This is a Sci-Fi/ Fantasy story involving incest, male/male, teen/adult, graphic sex and it's not intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type of material isn't legal where you live, stop now, and go read something else!
This is a fantasy meant only for the purpose of pleasurable reading. These people don't exist, this world doesn't exist.
This story originated as part of a fiction writing game which is hosted at a site called The Palace. For those interested in the game and what is known as "key fiction," the site address is, http://www.ravenswing.com/~keys/. A version of this story is posted there under the pen name, Mickey. It appears here with the blessing of the Palace.
Feedback, always appreciated, to:
javabiscuit@hotmail.com
Starlight Reverie ~ chapter two
by Biscuit
Shaun was excited and restless in anticipation of the key holder and his son. He was bathed and lotioned and had prepared his body to be entered. Any moment the two would arrive.
Initially, he'd been disappointed that Dr. Emery wasn't going to use his key herself. He liked her. He liked her very much, and relished the sessions he had with her. There were not so many now, but still she came to see him once a month. When he learned that she'd given his key as a gift he was intrigued and flattered.
Two were coming to him, a man and his child. It was something Shaun had never experienced before. His curiosity ran wild. The child, his trainer told him, was special and required cautious handling. He suspected that special, in this case, referred to a disability. The boy was mute, his trainer said, and very shy. Shaun knew he had to treat him with utmost care.
He studied the star lights overhead, thinking of Dr. Emery, her gentle voice and concern, her soothing ways. Shaun decided, though no one had said so, that the child being brought by his father must be her client. He felt a flutter of pleasure at the thought that she was entrusting him with one of her own.
Dimly, he saw pale-skinned children in his mind; a group of small ones like himself whose skin glowed with a healthy sheen, whose ears poked through their hair in tiny points. Somewhere in time he'd seen them cavorting in play with an abundance of energy that had sent their bodies tumbling together in laughing heaps.
Look at the picture of the past, and treasure it.
That's what he told himself when images like this arose. That is what Dr. Emery had told him to do. Many times, the pictures were not as pretty as this one.
"The memories can't harm you, can't hurt you," Dr. Emery had said. "Collect them and keep them in your special place and we'll talk about them together."
It is not a small one who is coming here, Shaun reminded himself, as at last he heard the key turn in his door.
Morgan's fears had multiplied as they traveled, and, as if sensing his father's anxiety, Marcus was restless on the plane, twisting and turning until he was ranged across the man's lap in a tangle of his clothes and the airline blanket. If it hadn't meant making a multitude of arrangements and subjecting his son to yet more hours of confinement, Morgan might have turned right around when the plane landed. But it was late. Both father and son were hungry and tired.
A Palace driver was awaiting them. Morgan told himself that if nothing more, he would at least eat and rest at the Palace before making plans to go home.
They were driven a short way out of the city to a surprisingly rural site. Morgan had never been to the Palace. He was surprised to see a border of greenery where he'd expected walls or heavy fencing. It reminded him of the grounds of his prep school. The front of the building was ivy-covered stone which furthered the impression of a school. It was vast, branching out in wood and stone additions that hugged a series of small hills.
The foyer they entered was surprisingly sedate, with leather furniture and bookcases suggestive of a library or study. Here he spoke to a formally attired gentleman whose manner was more like the head servant of a grand estate than the overseer of a brothel. The man examined their key, made arrangements for a meal to be brought to them and rang a small bell for a Page. Not once did he, or the Page, betray any curiosity about, or reveal any response to the sight of Marcus wound around Morgan's body.
Father and son were escorted to an elevator and Morgan was alarmed to see that the direction they were traveling was down. Being underground filled him with misgivings as they were guided to the Starlight Key's quarters.
Claustrophobic twinges tugged at him as they walked a dimly lit, windowless corridor. The homeworld of Shaun Vidar, Morgan knew, was fed by a weaker sun. His eyes, Emery had said, were light sensitive. The Page waved them through a door.
"You'll see the keyhole in the dark, sir," he said.
Morgan hesitated, but went through the last door into utter darkness. Marcus gripped him tightly.
The key turned smoothly in the glowing lock, and the door slid open without pressure. Beyond the threshold was an impression of soaring height, like the night sky. The sense of space at once relieved Morgan's dread. Stars sparkled overhead, a multitude of pinpoint lights against a velvety midnight sky, soothing his nerves as the room took shape for him.
