bridge of the nose and the bright sheen of the golden eyes. "Why didn't you say so?" And here he had thought Viscar was of the Southern Gyps.
Viscar placed the crown back onto the mantle, "If I had said something, would it have made any difference?"
"Yes!" He grabbed Viscar's shoulder to spin him around.
His eyes flashed gold for a moment, "In what way?"
Denver opened his mouth, throat ready to rip out a perfect excuse when nothing produced and he simply gaped, cheeks burning. It was a simple mistake, anyone would have thought the same.
Viscar pushed passed him, "That's what I thought."
Denver hurriedly grabbed onto Viscar's wrist, stopping him. "Viscar, I... I'm sorry."
"For what." HIs words still held a knife's edge against his throat.
"For my ungrateful behavior." This was so embarrassing, he groaned. "I-I thought you were a Gyps because you know... the feathers and everything, being down here in the South and all."
Viscar slowly turned his head, the gears churning through the implications. He whirled on his heels and grabbed Denver by the shoulders, shaking him hard, "I told you I had to amputate your arm and leg because they were frost bitten!"
"Yeah! But you were a stranger! The only winged race I've ever been taught about are the Gyps and how they capture Arnabs like us and eat them piece by piece, to make sure that the 'flesh' stays good for longest. They're know to prey on frost-bitten ones because they just chop the bad pieces off first and eat it and pretend they are just helping us. You didn't even show me your wings much. How was I supposed to know you weren't a Gyps." He wraggled his amputated arm to emphasize his reasoning.
Viscar's eyes closed for a moment, his shaking ceased. He breathed through his nose for a moment before opening his eyes again. They were dim, the wrinkles around his eyes emphasized by the firelight. "I see." He released the Arnab from his grip and sagged back into his armchair.
Denver squeezed his hand into a fist a few times before stepping forward, blushing like a mad hare. "I could make it up to you."
Gold eyes slid towards his direction, "And how exactly are you going to manage that?"
Military Law required for all soldiers to relieve stress at least once per week. Getting down on his knees in front of the armchair was easier than making a bed. Something conditioned in his brain after 10 years in the military. The partner or partners must always be of the same gender for additional contraceptive measures. They must be willing. The stress relief must occur in private, without disturbing the peace of civilians and other soldiers. The session must be confirmed by each member of the involved party on the Consent of Relief Form.
He pressed his nose against Viscar's crotch, rubbing it against the bulge. A whisper of a noise came from above, fingers brushing into his long hair. He inhaled deeply, the musky scent of Viscar's manhood filling his brain. Using his teeth he pulled the strings that tied Viscar's pants in the front, letting the natural weight of the thick material fall. The half-hardened member sprouted forth, tapping Denver against the cheek. He could feel the heat radiating as he engulfed the member in his mouth sucking it deep down into his throat.
A rumbling groan sent shivers down his back and straight to his groin. He bobbed his head up and down, swiping the underside with the flat of his tongue. Viscar choked out a strained, "Denver," as his grip on his hair tightened. Taking that as encouragement, he swirled his tongue around the head a few times before withdrawing and prodding the opening with the tip of his tongue. Then without warning he deepthroated the length once more, making a few more rounds before he felt the contractions of muscles and a whimpered moan.
He barely had time to prepare before his mouth was filled. His throat hurriedly swallowed, drinking every drop. Finally the fingers loosened from his hair and he leaned back, biting his lip as he stuck a hand down his own pants to relieve himself. He barely got the front of his pants undone before hands pushed him back on his back and Viscar's lips were on his, his tongue prodding.
He moaned loudly as a warm hand brushed against his own member and gave him a rough squeeze. Tears sprang as he arched against Viscar's solid body. He wrapped his good arm around Viscar's neck, ravenously growling into the hungry kiss. Viscar's other hand found it's way under his shirt and began tweaking at a nipple. He spread his legs further, doing his best to wrap them around Viscar's hips. He broke away from the kiss and begged, "Please."
He hadn't really needed to say anything because before he knew it, he was flipped onto his stomach, his pants pulled down to his thighs, his cheeks spread and a tongue probing his hole. His arm scrabbled around searching for something to hold onto, but only found air to fist around. He cried, his voice filling the underground lair. He trembled under the ministrations, feeling like he was going to explode. He muttered, "I'm going to come..."
But as soon as the words left his mouth, the presence disappeared. He mewled at the disappearance, raising his hips shamelessly, wriggling. In a moment fingers replaced the tongue and he made another desperate noise, gyrating into the fingers.
This was different somehow from the millions of times he slept with his brothers in arms. His body was on fire. His mind barely had time to comprehend what was happening aorund him. Everything was real and unreal at the same time.
