Enabling

Vox knew he had become fond for the boy he possessed, more than fond if he was honest. Their verbal tussles had become less fighting and more teasing. His jealousies could be easily roused when he spotted other men and women eyeing Albel. He took such pride in the boy when he succeeded and every failure that Albel had (which were few in number) hurt his pride, just as it did Albel’s.

It angered him, this growing emotional attachment to the young captain. He hadn’t intended to have affection for Albel when he proposed the idea of marriage. Certainly he had thought Albel attractive and he desired the boy’s body, but Albel was snarly and rather difficult to deal with. Vox had recognized he was growing old and he was not interested in finding a young female who would need him to cater to her. Albel would require no tending to and with Albel creating the children he was truly reaping great benefits. The attachment, however, was unexpected.

He knew that he had been truly snared when panic would set into his heart when Albel’s health and wellbeing were at risk. He did not fret when the boy went off to battle, that would have been idiocy, but when the boy was safe in the city and seemed ill it did not sit well with Vox. That was why, when Albel became ill enough for the king to order him to bed rest, a knot of worry made itself in the duke’s stomach.

Panic set in when news came to Vox that Albel had been moved from Airyglyph’s capital to Woltar’s mansion in Kirlsa. The boy would not have been moved unless he was greatly ill. After hastily leaving his camp to fly back to the city and bullying the physician that had tended to the boy, Vox discovered that the move was for Albel’s comfort. The mansion had more comfort to offer and…should Albel pass he would be in a familiar place and Woltar would be at his side.

Of course Woltar would be summoned to look after Albel; Albel was the man’s charge and no one knew about the secret marriage between the duke and the young captain. Still, it stung like an insult that he had not been summoned as well. Logic told him that it would be perilous and suspicious if all three captains were gathered together outside of the capital, but damn it if they could all abandon the war temporarily to meet at the capital then they could all abandon the war to meet for another reason.

Before he was to depart for Kirlsa his nephew warned him away from the town.

“You shouldn’t be near him, lest he is contagious.”

“Your doctor has no idea what is wrong with him,” Vox replied testily.

“Exactly my point. With Albel’s illness as of yet identified we are not certain if he may be contagious or not.”

“Woltar is with him.” The duke pointed out, cringing at how whiney his protest seemed.

His nephew sighed, agitated. “Woltar does not spend as much time on the field with his men as you and Albel do. And…he is much older than both of you are.”

“You’re saying you don’t protest his presence around a potentially contagious captain because he is old and likely to die soon?”

“I would not say he is likely to die soon.”

Vox scoffed. He seethed indignantly at being kept from his spouse; he cared not whether Albel might be contagious.

He had little choice other than to obey Arzei, given that his nephew outranked him. All he could do was return to his camp and wait impatiently for news of Albel. Arzei had promised that when Albel ‘s sickness was identified as non-contagious the duke would be granted leave to visit the boy. He hated to wait.

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It was a strange dream that Albel was trapped in. He was hot, burning hot. Sweat was pouring from his body--and the heat! It was too hot! There were strange flashes of light; bright oranges and reds, undulating with blue and violet, like the flames of a scorching fire. He thought it was fire, he could feel the flames licking at his skin, burning the flesh from his body.

He screamed in agony, writhing in pain and tossing his limbs about in a wild frenzy, trying to put the fire out. He would claw at his skin, attempting to brush the fire off, but would only leave oozing scratches on his body.

Woltar was alarmed and feared for the boy. Clearly Albel was out of his mind from the fever. With the help of the doctor and several nurses, they pinned the young captain to the bed and Woltar carefully detached the artificial limb. With the harmful claws taken away, Albel could roll about and thrash without injuring himself.

The screaming was another issue. Albel had screamed himself hoarse and his throat had become so sore it began to bleed. The older man would sit by the bedside as the boy screamed, holding a cloth to his mouth to catch the blood that was spit up. He comforted the boy was best he could, laying cold hands on the boy’s arm and legs, pressing a damp wash clothe to the boy’s forehead, whispering soft words and patting Albel’s legs. The motions would soothe the boy some, quieting him briefly, but the peace never lasted.

The fever pulled Albel’s mind to the past, to his spectacular failure that cost him his beloved father. The babble that emanated from the boy’s mouth would turn coherent for several moments and Woltar could tell that the boy was lost in his disastrous past. Several times Albel cried out for his father, begged the gods and dragons for mercy on Glou, begged to be killed in Glou’s place, begged for anything to keep Glou with him. The man was not sure what hurt his heart more, hearing Albel beg for his father or watching the dream move into flaming torment that caused the boy to scream in agony.

