Sans Raiment

Moving right on to chapter three…

Chapter Three

Cliff grumbled as he looked at the status of his communicator’s mailbox: NO NEW MESSAGES. He had been waiting for a letter from Albel for three days. He had tried to tell himself that it would take time for Albel to type him a letter. Not just because Albel was a ridiculously slow typer--the guy typed with his two index fingers--but because if he was going to indeed disclose some important things that had changed his life, then Albel would have to get in the right mindset before revealing all.

Knowing that did not make Cliff any less impatient. He knew patience was a virtue, but in such an age of instant gratification he wanted to know right then what Albel was hiding. He had long held suspicions that the young man had more than just his one deep scar from his father’s untimely death, but he had no clue what other wounds the Elicoorian might carry. Cliff let out a sigh. He would find out soon enough what Albel felt was imperative to tell him.

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Albel began to type. After completing his draft of the letter he knew exactly what he desired to say and to tell. As he typed, he reflected on how oddly everything with Vox had begun. Perhaps his troubles had begun earlier, with the death of his father, but that was knowledge Cliff already had.

After Glou’s death, Albel had faded into the shadows. His dreams of entering the military, much more the captain of the Dragon Brigade, had vanished with his father. He had spent some time writhing in internal and external agony, demanding to know why he still lived. Eventually, he was not sure how, the madness left him and was replaced with a deep-rooted anger. The violent hatred he had experience as a pre-pubescent boy flared up, its scorching rage aimed this time towards himself.

Woltar had taken care of him for the year following the disastrous incident. The old man took pains to help Albel recover; he had paid for the best doctors, had taken it upon himself to move all of the boy’s things into his own home, and, when Albel was ready, he helped the boy train and get his strength back.

Albel had been aghast when he had seen the torched remnants of his arm; it was practically useless. Or it was for awhile. A doctor had told him that with proper exercise the arm would be just as it had been in function, if not in looks. Albel had scoffed, but he exercised the arm regardless. To his surprise, it did become easier to use his charred limb. They had said he was lucky; any longer in the fire and his arm would have been burnt so badly it would have had to been amputated. The boy had grit his teeth and snarled that any longer in the fire and he would have been dead, as he should have been.

With the count’s help, he had learned to use the arm as a tool rather than a crutch. Albel had tried to cover the arm up, but it did not ease his mind; every time he looked at it, he swore he could see the pink, blistered flesh beneath his glove. So Woltar proposed that they see about getting him some armor for it. From that idea his gauntlet came into being and it became as much a part of him as his eyes and his ears. Under Woltar’s tutelage he grew into a true soldier, stronger than he had been before. The old man asked the king’s permission to place Albel in the military and the request was granted. He had been placed in the newest, and most laughed at, brigade, but it did not take long before Albel had worked his way up in the ranks. And that was, Albel supposed, where it all truly began…

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Vox had never paid Albel much mind. Even if the boy had been an opponent in the race to become the next Dragon Brigade captain, he had not thought Albel was a threat. The boy was too cocky and arrogant to ever become a proper leader. After Albel’s fantastic failure during the Ascension of the Flames Ceremony Vox was even less concerned. In one fell swoop he had lost an opponent and was promoted to captain. After that, he hadn’t even thought of Albel until a war council meeting when the captain of the Black Brigade announced that he was retiring and they ought to discuss who should be put in his place. Vox thought of Sir Shelby. The man was loyal and capable of leading a military branch, he thought. But the black brigade captain had another idea.

“If you would allow me to propose an idea, your majesty,” the man said; Arzei nodded him on, “I would like to propose that you promote one of my other lieutenants. He is younger by quite a bit, but he has proven to me that he is intelligent, logical, and very capable in leading others. He is also quite skilled in combat.”

“And who is this man you are suggesting to us?” The king asked.

“Lieutenant Albel Nox.”

Woltar had raised his head. “Albel?”

