Enabling

One of the duke’s favored insults was to compare Albel to an impatient child. His comparison had never been more accurate than while the young captain waited eagerly for the birth of their child. Vox would shake his head at the boy, moved to embarrassment by how distracted Albel was. He was looking forward to the birth of the child as well, but the boy was ridiculously distracted. The man began to look forward to the birth, just to bring Albel’s attention back into focus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordeillia gave birth to a girl. When the news reached the duke he was rather unhappy; he had hoped to procure a son as soon as possible. As soon as the woman was physically able, he would force Albel back upon her.

Albel, in comparison, was not as disappointed by the infant girl. He had felt a sinking in his heart upon discovering that he did not have a son, but the feeling left quickly after he had seen the baby. He felt, just as Vox did, the need to have a male heir to continue their familial lines and to inherit their wealth and such, but there was still time. They’d need two sons besides, Albel thought, if both of their lines would be continued. One to carry on each line.

The first time Albel met his child was in Cordeillia’s small quarters. The midwife had come to her when she had begun labor and for the two days afterwards a servant tended to her. By the fifth day she was moving about slowly, and she answered Albel’s hard knock on her door. He looked at her for a moment, confused, wondering just why she was the one greeting him, but he shrugged it off. If she felt well enough to move, then so be it. Who was he to tell her to lay abed all day?

Cordeillia handed he child to him, instructing him how to hold its head. He snarled at her, answering curtly that he knew how to hold his own daughter. The woman smiled at his comment, then nodded and went to sit in front of the fire in her quarters and knit.

A small sofa had been provided for Cordeillia as one of her few articles of furniture and Albel laid himself upon that. He placed the girl child on his chest, resting his artificial limb on the infant’s back to keep her in place. The fear that the child would scream at the feel of his claws or at the sight of them had plagued Albel, but he decided to see just how the girl would react. She wiggled a bit, turning her tiny head a bit to try and look at the claws, but she was quiet. The faintest touch of a smile curved his lips.

Cordeillia glanced up often to watch the girl and her father. She smiled, please with herself that she had given this great man the gift of a daughter.

Albel shut his eyes, leaning his head back onto the arm of the sofa. A complete smile had made its way onto his face. His daughter had nuzzled into his chest, gripping his shirt with small fingers. It was like having a soft, warm weight on his chest, and the feel of her small body elated him.

“What will you call her?” Cordeillia asked as she knitted.

The boy opened his eyes, pulled back from the brink of sleep. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep there; Vox would be quite upset if he did. “I hadn’t considered it much. I’m sure the duke hasn’t either.”

The woman nodded then returned to her work, unconcerned. Cordeillia realized that the child was not hers, no matter if it came from her body. She had been hired to carry a child for a family and she was not part of that family. It hurt her a bit to have to act so cold towards a child that had come from her body, but it was necessary. If she did not become attached it would not hurt so much when the child was taken away from her.

Albel examined his daughter; she had light blonde hair and dark eyes that could have been brown or black. He nudged one of the girl’s plump cheeks with the back of his claw. She looked at him with large eyes then smiled.

“Aunya.”

The woman looked up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Aunya. That will be her name.”

Cordeillia smiled. “It’s a lovely name. I hope your husband will approve.”

Albel scoffed, settling once more and shutting his eyes to rest; dash Vox and his jealousies. “I hardly care what he thinks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The young captain returned to his husband’s quarters later than usual; his nap had cost him some time. Vox gave him a cold, un-amused look, which he chose to ignore.

“It’s late, you should return to your own quarters. I have to leave in two days time and your presence tires me.”

Albel glanced at the man then walked to the bedroom. Who was Vox to dismiss him so? The duke should thank his guiding stars Albel had accepted his proposal and WANTED to be with him. He threw himself onto the bed, expecting the man to come in and fall all over himself with lust as Albel lay before him, a willing receptacle to his lust. But Vox never entered. Albel waited, shifted position, waited more, took his clothes off, waited, slid under the covers, waited, and fell asleep.

It was the soft sound of footsteps treading on hard floor that eventually roused Albel. He opened his eyes slowly, a bit confused as to where he was. Then he remembered; he had fallen asleep waiting for the duke to come in and use him. It irked him, being dismissed so, but the dismissal also piqued his attention.

