Consorts of the Red King, page 2
Jorvik shook his head. How disgraceful for the former king and his consort to give birth to such an offensive and worthless creature, a hanger-on, living from the bounty of the king’s table and doing nothing in return.
There were reasons beyond birth order for his father winning the position of king.
The ambassador nodded his nearly hairless head.
“I am gold king for a reason, trained to make beneficial decisions for the good of all under my care. Unlike the leaders of other worlds, I’m aware my role is to protect and serve my people, not exploit them for my own desires.” The king directed his sneer at the off-worlder. “Greed leads to war, war leads to death. I’ll sacrifice my people to neither. We were once a violent race such as yours, destroying, taking what we wanted. I’ll not be the one who brings such lawlessness back to our planet.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Otkiovik snarled.
The glare the king fixed on his brother should’ve melted the polished stone floors. “If so, it’s my mistake to make. Mind your tongue, brother. We’ll not speak of this again.”
No matter what anyone else at the table said, the king ignored them. He’d made his decision on the matter abundantly clear. How foolish of the ambassador and Uncle to think they’d change his mind.
With the matter settled, Jorvik could relax and enjoy his meal.
He observed his father, the hardness in eyes he’d known to soften greatly with loved ones. The keen insight so freely given.
So many lessons his father imparted. When Jorvik’s time to rule came, how could he ever compare to his father’s fairness and wisdom, or bring honor to his ancestors?
While keeping outsiders from overrunning Akiak.
The queen of the stars brought his ancestors to this world at the edge of the galaxy, with a distant sun to provide light the off-worlders declared too weak, so she gifted Akiak with the crystals to brighten their way. Yellow, green, blue, red, purple, and all colors in-between.
As beautiful as the queen of stars herself.
Her children owed no one but her.
Deep in the belly of Akiak, she’d planted a core of molten metals, warming the planet surface from within. A truly wonderful place she’d made for her children.
Handsome youths, both male and female, poured wine and served dishes of spiced meat and candied fruit.
One of the ambassador’s delegation grinned and reached a hand under a serving woman’s clothing. The woman shrieked.
How dare he! Jorvik shot from his seat at the king’s table, reaching for the ceremonial dagger hidden in his waist sash.
Matron got there first, flanked by two guards. The two bristling guards escorted the offensive man from the great hall, while Matron comforted the trembling woman and the ambassador pretended not to notice his underling’s foul behavior.
Most would rather face the captain of the guards than the ferocious woman who ran the household so efficiently, and who’d helped to raise Jorvik.
In time she became a mother figure to all who lived within the palace walls, firm but fair, and willing to take necessary action to defend those she thought of as hers.
Like the woman she’d just saved.
Unmated men and women served the tables, handpicked by Matron for their duties, who’d likely share a bed soon, but only with a partner of their own choosing. The king allowed no one to wield power over another.
Many young people flocked to the capital in search of mates, some to return to their villages once paired, others to remain at the palace.
Until selecting a mate, they enjoyed their choice of bed partners, male or female.
Matron led the woman away, likely to retire until the next meal demanded her presence. Jorvik must remember to ask after her later, good manners learned from his father. He folded himself back down onto the cushions.
The outsiders bore watching.
For the moment he enjoyed the sight of the wine bearers dancing between tables to the steady beat of a drum, wind instruments joining into the merriment. Firelight flickered in hearths along the outer walls, light radiating from the crystals, adding flashes of color here and there to their glow.
Natural caves made up the larger rooms of the palace, selected for their excellent crystal formations. Smaller chambers were hewn out of the stone, crystals brought in to take up residence and provide light.
Akiakians and the crystals coexisted for millennia. Outsiders left them alone until some unwitting citizen said too much to the wrong person.
Who would ultimately pay for the foolish error in judgement?
The high domed ceiling echoed bits of conversation, the clink of knives against plates, the occasional flirtatious laughter of a server in search of a partner to fill the time between a meal and sleep.