Vox felt a faint ringing in the back of his mind; he remembered the boy from past meetings, but he had not heard of him since Glou Nox’s death. The boy must have been making a name for himself in the military then.

King Arzei thought for a moment. “Albel Nox, son of Glou Nox?”

“Yes; he is my most trusted lieutenant. More trusted than Sir Shelby.”

“If my mind serves me correctly, he would still be a boy, would he not?”

“Are there truly any boys in our military, sire? He has shown me how mature his mind is; I do not hold his age against him. If you should interview him I think you would see for yourself how wise he is for his age.”

“Wise he may be,” Arzei said, “but would my men follow a child into battle?”

The captain thought for a moment. “A child, no. But a young man that your majesty personally appointed, yes.”

The king looked like he still had doubts. It was then that Woltar spoke up. “If I may, your majesty. I have been training Albel for the past few years and he has proven an excellent student. Though he lacks discipline at times, he is as skilled as Captain Logan here says. I would also suggest that you interview him and see if you have faith in him as a leader.”

It was then that the king had looked to his uncle. Vox had shrugged. It did not matter so much to him WHO was captain as long as it was someone that knew how to command and someone who would not balk in the face of a battle. And of course if they were someone he could control.

“Interview the boy then.”

And so Arzei had. A month later when Lord Logan retired Lord Nox was put in his place. There was some griping and grumbling amongst the men, especially from Sir Shelby, but their protests were quickly squashed. Duke Vox hadn’t paid much attention to the goings on of the Black Brigade; he had his own branch to look after. He didn’t meet Albel until a war council meeting a month after the boy had been appointed. True to what Logan had said, Albel was young, still a teenager. But also true to what Logan said was that the boy was wise and sharp. And, Vox noted with some interest, he was quite attractive.

Albel had glanced at Vox before the meeting had started, looking him up and down, judging him. If his indifferent look was any indication, the boy thought nothing of him. Vox liked to think of himself as a man who was not easily distracted, but he was also a man who knew what he wanted. Very quickly he had decided that he wanted Albel and the boy was, unfortunately, a distraction. He spent most of the meeting looking at the newest captain, pondering the boy’s stoic face and odd sense of fashion. There was more than just a pretty face to the child; Vox knew instinctively that he had found someone who would prove to be a challenge but who would ultimately submit to him. He liked challenges, especially when the challenger folded to his will in the end. Yes, he could foresee this young captain being an entertainment both on the job and in the bedroom. By the end of the meeting he knew that he had to have the boy or else he would never be able to concentrate when Albel was around.

The man waited some time before he played his first move. For several months he did little more than make eyes at the boy when he was around. Then he began to use subtle touches: a lingering hold on the boy’s hand when they shook, brushing his palm against the boy’s shoulder. Then he began with the unnecessary, yet completely harmless touches. He never touched Albel when others were around to see, he would not risk such a thing. When they were alone and talking he made excuses to put his hands on the youth’s body.

At last, after several months of the game, the Duke made his move to bed his fellow captain. After a meeting, he caught Albel by the wrist and dragged him into an alcove. The boy did not put up a struggle, too intrigued to demand that he be released. Vox pushed him against a wall and leaned forward, planting his hand by the youth’s head, trapping him against the stone wall. Albel looked at him questioningly.

The duke made his intentions clear and simple. “Will you let me bed you?”

Vox had a split second warning before the other captain slapped him and kneed him in the groin. Albel’s eyes had widened in shock and then narrowed in insulted anger. The man crouched down, cradling his crushed privates, which allowed the boy to slip past him and away. Despite the injury, the duke was able to manage a laugh.

Albel had heard the laughed and turned to command the man; “Don’t ever come near me again! Leave me alone!”

The duke laughed again and looked at the boy. “Of course.”

His reply seemed to satisfy the youth; Albel left quickly. The interlude had not gone according to plan, but Vox was not one to give in so easily.

