Healing Fire (6 page)

“Mm-mmm.” Jules shook his head. He didn’t feel sorry.

Lem’s smile was slow, wide. “Then I am not sorry, either.”

Jules eyes dropped closed, and he kept sucking.

Lem groaned for him again. “I didn’t know it could be so good.”

Had Lem mated before? Touched? Felt? Even if he had, it had not been like this, Lem had said so.

Lem wrapped his free hand around Jules’ head, cradling it. “You are a wonder.”

Was he? Jules was odd. He was different, wore the marks on his palms.

Lem certainly beamed at him like he was something special.

He licked clean Lem’s long fingers, but he couldn’t seem to stop sucking, even when they were pristine. Lem’s hips worked in time with his suction, and it was like he was riding Lem’s body. He found himself back in the muscled lap, snuggled close.

“This is nice,” Lem said softly.

“Yes. Better than breakfast.”

Lem laughed for him. “You have to eat, though, too. You need the nutrients.”

“Bah.” How wonderful to play.

“Bah? It’s pudding, my prince! Your favorite kind. I’ve even tested it already.”

“Pudding...” Oh, yum.

Lem smiled and reached for the tray by the bed, bringing it up so Jules could smell. He growled happily, his belly grumbling with hunger. Lem grabbed the spoon and began to feed him.

“You must have some as well. You have a bigger body to feed.” A bigger, beautiful body. Jules clung to it.

“I am made to be able to go for long periods without food.” Still, Lem took a spoonful for himself.

“That seems unkind, though.” He wished his Lem never to hunger, and he took the spoon, filling it to heaping.

Lem opened his mouth like a giant bird.

“My Lem.” He fed his guardian the huge bite.

“Yours,” Lem told him when he’d swallowed, gaze so serious. “I am, Jules. To do or be whatever you need of me.”

“I need you to be my friend.” He’d never had one of those. Not even Mabon, not really, though the bodyguard had been the closest thing he had to one.

“I have never had a friend, but I will do my best to be one for you,” Lem told him.

“I haven’t either, but I’ve read about them. I think we can do it.”

“I think it’s sad that you have never had a friend. You are a prince!”

“I’m the little prince.”

“You’re not that little,” Lem insisted.

“Compared to the others, I am.” His sisters especially were huge. Bigger even than Lem, but not stronger, he thought.

“That’s because you’re special.”

“I’m different,” he whispered. He held his hands up, exposing his marks.

Lem nodded, touching gently. “Special.”

Jules knew better, but that was sweet, nice to hear. He was glad that Lem believed it of him.

“More pudding?” Lem asked.

“One more bite.”

“Good dragon.” Lem fed him another spoonful, eyes twinkling.

Jules luxuriated in the bite, in the words.

When he shook his head at yet another offered bite, Lem quickly finished the bowl, licking the spoon thoroughly on the last bite. The long pink tongue caught Jules’ gaze. His body threatened to tighten again, swell.

Lem met his gaze. “Was I not supposed to finish it?”

“What? No, no. It is yours.” In fact, Jules could watch Lem eat for days.

“Thank you.” Lem put the spoon down. “I want to lick the bowl, too.”

“It’s all yours.” He leaned back in the covers, hand sneaking down to touch himself.

“It won’t be rude?” Lem asked, already grabbing the bowl again.

“No one will know.” Jules stroked his cock, base to tip.

“You will.” Lem began licking, making little moany sounds as that tongue worked the bowl.

He stroked his swelling, rubbing it and making his belly burn. Lem put the bowl aside and turned his attention back to Jules, his eyes growing wide. Jules curled into the covers, hiding away. He couldn’t stop his hand, however. Not under any circumstance.

“Are you...?” Lem touched him through the covers. “You are. I...” Lem ducked his head. “Could I help?”

He moaned deep, his body arching in a clear offer.

Pushing his hands beneath the covers, Lem seemed to find his hardness unerringly. In seconds, the big hands were touching. The pleasure was deeper this time, less fierce but more all-encompassing. One hand wrapped around him, tugging and stroking as Lem used the other to explore the head of his shaft, his balls.

Jules stared, his lips parted. He could feel the dragon inside him, roaring to be free.

“I feel you calling to me, Jules. So strong. So loud inside me.”

“The dragon...” He wanted out. Jules could feel it.