A wine bearer caught Jorvik’s eye, with a trim figure, long hair shining white, showing gold highlights in the crystal light, dark eyes slanted up at the corners. If Jorvik didn’t know better he’d think Sika of his father’s own line, as closely as he resembled family.
Another man watched, equally beautiful, though the greenish cast of his hair declared him of the northern tribes, where minerals in the water eventually marked their own. He whispered in the first man’s ear and they smiled. Both wore the gauzy white uniforms of the royal serving staff, which fluttered around their bodies, clinging one minute, hiding attributes the next. Every once in a while, if the server so wanted, they turned quickly, exposing more alabaster skin before the costume fluttered back into place.
Both men flirted in such a manner with Jorvik, giving him a taste of what he could have, if willing.
An invitation too good to refuse. He’d played together with Sika before, but always stopped short of asking for what he truly wanted. Would the other man spoil the fun by clinging to old taboos? Would Sika? Why couldn’t a prince take on any role he wished in the bedroom?
He’d never know if he didn’t try.
Both men’s eyes slanted slightly at the outer corners, their shape distinctly oval, somewhat larger and more luminescent than the off-worlders’ small round eyes.
How did off-worlders stand the sight of each other, when so many of them resembled the ambassador, with his shifty eyes, mottled skin, and too much flesh around his middle? Especially when surrounded by the beauty of Akiakians.
Jorvik gathered his silken robes around himself, raised a hand, and waved Matron over. “I’m familiar with Sika, but who is his companion?” He spoke in traditional language, though borrowed words sneaked into even his speech.
“Gris, your grace.” The woman inclined her head in the direction of the two men who’d caught Jorvik’s attention. “He’s new to the capital. Very promising. Intelligent and even-tempered.”
Ah, then the prince himself should provide a warm welcome. “Extend to them an invitation to my chambers, if they’re agreeable.”
“Both of them?” The woman’s brows lifted, bringing a smirk to Jorvik’s mouth. She should know better than to ask. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d invited multiple partners to his quarters.
“Yes, both.”
“Very well.” She shuffled off, an amused smile tugging at her lips.
Jorvik watched from the corner of his eye as she approached his evening’s partners. She spoke in hushed tones. They both brightened, shot a quick glance at Jorvik, and hurried from the hall, relieved of serving duties for now. Any other servers would have to wait until the end of the feast to pursue more pleasant activities, but Matron never refused anything Jorvik wanted.
He sipped his wine, fighting a smile. No need to appear overeager, though images of the men naked and waiting caused his cock to fill. His uncle and the ambassador retreated, no doubt to lick their wounds and carry on with their scheming.
Neither openly took a partner from the room. Surely, they weren’t… He shuddered. Even his uncle wouldn’t stoop so low, would he?
Or maybe the ambassador stooped. Hard to say when both were equally repulsive.
The king laughed with a slender young woman, his partner for the evening, and on many occasions. In fact, Jorvik couldn’t remember the last time his father entertained any other lover. Better her than some of the social climbers or, stars forbid, an off-worlder who tried to latch themselves onto a powerful man. Oona possessed a sweet disposition and little ambition other than his father’s, and her own, happiness. Jorvik approved.
Would he consider taking another consort? Jorvik’s mother died so long ago. Surely enough time had passed. The king wouldn’t find better than the shy beauty at his side.
If Oona gave Jorvik a sibling, all the better. Kings needed more than one child. As oldest, Jorvik’s line of succession remained unquestioned, but who would succeed him? Especially as he’d no desire to father a child himself.
Ah, well. His father had a long life before him until succession became an issue.
Jorvik lifted his glass in toast to the king. The king returned the gesture with a slight incline of his head, and Jorvik excused himself from the table.
Chapter Three
Unlike the amber crystals of the formal hall, Jorvik preferred the soft green lining the upper hallway and his quarters, giving off dim illumination.