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Albel had been more than a little taken aback at being asked to bed by the Duke, but when a month had gone by and the man had made no more passes at him he let the encounter slip from his mind. He would learn later that that was just what Vox had wanted him to do; forget the unpleasant affair and get comfortable again before the man tried again, more insistently.

Being a captain was only slightly more difficult than the young man had expected. Having seen his father work, Albel had a good idea as to what had to be done and how to do it, but he was still green to the work. He stayed up late many nights working on battle plans and looking over reports. When his eyes got too tired to read properly, he would take a stroll around the city and let the cold air wake him up. Vox knew of this habit; the duke had seen the boy pass by a tavern window while he had been drinking.

It had been a particularly bad evening when Albel decided he needed to go for a walk. He was inundated with a massive work load and his head was beginning to throb. He was tired of reading reports; he might not have had the most legible writing, but at least he knew how to spell. If he had to read another horribly error-ridden paper he would gauge his own eyes out and eat them. A walk was in serious order.

The young man had grabbed his mauve cloak and had put his hand on the doorknob of his front door when there was a knock on it. Albel jumped, surprised. Who would be calling on him at such a late hour? It was either an urgent matter or someone had a death wish. He yanked the door open with a dark look; he did not wish to be deterred from his walk.

He came face to face with the Duke. The dark look vanished; Albel was suddenly very curious.

“What are you doing here? Is there an emergency meeting? Has something happened?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

The dark look reappeared. “Then what do you want?”

“I know that you usually take a walk around this time, but seeing how chilly it is this evening I thought perhaps you would forgo your little stroll and allow me to entertain you.”

“That sounds awfully considerate for you. And just how would you entertain me?”

Vox smiled, the most charming smile he could manage. “I’d like to take you back to my quarters and show you some of the fine art and objects I have collected from around the world. We could sit by the fire and have a glass of wine if you would so like. There is nothing quite as nice as a glass of fine wine on a cold, dark evening such as this.”

“Except a good fuck.” Albel muttered something he had heard his father say on nights when he too had been overwhelmed and Woltar had come, offering some sort of distraction. He glanced over his shoulder at the pile of papers that lay on his desk. Vox raised an eyebrow at his comment and grinned, but the boy did not see. When he turned back, the man was smiling again. “Fine, but that better be some damn good wine you have.”

“I wager it will be the best you’ve ever had.”

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The thought that Vox was tricking him had not crossed Albel’s mind; he was too terrifying for anyone to try to trick, so he had stopped suspecting people of setting him up. The duke cured him of that naïve belief.

Albel had entered the man’s lodgings with his guard up. He didn’t suspect Vox of doing anything, he expected his own memories to try and sabotage him. The castle apartments were assigned to the captains of the military; just as he now occupied Lord Logan’s quarters, so did Vox occupy Glou’s old quarters. The rooms looked only slightly different than in his memories; whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Albel was not sure. He looked around, trying to see past the current state of being and into what the room had looked like in the past. The memories came and the nostalgia became suffocating.

“Sit by the fire, I’ll get the wine.”

The man’s voice broke through the miasma of memories that had snuck up on Albel. He sat on the loveseat in front of the fire, watching it dance. A glass was thrust under his nose a moment later. His reverie was broken.

“It’s mead,” Vox explained, taking a seat beside the boy, nonchalantly draping an arm over the back of the sofa. “They brew it in a tavern nearby. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Albel took a sip, testing the taste. It was good enough.

He listened idly as the duke began to talk about his travels when he was younger. The man would point to things in the room and give a brief history of where they came from and how they had come to be in his possession. Albel was hardly paying attention; he sipped his mead, nodding his head or grunting in agreement when some sort of acknowledgement needed to be made. Vox could have asked him if he wished to have a sex change and he would have nodded and agreed.

Vox picked up on the boy’s vacant expression very quickly, but he continued to talk, waiting for the right moment to take advantage of Albel’s stupor. He asked a question and when the youth nodded, as expected, he grinned and stood. The sudden movement pulled Albel out of the fog he had let his mind wander into.