Rather than worry himself over getting dressed, for he was uncertain if he would need to disrobe again if he did, the boy wrapped a soft blanket around himself and padded into the living room. Vox was not there; he must have gone into his study. Albel decided to wait for the man instead of following after, knowing that the duke tended to get touchy when the private sanctuary of his study was trespassed upon.

When Vox reentered he seemed surprised to see his spouse sitting at the table he had recently vacated.

“Have you slept well?”

Albel eyed him then nodded dully.

“Good, perhaps you ought to leave then. It’s getting rather late.”

The boy looked at him, vermilion eyes bright with curiosity. “Why are you so eager to dismiss me?” He asked. “Have I angered you?”

“A bit.” The man replied honestly.

“By seeing the girl?”

“You do many things that bother me.”

Albel smirked. “You’re jealous. I haven’t a notion why. Are you afraid I’m going to run away with her? She is rather pretty and, unlike with you, we would be able to have children.”

A vein in the duke’s forehead began to throb. The boy was always giving him a damn headache. The man tossed his papers onto the table violently and growled.

“You are pushing me and I am in no mood to tolerate you and be a pawn in your twisted mind games. I enjoy your company much better when you are sleeping or silent. If you’d ever like to give me a gift, cut your tongue out.”

The grin had faded from the boy’s face. For a moment he sat, face placid, devoid of emotion, blinking at the duke. Then anger slowly began to descend upon his features. His eyes darkened and his lip began to curl into a snarl, revealing sharp canines.

“How dare you talk to me like that!” Albel hissed, ranking his claws down the table, leaving deep gashes in the wood.

Vox looked at the scratches on his table and growled. “Childish brat, go back to your quarters and destroy your own furniture.”

“Last I checked, what is mine is yours and what is yours is mine.”

“Check again, brat. I tire of your presence; leave!”

Albel did not betray the hurt he felt. He scowled, displaying his anger but not his pain. He stood abruptly, going to the bedroom and yanking his clothes on then storming from the duke’s quarters. He screamed obscenities at innocent bystanders as he left. The servants cowered from him, but they knew that the two captains did not get along. It seemed quite normal to them for Albel to be in such a rage after meeting with Duke Vox.


After having napped twice, Albel was in no mood to sleep, especially not when one considered how angry he was. Damn that foolish pig and his insults; damn him to hell! How he despised that man, how he loathed him! For certain the sex was great, but it was naught more than a temporary escape. Vox deserved to be eviscerated and the young captain felt he was just the one to perform the task.

His harsh temper eventually turned from the duke to himself. What the hell was he thinking, marrying that filthy, snobbish asshole?! Was rank and title so important for his children that he would put up with endless torment in his life? Albel could not even imagine death; if there was an afterlife he would be going to hell and with his luck his damnable spouse would be there as well.

He took a steadying deep breath. It was all for his children. Damned brats were already ruining his life and he hadn’t even made them all yet.

With his thoughts slowly losing their angry fervor, Albel recalled what the duke had suggested and wondered just how one would go about cutting out their own tongue. They could do it with a knife, or with a pair of scissors; either way, it would hurt a great deal. One could employ the aid of a friend to cut out one’s tongue after one had taken a sleeping drought. But did that still count as cutting out your tongue, even though you were not the one physically doing the cutting? A curious question, and many more were raised after it.

Recognizing that he was in a foul mood and very much stressed because of it, Albel decided it was time to lift his spirits. He drank several shots of rum and whiskey before lighting the fire in his living room.

As he was carrying a blanket and pillow out and laying them in front of the fire a bit of moisture rubbed from the tip of Albel’s slowly wakening cock and onto his thighs. A grin escaped him at the feel of wetness and he knelt down to spread the folds of the blanket over the carpet. He had not pleasured himself in a long while; he had missed it.

Despite living in Airyglyph’s capital versus his birthplace Kirlsa, Albel despised the cold. He relished in warm blankets and hot drinks. He loved sitting close to a fire and warming his blood; it had taken many years to get over the trauma of his father’s death, but he eventually overcame it.

Albel plucked the glove from his human hand, leaving the other in place on his other arm, unwilling to wrestle it over the artificial limb. He brought his fingers close to the fire, reveling in the feel of heat on his flesh. When the warmth had spread from his fingers to his palm and down his arm, the boy ran his hand over his neck. His fingers snagged on the chain hanging from his collar.