The dull light of Akiak’s sun shone through an open window, barely perceptible through the nearly-constant cloud cover. Native flowers perfumed the air. He paused, taking in the familiar scents of his home. Although still a part of the cave system housing the palace, the residential quarters were above ground, high in the hills.
The air seemed thinner here than in the Federation capital, the only other planet he’d visited, where the appalling sun shone bright and hot for most of the day, while nights grew nearly black. How he’d missed his home while studying off-world.
So much better here, where the light stayed fairly constant and he could venture outside without damaging his skin or wearing eye protection.
For these reasons he couldn’t blame off-worlders for flocking to Akiak for, even without extensive travel to far flung worlds for comparison, no other planet in the universe could compare to perfection. Still, the unwelcome guests should return to those places they’d come from and leave him and his people alone. Trade didn’t require their constant presence.
He rested his hand against a wall, increasing the glow everywhere his fingers touched.
Nodding at a passing servant, he pushed open the door to his rooms and stopped.
The two young men he’d spotted earlier lay naked upon the silk-covered floor pallet, legs entwined and mouths melded. Their skin glowed beneath the greenish crystal light.
Sika, the white-haired beauty, moaned. He noticed Jorvik from over his partner’s shoulder and jerked away.
“S… sorry, your grace, we…”
“Started without me.” Jorvik gave a laugh. “Don’t mind me. Carry on.” He sank onto the floor cushions across from the bed and sipped the wine he’d brought with him. They were so lovely together. He’d watch, giving his lust time to build, and then he’d have them both.
Several times.
Sika, the more vocal of the two, rose up on his arms, making a great show of licking the second man’s lips. Gris opened, letting Sika’s tongue into his mouth.
Both were lean. Their sleek muscles flexed in the low light.
Both were hard, and likely leaking drops of pre-cum.
Jorvik’s mouth watered. Drawing a deep breath pulled their scent to him. Oh, yeah. They’d perfumed their skin before coming to him, but hints of kitchen smells lingered, and above all, the tang of arousal. His cock grew harder. “Taste him,” he ordered Sika, rubbing his nearly-painful erection through the slick fabric of his trousers. Oh, yes. He’d let the pressure grow and bury himself in the more reserved man’s body.
His hands itched to knead the solid mounds of flesh, to part those lovely globes and find the puckered opening he’d soon have stretched around him.
Gris lay on his back, the curved evidence of his arousal standing out from his body. Sika slid down the covers and took the pale column of flesh into his mouth.
Gris gasped, burying his fingers in the long strands of Sika’s hair.
Jorvik nearly moaned, already imagining the sweetness of cum on his tongue. He’d have the more assertive Sika finger him while he fucked Gris. Shivers of anticipation raced up his arms.
These two lovelies were his for the entire sleep cycle if he so chose. He’d make the most of every moment. While he’d shared Sika’s body before, Gris proved to be new territory. What touches would make him moan? Beg? Cum?
Jorvik bit his lip, grasping the base of his cock before he exploded from the mere thought of what he planned to do to both men.
Slurping filled the air as Sika put on an exaggerated show for Jorvik’s pleasure. Based on the energetic moans, he’d never tasted anything so good in his life as Gris’s cock.
Arching his back from the bed, Gris fisted the bedcovers in his hands, head thrown back, eyes closed.
Breathtaking.
And also robbing Jorvik of all his control.
He stood and crossed the floor to the bed, reached into the wall alcove, and removed a pot of fragrant oil, the same scent drifting through the windows from the flowers outside. “Use this on him.”
Sika grinned, moistened his finger, and stroked Gris’s hole. He leaned in for a kiss.
Gris spread his legs wide, releasing a needy whimper into his lover’s mouth.
Jorvik sat on the edge of the pallet. Sika slid his long, graceful fingers into and out of a pretty pink hole, the flesh yielding to the intrusion, clinging to the fingers when they withdrew. Jorvik imagined the fingers to be his cock and shifted his hardness to a more comfortable position.