“Where are you going?”

Vox smiled charmingly. “I’m taking you to the bedroom, of course, like we discussed.”

“Like we discussed?”

“Yes, to show you the collection of maps and documents I have from the rule of Airyglyph the first.”

Albel’s nerve wavered; he did not like the idea of going into the man’s most intimate chamber. “Can you not bring them out here?”

“They are very old documents; the less moving they do the better. Why, are you afraid of something?”

The smile the man sent his way was far less charming than it had been; Vox looked distinctly like a wild animal on the prowl. But Albel was not one to back down from a challenge and he could see the dare in the man’s eyes clear as day. He stood as well and together they went to the duke’s bedchamber.

Vox guided his young guest to a chair and then lit the candles in the room. As he lit the candles on the desk, he leaned close to the youth’s body, allowing his tunic to rub against the boy’s arm. Albel shivered at the passage of clothe on his skin, but he made no comment on it.

A large tome was placed before him and Vox stood behind him, effectively trapping him behind the desk. The man reached over his shoulder and flipped the pages carefully, showing him letters from Airyglyph I to his mother Edyglyph, structure plans the first royal court had come up with for the foundation of Airyglyph, blueprints and proposals; within that book was the entire history of the country.

“How did you come to possess this book and not Arzei?” Albel asked, turning his head up to look at the duke.

Vox smiled at him. “I have my ways of coming into possession of important historical items, as you’ve seen. Besides, you’ve been in Arzei’s office, haven’t you? This sacred book would be lost in that mess.”

That was very true, besides which, Albel did not think the king did much reading in his spare time. Vox, however, he could imagine looking at the documents in the book many times, giving them the attention and respect they deserved. He flipped through more of the book, marveling at the history at his fingertips. Albel was so engrossed in perusing the documents that he did not notice the man leaning closer to him until he felt breath on his neck. His back straightened suddenly.

Vox moved his hand to the boy’s neck and ran his fingers up the column, causing the small hairs there to rise.

“What are you doing?” Albel asked, gritting his teeth.

“Enjoying the feel of your skin breaking into cold gooseflesh as I touch you.”

“Remove your hand.”

Rather than do as he was asked, Vox leaned in and placed a single kiss on the juncture of Albel’s neck. The boy tensed more, his nerves coiled so tightly that he was almost ready to snap. His mind thundered in its attempt to find a means of escape. The simplest way would have been to push out from the desk, knock the man over and run. There was no maneuvering away from the desk otherwise, so he quickly settled on that method of flight. Before he could plant his hands firmly on the desktop, gathering power to push off, a hand slipped past his navel and rested against his groin.

Albel let out a hiss of surprise. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Just shut up.”

The man’s tone had changed and Albel looked up abruptly, noting the change with alarm. The charming, persuasive, soft tone the duke had used before had disappeared, replaced with a gruff, commanding tone. A firm hand gripped the boy’s shoulder and pulled him up, out of the seat, then guided him quite forcefully to the bed. Albel protested, attempting to dig his heels into the stone floor and stop the forward movement, to no avail. When they reached the edge of the mattress, the boy was turned. Vox’s eyes, when he saw them, aroused a bit of worry within Albel. They burned with lust and, most frighteningly, anger.

“I’ll have you in my bed, one way or another, Albel,” the duke gripped the boy with bruising force, “it would just be so much easier if you did so by choice.”

The youth’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you threatening to rape me?!”

The man’s grasp suddenly loosened. His eyes calmed. He ran his hands down the boy’s arms in a soothing motion before pulling him close and speaking softly once more, “Why no, of course not! I would never. I want you as my lover; that is all. If you do not consent then I will have to resort to courting you, which I doubt you would like.”

Vox laughed light heartedly. Albel looked at him in confusion, unable to fathom the abrupt change in mood.

“I want no lover.” He said carefully, wary of working the man into a fury.

