Read The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge Online

Authors: Evelyn Shepherd

Tags: #LGBT; Epic Fantasy

The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (41 page)

Damir returned to Balin’s arm in a glide and asked, “Have you seen Israel and Zephyr?”

“I believe Israel is still self-conscious to show himself in public,” Balin admitted.

After the claiming, it had taken both Balin and the two guards to drag Zephyr off. The sky captain had passed Israel into Damir’s arms and lunged for the elder once more. Israel had retreated into his and Zephyr’s cabin upon returning to the ship and had remained locked away the entire flight back to Lumixander.

While Damir knew Lar had destined Israel’s fate, he wished it could have been in a less savage manner. Israel’s screams haunted him still.

“What of Arcanus?” Damir asked. Arcanus had remained a silent shadow that slunk along
Bahamut
’s walls.

“The veranda,” Balin said with a nod to the open veranda that overlooked the palace gardens. Arcanus had traded in his heavy fur-trimmed clothes for tightly bound leathers and a long cloak, hood pulled up.

Arcanus remained beneath the moonlight, disconnected from the strange crowd.

King Auric rose from his seat and raised his hands. The quartet fell silent, the dancers still. Damir and Balin turned to face him, their hands brushing against each other. King Auric dropped his hand. The long cape behind him moved like a velvet wave. Upon his head he wore a crown fastened with glittering amethysts and diamonds.

“People of Kalrune, we have come today in celebration of a new hope. Now, in these dark times, as we face our fallen brethren in the Kingdom of Pheor, we search for a new light. Lar has sent us champions to once more return Zoria to a time of solace, to bring light to the darkness. We will once more walk without fear. We will stand proud and stand bright. Tonight, we will dance, and come tomorrow, we will fight!” King Auric’s voice grew in crescendo and boomed throughout the ballroom. Applause thundered.

Damir took Balin’s hand. “Come on.”

As the music started and the crowd once more began a steady sway, Damir guided Balin toward the marble stairs that led to a set of double doors. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the rumpled shape of Zephyr. Damir strayed from the stairs and walked over to the sky pirate, who remained in the corner with a glass of champagne.

Israel sat beside him, silently sipping at his own flute. He had lost his glasses in Methuselah. While on the ship he’d gotten away with a spare, but once they had landed in Lumixander, he’d had a leather eye patch made that covered the majority of the left side of his face, concealing the scar left behind. A monocle rested on the right side. He sat dressed in another three-piece suit, a distant look in his eyes.

Damir stopped in front of them, opened his mouth to speak, but then decided against his words. He smiled at Israel and reached out to squeeze the medicus’s hand. Israel’s smile didn’t quite reach his eye, but Damir could see the possibilities.

“Retiring for the night?” Zephyr asked. He shot them a knowing look and winked at Damir. “Try not to wake the entire castle.”

Israel swatted at Zephyr’s arm. “Enjoy yourself,” he said. “We have a long road ahead of us.”

Israel shared a look with Damir. Damir realized he was not the only one who knew how much the world weighed. Damir let Balin pull him away. They mounted the stairs, stumbled through the halls, and made their way toward their room.

Balin pushed Damir against the wall in the hallway. His mouth crashed into Damir’s. Damir reached up and pulled at Balin’s hair, held his head in place as he arched into the embrace. His cock twitched, stiffened against his pants as Balin rolled his hips forward and pinned him.

“If we don’t get to the room soon, I will take you against this wall,” Balin warned, his timbre low and husky. It raked down Damir, swaddled him in hot velvet.

Damir groaned and shoved Balin away. With a wry smile, he looked at the man and then took off racing down the hall. Laughter bubbled from his lips as they ran through the moonlight.

For a moment, caught in deep twilight, Damir could feel the happiness he had felt on the farm. He knew it would be gone soon, that the harsh reality of war would knock at their door come morning, but he didn’t care. For the night belonged to them.

Balin caught Damir around the waist, hauled him back, and spun him around. Damir laughed and held on to Balin’s hands as the man roared like a mighty beast. He could feel Balin’s need nestled between his thighs.