“Fuck him,” he whispered.
Wasting no time, Sika spread oil onto his hard flesh, positioned himself at Gris’s entrance, and slid inside with a grunt.
All three of them moaned in unison.
The well-defined muscles of Sika’s ass flexed as he pumped into Gris’s body.
Jorvik positioned himself by the edge of the pallet, grabbing a handful of nearly transparent hair and bending Sika’s head back to plunder his mouth. Tongue met tongue in an excited dance. He pulled away and bestowed the same treatment on his other partner.
Mustn’t pay more attention to one than the other. How rude.
Three. The perfect number. No more. No less.
Gris cried out, over and over.
The sleek lines of his body begged for Jorvik’s hands.
Jorvik ran out of patience waiting. “Let me.”
Sika pulled out and scooted to the side of the pallet, caressing his sex partner. The light played over Gris’s skin, accentuating the dips and hollows of his flat belly and smooth chest.
Jorvik lifted Gris’s legs, hoisted them over his shoulders, and buried himself in tight heat. Oh, so good, stretched and waiting. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasure for a moment before working his way deeper into Gris’s pliant body.
Gris closed his eyes and let out a breathy sigh.
His full cock bobbed with each of Jorvik’s strokes, and Jorvik kissed one man while fucking the other. He’d love to feel a cock up his ass while his filled another, but Sika, as a servant, might be reluctant to do the honors. Some still clung to old ways where the king and prince were held to outmoded ideas of dominance.
Fucking proved dominance in the eyes of some, while being fucked conveyed submission.
How stupid.
Archaic protocol hadn’t stopped him from enjoying a variety of pleasures off-world during his education. None of the other humanoids at his Federation university knew of his status, only saw him as a tight hole to fill.
Yes, he’d learned. Many things not taught in classes. Some off-worlders did have their purposes.
Spacers, in port for a short time, called him “ghost” or “angel” for his coloring and fucked him hard. Shocks jolted through him, leaving him trembling at the mere thought.
Unlike the pudgy, swaggering ambassador, most spacers he’d met in bars were rugged men, full of muscle and covered with hair. How he’d loved caressing those muscles as a hard cock sank into him.
Gripping his lover’s thighs, he plunged in and withdrew, again and again, the way he wanted someone to do to him. Gris’s writhing and keening urged him on. “Ah, ah, ah!” Gris cried. His muscles clinched nearly painfully on Jorvik’s cock.
Oh, yes, to be filled so completely, locking down on a lover’s stiffness, reveling in every pulse inside him.
Sika wrapped a hand around Gris’s cock, working him in time with Jorvik’s thrusts.
Shuddering, Gris bowed off the bed and shot, pearly drops splattering on his skin.
Stars! Deep within, the pressure spiked. Sika and Gris kissed, tender yet passionate. So, they were lovers and not merely two men called to the prince’s bed.
Something about their bond intrigued him. He’d never allow another to take his heart, giving himself a weakness. His mother’s death nearly killed his father, though they’d spent much of their time apart. She’d still been his consort.
No, he was his father’s heir. He might take a female as a mate one day, share his body and seed, but never his heart, produce heirs of his own if his father didn’t provide him with a brother or sister.
Any consort he claimed must be male, to stir his lust as well as his heart. While not unprecedented, no king in recent memory chose to bind himself to a man. No, most picked women to give them children.
He’d worry about a loveless mating when the time came, and not a moment before.
For now, he’d enjoy tight heat, hungry moans, the heady aroma of sex perfuming the air. Sweat slicked his chest. Sika pinched Gris’s nipples. Gris shouted and came again.
How good the man’s passage felt, clinging, squeezing. Oh, stars! Jorvik’s muscles seized, bright heat surging through his groin.
“Oh, oh… oh!”