The duke smiled. “You do not want one now, but you will. After tonight you will want no other but me.”

For a moment Albel stood, frozen and dumbfounded, before he was pushed onto the bed. He tumbled gracelessly and sprawled with his legs parted. He had barely a moment to gather his wits before Vox joined him on the bed, moving between his parted legs. The man was shirtless and had his pants loosened and Albel wondered just how long the man had waited to get him in his bed.

The boy pushed himself away, until his back slammed against the stone wall at the head of the bed.

“Do not be afraid. You will enjoy yourself.”

“I’m not afraid!” But inside Albel was not so certain of that declaration.

Vox laughed softly, reaching out and taking hold of the boy’s chin. Albel stared at him, unsure, with wide eyes. It was a fetching look for the young captain and it made the duke want to possess him all the more; utter helplessness was not something he had seen in Albel before, but it was maddeningly appealing.

Before another protest could leave Albel’s mouth, the duke leaned forward and kissed him softly. He knew he would need to coax the youth into this with soft words and touches before he could have his way. The man wrapped his arms around Albel, holding him tightly so he could not wriggle away. The boy tried to get away, regardless of the strong arms around his body. Vox responded by tightening his grip.

When he was able to break away from the kiss, Albel turned his head from the duke and panted out, “I said no!” He tried to push away from the man, but his own strength was nothing in comparison to Vox.

“Calm down, your virginal modesty is misplaced.”

“What? I never said I was a virgin!”

“You didn’t need to say it aloud, I can tell.”

“I am not a virgin!”

“Oh? If that were true then you wouldn’t be putting up such a fight.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you!” Albel cried, a wave of heat coming into his face. He did not want anyone to know he had indeed never had sex before. It was a stupid point of pride, but it was still a point of pride. He had no time for sex and had yet to find anyone he wished to sleep with. It was nothing to be ashamed of—he knew that quite well!—but he still kept it a close guarded secret. Having Vox know the truth did not put him at ease. Who knew what the man would do with that information?

Vox smiled. “If you’ve had sex, you know that liking someone has nothing to do with and is completely opposite from lusting after someone. Sometimes one finds an attractive partner who they despise in all other aspects. Have you not heard your men talking of how they stay with a lady for sexual purposes only?”

“Fine then, what makes you think I lust after you?”

The man laughed. “How could you not?”

“Arrogant prick; I have no interest in you at all!”

The grip on Albel’s arms tightened, causing the boy to wince.

“You don’t need to be attracted to me; that will come soon enough. For now, just let me make use of your body.”

Albel felt his head spin. He had quickly lost grip on what was happening and what was being said. “That makes no sense! Why would I sleep with you just because you want to?!”

“Wouldn’t you like to release all of the stress that you’ve been carrying around the last few days? I happen to know, having interviewed your men, that you do not take them to your bed. So, I assume you have no lover at the moment. I would have thought that you, apparently being so schooled in the art of sex, would have wanted to try your hand at having an experienced lover.”

“That’s just another way of saying you’re old!” Albel felt his power in the situation slipping away. That Vox had gone to the trouble to actually find out if he was sleeping with someone showed just how serious the man was at bedding him.

Vox could see the boy’s mind working, desperately trying to find a solution to the little dilemma he was in. He smirked. It would take just another small push to defeat Albel’s resolve and then the boy’s will would crumble and he would submit to whatever the duke proposed. Albel was not immune to the stupidity of youth.

The man suddenly released the youth’s arms. “I supposed I have mistaken you for a more mature man.” He laughed suddenly. “Of course I have; you’re nothing more than a green youth in a man’s military position! Really, what was Arzei thinking, putting a child in such a position of power? I shall have to have a talk with him about it; one as young as yourself should be mucking about in the lower ranks, taking lovers left and right and not worrying over such things as progress reports.”