Morgan's eyes were drawn to a creature who could have come to life from the pages of a fairy tale. A milky-skinned elf in the middle of a vast round bed, huge black eyes in a pretty face, a cupid's bow mouth curved in a welcoming smile.
Shaun sprung up lightly from the bed like a sprite, unselfconsciously naked. He offered them a slight bow which caused a silky waterfall of black tresses, shot through with shimmering highlights. Morgan's first thought, was of the hours Marcus could spend brushing that long, long hair.
"Welcome," said the Key, in a clear voice as sweet as a kiss.
"Thank you," Morgan said, and was startled to feel Marcus twist around, peeking curiously at Shaun. Shaun was returning the gaze, his very unusual black-on -black eyes glinting prettily, their strangeness softened by long sweeping lashes. His smile grew wider, dimpling his cheeks.
"Hello, Beauty," Shaun said to Marcus, cocking his head to the side. Morgan was enchanted by the sight of them looking at each other, his own son as other-worldly in his own way as the pleasure slave.
"His name is Marcus," he said to Shaun, gently, not wanting to break whatever spell was weaving between them. "Mine is Morgan. He is my son."
Shaun stepped closer, his movements light. Morgan was holding his breath, and let it out slowly as he watched Marcus raise a hand to touch Shaun's bare chest, his fingers spreading across the glowing skin.
There was a sudden clattering sound as an attendant wheeled in a tray of food. Marcus shot into Morgan's arms, hiding against his chest. Shaun took flight. He dismissed the attendant, quietly wheeling the serving tray toward a grouping of cushions surrounding a low, black table.
"It's all right, sweetheart," Morgan assured his son, inwardly cursing. He'd been so rapt, himself, by the sight of Marcus touching Shaun, that he'd been as shocked as the boy by the sudden intrusion.
He stroked his son's back and kissed his forehead. Marcus's skin felt very warm, slightly damp with sweat and Morgan took the opportunity to slowly ease his coat off him. Shaun appeared and took it from him. Unasked, he assisted Morgan in slipping out of his own so that the father could keep one arm or the other around his son.
"Would you like to remove your traveling clothes?" Shaun asked.
"That would be nice," he answered. The room was almost oppressively warm. Naked would be more than nice, he thought.
Marcus had his hands on Morgan's waist, waiting, watching him.
"We'll take off these clothes, baby," Morgan said, stroking his son's warm cheek.
He spoke to him as if the boy understood him. He believed his son did, much of the time, though there were moments that speech seemed baffling to Marcus. Communication between them was a complex mix of sound and touch and impressions.
Marcus's dark blue eyes showed acceptance, whether or not he knew what had been said, growing dreamy as he was slowly undressed. Morgan could feel the heat rising off him, and vicarious relief as he freed him from the confines of his sweater, his shirt and his tee-shirt. "It's very warm in here," Morgan said, handing his own shirt to Shaun.
"My body temperature is a little higher than yours," Shaun said. "Is it uncomfortably warm for you?"
There was something of a geisha about the boy, Morgan thought, the way he attended them, and the sleek shimmer of his black hair.
"No, it's fine."
Shaun's skin reminded Morgan of a porcelain glaze, reflecting light. The only color, that Morgan saw, was in his lips, his cock and his very tender-looking pink nipples. There was a pertness to his bare genitals that both amused Morgan and made him want to touch him. Shaun's cock pointed up at a jaunty angle over his bare, rounded testicles. He was a slim, small boy but this part of him was chubby and pinkish and begged to be fondled.
Shaun knelt by Morgan's feet.
"May I help you with your shoes?" he asked, looking up. He might have the manners of a geisha, Morgan thought, but his impish smile was something else altogether, unstudied and charming. When Shaun's head tilted down, Morgan saw another hint of pink in the point of an ear that showed for just a moment through his hair.
"Thanks, yes."
The Key had a delicate touch, unlacing and removing his shoes. Morgan found it surprisingly erotic, very intimate to feel Shaun's fingertips slide down his ankles and over his soles as he removed the socks. Marcus looked down to watch as Morgan did.
He kissed the top of his son's bowed head.
"Now your shoes, baby," he said, and was relieved that Marcus remained calm as Shaun touched him, though he looked up, eyes focusing on Morgan. He pressed his body forward, wrapping his bare arms around Morgan's naked waist. Morgan stroked his son's back as Shaun carried their shoes away, relieved to see that he was relaxed again.
Marcus's head swiveled to search for Shaun, who returned, waiting with his hands clasped in front of him, staying in reach. Morgan saw, with a surge of pleasure, how Marcus devoured the Key with his eyes.
