Sweet Sorrow
There was pain, but it was a good pain. Brynnan gripped the bars and swung himself up until he was bent at the waist and his arms were straight. He pressed into a hand-stand position, holding the pose before using the momentum of support swings to perform a pirouette, and into a one-bar handstand.
Brynnan was into his third week of gymnastics training at the Arena. He still kept it simple, avoiding twisting dismounts and one-handed moves: that could come later. He alternated working the bars with martial arts training that employed gymnastic moves. Every third day he worked with free weights.
His trainer, Petron, was spotting him now. It felt good to train again. Brynnan could feel his body responding to the moves with increasing agility and strength, and it helped relieve the stress of a future parting with his lover, the Warlord Samir.
He performed a backflip dismount from the parallel bars. It was a simple one, but he executed it perfectly. Petron clapped him on the shoulder and passed him a bottle of water.
Brynnan caught sight of Geraint, the old Warrior and self-appointed guardian of the Warlord.
Geraint sat on a bench doing triceps curls with a heavy weight, working sets with one arm at a time. A sheen of sweat beaded his forehead. Brynnan sat down opposite him and waited until he was done.
Occasionally, a soldier would stop and greet Brynnan respectfully: that, too, was a change from the abuse he had undergone for the past year, and the Bard was grateful.
“Well, lad,” Geraint addressed him as he set down the weight and wiped his face and the back of his neck with a towel, “are you finished for the day?”
“Yes. That’s enough work for my wrists for now. I still intend to play Mavrenn tonight and don’t want to strain them.”
“Sensible. Keep them taped. What say we get m’Lord and go relax in the steam room?”
“I could handle that.”
The Torrent Mountain Redoubt was powered by an interior river, which also produced a high waterfall on the face of the mountain. There were deep hot springs adapted for the Redoubt, providing for a therapeutic pool, as well as the steam room.
“I don’t think my Lord has any pressing engagements this evening.”
“Oh, he mentioned one to me,” said Geraint with grin. “He’d like us to get together later, and I’m free to bring my apprentice, our delectable Andri.”
Andri was a young singer from the Conservatory with a surprising but beautiful baritone voice. Together, Brynnan and the old Warrior had taken Andri’s offered virginity.
Both men then walked to a fighting pit and watched the Warlord dispatch his opponents. He was a tall, strong man, and heavily muscled. But he was also fast. He used his long sword two-handed, with great speed and efficiency. Instead of trying to avoid the attackers’ shields, he deliberately struck them with the flat of his blade with such force that the men yielded back, or their arms would have been broken.
While Brynnan could appreciate the great skill demonstrated, it also made him shiver with an old anguish as he recalled his own sword fight with the Warlord. If he allowed it, the memories would replay repeatedly, where Samir’s sword had been thrust into the Bard’s abdomen more than a year ago. He had been initially left for dead.
Brynnan shut down the unwelcome thoughts, concentrating instead on the fact that the Warlord was now his lover.
As if to prove the fact, Samir approached them and, grasping Brynnan by his shoulders, gave him a deep kiss. It did not seem to bother him that they were in a very public place and in full view of his soldiers.
The three now sat naked on a bench in the steam room. Geraint had control of a bucket of water and a brush, which he used to scrub and rinse Samir and Brynnan.
Other men were using the room; they were barely visible in the steam. A couple of men were involved in sexual play.
“There’s a thought,” mused Geraint aloud.
He promptly got on his knees in front of Brynnan and the Warlord and began to suck their cocks, alternating between the two men. Samir smiled and shook his head. He leaned back and spread his legs to allow Geraint better access. The old Warrior was highly skilled at sucking. He licked and sucked their balls thoroughly, as well their cocks.
He looked up at them, “Let’s see if I can get you both to cum at the same time.”
As Geraint went back to his task, Brynnan and Samir exchanged deep kisses and played with each other’s nipples. Their bodies were slick with sweat from the heat and steam.
“I had better warn you, Geraint, that I’m close to cumming now,” Samir told him.
That prompted Geraint to use his hands instead of sucking. That way, with a hand on each cock, he was able to vary the tempo to keep Brynnan and Samir at the same level of arousal.
At last Brynnan gasped, “I am cumming, my Lord.”
The Warlord seized Brynnan’s jaw and engaged in a deep kiss, tongue probing, as he ejaculated in time with his lover. Cum started to splash out, but Geraint was quick to lick each cock so that little was wasted. Then he eased off as each man’s body twitched from their now-sensitized cocks.
Brynnan and Samir were sharing a last kiss when Geraint dumped a bucket of cold water over them both.
“That’s one mark against your account, old Warrior,” said the Warlord, “Tonight I’ll exact my due. Prepare for an ass-fucking!”
“Maybe I should pour a bucket of cold water on you, then, Lord,” Brynnan said hopefully to Samir.
“No, but I will grant that you can fuck Andri, if he so desires.”
“I bow to your will, Master,” the Bard replied, as he matched word to action.
After the evening meal, Brynnan played softly on his harp, Mavrenn, while Samir wrote a reply to his General’s report.
Brynnan asked him, “Any news from the Eastern Marches? Have your troops found the sea-invaders yet?”
“I received a messenger yesterday. General Mirza has engaged. He outnumbers the invaders. I’m expecting another messenger tonight or early in the morning,” the Warlord looked up at his Bard with a bleak expression, “If they are successful, that will bring the time of your departure so much nearer.”
Brynnan wanted to protest that it was a mistake for Samir to let him go, but he kept his lips sealed and bowed to necessity.
