Eggs and Bunnies Porn Day!
Title: Eggs and Bunnies Day Pron (And maybe more later...)
Author: indigoraven
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Original
Pairing: M/M
Wordcount: 2284
Warnings: Death, War (Fantasy Setting),Graphic Sex.
Mmmmm, pron.....
It was well after midnight when Reith finally caught sight of the camp; the peaks of the tents lined up with military precision in the pale moonlight. It was a sight he’d feared he would never set eyes on, a sight so welcome that tears very nearly came to his tired eyes.
He’d spent the last five days playing hide and go seek with the enemy after an ambush had decimated his company quite literally to the last man. He clenched a leather gauntleted fist at the memory. Too green they all were; soldiers, yes, but barely with enough training to figure out which end of the sword to thrust away from them. Truth be told, he’d have died with them but for the misfortune of remaining mounted on his horse when she took an arrow in the chest, reared up, and then took him down with her. The impact had knocked him cold and pinned him. When he woke, the bastards were gone and he was surrounded by death.
Reith pressed forward, his gait unstable as he favored his right leg. It had taken him nearly an hour to extricate himself from beneath the horse and, while he considered himself lucky the he hadn’t been crushed, the wrenched leg had slowed him down considerably. Five days of walking on it had certainly not done the injury any favors. More painful than the wrenched leg, though, was the admission that he’d been caught off guard. Anger glinted in eyes the color of flint. What the hell had an enemy company been doing this far inland? And why in the name of Astra Idran had he not known about the threat?
As the trees thinned and he closed on the camp, a shadow detached from a thick area of vegetation, resolving in the moonlight into a sentry with weapon raised and his lips parted to speak a challenge. Reith halted, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword but otherwise unthreatening. He knew the instant the sentry recognized him, the young man’s eyes widening as he lowered his weapon and bowed his head with a softly spoken apology, stepping aside to allow the older warrior to pass. It was unlikely there was a single man in the camp who wouldn’t have recognized him, even in the wretched state he must have appeared. If it was not the insignia of the Black Dragon emblazoned on his chest, the scar that curled across his jaw and neck instantly gave his identity away. The story of how the Commander of the Black Dragon Legion had received that injury had reached near legendary status over the years, and when recent turmoil had mobilized the armies of the land and seen the Commander returned to the field of battle, present day feats had caused the story to surface with renewed vigor.
Reith grunted as he continued into and through the sleeping camp. No doubt there would be new stories come morning, only this time they would be about his return from the dead. He passed the last of the white tents, into the center of camp and paused, silent as he took in the much larger tent set up there. He could see just around the flap that there was still a lamp lit within. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if the occupant was still awake at this hour, likely pouring over maps and considering strategy; it was the kind of dedication that made Reith proud to serve the man.
Reith ignored the startled expressions on the guard’s faces and pushed aside the tent flap, stepping into the lamp lit space. A quick glance confirmed that the set up was standard: off to the left was a large pallet piled with furs mostly hidden by a screen, several pieces of armor and accoutrements of war were neatly arranged and awaiting use nearby. The rest of the interior was taken up by several tables, most of them strewn with maps and strategic reports sent by various commanders in the field. Around the tables were a number of chairs.
On the far side of the largest table was the only chair currently occupied. Reith felt an aching sensation in his chest as he observed the man there. The man was several inches taller than himself, but in that moment he seemed smaller, slumped in the chair as he was. Hair the color of tarnished gold framed a rugged face, the color several shades lighter than the neatly trimmed beard that covered his angular jaw. He had the well-muscled physique of a true warrior, almost entirely belying the royal blood that ran in his veins. The armor and the immense sword that gleamed in the lamp light were neither for show nor were they unused. Despite that, his mien was that of a man much younger than his nearly three score years, particularly when mischief gleamed in eyes a stunning shade of green, but Reith frowned to see that in that moment he looked drawn, his eyes rimmed red. There was a messenger’s letter gripped tightly in his fingers, worn and folded as though it had been read over and over.
Before he could move forward, the man stirred and opened haunted eyes, locking gazes with the worn Commander. “Reith,” he breathed near soundlessly, his eyes widening slightly as he dropped the message.
“My liege,” Reith rumbled softly. Protocol stated that he should bow to his King, but flint grey eyes never left the man across the tent from him. He never had been very good with protocol.