Damir wiggled out of Balin’s hold. When his feet hit the floor, he broke into a sprint. He made his way through the labyrinth of Crystalis Castle and fled into their bedchamber. Balin rumbled in behind him, kicking the door closed. Damir spun to face Balin with a grin as Balin unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the floor. Balin crossed the room, and Damir worked on the knot of his cravat.

Balin grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into a fierce kiss that tasted of champagne. They broke apart long enough to shed their clothes. Damir’s stare never wavered from Balin as he dropped another piece of clothing. A pile formed at their feet, fine silks and linens discarded like rags.

Damir stepped toward the large bed and crawled on it, naked save Elina’s pendant. His torso was still bound by a bandage. Balin ran his fingers along the tender area. Damir wrapped his hand over Balin’s and guided it to his erection.

Balin stroked his fingers up the rock-hard length. Damir bit down on his bottom lip, repressing a small moan that threatened to escape. Balin smirked and climbed off the bed. He walked over to the window, where the heavy drapes had been pulled closed. He opened them and let the moonlight stream in.

Damir lifted a hand, which glowed like a beacon. In three large steps, Balin crossed the room, took Damir’s outstretched hand, and joined him on the bed. Gently Damir pulled the larger man down onto the mattress.

Balin trailed a finger along the curve of Damir’s neck, traced a path over his collarbone and around the pendant that rested in the hollow of Damir’s throat. He pressed the flat of his hand over the starburst above Damir’s heart.

He traced the path of his finger with his lips, burned his way down Damir’s chest, and retraced it back up with his tongue. Damir’s legs dropped farther open to welcome Balin in. A sharp cry escaped him as a warm, wet mouth sealed around his nipple. Balin could do things with his tongue that could drive Damir to the brink of insanity. The feel of the slick muscle against his nipple had him writhing with ecstasy.

Wantonly Damir moaned out. He grabbed on to the side of the bed and jerked up at the harsh clamp of teeth, followed by the soothing stroke of tongue.

“Oh God, Balin! Don’t stop,” Damir pleaded. Balin grinned against the flushed skin and dropped his head lower, pressed feverish kisses over Damir’s navel. Damir hooked his legs around Balin’s shoulders. Damir had a moment to catch his breath before Balin swooped down and swallowed his cock whole.

Damir let out a cry and grabbed fistfuls of Balin’s hair. Balin created a vacuum around Damir’s dick and lavished the engorged flesh. Damir was unable to stop his hips as they rocked into Balin’s welcoming mouth.

Balin probed Damir’s lips open with two fingers. Balin watched Damir suck his digits. Balin groaned, the vibrations rolling down Damir’s cock.

“Fuck,” Damir gasped. If Balin continued on, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

Balin drew away, and Damir whined. His cock slapped against his belly, dripping with saliva and precum. Balin hoisted Damir’s legs higher and rubbed a finger down the cleft of his ass. He circled Damir’s perineum and pushed both fingers in.

Damir whimpered and rocked against Balin’s fingers. Balin thrust his fingers in deep, pushed them to the third knuckle, and twisted. He drove the digits home and rubbed against Damir’s prostate.

“Harder,” Damir begged. He braced a hand against the large headboard and swiveled his hips, fucking himself onto Balin’s hand.

Balin pulled back, his cock flushed and hard, and moved to climb off the bed. Damir let out another whine and scrambled up. He pressed openmouthed kisses along Balin’s chest, distracting him. Balin groaned loudly when Damir latched on to a dusty nipple and sank his teeth down.

“Shit,” Balin hissed and cradled Damir’s head. Damir suckled gently, soothed the irritated nipple, and withdrew.

“Where’s the oil?” Balin asked gruffly.

“Bag,” Damir rambled as he fell against the pillows. He squeezed his throbbing cock encouragingly. Damir trailed his hand lower, one leg propped so he could fondle his balls. “Hurry, Balin—
ah!
—I can’t wait.”

“Fuck!” Balin cursed and leaped off the bed. He tore through the room, hunting down the lubricant. Damir grinned as Balin searched for the gralui oil and reached over to open a drawer in the nightstand.

He extracted the oil and called out, “Balin, are you looking for this?”

Balin jerked around. A smirk twisted his lips. “You minx. I’ll make you pay for that. Your ass is mine. I’ll fuck it so hard you’ll be feeling my cock for a week.”