“Yes. I would see your dragon.” Lem’s eyes shone at him, Lem’s own dragon right there\.

“I cannot. It is forbidden.” He never had. Not once. Not ever. And he never would.

“I will steal you away into the mountains one day and let you be free,” Lem whispered into his ear.

Jules had rarely left his quarters, even as an infant, and he had never left the palace. Never. What a thought.

“I swear it, my prince.” Lem squeezed his cock hard.

Pleasure exploded from him, as if Lem had demanded this from him.

Groaning, Lem bent beneath the covers and lapped at his flesh, cleaning him.

Oh. Oh, dear. Oh, my.

Jules keened happily. Lem answered his call, not stopping what he was doing. He put his head beneath the blanket, staring, fascinated by the soft tongue on his skin.

Lem turned to meet his gaze, smiling at him. “You taste like the most wonderful nectar.”

“I...” Jules was going to be in so much trouble.

Lem’s tongue wrapped around the head of his cock. Then Lem sucked at the tip, pulling any remaining drops of liquid from the slit in the middle.

Oh. Gasping, Jules sat up and stared, his eyes burning. So much.

Lem glanced at him again. “Not hurting?”

“No. No. Please. No pain.” Nothing but joy.

Smiling, Lem turned back to his shaft and repeated the sucking at his head. There wasn’t a bit of his body that didn’t feel that. Not one single bit.

When Lem continued to do it and hummed at the same time, it made Jules want to scream. His body ached, feeling violently alive. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or sad when Lem’s ministrations ended.

His fingers trailed through Lem’s hair. He couldn’t fight the trembling, but Lem didn’t comment on it. Lem nuzzled into the touches, and he swore he could hear a purring. He continued stroking, touching, petting.

“You make me swell again, my prince,” Lem told him. “Make me want.”

“Yes.” He knew. He understood.

“I like it.” Lem told him, grinning, looking mischievous.

“I like when you’re cheery.” Jules would always have Lem be happy like this.

“You make me that as well, Jules.”

He found himself wanting to make Lem feel so many things.

“Do I make you cheery?” Lem asked.

“You make me happy, Lem. More than books, maybe.”

“Oh, that is a fine compliment.” Lem looked very pleased.

Jules’ fingers kept exploring, moving gingerly against Lem’s body like they didn’t understand how to be still.

“How many times do you think we can do this before it doesn’t work anymore?” Lem asked him, voice a little breathless.

“I don’t know. How many times have you done this before?”

“Never with such pleasure, my prince.”

“Thank you.” He leaned in, the scent of Lem overwhelming.

“No, thank you.” Lem arched, pushing into his touches.

Jules let his tongue flick out and gather the salt on Lem’s skin. A low, sweet groan filled the air, Lem’s fingers opening and closing. He licked again and again, fascinated by the flavor of Lem’s flesh, salty and rich and male.

“It isn’t right,” Lem whispered, “For you to abase yourself by licking me. But I cannot ask you to stop.”

“I don’t feel abased. I feel strong.” He felt alive and awake.

“I make you feel strong? I like that. I want so many good things for you.”

His tongue moved over the flesh of Lem’s nipple, and the skin tightened, drew up. A long shudder went through Lem as well.

“Good?” Jules wanted it to be good.

“Yes. Yes, please.” Lem’s eyes held a hunger in them.

Excellent. It allowed him to repeat the action, trace the tight nipple with the very tip of his tongue.

“Jules!” Lem’s voice was filled with so much need.

He began to suck, pulling with a steady rhythm. Lem’s hips moved with him, and when he sucked more quickly, Lem’s hips also moved quicker. Fascinating. Truly. Lem clawed at the bed, fingers digging in hard. His bodyguard knew to tell him to stop and so far had not, so Jules didn’t.

“Please, oh, Jules. My prince. My own.” The words sounded like whimpers, breathless pleas.

His fingers slid down to wrap about Lem’s stiffness.

“Yes!” Lem’s cry was loud, and Jules stuffed his hand into Lem’s mouth.

Shh. Shh. Quiet, my Lem.

“Sorry, Jules. Too good.”

He squeezed Lem’s hard cock, stroked once. Lem covered his mouth again, this time with his own hand, and moaned into it.

Jules would push up into a kiss, but his mouth was busy, lips full. The tiny hard bit of flesh in his mouth grew hotter the longer he sucked. He felt Lem’s cock swelling in his fingers, spreading them. His Lem was going to spill again, Jules knew it. He desired it, that loss of control, that scent.