The King rose from his chair so quickly that it toppled over, a thing to which he paid no mind. Swift strides carried him around the table and closed the distance between them, his forward momentum pausing as he drew near. Uncertain fingers reached out and brushed whisper soft across Reith’s cheek, the touch tentative as though he didn’t entirely expect to meet flesh, but air. Reith closed his eyes at the touch, turning his face into it just slightly. He opened his eyes again and met green with grey as the King made a half choked sound of disbelief and cupped his face in his hands.
“Caedan,” Reith murmured as their lips met and a tension he hadn’t known he was carrying eased. He stepped into the embrace, his arms coming up to press his King close, sword roughened hands gripping the back of his tunic. As their bodies met, a spear of white hot lust shot straight into his loins, crushing every ache, pain and memory of the last several days beneath the all consuming need to have Caedan’s beautiful body spread beneath him.
A rough sound emanated from his throat as he swiftly took charge of the kiss, his tongue sweeping and demanding as he threaded his fingers into golden hair just long enough to grip hard. Caedan’s response was nearly enough to buckle Reith’s knees, the King’s body melting against his own, his hips pressing hard into Reith’s as fingers dug into his ass and pulled them that much closer. Reith answered him by breaking the kiss, jerking Caedan’s head back and working across his neck with teeth, lips and tongue. Caedan’s moan of pleasure made his cock twitch.
Momentarily Reith considered simply knocking everything off the nearest table, bending Caedan over it and pounding him from behind. Tempting as that thought was, he respected the hard work that Caedan put into organizing the information there into something that would be the envy of any military strategist across three kingdoms. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the taller man and lifted him, his lips curling in a feral grin as Caeden immediately followed his intentions and wrapped his legs around Reith’s hips. The shift in position sent another spike of desire into Reith’s cock as he carried his King around the screen to the fur piled pallet.
For a moment chaos reigned as hands tore at clothing. Caedan cursed fluently in several languages as he struggled with the fastenings of Reith’s leather breastplate made tight and nearly unmanageable by the sometimes wet trek through the woods. Reith sighed with pleasure as the buckles finally gave and the weight fell away. Caedan dipped his head to trace the many familiar scars of Reith’s bare chest with his lips, pausing to lavish attention on the small nipples.
Reith growled softly, then rolled onto his back, taking Caedan with him. He bucked his hips upward as he held the kind straddled across him, an arrogant smirk on his lips as he drank in the sound of pleasure that elicited from Caedan. Reith reached up and smoothed his hands across the hard muscle of Caeden’s abdomen and chest, his grey eyes dark with desire. Caedan grasped one of his hands and drew it down, deliberately wrapping Reith’s fingers around his lover’s swollen cock. Reith swore colorfully, his hand gripping the hard flesh and firmly stroking it.
Again Reith changed their positions, rolling Caedan onto his back, his tanned skin perfect amidst the furs. Green eyes half lidded, the king watched the Commander as he skimmed his hands over heated flesh. Reith groaned softly, watching Caeden, then dipped his head and pulled every inch of his smooth length into the searing heat of his mouth.
Caeden hissed, writhing beneath his touch as he slid his fingers into Reith’s short dark hair. Reith worked his throat and tongue over the flesh, setting a rhythm and then varying it - first fast, then slow, changing it each time he sensed the King close to finding his release. Only when Caeden finally made a sound of lust drenched frustration did Reith give in, his tongue and his mouth sucking and caressing his lover’s cock into a fevered state, swallowing as Caeden’s body tensed and bowed, the hands in his hair gripping hard as he cried out.
Reith gave him no time to relax. No sooner had Caeden found his release than Reith rubbed a slicked finger over the sensitive flesh between his cheeks. Reith rumbled a rough approval as Caeden shuddered at the sensation and moved against his hand. Slowly, he pressed his finger inside, his cock jerking hard as he felt the tight heat of Caeden’s ass squeezing the digit. Breathing slowly and deliberately, Reith forced himself to take his time, pressing a second finger inside to join the first. The soft lustful sounds issuing from Caeden’s lips were nearly his undoing, but when Caeden grasped his wrist and rode hard against his fingers Reith nearly came on the spot.