In a fit of sudden anger, Albel ripped the collar from his neck and tossed it across the room. He was torn with what to do with the choker. If he destroyed it he would be insulting more than just the pompous duke. He would have loved to break it, to throw it onto the ground and trample it with glee, but he did not. Albel growled, unhooking the thing with great effort--damned claws were not useful for unclasping such things—and laid it on his table. Perhaps he would hock it in Kirlsa; returning it seemed too nice a gesture towards Vox.

Enough thoughts had been wasted on that man! The young captain placed his hand at his neck again, running his fingers over his collarbone, down his chest to rub against his sensitive nipples, then down to the hem of his shirt. A soft moan escaped the boy’s lips as he pushed the shirt up, running his fingertips over a hard, bare nipple.

It had been far too long since he had pleasured himself. Really, Albel thought bitterly, the only person who knew how to truly make him scream in ecstasy was himself. After pulling his shirt over his head and untying his sarong, the boy settled on the blanket, resting his head on the pillow he had brought, and lying with his side to the fire. It felt wonderful to feel the heat and tingle of the flames as he masturbated.

Albel took his time exciting his body. His artificial arm had grown warm; he was close enough to the fire to absorb the heat in the metal, but the metal did not become scorching hot, as it was on the opposite side of his body as the fire. The warm metal felt wonderful as the young captain ran his artificial hand across his belly, next to his other hand which was stroking up and down his shaft slowly, and then between his legs to tease his hole.

Just the feel of the tips of his claws made Albel arch his back. But the boy stopped there; no one would be stupid enough to try and fondle themselves, much less impale themselves so intimately, on talons as sharp as his. He rested the claws on his thigh, angling his hand so that the smooth sides rubbed softly against his flesh.

Albel slowly moved his hand from his shaft to the juncture between his legs. He circled his entrance with two fingers then took both hands away. Leaning over the side of the pillow, Albel grasped the bottle of lubricant he had carried out, as well as his favored toy.

How he came to possess such toys, Albel would not explain. He had hinted to the duke that during a trip to Greeton an acquaintance had taken him to a seedy leather shop, which also specialized in the making of ‘intimate tools’. The man he had been with had been drunk enough to openly hit on the boy, who had been captain for little over a month at the time. The man had bought him three phalluses of varying sizes, made of wrought metal. The smallest of the toys had several bumps carved into it; Albel was not very fond of that one. The other two were plain and he would often begin with the smaller of the two and then switch the toy for the larger one as he began to get deeper in his fantasies.

That night he simply wanted to cum; he wanted a hard orgasm that made him spill his semen all over his stomach and the blanket he was sprawled upon. He had brought the largest toy with him and spread the lubricant over the tip, down the shaft and then used the bit of remaining oil on his fingers to slick his waiting hole.

With the toy in his clawed hand, Albel gently prodded at his entrance, slipping a finger into himself and rubbing against his inner walls. He bit his lip to keep from smiling. A second finger was worked in and Albel forced his fingers in as far as they could go, desperately trying to reach his prostate. He brushed his sweet spot once, causing him to let out a sharp gasp and arch off of the blanket.

The pleasure sang in his veins and Albel grew impatient; he was stretched enough and all he had meant to do was prepare himself so his flesh did not split, not tease himself. The young captain took in a breath and positioned the toy at his entrance, rubbing the tip against his puckered hole. Very slowly, he pushed forward, his body taking in the head and then swallowing the shaft. For a moment he rested both arms above his heads, relishing in the feel of the shaft deep inside of his body.

The phallus was long, and though it was buried deep inside of the boy, two or three inches of the shaft remained outside of the boy’s body. With his arms still behind his head, Albel lifted his hips off of the blanket and then shifted down, rocking the end of the toy against the floor and forcing it further into his body. A gasp escaped him at the feel of his sweet spot being hit.

Albel pushed his hips downward, thrusting the shaft deep inside of him and then letting it slip out before rocking into it again. He gripped the pillow with his human hand and pushed down hard, letting out a harsh sound at the feel of the shaft being forced even further inside of him.

He was alone, what the hell. Albel smirked to himself, arching his body off of the floor and thrusting down upon the shaft filling him. Opening his mouth wide, he let out a loud moan and then a string of babble proceeded to leave him. What he was saying, the boy did not know. There were helpless whimpers, pleas to no one, screams of pleasure. It all felt so wonderful.

