Excerpt: "Dorian's Story"
Two hours later when they were finally getting on the road headed south, toward home and hearth, Dorian was wishing he'd applied the boot to a select few backsides a bit earlier. What little light there was to start with was fair gone and any hope of seeing their beds that night was lost. Still, it was good to be on their way at last. This first bit of the journey was relatively risk-free, with only a watch kept on the way they'd just come--the forest allowing cover that the open road ahead did not.
He wasn't losing any sleep worrying over it, though. Dorian and his men had just spent two weeks establishing that the enemy was nowhere close about. He could afford to let his mind wander a bit -- stray to what was waiting for him at home, that drove him to push for as speedy a trip back as the one out had been.
He closed his eyes, body swaying with the easy back and forth of his mount's gait, and recalled kissing a lush mouth. Soft lips clung to his, a sweet pink tongue coming out to lick daintily at the taste of him. Even now his fingers curled, as though to sink into a round, firm ass with skin as smooth as country cream, overlaying lean muscle. A physical ache in his balls reminded him to the hour how long it had been since he'd crushed that slender body against his.
Tasim.
His beautiful boy.
Given to him mere months ago by the king as a reward for a successful season's raiding and already his most valued possession.
Dorian looped the reins another turn around his fist and sunk deeper into the fantasy. He tried to recall the exact hue of Tasim's rich, dark gaze; the texture and softness of Tasim's kissable mouth; the incredible sweetness of sinking his cock into Tasim's waiting ass.
Groaning, Dorian opened his eyes and looked for friction against the rise of the saddle beneath him, but the curve from seat to pommel was too modest. Rising up in the stirrups, he leaned forward over his mount's neck and let his stiffening cock rub against what little resistance there was, finding scant relief and only fuelling his lust that much more.
The ache in his thighs growing, Dorian eventually sat back in the saddle, willing himself to relax, the impatient tossing of his mount's head mute evidence of his inability to do so. Dorian flexed the fingers of both hands and eased his grip on the reins. Zaladjuk, the big roan who'd been his companion for countless campaigns, tossed his head and stretched his neck, mouthing the bit as though to scold Dorian for the extent of his bad humor.
Dorian patted the horse's muscular neck. "Sorry, old friend. None of this is your fault. I know. We'll be home soon enough."
"Talking to your horse, Dorian? Bad as all that, is it?" Haakon drew abreast, the white of his teeth a sharp contrast with his swarthy skin and dark beard as he openly mocked Dorian. "For the sake of what little morale we have left, could you forsake conversing with the beasts of the field until we're back to the castle, at least?"
~~~
© 2010, Stephanie Vaughan
Buy it now!
Two hours later when they were finally getting on the road headed south, toward home and hearth, Dorian was wishing he'd applied the boot to a select few backsides a bit earlier. What little light there was to start with was fair gone and any hope of seeing their beds that night was lost. Still, it was good to be on their way at last. This first bit of the journey was relatively risk-free, with only a watch kept on the way they'd just come--the forest allowing cover that the open road ahead did not.
He wasn't losing any sleep worrying over it, though. Dorian and his men had just spent two weeks establishing that the enemy was nowhere close about. He could afford to let his mind wander a bit -- stray to what was waiting for him at home, that drove him to push for as speedy a trip back as the one out had been.
He closed his eyes, body swaying with the easy back and forth of his mount's gait, and recalled kissing a lush mouth. Soft lips clung to his, a sweet pink tongue coming out to lick daintily at the taste of him. Even now his fingers curled, as though to sink into a round, firm ass with skin as smooth as country cream, overlaying lean muscle. A physical ache in his balls reminded him to the hour how long it had been since he'd crushed that slender body against his.
Tasim.
His beautiful boy.
Given to him mere months ago by the king as a reward for a successful season's raiding and already his most valued possession.
Dorian looped the reins another turn around his fist and sunk deeper into the fantasy. He tried to recall the exact hue of Tasim's rich, dark gaze; the texture and softness of Tasim's kissable mouth; the incredible sweetness of sinking his cock into Tasim's waiting ass.
Groaning, Dorian opened his eyes and looked for friction against the rise of the saddle beneath him, but the curve from seat to pommel was too modest. Rising up in the stirrups, he leaned forward over his mount's neck and let his stiffening cock rub against what little resistance there was, finding scant relief and only fuelling his lust that much more.
The ache in his thighs growing, Dorian eventually sat back in the saddle, willing himself to relax, the impatient tossing of his mount's head mute evidence of his inability to do so. Dorian flexed the fingers of both hands and eased his grip on the reins. Zaladjuk, the big roan who'd been his companion for countless campaigns, tossed his head and stretched his neck, mouthing the bit as though to scold Dorian for the extent of his bad humor.
Dorian patted the horse's muscular neck. "Sorry, old friend. None of this is your fault. I know. We'll be home soon enough."
"Talking to your horse, Dorian? Bad as all that, is it?" Haakon drew abreast, the white of his teeth a sharp contrast with his swarthy skin and dark beard as he openly mocked Dorian. "For the sake of what little morale we have left, could you forsake conversing with the beasts of the field until we're back to the castle, at least?"
~~~
© 2010, Stephanie Vaughan
Buy it now!
Copyright © 2004-2011 - Stephanie Vaughan
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