This torment lasted for a week and half before Albel’s mind finally found its way out of the fog and back to clarity. The old captain’s heart fluttered at the sight of his charge’s eyes opening and looking about in curiosity. The doctor was called in immediately.

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The letter that Vox received from Albel’s doctor both gladdened his heart and sent him into a rage. Albel was finally beginning to recover; his fever had broken and he was beginning to eat on his own once more. If all went well, the doctor would take the boy off of bed rest and Albel would be able to exercise his faculties once more. The weeks spent still in bed had most likely made the boy’s limbs stiff and weak. Such news of recovery had pleased the duke.

What had sent the man into a rage was the news that the doctor, who was renowned as supposedly one of the best doctors in the capital, had been unable to identify Albel’s illness until AFTER the illness had abated. The man clearly was not as capable as he had been lead to believe. What truly angered him was the fact that the doctor admitted willingly that he had believed Albel would die from the illness. If that had happened then they would have never known what had caused Albel’s illness! He would have that man stripped of his degree.

The cause of the illness, the doctor discovered, was an infected battle wound. Now that the illness had run its course there was little that could be done, but Woltar had worried that the wound might cause a problem later in Albel’s life. So the doctor reopened the wound, cleaned it out and stitched it back up. Vox did not believe that would do much of anything, but he had no say in the matter. Even if he had been by the bedside, Albel was only recognized as Woltar’s charge, not HIS spouse. His opinion would not have mattered.

Now that Albel was beginning the healing process he could go to see the boy.

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A maid showed Vox into Albel’s bedroom. Woltar had removed himself before the duke entered the chamber, allowing them some privacy. But he had given Vox a warning not to ‘try anything’ while Albel was recovering. The man had scoffed, but nodded.

When Vox walked into the room Albel lifted his head weakly. The movement seemed to take a good deal of energy. The boy’s skin was very sallow and still felt cool and clammy. His eyes were sunk in and a bit cloudy, but Albel was alert. When he had walked into the room there was a twitching at the corner of the boy’s mouth that might have been the beginnings of a smile.

Vox sat himself in the chair by the bedside, knitting his fingers together and keeping his eyes trained on his spouse’s covered feet. They sat in silence for a moment before Albel slid his hand over and offered his palm. Vox glanced at the boy, noting the furrowed brow and exhausted expression. The urge to protect his spouse rose in him again. He reached over and took Albel’s hand.

“How are you feeling?”

A strange gurgle came from Albel’s throat before he managed to form words. “I’m better.”

Vox nodded, his eyes moving to the boy’s other arm. “They took your arm.”

Albel glanced at the scarred stump and nodded. He frowned.

“I’ll see that it’s given back to you soon.” There was a small squeeze to his hand and he smiled softly.

There was little conversation between them; Vox sat by the boy’s side, gifting the boy with his presence and taking reassurance in the fact that his spouse was alive and getting stronger. A short while into their meeting Albel’s eyes began to droop and he rolled his cheek into his pillow. The repose must have been comforting for Albel; he would not have allowed himself to be still had he been in the city. Being secreted away in Woltar’s mansion gave him peace of mind to rest his body and not worry about the up keeping of appearances.

Leaning over a bit, Vox pressed his hand to the boy’s forehead and brushed aside his bangs. Albel’s eyelids fluttered and closed. He let the boy rest; they would have a week for themselves.

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By the end of the week Vox was walking with Albel through the gardens behind Woltar’s mansion. The boy was forced to lean the majority of his weight on the duke while they walked, but he needed to be up and about. After their afternoon stroll they would sit by a fire in Albel’s room and Albel would lean against the man, resting his head against his shoulder.

A week of similar activity brought the majority of the boy’s strength back, but such extensive exercise tired Albel. It was decided that Albel would be brought back to the city where he would undergo private physical therapy--much to Albel’s chagrin.

“It’s a necessary evil.” Vox told him, trying to stroke the boy’s wounded pride. “You need to exercise yourself back to perfect health.”

“I can work myself back to perfect health.” The young captains scowled.

“You can take that up with Arzei when we return.”

Having whiled a week away at Albel’s side, there was need for the duke to return to his camp. He would fly Albel back to the city and from there he would return to his army. The boy should be safe, now that he was on the uphill slope of recovery. But he would demand a weekly update on how his dear spouse was fairing.

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Albel looked up at the duke’s dragon with great distaste. He hated the creatures. He always would. They represented his failure, his loss, and everything he would never have. He could have taken the ceremony again; he would be the first--and most likely last--person to ever take the ceremony twice. But why in the bloody hell would he do that!? He had heard some of his men whisper such an idea and bile had rose in his throat. Just the sight of the creatures made Albel want to cut himself open and watch his intestines fall to the floor with a heavy thump.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder and another pulled him into a firm, warm body.

