[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Historical Fantasy Romance, M/M, elves, HEA]
Elven Bearer Prince Conor has mixed emotions when his betrothal to a foreign king is arranged as part of a peace treaty. After a difficult voyage, he finally meets King Lyndor for the first time and is pleasantly surprised to find the king attractive, charming, and kind—the ideal father for the hoped-for royal heir. Their initial flirtation goes well, and the bonding ceremony proceeds smoothly except for the unexpected arrival of Solen, one of the king’s political rivals.
Though rumors suggest that Solen is descended from the City of Mages and secretly practices magic, Conor prefers to believe Solen’s claim that he is simply at the wedding to wish his cousin the king well. Then, without warning, the previously happy arrangement seems to go awry. After the ceremony, the king’s behavior becomes cold and withdrawn—as though he has been bewitched. Conor searches for a way to rescue his mate and give him the son to secure his dynasty.
A Siren Erotic Romance
As promised, the servants delivered Conor to the king’s private gardens as soon as he was ready. Conor liked the garment they had chosen for him, a new green tunic, apparently designed and created in anticipation of his visit, with a gold belt and pale-ivory leggings. The leggings, he thought mischievously, showed off his trim but well-muscled legs to great advantage. He didn’t think he was imagining the way Lyndor glanced down to check them out. A tiny smile of pleasure seemed to lift the corners of the king’s sensitive mouth.
Lyndor had been leaning against the gate at the entrance to the gardens while he waited for Conor to arrive. Now he straightened, his smile widening, and offered Conor his arm.
“Shall we walk? I thought you might enjoy a brief tour, though I am sure you are fatigued from your journey. This is one of my favorite places to spend time—when Acolyte Wym and the rest of my council allow me a bit of leisure, that is.”
“I’m not fatigued,” Conor said. Instantly he regretted sounding too eager. No doubt Lyndor would think him quite foolish, more like a boy than the potential consort of a great king. When he dared to glance up again, he found that Lyndor did not look the least bit annoyed. Instead, he seemed amused, even charmed by Conor’s enthusiasm. Blushing, Conor tried again. “I mean…thank you. I would very much like to see the gardens.”
“By all means, then, let us proceed.”
They strolled on, passing along a cobblestone path and through a metal gate twisted through with vines. Beyond lay a sort of courtyard, in which a stone fountain burbled happily. On every side of them, tall hedges enclosed the carefully crafted spaces, making the gardens seem almost like a second castle. In this one, though, the walls were made of brightly colored flowers and lush green leaves of various sizes and shapes.
“I’m sorry the ruzza flowers aren’t more fragrant,” Lyndor said, reaching out with his free hand to touch the soft white petals of a low-hanging specimen. “The past few nights have been colder than before, and I suppose their season is passing.”
“I can smell them,” Conor said, inhaling the vaguely spicy aroma that lingered on the air. “I find them quite agreeable.”
Lyndor seemed pleased. “I am glad you like them. Have you similar gardens at your own palace?”
“Nothing so grand as this. My father feels the royal coffers should fund only necessities. He prefers the functional to the decorative.”
“To me, these gardens are a necessity. I come here to think…to be alone. I need that at times.” Lyndor let the flower drop, unharmed, back into its nest of moist leaves. “Of course, I like to share it, too, now and again.”
“That’s good. I would hate to intrude.”
“You are not intruding. Believe me.” They walked on, Conor’s hand still resting on Lyndor’s bent arm. “Tell me, Conor—how did you feel when your father first presented the idea of a betrothal to you? Be truthful. Did you welcome it? Or did it seem a burden—if not something worse—to you?”
Conor’s blush returned. “In truth, my lord, I am not sure. As a Bearer, of course, I have always known it was both my fate and my duty to form a match that will benefit my father’s kingdom. In some ways, I suppose I am ready. After all, I cannot remain a child in my father’s court forever. On the other hand, I admit I have some…reservations.” He stopped speaking abruptly, worried that he had offended the king.
To his relief, Lyndor nodded. “Your doubts are perfectly understandable. In fact, I share them. Why should we not feel nervous? After all, we are strangers. We know nothing of each other, and yet we are expected to join our lives, our futures, and our bodies.”
“Indeed.” Conor choked out the word. The king was scowling. Did Lyndor find the idea of sharing physical intimacy with him distasteful? Ironically, that was the one aspect of the bonding process Conor did not dread in the least.
They had come to a small stone bench, set back from the cobbled path and tucked into the shade. Lyndor motioned Conor toward it, and they seated themselves side by side. Conor wished the king would take his hand to reassure him, but he made no move to do so. Instead he stretched both palms out in a gesture of surrender.