Lem’s body responded to his every touch, to his suction, and needy noises sounded from around Lem’s hand. His thumb slipped across the tip, and he spread the slickness he found there. Lem’s whimpered response was music to his ears.

He swooped down, licked the wet slit in Lem’s cock. Lem’s shout was muffled by his own hand this time, and hot liquid shot out of the hole Jules just tasted. He licked his lips clean, humming deep in his chest.

“I’m sorry, my prince, I couldn’t help it.”

The flavor was not offensive—salty, a bit bitter, but not offensive, and Jules didn’t mind it at all. Lem’s apologies were not necessary.

Lem lay beneath him, panting softly. Jules kept tasting, cleaning himself and Lem as a quiet lassitude took him. In the end, Lem pulled him up into the curve of the strong body, holding him. It was warm and smelled of both Lem and himself, and he had never felt so safe.

“Stay?” Jules asked.

“Of course, Jules. I am yours.”

“My own Lem.” He liked that.

“Yes, my prince. Your very own.” Lem pulled him in closer, so warm.

He cuddled in, totally at peace for the first time since Mabon had left him. The sounds of Lem’s breathing, the sensation of the large chest rising and falling against his ear let him float there.

Lem wanted to take Jules out of the castle, at least onto the grounds. While Jules’ private gardens were nice, they had explored them at length, spending some time every day out there, eating the apples and drinking from the fountain. Color and health were in Jules’ cheeks now, and the only drawback to the gardens was that they couldn’t touch, couldn’t kiss and taste and make each other explode with pleasure.

He sent a message to the King through the guards who stood at the doors to Jules’ rooms, asking to be allowed to take his charge out, citing a need to expand the prince’s horizons for health reasons. He was waiting anxiously to find out if they would be allowed.

It had been months since the attack, and the interlopers had been driven far, far away. He didn’t see why they would be denied. Still, the prince had never been allowed out before, and now the physicians were beginning to appear, one after another.

There was a knock at the door. After checking that Jules was curled up in bed, Lem strode to the door. “Who goes there?” he called out.

“Treva. I am here to attend to the prince.” Another witch.

Lem opened the door, looking sternly at her. “I must search you.”

Treva, who had to be older than the stars themselves, rolled her eyes and grinned, baring sharp teeth among all the wrinkles. “As you will.”

“What are you going to do to him?” He demanded as he ran his hands down her body, searching through her voluminous robes for anything that might harm his prince. The female was bones and skin, and he doubted she could hurt a fly, in this form or another. Except perhaps for her magic. “Answer me, wise mother. What will you do to him?”

He would offer her respect as long as she intended no harm to his charge. His charge. Jules was so much more than that, but he could never let anyone know.

“Most likely offer him a lemon candy and tell him to stop living in his books, child.”

Lem had to bite his lip not to laugh at her words, and an idea sparked inside him. Perhaps Treva would be an ally in his quest to get Jules out of the castle.

“Treva?” Jules’ voice rang out. “My nurse?”

“Yes, Jules, it is her. We’ll be there momentarily.” He put a hand on Treva’s arm, staying her for a moment. “I have requested permission to take my prince out into the world. He needs color in his cheeks.” More color than just whenever he made his prince’s flesh swell and explode.

 “Oh? Oh, that will never be allowed. The protections here were put in place so he would be safe. He will never be allowed outside this castle.” Her eyes were so sad.

“But he is a prisoner here!” Lem wanted to kidnap Jules himself and run away with his prince.

“We’re all prisoners to our castes. Each of us.”

“Yes, wise mother.” He bowed his head to hide his desires from her, knowing his eyes might give him away. “Come, please.” He led her to the back room where Jules kept himself hidden.

Jules offered the old nurse a warm smile, pushing from the bed and hugging her. Lem was pleased to see that there was someone else besides himself who Jules liked and, he thought, who liked Jules. His prince had too few people in his life who cared for him.

“Are you ill, Little Prince?” the old one asked.

“Bored, Treva.”

“I want to show him the mountains, wise mother. Teach him to fly. He is a prince. He should be allowed such indulgences.” Oh, no. The words had left him unbidden. He hadn’t meant to trust her so far. He didn’t know her enough. What if she reported his heresies?