So the arrival of Geraint and his sexual protégé was a welcome distraction. Brynnan encased his harp and rose to greet them. It was difficult to feel sad when he looked at Andri’s expression — eager and full of youthful hope. Andri normally had a solemn demeanor, as he was very conscious of his own youthfulness versus his responsibilities as a singer in the Conservatory, but tonight he frankly reminded Brynnan of a puppy who knows he is going to get treats.
Samir gave both Geraint and Andri the kiss of greeting. Geraint’s return kiss was lascivious. He murmured something to the Warlord, and Samir laughed in reply.
Brynnan courteously seated them near the fire and brought them drinks, serving his guests first and then his Master and earning a raised eyebrow from Geraint.
Eventually, they undressed each other. Brynnan admired his Lord’s powerful physique and felt a flush of heat as he imagined those arms around him.
They moved to the great bed, where they indulged in a bout of general kissing, touching, and sucking. Andri, in particular, demonstrated increased skills and confidence.
“You do well, Andri,” the Bard told him.
“If I have improved, then it is due to Master Geraint’s lessons. He instructs me every day,” said the young man, in all seriousness.
“Yes, he instructed me diligently also,” Brynnan replied, matching Andri’s serious tone, which earned him a hard slap on his ass from Geraint.
The Warlord took Brynnan in his arms, then rolled on top of him. Brynnan felt the heat of his body and the hardness of Samir’s cock pressing against his own. He wanted to submit.
“My Lord?” he queried.
“Later, my lover,” replied Samir, “when it is just you and me. Now, I intend to pay Geraint back for that bucket of cold water, and you can lesson your young singer.” Samir kissed him deeply and moved off the Bard.
Then he reached for Geraint, “Prepare yourself to be fucked, old Warrior. Revenge will be mine.”
While Geraint and the Warlord indulged themselves, Andri moved over to the Bard, “Brynnan, my Teacher, has Lord Samir given his permission for you to make love . . . I mean, fuck me? Because I really want you to.”
“Yes he has,” he smiled, “and making love is perfectly fine.”
They took their time exploring each other’s bodies. Andri’s broadening shoulders coupled with slender hips, his mixture of boyishness and developing maturity, enchanted the Bard. They kissed and sucked at each other, until Brynnan took the bottle of lube to Andri’s ass.
When he had penetrated Andri sufficiently with his fingers, he put the young singer lying on his back. Andri raised his hips, making his ass available. Brynnan lay over him, propped up by his arms, as Andri raised one leg over the Bard’s left shoulder, making penetration much easier. As Brynnan slowly pushed his cock in, the young man moaned in pleasure and pain mixed. The Bard was still learning the ropes when it came to fucking ass, but he had good teachers in the old Warrior and the Warlord. He started to work his hips in a rhythm that had the boy squirming ecstatically.
Meanwhile, Samir and Geraint were well under way in their own carnal adventure. The Warlord thrust his large cock with force, but Geraint and he were long-time partners and knew each other’s bodies intimately.
Inevitably, they came. First Geraint, then Samir. The Warlord uttered his tiger’s growl as he ejaculated his semen into his partner’s ass and fell forward on top of him with fierce embraces and kisses.
Brynnan and Andri weren’t far behind in their pace. Andri was so lost in the experience when he came that his eyes rolled up to reveal the whites. Then tears ran down the young man’s face. Brynnan could relate, knowing that his partner was in the grip of overwhelming emotions, as he, himself, had been when the Warlord had deep-fisted him for the first time. Andri had yet to have that particular experience, but Geraint was going slow in his training of the singer, showing surprising restraint.
Brynnan held and soothed the young man, and talked softly to him, giving him praise and encouragement.
Finally, both couples lay quietly, resting and soaking in the aftermath of their respective fucks. Brynnan felt a certain post-coital sadness at the thought he would not see Andri for many months, and he wondered if Samir would take him in hand.
They dressed and shared a light meal afterwards and talked of the Bard and Geraint’s upcoming journey. Their talk was interrupted by a trusted guard announcing a messenger’s arrival. Samir received him in the room where he had been making up his own orders to send out.
Geraint judged that the Warlord would be some time composing a response, so he and Andri took their leave after both embraced the Bard.
Left alone, Brynnan carried his harp outside onto the terrace. The night was cool, so he wrapped himself in his grey wind-silk cloak. He softly sang a travelling song, where endless distances blended into a limitless horizon. He sang about finding hope and comfort on the way and hoped that would be true in his own upcoming journey.
Then he looked up at the stars and began to play a tune about the Hunter’s constellation. It took his mind far away . . .
“I followed the music, and here you are,” announced Samir, coming to sit beside his Bard.
Brynnan did not stop playing, but he softened the notes such that they became ripples of sound in the background.
“May I ask what news the messenger brings, Lord?”
“General Mirza’s troops have cleared the invaders from that part of the Eastern Marches. After he sends scouting parties to check, he will be returning.”
Brynnan stilled Mavrenn’s voice by laying his hand across the strings, “How long, Lord?”
“I judge several days, and then we can prepare to leave here.” Sensing the Bard’s sadness he added, “We will make the intervening days count, and we will also have two days at Scarfell Pass, before I have to return.”
Brynnan sighed and rested his head on the Warlord’s shoulder, as Samir embraced him in return. “Come inside now and let us spend the remainder of the night in each other’s company,” Samir said in a deep voice, “I want very much to fuck you and give you my love.”
Brynnan nodded and taking his Lord’s hand, opened it and kissed his palm in submission.