“You aren’t scared, are you?” The man asked with a hint of concern.

Albel scowled at the ugly creature. “No.”

Vox laughed, leading the boy to his dragon. He took hold of Albel’s hips and lifted him onto the saddle on the dragon’s back and swung up behind the boy. He pulled Albel against him with one arm, using the other to take up the reigns and raise the dragon to its haunches. The boy stiffened in the duke’s arms; the last time he had flown on a dragon was when he was a small child. He had been so small; his father had had to cradle him in the folds of his cloak. Glou had been afraid of his tiny son slipping out of his grasp and falling from the dragon. He had been ignorant of his father’s worries then; he had been perfectly happy pressed against his father’s chest, his face tucked away from the whipping air, unable to see the world far below.

The great beast lifted into the air with a powerful flapping of wings. Albel pulled his cloak around him tightly and turned his face away from the harsh wind. Vox secured his hold on the boy’s waist, pulling him closer. Whether Albel would admit it or not, Vox could tell he was frightened. The boy was far too stiff to be calm.

Leaning forward, the duke rested his chin on Albel’s shoulder and spoke softly into his ear, “I enjoy having you so close.”

Albel made a noise, but the duke did not hear any words come from the boy’s mouth.

They rode on for less than an hour before the dragon made a sudden dive for a bird, snatching it in his mouth and swallowing it whole. Albel let out a panicked screech as the creature dove towards the earth and grabbed a hold of the arm about his middle. Vox laughed loudly, pulling the boy closer; having been in his dragon’s company for years, he knew the beast’s tendency to make such sudden drops to snatch up tasty morsels for a snack. It was a trait he had only seen in his own dragon.

“Be calm, my little brat” he chided, giving the boy a reassuring squeeze.

Albel was not receptive to his touch. Vox was not certain, but for a moment he believed that Albel was crying. Perhaps flying had been a bad idea. Taking a hold of the reigns, the duke gave a firm tug, signaling the beast to slow. The creature gave a loud screech, but the beat of its wings softened and they began to glide slowly through the air. It would take them longer to reach the city, but it would be a more comforting ride for Albel.

The body against him began to relax. The boy lifted his hands to press Vox’s own against his stomach. It was a silent thank you. He kissed the nape of Albel’s neck soothingly.

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They had stopped briefly to relieve their bladders and snack. Vox had given the boy a short chase about the woods, desiring a bit of play, but Albel was being a little vixen. When they mounted the dragon again the duke pulled his spouse against him. When they took to the air the man decided to play a bit more; he shifted position, pulling Albel even closer, against the bulge of his hardness.

Albel let out a small laugh as the duke playfully rubbed against him. He leaned against the man and perhaps that was what encouraged Vox to take their game a step further. He pushed Albel forward to give himself room and, without unbuckling, unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. It was rather difficult to do, with one hand keeping a hold on the young captain, but he managed.

After releasing himself from the restricting confines of his pants, the man pulled Albel back with the arm around the boy’s waist and with the other pushed aside the sarong and cloak. Over the years he had become adept at balancing on his dragon without having his hands on the reigns and he was very happy to have the talent then. Albel’s buttocks were bare and welcoming.

It was a task, preparing Albel. Vox slicked his fingers with saliva and pressed the tip of one finger into the boy’s tight hole. Albel jerked at the feeling, surprised that the man would be initiating an intimate encounter at such a time. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the expression on the duke’s face; the man was set on fucking him.

The duke worked his finger in to the knuckle, impatiently pumping the digit in and out of the hole. He pressed a second finger in, having to force it a bit. The boy’s body clenched against the invasion, but Albel pressed backwards, welcoming further touches. Vox probed further, curling his fingers in the tight passage, rubbing against the spot that made the boy quiver.

“You feel so tight” the man panted into Albel’s ear. “You’ve lost your looseness while I’ve been away.”

Albel bit his lip. “Don’t do anything foolish, I don’t want to die because you were preoccupied with fucking me.”

“You’re safe.”

What Albel did not know, nor could he ever know unless he formed a bond with a dragon, was that his dragon protected him with its life. The creature took care to keep its rider steady on its back and, should its rider fall, it would catch him. What Vox cared for, the dragon cared for. His Albel was safe.

He didn’t have the patience to explain that to the boy. After pulling his fingers from the warm passage, Vox guided the head of his cock to the boy’s entrance and pushed in. With a bit of work, the tip wormed its way in and it was then only a matter of sliding the rest of the way in. Vox eagerly pushed his shaft in to the hilt.