The whimpers he let out began to get shorter, more needy. It enticed him, hearing his own soft whimpers of pleasure. Albel rocked against the shaft harder and urgently. He could feel his orgasm coming; the tingling was making its way from the center of his body and throughout his limbs. Taking hold of the pillow with both hands, the young captain tossed his head back, arched violently off the floor, and began to quickly thrust down upon the phallus.

The tip of the toy continually brushed against his prostate, causing him to jerk in pleasure. When the feelings became too intense to bear, Albel dropped his human hand down to the joint of his legs and wrapped his fingers about his hard, leaking cock. The added sensation of his warm fingers wrapped tight around his cock, pumping himself fervently, made the boy yell in ecstasy. As he fucked himself on the shaft, lost in the blissful pleasure, he screamed and begged, thrusting down onto the toy and then forward into his hand.

A heated flush made it’s way onto his cheeks and the boy rolled his head to the side, surrendering himself to the moment. He allowed the sensations to roll through his body, squirming and writhing helplessly as the pressure built in his belly. When he came at last, after several minutes of intense fucking and pumping, the young captain let out a screech that bounced off the walls of his apartment and arched off the blanket violently, spilling his seed into his hand. Just as quickly as he had came, his body dropped helplessly back onto the blanket, sweaty, aching, and slack.

Albel panted heavily, hand still wrapped about his cock. He was acutely aware of the softness of the blanket beneath him and the pushiness of the pillow his head was cushioned on. After a moment of deep appreciation towards the pleasure that he had wrung from his body and the heightened clarity of his senses, the boy rolled onto his side in the folds of the blanket and curled up with a self-satisfied grin. He shook the semen from his hand then curled his fist close to his head, laying his body over the metal limb. When it was heated the solidity of the metal arm was not entirely unpleasant to rest on.

Time became a trivial, meaningless notion to Albel; he might have lain by the fire for an hour or it might only have been several minutes. He dozed, drifting in and out of awareness until he heard the creaking of floorboards. Slowly, the boy opened his eyes; he refused to move, however. There was a lift tread of footsteps; he knew who was there and he made no move to rise.

A gentle hand was lain against his flank.

“Have you been hurt?” the duke asked, concerned over the boy’s lethargy. He knew Albel had a habit of turning onto his side to sleep after sex, but the boy’s position appeared uncomfortable and the toy was still lodged deep in the youth’s body.

Albel grinned to himself but hid his face from his husband. “I’ve been used.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the duke. “Do you jest with me?”

“Would I jest over such a thing?”

“I would hope not, but you have an odd little mind.” The man took hold of the end of the phallus in the boy’s body and pulled it free. Albel made a soft noise as the object left him, but whether it was a sound of pain, disappointment or some other feeling, the duke could not be certain. He laid hands on the youth’s back and shoulder, carefully turning him over. Albel obediently rolled onto his back and blinked up at the man lazily.

“Albel?”

“Yes,” Albel thought to himself with great pleasure, “it was that damn good. Much better than you’ve ever given me.”

“Are you well? Have you done this to yourself?”

The concern that laced the man’s question subdued the boy’s sadistic impulses. What worm desperate for attention would pretend to be raped anyway? That would be far more disgusting than watching one of his men being gutted on the field. Albel struggled to sit up, body fatigued from his exertion.

“I’m fine.” He said, looking to the floor.

“And the one who used you?”

“Myself.”

Vox snorted angrily, though it covered his relieved exhalation of breath. “You’d best not make up a ridiculous lie such as that again, or I’ll punish you.”

Albel turned his head sharply, glaring. “And what will you do? Cut my tongue out?”

The man blinked. A soft laugh escaped him after a momentary pause. “You are upset with me? Have I hurt your feelings?” He brushed a hand through Albel’s hair.

The boy stiffened, pulling away from the touch with a ‘hmph’.

Vox chuckled, pulling his spouse to him and wrapping the folds of his cloak around the boy’s nude body. “Are you so upset? I had not thought you’d be so bothered by one of our many spats.”

“I did not deserve to be insulted so by unprompted anger.”

“I feel that often, myself. You can be quite quarrelsome and when you’re angry you lash out at anyone.”