Moving himself between his lover’s thighs, Reith pressed his cock against the tight opening and leaned into him. He locked eyes with Caeden as he curled his fingers into the King’s hips, the fierce expression Caeden wore bringing a feral smile to his lips as he thrust hard. Reith’s back arched, his head falling back and his eyes closed as he paused for the barest moment, buried to the hilt inside Caeden. It was a sensation he never seemed able to get enough of.
Slowly, he began to move, building to a rhythm of hard, fast, deep strokes that broke them both into a sweat and pulled low cries from their lips. Reith opened his eyes as Caeden reached up and touched his face, his thumb caressing the curve of Reith’s cheek. He said nothing, but the words were written clear as day in deep green eyes. Reith chest tightened and he came so hard that his vision darkened, little starbursts of light dancing in his eyes as he shouted Caeden’s name.
Resting heavily on his forearms, he consciously slowed his ragged breathing. When his vision cleared and he could more or less draw a steady breath, Reith rolled to his side, his arms wrapped tightly around Caeden and drawing him close. He’d never found the words to tell him, being a warrior and not a poet, but he knew that every day a little bit more of his soul was in Caeden’s keeping.
Caeden shifted, propping himself up on his arm, one hand reaching up to brush lightly along the curve of Reith’s face. Caeden’s eyes darkened slightly as he spoke in a low timbre.
“A fortnight ago I received word that our enemy had begun making incursions from the south that I knew would cut across your path of return. And my heart sank as I realized I would never be able to warn you in time.” Reith caught the hand that touched his face and kissed the palm, quiet as Caeden glanced away from him as he continued to speak.
“Four days ago a message arrived that the reinforcement unit of the Black Dragon Legion coming from Nessent had been ambushed,” Caeden cleared his throat, his words thick with emotion, “and I was informed that there were no survivors.”
Green eyes returned to flint grey. “I thought you were dead, Reith. I thought I had lost you. I thought you were gone and I would never be able to tell you…” Caeden broke off and drew a shuddering breath, closing his eyes against the moisture that threatened to spill from them.
Reith curled a protective arm around Caeden and drew him close, a gentle touch brushing away the wetness from his eyes. Reith’s chest rumbled as he spoke, “As long as there is breath in my body, I will find my way back to you, Caeden. I could do no less…” He tipped up Caeden’s chin and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “My body, my heart, my soul, they all are in your keeping. I will always come back to you.”
Author: indigoraven
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Original
Pairing: M/M
Wordcount: 2284
Warnings: Death, War (Fantasy Setting),Graphic Sex.
Mmmmm, pron.....
It was well after midnight when Reith finally caught sight of the camp; the peaks of the tents lined up with military precision in the pale moonlight. It was a sight he’d feared he would never set eyes on, a sight so welcome that tears very nearly came to his tired eyes.
He’d spent the last five days playing hide and go seek with the enemy after an ambush had decimated his company quite literally to the last man. He clenched a leather gauntleted fist at the memory. Too green they all were; soldiers, yes, but barely with enough training to figure out which end of the sword to thrust away from them. Truth be told, he’d have died with them but for the misfortune of remaining mounted on his horse when she took an arrow in the chest, reared up, and then took him down with her. The impact had knocked him cold and pinned him. When he woke, the bastards were gone and he was surrounded by death.
Reith pressed forward, his gait unstable as he favored his right leg. It had taken him nearly an hour to extricate himself from beneath the horse and, while he considered himself lucky the he hadn’t been crushed, the wrenched leg had slowed him down considerably. Five days of walking on it had certainly not done the injury any favors. More painful than the wrenched leg, though, was the admission that he’d been caught off guard. Anger glinted in eyes the color of flint. What the hell had an enemy company been doing this far inland? And why in the name of Astra Idran had he not known about the threat?
As the trees thinned and he closed on the camp, a shadow detached from a thick area of vegetation, resolving in the moonlight into a sentry with weapon raised and his lips parted to speak a challenge. Reith halted, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword but otherwise unthreatening. He knew the instant the sentry recognized him, the young man’s eyes widening as he lowered his weapon and bowed his head with a softly spoken apology, stepping aside to allow the older warrior to pass. It was unlikely there was a single man in the camp who wouldn’t have recognized him, even in the wretched state he must have appeared. If it was not the insignia of the Black Dragon emblazoned on his chest, the scar that curled across his jaw and neck instantly gave his identity away. The story of how the Commander of the Black Dragon Legion had received that injury had reached near legendary status over the years, and when recent turmoil had mobilized the armies of the land and seen the Commander returned to the field of battle, present day feats had caused the story to surface with renewed vigor.