Albel gasped loudly, his boy tensing and quivering. It had been so long since his spouse had claimed him, he felt as though his body had tightened up. Vox was still behind him, unmoving, his arm never having left his waist. He waited for the man to begin thrusting, but Vox remained immobile. He had thought that the duke was basking in the feel of his tight body wrapped about the man‘s cock, but he was no longer certain. The boy had just opened his mouth to question the man when Vox gave a tug on the dragon’s reigns. The creature jerked suddenly.

A wave of fear went through Albel and his mind blanked. A firm thrust to his prostate brought him back to his senses. Vox growled pleasantly behind him, gripping his middle firmer. A moment later there was another thrust that made Albel moan loudly. What the young captain came to realize was that Vox was not moving, it was the flapping of the dragon’s wings that jarred their bodies in such a way that thrust the man further into him.

It was a steady, hard pace, and it felt excruciatingly wonderful. Neither he or his husband could control it; there were just constant thrusts into his willing body. Albel’s body went slack and he leaned back into the man, opening his mouth in moans of pleasure that were lost to the wind rushing past.

Vox buried his face into his dear spouse’s neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. He felt a new form of control, taking Albel in such a way. He could not control the pace of his thrusts, that was completely up to how fast the dragon beat its wings, but only he could give that pleasure to the boy. Never again, unless he chose, would Albel feel the rush of adrenaline and lust as they made not-quite-love on the back of his dragon.

It lasted for nearly an hour, this wonderful and new session of play. When he felt Albel begin to clamp around him, approaching his climax, the duke pulled out and pushed the boy forward so that he was leaning against the dragon’s long neck. Albel looked back, his eyes glazed in passion, waiting for the man to enter again and finish him.

He did not have to wait long. Vox leaned over the boy, guiding himself into Albel’s warm and welcoming body. He began to thrust wildly, exhilarated by the rush of air around them and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. And Albel…the way the boy’s body shook in what he could only assume was fear, the pleading look in those crimson eyes, begging to keep him safe, the soft sounds of alarm let out at a sudden jerk of the dragon… It was intoxicating to him, he loved seeing Albel like so.

Images filled his mind of Albel lying on his bed, looking at him with those soft, pleading eyes, softly asking to be taken. How the boy could look so undone when he was usually so cold and composed was mysterious, but he knew that Albel could indeed look like that. Vox had seen it once and he wanted to see it again.

His fantasies drove him to such madness that, without truly realizing it, he had begun to slam into the boy’s open body. Albel cried out, spilling himself onto the saddle blanket. The feel of the young captain’s muscles clamping around his throbbing cock sent the man over the edge. He let out a rough grunt, slamming into the boy one last time and spurting his semen deep into his spouse’s waiting core.

Albel’s body was his to take. The boy depended upon him to take him and release into his body. When he made use of the boy’s body he was completing his spouse. It was what Albel needed, wanted, and depended upon.

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They had needed to make another stop, shortly after the culmination of their passion. After cleaning and straightening themselves they continued on. Vox was quite pleased. Being so weak during his recovery process, Albel spent the last portion of their journey sagging against the duke, drifting in and out of consciousness.

When they landed outside of the city in the area allotted to the dragon brigade, Vox had to cradle his spouse against him to dismount. He landed with a jump and it was that sudden jostling that jarred Albel from his rest.

The boy seemed a bit more energetic after having gotten some rest. They walked the considerable distance back to the city, albeit slowly, and into the castle. The king would want to meet with Albel, but Vox told the boy that he would speak to Arzei as he left. Albel needed his rest; a meeting could wait. They went straight to Albel’s quarters.

Whereas it had irked the man once to have to play maid to Albel, that odd urge to protect and care for the boy had brought pity to his heart. He put the boy to bed, making sure there was water by the bedside, should Albel need it.

The young captain dropped off to sleep almost immediately. As he shut his eyes to sleep he mused to himself how much things had changed between he and the duke. There was a time when he would have never trusted his back to the man. Now he was falling asleep with the man sitting on his bedside, petting his hair like he was a tired child. It irritated him some, to be coddled so, but he had not the energy to argue. Once he got his energy back he would release his wrath upon the man like never before. He had been storing it these last few weeks. The thought put a wicked little grin on his face.

~END

Yet another twist in the strange relationship that the two of them have. GASP! Why, Vox has feelings for Albel, and they’re still deepening! But Vox obviously has beliefs about their relationship that Albel doesn’t share. So…what do you think of their relationship? And does anon have pictures to share yet? Feed my fandom!