Damir shivered with delight and popped the cork of the vial. He coated his fingers, rolled over, and reached to probe the slicked digits into his already stretched hole.

Balin growled like a bear. Damir turned his head and watched Balin clamber onto the bed. Balin snatched the vial from Damir and slicked his cock.

Damir pushed his fingers in deeper and pressed his forehead into the silk pillow. He tried to stretch himself wide in preparation for Balin’s mighty girth. Balin drew Damir’s hand away and shifted behind him.

“What do you want?” Balin asked. The heavy weight of his cock rubbed along the crease of Damir’s ass. Damir closed his eyes and shuddered.

Balin drew Damir’s arms back and manacled one hand around his wrists. Damir rested on his upper chest, his head turned to the side. Balin kept his other hand on Damir’s tapered hip. The head of Balin’s cock rested against Damir’s hole.

“Fuck me, Balin. Fuck me hard. Fill me with your cock. Claim me. Make me yours. Oh God, I need it,” Damir groaned.

There was no going slow. Balin drove in, snapped his hips forward, and buried himself in Damir’s channel. Damir screamed as he felt the driving power of Balin’s strength push into him.

Balin pulled to the tip and propelled himself forward again, pounding hard into Damir’s ass. Damir bucked, met each of Balin’s thrusts with his own. Balin answered each of Damir’s pleads.

“Oh God, oh God! Balin, oh shit, Balin, right there—ah!” Damir’s litany of curses filled the room. The headboard clapped against the wall.

Damir whimpered and tugged at his arms. Balin mercifully released his grip and grabbed hold of Damir’s hips to speed up. Damir reached between his legs, his balls already swollen, and began to pull at his cock. He strained to fondle his scrotum, pulling at the sacs and squeezing. A convulsion ran down Damir’s spine. His muscles tightened in preparation of release.

A bead of sweat rolled down Damir’s nose as Balin leaned over him.

Abruptly, Balin pulled out, and Damir cried in anguish. Without a word Balin flipped Damir onto his back, bent Damir’s legs over his body, and drove in. Damir grabbed fistfuls of Balin’s hair to hold on as the man relentlessly pounded. He managed to untangle one hand and once again began a frenzied jerking.

“So beautiful,” Balin panted. He kissed the inside of Damir’s sweaty thigh and inhaled deeply.

Damir’s mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled backward. He let out a loud moan, squeezed his hand around his cock, and felt every last strand of self-control snap. Hot cum shot up and splashed over his chest, some hitting his chin.

Balin came with a low groan, filling Damir with cum until he overflowed.

Damir bowed his spine, could already feel cum drip out as Balin held his place. Balin kept his body straight long enough to pull his softening dick out of Damir’s oversensitive rectum. He collapsed onto the bed beside Damir, panting.

They gravitated toward each other, arms and feet tangling together. Sleep claimed Damir before he could work up the energy to clean off.

* * * *

Damir woke a few hours later, while the final hours of night faded into soft gray. He untangled himself from Balin and, nude, walked over to the small veranda. The curtains were still pulled open, letting the dawn in. He stepped outside and grabbed the ledge of the marble banister.

Sunlight spilled over the horizon and began to chase away the shadows that played along Lumixander. He could make out the remaining twinkles of light from the lively city. His body hummed with pleasure. True to his words, Balin had fucked Damir good and hard. He could still feel the man inside him. It was almost enough to stir Damir’s cock once more to life.

A cool breeze gently rustled through Damir’s hair. He pulled a few strands from his face and wrapped a hand around Elina’s pendant.

He didn’t know what the future held, if this would be his last sunrise. All he knew was that none of it mattered. As long as Balin was at his side, he would face it all. They had a long journey ahead of them. While they had won the battle, the war had only just begun.

But for now, before the trumpets of war sounded and calamity rode in on black stallions, before Scions descended upon the earth and nefl and malltod clashed, Damir would savor the small pleasures of life. The reasons he fought.

He pulled away from the banister and dropped his hand from the pendant. Silently he walked back into the room, climbed into bed, and pulled Balin close. The ex-assassin’s head dropped onto his chest, and the larger man grumbled, his arms instantly coiling around Damir’s waist.

Tomorrow they fought; today they lived.

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