“All my life, I have been trained to rule this land. Everything I do is for the good of my people. The arrangement I made with Malachus is no different. At the time, I was thinking only of the kingdom.” He paused to look Conor full in the face, his eyes growing warmer and his tone softening. “It did not occur to me that I might, after all, gain a chance for personal happiness at the same time.”
Conor’s heart lifted at the hopeful words. He wondered if Lyndor suspected that he, too, had been having the same thoughts. Perhaps the two of them were more alike than he had suspected.
Tentatively, Conor lifted his hands to the clean white smock covering Lyndor’s body. His fingers went numb as he loosened the ties at the sides and throat.
Again Lyndor seemed to read his mind, or perhaps the uncertainty of his motions told the story. Lyndor placed his hands on Conor’s cheeks and tilted his face up so that they faced each other. As Conor looked into those calm gray eyes, he began to feel reassured.
“Keep going,” Lyndor urged. With a deep breath, Conor pulled the garment free of the king’s body. Lyndor stood before him, utterly revealed and without the slightest hint of self-consciousness. But then, Conor reflected, why should he be embarrassed? His figure was nothing less than perfect, a stunning vision of beauty in elven form. Broad shoulders tapered to a trim, muscle-strapped waist, sculpted in a hard plane of milk-smooth flesh. Lower lay a tuft of flaxen curls and his thick cock, which swung between his parted thighs in a slow arc, suggesting substantial weight. Conor saw a bead of moisture forming on the tip as the plump shaft rose to salute the king’s flat stomach. His own cock, still trapped in his fresh white undergarment, surged hungrily against the fabric.
“I see you are in some discomfort,” Lyndor observed with the tiniest shadow of a smile tilting his lips. “By all means, finish undressing yourself. Or would you prefer that I assist you now?”
“If…if it pleases you,” Conor stammered. Nodding, Lyndor came closer and slid his fingers over Conor’s much leaner shoulders, undoing the small ties that held the loose shift in place.
Conor did not realize, until a crisp burst of air touched his hot skin, that he had squeezed his eyes shut while Lyndor disrobed him. Even when he opened them, he was hesitant to look directly at the king. He did feel his own desire stirring as the needs of his body overpowered the weakness of his mind. Soon the brush of hot skin against his own assured him that Lyndor shared his arousal. He looked down to see their cocks rubbing together, almost like two knightly lances jousting playfully. Ripples of excitement traveled up his hard shaft and warmed his bollocks in a way he found quite pleasant.
“I like the way that feels,” Conor blurted, moving his hips a bit so that the interesting sensation could continue. Lyndor drew in a breath, suggesting that the contact was having a similar effect on him. All too soon, he took Conor’s hand and turned his body away.
“We will continue this in a more comfortable position,” he announced. Conor followed him to the bed, where the two stretched out side by side. An unfamiliar spicy scent caught his attention, and he glanced to his left to see a bowl of scented unguent lying on a bedside table. Briefly Conor wondered what it was for. Were they going to rub it into one another’s skin, as healers sometimes did with their patients? He almost asked Lyndor, but soon thought better of it. He didn’t want to break the mood by revealing his lack of knowledge about such matters. Best to let Lyndor guide him. The king, likewise, seemed content to take the lead.
“You are no doubt curious about the ways another man’s body responds to being touched and pleasured,” the king said, settling himself comfortably atop the quilt. “Therefore I would like to invite you to explore mine in any way you desire. You may touch, taste, and probe me in whatever manner your instincts compel you. This knowledge should prove useful to you later on.”
“Very well.” Slowly, Conor drew the side of his hand down the middle of Lyndor’s chest. From there, he moved it back up again, this time tracing the outline of the king’s blunt, nut-brown nipples, which tightened in response. A tingling seemed to travel from Lyndor’s skin into Conor’s fingertips as well, rippling up into his arms and finally quickening his heart. He felt and heard it pounding the way it did after athletic competitions with Blaik and the other youths back at his home palace. Under his palm, the king’s pulse grew stronger, too, and heat suffused both their bodies. Conor found himself nearly overcome with the need to please the beautiful elf, not to mention the beautiful body, in front of him.
“Yes,” Lyndor encouraged him. “That is most acceptable. You have a soothing touch, Conor.”
“I’m glad it pleases you,” Conor said.
Lyndor stretched his limbs out farther, visibly relaxing his muscles. “Now do the same with your lips and tongue. Delight me everywhere.”
Conor swallowed, again worried that his lack of skill would show. He started by kissing the king’s shoulders, working his way down in increments as his confidence grew. Soon he arrived back at the middle of Lyndor’s chest. He spent a long time licking at the king’s blunt tan nipples, gratified when he felt Lyndor’s body shift under him in apparent contentment. Then the king’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, moving him lower still, toward his cock.