Reith grunted as he continued into and through the sleeping camp. No doubt there would be new stories come morning, only this time they would be about his return from the dead. He passed the last of the white tents, into the center of camp and paused, silent as he took in the much larger tent set up there. He could see just around the flap that there was still a lamp lit within. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if the occupant was still awake at this hour, likely pouring over maps and considering strategy; it was the kind of dedication that made Reith proud to serve the man.
Reith ignored the startled expressions on the guard’s faces and pushed aside the tent flap, stepping into the lamp lit space. A quick glance confirmed that the set up was standard: off to the left was a large pallet piled with furs mostly hidden by a screen, several pieces of armor and accoutrements of war were neatly arranged and awaiting use nearby. The rest of the interior was taken up by several tables, most of them strewn with maps and strategic reports sent by various commanders in the field. Around the tables were a number of chairs.
On the far side of the largest table was the only chair currently occupied. Reith felt an aching sensation in his chest as he observed the man there. The man was several inches taller than himself, but in that moment he seemed smaller, slumped in the chair as he was. Hair the color of tarnished gold framed a rugged face, the color several shades lighter than the neatly trimmed beard that covered his angular jaw. He had the well-muscled physique of a true warrior, almost entirely belying the royal blood that ran in his veins. The armor and the immense sword that gleamed in the lamp light were neither for show nor were they unused. Despite that, his mien was that of a man much younger than his nearly three score years, particularly when mischief gleamed in eyes a stunning shade of green, but Reith frowned to see that in that moment he looked drawn, his eyes rimmed red. There was a messenger’s letter gripped tightly in his fingers, worn and folded as though it had been read over and over.
Before he could move forward, the man stirred and opened haunted eyes, locking gazes with the worn Commander. “Reith,” he breathed near soundlessly, his eyes widening slightly as he dropped the message.
“My liege,” Reith rumbled softly. Protocol stated that he should bow to his King, but flint grey eyes never left the man across the tent from him. He never had been very good with protocol.
The King rose from his chair so quickly that it toppled over, a thing to which he paid no mind. Swift strides carried him around the table and closed the distance between them, his forward momentum pausing as he drew near. Uncertain fingers reached out and brushed whisper soft across Reith’s cheek, the touch tentative as though he didn’t entirely expect to meet flesh, but air. Reith closed his eyes at the touch, turning his face into it just slightly. He opened his eyes again and met green with grey as the King made a half choked sound of disbelief and cupped his face in his hands.
“Caedan,” Reith murmured as their lips met and a tension he hadn’t known he was carrying eased. He stepped into the embrace, his arms coming up to press his King close, sword roughened hands gripping the back of his tunic. As their bodies met, a spear of white hot lust shot straight into his loins, crushing every ache, pain and memory of the last several days beneath the all consuming need to have Caedan’s beautiful body spread beneath him.
A rough sound emanated from his throat as he swiftly took charge of the kiss, his tongue sweeping and demanding as he threaded his fingers into golden hair just long enough to grip hard. Caedan’s response was nearly enough to buckle Reith’s knees, the King’s body melting against his own, his hips pressing hard into Reith’s as fingers dug into his ass and pulled them that much closer. Reith answered him by breaking the kiss, jerking Caedan’s head back and working across his neck with teeth, lips and tongue. Caedan’s moan of pleasure made his cock twitch.
Momentarily Reith considered simply knocking everything off the nearest table, bending Caedan over it and pounding him from behind. Tempting as that thought was, he respected the hard work that Caedan put into organizing the information there into something that would be the envy of any military strategist across three kingdoms. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the taller man and lifted him, his lips curling in a feral grin as Caeden immediately followed his intentions and wrapped his legs around Reith’s hips. The shift in position sent another spike of desire into Reith’s cock as he carried his King around the screen to the fur piled pallet.
For a moment chaos reigned as hands tore at clothing. Caedan cursed fluently in several languages as he struggled with the fastenings of Reith’s leather breastplate made tight and nearly unmanageable by the sometimes wet trek through the woods. Reith sighed with pleasure as the buckles finally gave and the weight fell away. Caedan dipped his head to trace the many familiar scars of Reith’s bare chest with his lips, pausing to lavish attention on the small nipples.