A cold sweat broke out on Albel’s skin. He knew it was a scare tactic; Vox was just trying to get him to agree. But Vox was also a vindictive man and he did not think the duke would hesitate to try and get him stripped of his rank, no matter what kind of low ammunition he used. If the man truly perceived of him as child then his career was in jeopardy.

He glared at the duke. “I am hardly a child. If I sleep with you now will you swear to leave me alone afterwards?”

“Oh, not a child? Are you sure? Your hesitancy makes me wonder.”

Albel growled and launched himself forward. Instead of mauling the man, as he wanted to do, he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, pulling him close for a kiss. Unbeknownst to him, the man was smirking, having expected, having planned and worked for, this outcome. Vox pulled him closer, forcing his tongue past the boy’s clenched teeth to explore the wet walls of his mouth. Not just virginal, but probably never been kissed before. The notion brought a tingle of joy that warmed the man’s blood.

Albel was unsure of what to do. He allowed the duke to dominate the kiss and tried to mimic the man’s actions, brushing tongues with him and hesitantly allowing his own tongue to venture into the man’s mouth. A hand came up to tangle in his hair and fingers sunk into his scalp, bringing a sharp stinging pain. Albel felt his head yanked backwards and he hissed. The mouth he had just been kissing went to his neck, biting him and marking his flesh.

He was so preoccupied with the lips on his neck that he did not notice the hand at his belt, loosening the tie and then the knot on his sarong. When the garment was pulled away and a cold hand touched his bare thigh, Albel came back to himself and forced the man away with a shove.

“Now what is wrong?” Irritation had crept into the man’s voice.

Albel took a moment to think. He couldn’t back out now, not when so much was at stake for him. “I’m just unsure how to go about this.”

Such pretty lies, the man thought. “Since you’re being so nice about this all, we’ll just do it the traditional way.”

Albel stared at him blankly, choosing to ignore the sarcastic tone that the duke had used.

“Bent over, on your knees.” Vox clarified, smiling at the way the boy’s face fell.

There was a long pause before either of them spoke or made a move. Vox was enjoying the emotional turmoil that his soon-to-be lover was experiencing, whereas Albel was desperately trying to work his courage up so that he could just get this over with. It was not easy finding that courage within himself when he wanted nothing more than to be well quit of the duke and the situation the man had put him in. With a loud, heavy sigh, he fixed the duke with a scathing glare and turned away, hunching over onto his hands and knees.

It was not as tactful a display as Vox had hoped, but as long as he was getting what he wanted, he would take it. He put his hands on Albel’s hips then ran his fingers up and down the boy’s sides. Albel quivered at his touch; he tugged playfully at the string on the youth’s thong before pulling it down Albel’s thighs slowly. Vox ran a finger down the inside of the boy’s thigh, enjoying the way the skin broke out into gooseflesh.

Albel dropped his head to look at the folds of the bedcover. He felt an odd sense of shame at submitting to the duke. The feeling was so strong that he could not bear to bring himself to look at the man, much less turn to see what was happening to himself. He could feel the man’s cold hands running over his thighs, squeezing his behind then dipping between his legs to fondle his flaccid cock.

The man worked the soft flesh in his hand, stroking it gently and persistently until the boy’s blood started to flow and his cock was hard and begging to be touched. It was easy enough to get the young captain aroused, but Vox did not want to waste his time bringing the boy to pleasure when he was only interested in finding pleasure for himself. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a bottle of oil. Albel felt the man shift and lifted his head to see what the duke was up to. When he saw the oil he dropped his head again, knowing full well what the liquid would be used for and not enjoying the knowledge.

When the hands returned to his body, slick with oil, Albel shut his eyes tightly and tried to find a place that was far away from the situation. He thought of Kirlsa, of the mines and beyond that; he thought of what Aquaria must look like and Greeton. All of those musings scattered like leaves on the wind when a finger plunged into his body. His teeth clamped down on his lip, drawing blood. The muscles in his body tensed.

Vox smacked him on the ass. “Though I enjoy the tightness of your body right now, tensing is not helping me prepare you. Or would you rather I fuck you without preparing you?”