"He's beautiful," Morgan murmured, "like you."
Maybe, he thought, this will work. Shaun seemed to understand how to be close without being threatening. He had already succeeded in getting closer to Marcus than any stranger Morgan had ever seen. Was it his chemistry? he wondered. Was there something in his make-up, or something missing in it, that kept his scent from triggering fear in Marcus? Whatever the cause, Morgan was grateful.
He dropped slowly to his knees in front of his son and Marcus's hands sought holds on his shoulders, tearing his eyes from Shaun to gaze at him again. He was flushed, the skin over his cheekbones bright with color in the dim light. It didn't surprise Morgan to find Marcus's little cock erect and quivering. He slid the boy's pants and briefs down his legs and off, handing them to Shaun.
It did surprise Morgan that he felt none of the uneasiness he was used to feeling when he was confronted with Marcus's excitement. Inches from his face was the miraculously hardened shaft of his son's cock, not much bigger than Morgan's finger, giving off heat and a vague intimate scent of musk.
It was a gift. His son's sexuality. Now Morgan silently acknowledged it, finding the sight of him inexpressibly beautiful. A pang of guilt stirred in his heart, knowing he'd wished Marcus could remain asexual and innocent in the aftermath of the maiming. As if, in innocence, a world of pain and conflicting emotions could be denied.
It was impossible to see his son's genitals without the awareness of what had been done to him. Impossible loss and pain. Nothing could ever hurt Morgan again like sight of his son's small eggs, still wet with blood, in a plastic bag with a ransom note. It had been worse, so much worse, than even the news of his wife's death. To know that his son continued to live and suffer.
Morgan shut his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. He opened them, misted with tears. He felt his son's hand touch his face and a sweetness flowed through the pain. He resisted the urge to press his face into the valley of his son's slender thighs and kiss the scarred sac, so ruthlessly mutilated.
Shaun was fascinated and aroused. Surely, he thought, these are the handsomest humans I have ever seen! He looked from one to the other, comparing, desiring.
They behaved so oddly, looking at each other more than they looked at him. But he felt he could watch them forever, and when they did look at him -- it was thrilling!
The child wasn't a small one, but he was so much like a small one that Shaun wanted to baby him, to pet him and feel his little wand poke at him, seeking pleasure. The rosy shaft was whole and healthy but Shaun saw there was something wrong with the testicles. He glimpsed a scar, and thought how strangely compelling it was, as if the imperfection underlined the beauty of what it had marred. He didn't understand how the man, who clearly wanted to, could resist sucking the little flesh twig that was popping up so temptingly right in his face! Shaun's mouth watered, imagining the perfect fit of it between his lips.
In his heart, he believed that the child would soon be squirming in his arms, wanting to be touched and kissed everywhere. It was written in his deep blue eyes every time he looked at him.
The father was far more mysterious to him. The Key had never seen such a depth of passion expressed so gently. It made his heart ache to look at him touching his son. To be touched like that! The thought was too sweet to bear. Even a taste of it would be heaven.
Thank you, thank you! In his heart, he uttered his gratitude to Dr. Emery and swore to be worthy of her faith in him.
Shaun approached the bed, every pleasure center in his body alive with anticipation. The meal that had been brought, he knew, could wait. The air was heavy with other, more potent hunger. He positioned himself to lure them. He gathered and safeguarded his long hair, and lay back with his arms outstretched on the ebony sheets. He smiled when the child started toward him, but kept silent, afraid to frighten him. Marcus took a few steps and looked back at his father, who responded at once, walking toward him.
"It's all right," he assured him. He put his hand on Marcus's shoulder and walked with him.
Shaun wanted them both so badly he could taste it.
Then the boy's head turned, cheek burning hot on Shaun's shoulder, eyes seeking his father. Marcus crawled toward him on his hands and knees as Morgan lay down at his side.
Yes, come to me, both of you! he urged silently.
The boy's eyes were wide, looking from his father to Shaun, moving toward him cautiously, his lips parted. He was no bigger than Shaun himself. He was smoother than any human male the Key had ever seen.
Shaun held up his arms and slowly the boy moved into them, climbing over him with a whispering slide of skin against skin that made his whole body tingle with pleasure. Shaun held him, cradling his light weight easily. The child's heart was beating wildly and he made small pleasure sounds as he was stroked and pet.
"I'm here, sweetheart," Morgan said softly.