He barely understood when the fingers left his body after so many careful rubs against his prostate that sent sparks flying in his vision. Pain yanked him out of his reveries and he screamed through gritted teeth. "Viscar, it's.... it's too big." He whimpered somehow.
A hand brushed against his hair and he leaned into it. A hushing noise soothed some of the pain, "It's okay, just relax." He tried. He tried to relax and he took deep breathes. It was a long time since he'd been penetrated, he usually did the penetration. After a few more seconds of calming his nerves forcibly, he nodded and groaned painfully as Viscar continued filling him. Eons, moments, millenias, he couldn't tell, passed before he felt the tickle of Viscar's pubic feathers against his ass.
Two hands ran up and down his sides as he breathed loudly. A hand roamed down his back and brushed against his tail, eliciting a lewd gasp from his mouth as he threw back his head, the muscles in his core tensing with heightened sensitivity. The hand returned quickly, stroking his fur as Viscar began to slowly move back and forth. He couldn't help the embarrassing moans and noises coming from his mouth. He brought a hand to his lips to bite, smothering some of the sound.
Viscar shifted, shoving one leg over to the side further, then thrust in again, hitting him directly in the right spot that made fireworks go off in his head. He couldn't think if he made a noise, only that his hips snapped back again, earnestly trying to get more friction against that spot. He no longer had control over his body. His head was swarming with pleasant whiteness, more and more heat building up below his belly button.
Then every muscle began to tense and he knew he was done, he hadn't even needed help from a well placed hand. He just screamed Viscar's name and his cum spilled onto the wooden floor panels, as hot cum spilled into him as well. He jerked his hips a few times involuntarily before he collapsed into his own spunk. He whimpered as Viscar pulled out, the liquid squeezing out onto his legs slowly, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He shuddered, and laid there, unable to move or think.
Viscar on the other hand, had other ideas and scooped him up, arms raising him off the ground and into a bridal style fashion. He carried them to the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. Still floating on the afterglow, Denver sighed happily, letting himself forget about everything. He sighed as Viscar returned with a clothe and water, wiping his ass and limp member. He didn't even remember drifting off, until he woke later cold and sore.
He looked around, rubbing his eye with his hand. "Viscar?"
There was silence.
Frowning, he pushed himself upright and swung out of the fur bed. "Viscar?" He called again.
Again no response.
"Viscar!" He yelled louder, anxiety building up in his chest. He winced as he hopped towards the door when it swung open. Viscar stared down at him still holding onto the door. He blushed. "Oh... there you are."
An arm wrapped around his waist giving him more support than his one leg. His lower back screamed with thanks. Viscar's rough voice tickled his sensitive ears, "You shouldn't be out of bed yet."
He let himself be picked up again and dumped back onto the bed. "I... I thought you left me. You know, use then lose."
Viscar's brows knitted together, making a noise of exasperation. "If anything, I would dump you outside, this is my home afterall. I wouldn't just leave it."
He flushed, again he was being irrational because his mind had already built an answer around his questions. "Sorry, yeah. I just... feel a bit vulnerable." He mumbled the last part, his eyes drifting to the wall, embarrassed to admit his anxieties. He was a soldier. He shouldn't feel vulnerable.
A hand brushed hair out of his face and he melted into the bed. "I thought I should give you some room, since you might have been feeling some regrets." There was pain in Viscar's eyes, like when he had told him off about being a wishy-washy captor.
He sat up again and grabbed Viscar's hand gently, pulling him closer. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Viscar's letting his actions do the talking for him. He pulled back slightly to whisper, "Before I found about who you really were, I was having conflicting feelings about hating you but at the same time harboring... attraction for you. Since hating you isn't really an option, I'm just starting to really find you attractive." He smiled as Viscar pushed forward into another kiss.
He pushed back, fighting for dominance as they wrestled tongues and bit at each other's lips. His lungs burned when the kiss didn't stop and he had to break away gasping. Viscar retracted swiftly, but he grabbed his shoulder to make sure he didn't leave completely. "No, I just don't have as big of lungs as you do."
He tugged Viscar closer to him, drawing him into the bed. "Sleep with me?"
Viscar paused for a moment before he bent down and reclined into the bed, wrapping an arm under him and then turning so that he was safely tucked into Viscar's larger body. He sighed.
This was what he had been wanting all this time. Safety. That was the only thing that had kept him from accepting Viscar's help. He didn't think it was safe to, but he knew now that he was just being assuming. Viscar was protecting him. He was safe.
As he closed his eyes, he muttered a question that had been bugging him since finding out the real identity of his captor, "How old are you anyways?"
The chest pressing against his face vibrated with laughter. "I am turning 97 this year."
He fell asleep thinking he had just slept with a man three times his age. Well, at least he only looked to be about 40.