“I never tell you to maim yourself.” Albel spat.

“You have on occasion” Vox said calmly, the old feeling of protectiveness and fondness beginning to warm his heart towards his spouse. So the boy did have feelings and could be hurt. But, the duke thought happily to himself, Albel could only be hurt by the ones he loved. He kissed the boy’s forehead. “Enough of this argument. I came by to give you a proper farewell, as you and I will both be very busy tomorrow.”

“I’ve given myself a proper farewell.” Albel said, petulantly.

The man squeezed Albel through the cloak. “Not all farewells include sex you realize.”

“Did you come to apologize then?”

“Certainly not. I asked you to leave and you argued with me. If you feel like apologizing for all the insults you’ve heaped upon me when I have done nothing to rouse your anger then perhaps I will consider apologizing to you.”

It would be a warm day in Airyglyph when Albel decided to apologize to Vox. Husband or not, love or not, the man was still an arrogant ass. Albel snorted derisively at the offered truce.

“You were just jealous that I went to see the woman and child. And you most likely came here to see if I had gone to her again or not.”

No reply was made to address the accusation. With some effort, Vox got the boy to his feet and guided him back to the small bedroom that was Albel’s. “Why should I be jealous when you go to see our child? I expect you to; you have an odd desire to be a father.”

He laid Albel onto the bed and then sat on the edge, facing away from the boy. “How is the child?”

Albel shrugged, pulling the blankets over himself and turning his back to the duke. “She was fine.”

“Our little family is growing.”

“There’s only one child, it hasn’t grown much.”

“But it will. Remember, Albel, the point of our union is to procure male heirs to carry on our familial lines. You will not stop producing children until we have sons.”

“Bastard” the boy mumbled.

Vox glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “If I could have cut the girl out of the equation and somehow impregnated you, I would have.”

The statement was odd enough to make Albel turn over and look at the duke. His brows were furrowed together as he stared at the man in amusement and confusion. “Then I am glad I do not have a womb to carry children in.”

“I’m not.”

The amusement fell from Albel’s face. Was the man seriously implying that he had wanted Albel to carry children? How in the hell was that to work?! It was not even biologically possible! The man had twisted ways of rousing Albel to anger.

“Is that what you fantasize about?!” The boy screeched, sitting up abruptly.

Vox turned and forced him into an embrace. “Would you not like that—to carry a baby inside of your belly?”

“No I wouldn’t you freak!”

“It seems the perfect role, though. You want children so badly—”

“That doesn’t make me a woman, you ass. If this is your way of mocking me for wanting to have a family rather than being alone for the rest of my miserable life, then keep going. Just remember I’m the only one that you can fuck and if you piss me off I’m locking my legs at the knees.”

The man chuckled, pulling the boy into a dominating kiss. When Albel pushed away he squeezed the boy good-naturedly. “Just mind you that the war should be your top priority, not infants and simpering wives.”

“I’m glad you recognized that you’ve become simpering.”

“Very cute. Now…I’m uncertain as to how long I will be gone; however, I will most likely summon you. I—”

Albel listened halfheartedly. There was an apology for the harsh anger sprinkled into the duke’s words, he thought, but he could not be entirely certain. As for the jab at wishing Albel was a woman to carry children—Albel would rather forget that then dwell on why the man had said such a thing.

After the duke had left, Albel turned onto his side and mused for several hours before he slept. There was an upcoming battle and Vox believed that all three branches would be working together to achieve victory. The notion elated him; it was not everyday all three units banded together. It would be a wonderful time to establish himself as ‘Albel the twisted’. All of the men would see how strong he was and they would all learn not to trifle with him. And with the duke close by…the man would be so proud of him that he would praise the young captain in front of others.

~END

I’m really looking forward to the next chapters. Albel is such a bitch…but that’s why I love him. Keeping him in character is one of my biggest concerns; relating in-game Albel to a pre-game Albel with a secret to hide can be difficult. And now we have a new twist with Daddy Albel! (Or Mommy Albel according to Vox). And anon’s fanart! Is that little Albel in the corner when Albel was trying to make his pro/con list? (Is that even a scene from the story?) I plan on emailing you, but I had wanted to give you warning before you got an email and went WTF. Just look for a mail that says ‘from Pug’ or something about ‘Pug’