Reith growled softly, then rolled onto his back, taking Caedan with him. He bucked his hips upward as he held the kind straddled across him, an arrogant smirk on his lips as he drank in the sound of pleasure that elicited from Caedan. Reith reached up and smoothed his hands across the hard muscle of Caeden’s abdomen and chest, his grey eyes dark with desire. Caedan grasped one of his hands and drew it down, deliberately wrapping Reith’s fingers around his lover’s swollen cock. Reith swore colorfully, his hand gripping the hard flesh and firmly stroking it.
Again Reith changed their positions, rolling Caedan onto his back, his tanned skin perfect amidst the furs. Green eyes half lidded, the king watched the Commander as he skimmed his hands over heated flesh. Reith groaned softly, watching Caeden, then dipped his head and pulled every inch of his smooth length into the searing heat of his mouth.
Caeden hissed, writhing beneath his touch as he slid his fingers into Reith’s short dark hair. Reith worked his throat and tongue over the flesh, setting a rhythm and then varying it - first fast, then slow, changing it each time he sensed the King close to finding his release. Only when Caeden finally made a sound of lust drenched frustration did Reith give in, his tongue and his mouth sucking and caressing his lover’s cock into a fevered state, swallowing as Caeden’s body tensed and bowed, the hands in his hair gripping hard as he cried out.
Reith gave him no time to relax. No sooner had Caeden found his release than Reith rubbed a slicked finger over the sensitive flesh between his cheeks. Reith rumbled a rough approval as Caeden shuddered at the sensation and moved against his hand. Slowly, he pressed his finger inside, his cock jerking hard as he felt the tight heat of Caeden’s ass squeezing the digit. Breathing slowly and deliberately, Reith forced himself to take his time, pressing a second finger inside to join the first. The soft lustful sounds issuing from Caeden’s lips were nearly his undoing, but when Caeden grasped his wrist and rode hard against his fingers Reith nearly came on the spot.
Moving himself between his lover’s thighs, Reith pressed his cock against the tight opening and leaned into him. He locked eyes with Caeden as he curled his fingers into the King’s hips, the fierce expression Caeden wore bringing a feral smile to his lips as he thrust hard. Reith’s back arched, his head falling back and his eyes closed as he paused for the barest moment, buried to the hilt inside Caeden. It was a sensation he never seemed able to get enough of.
Slowly, he began to move, building to a rhythm of hard, fast, deep strokes that broke them both into a sweat and pulled low cries from their lips. Reith opened his eyes as Caeden reached up and touched his face, his thumb caressing the curve of Reith’s cheek. He said nothing, but the words were written clear as day in deep green eyes. Reith chest tightened and he came so hard that his vision darkened, little starbursts of light dancing in his eyes as he shouted Caeden’s name.
Resting heavily on his forearms, he consciously slowed his ragged breathing. When his vision cleared and he could more or less draw a steady breath, Reith rolled to his side, his arms wrapped tightly around Caeden and drawing him close. He’d never found the words to tell him, being a warrior and not a poet, but he knew that every day a little bit more of his soul was in Caeden’s keeping.
Caeden shifted, propping himself up on his arm, one hand reaching up to brush lightly along the curve of Reith’s face. Caeden’s eyes darkened slightly as he spoke in a low timbre.
“A fortnight ago I received word that our enemy had begun making incursions from the south that I knew would cut across your path of return. And my heart sank as I realized I would never be able to warn you in time.” Reith caught the hand that touched his face and kissed the palm, quiet as Caeden glanced away from him as he continued to speak.
“Four days ago a message arrived that the reinforcement unit of the Black Dragon Legion coming from Nessent had been ambushed,” Caeden cleared his throat, his words thick with emotion, “and I was informed that there were no survivors.”
Green eyes returned to flint grey. “I thought you were dead, Reith. I thought I had lost you. I thought you were gone and I would never be able to tell you…” Caeden broke off and drew a shuddering breath, closing his eyes against the moisture that threatened to spill from them.
Reith curled a protective arm around Caeden and drew him close, a gentle touch brushing away the wetness from his eyes. Reith’s chest rumbled as he spoke, “As long as there is breath in my body, I will find my way back to you, Caeden. I could do no less…” He tipped up Caeden’s chin and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “My body, my heart, my soul, they all are in your keeping. I will always come back to you.”