That was the last thing Albel wanted. He knew if that happened, he’d probably be bleeding from his anus for days to come. He willed his muscles to unclench themselves.

The man continued. He worked his finger in and out several times before adding a second and eventually a third. When he was satisfied, Vox removed his fingers and shifted again. He pulled his cock out of his pants and then took hold of the youth’s hips. Albel tensed again. The man didn’t care how nervous the boy was; if Albel was going to cause himself more pain then so be it. Vox pushed forward, forcing his way into the boy’s body despite protesting muscles. He heard the young captain let out a cry of pain, but he did not relent. He pushed until he was fully sheathed, his hips pressed tightly against Albel’s. The boy was trembling beneath him, possibly in pain, so the man allowed him a few moments to adjust to the size of him before beginning more strenuous activities.

It was probably the most painful thing Albel had felt since his baptism of fire a few years ago. It felt as though his body were being torn in two from the inside out; Vox had not taken the proper amount of time to prepare him. Nor had the man been at all gentle when entering him. When the duke started to thrust, pulling back and then slamming into him, the pain doubled. His vision contracted with each powerful thrust and some sort of noise was dragged from his throat. There was no pleasure to the act at all until Vox, perhaps tiring of his pained yells, wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped him until tingles of pleasure were running up his spine. The sudden bliss that accompanied the passage of the man’s hand back and forth over his cock was enough to help Albel momentarily forget about the pain.

Sex had very little importance in Albel’s life. He didn’t care about it at all. But that lack of care left him inexperienced. When the ecstasy began to coil in his belly, he was unsure of just what would happen. It took just a few more long, sensual strokes of the man’s hand for him to find out. The coil suddenly sprang loose and a delightful electricity ran through his body. He cried out, spilling his seed into the man’s hand. The next moment he collapsed onto his elbows; the man continued to thrust while he was in his daze. Albel had just come back to his senses when Vox dug his fingers into his hips and filled his body with warm semen. It felt nice at first, feeling the warm liquid fill him and then trickle out of his body, but soon enough he was assaulted by a new pain when the salty stuff dribbled over his torn flesh.

“Stop cringing.” Vox said, pulling away and getting off the bed. “The pain will go away soon enough.”

Albel cringed anyway, trying to ignore the pain. He sat up, pulled his thong back up and grabbed his sarong. His body ached just to stand. When he had righted his clothes, the young captain looked at Vox.

The duke looked back at him with impassive eyes. “You should leave now. Rest for the meeting tomorrow.”

Albel nodded his head weakly.

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He had left Vox’s quarters dazed and confused. The sting in his backside plagued him for the next three days and he continued to bleed all through the night. Albel thought there was a reason he had no interest in sex and the evening he had spent with the duke had shown him just what that reason was.

The physical discomfort he could get over, though. All he cared about was that Vox had been satiated; the man would not speak a word of what he had perceived as Albel’s ‘childishness’ to the king. His military career was no longer being threatened.


…Vox had used him in a most unfair manner and he had gone along with the man’s plans willingly, because he had feared for his career. The man had actually been very right; Albel had been a child. Perhaps he had been much more mature and wiser than ordinary children his age, but he had still been incredibly naïve. It wasn’t until years later Albel had realized how easily Vox had strong him along because of his youthful naivety.

Cliff would be able to understand that. He had been young and stupid and there had been someone eager to play on his lack of worldly experience. The relationship he had with Vox had started with that one trick; he should have seen it as a sign all those years ago. The first night the duke had bedded him had been the beginning of a long and terrible mess that he was still recovering from. Maybe, after reading the first letter, Cliff would begin to understand why.

~END

Yes, my transitions will be indicated by ellipses. I really am not sure how far this will go because sometimes it does feel like rewriting ‘enabling’. I have another story in the works, an AU, which is feeding my inspiration. So that might story might get posted soon. We’ll see how this all plays out.