Passion in the Desert

The unrelenting sands of the wasteland that he called home swirled around Warrior Prince Gwillym of Aurelius and his entourage as they made their way toward the crowd of tents that served as their clan’s homestead. His lastest military campaign against a renegade tribe of Outlanders menacing his people had been successful, eliminating the threat to their lifestyle and the little patch of greenland that gave them life.

The nomadic people that he ruled over were already hunkered down for the coming of Red Moon, a time that came on the thirteenth night of the thirteenth cycle. It was a night when boys would become men, couples would become life-mates and unmated adult males would be transformed for one mystical night to roam the wild in the spirit form that they all carried in their souls. Gwillym was happy to be home.

The gleaming armor that the young prince wore on his upper body had lost none of its luster, even under the coat of red dust from the desert. He sat regally astride his majestic black stallion; its still-polished gold and silver tack glinted off the sun and jingled lightly as the horse pranced confidently through the throng of citizenry anxious for a glimpse of their beloved protector.

Children ran alongside the parade and were kept gently at bay from the flurry of hooves by careful direction of the prince’s guardsmen. Men lowered their eyes and bowed in respect and women threw flowers in their path as they passed by.

The jewels that were braided into Gwillym’s flowing, blond hair sparkled as they caught the light when he moved his head, slowly searching the crowd. His steel blue eyes squinted into the mob, scanning their faces for the one that haunted his wet dreams and consumed him while he stroked himself off in the dark of night, always alone on his furs. He gasped quietly and his body stiffened in his saddle when, unexpectedly, a pair of sultry chocolate eyes met his and held him prisoner.

Anxo’s bronzed, muscled body glistened with sweat in the midday heat as he stood in the crowd to welcome the heroes home. His long, black hair had been drawn back into a ponytail fastened with a leather binding to keep it out of his face while he worked, forging the metal for the exquisite swords that he was famous for far and wide. He had been putting the finishing touches on an ornate broadsword that he hoped to present to the prince during Red Moon when he had heard the call to Greeting. He had hastily wiped the dirt and sweat from his bare chest before taking a place where Gwillym would be sure to see him as he passed by on his horse.

Prince Gwillym was twenty cycles old and had not yet mated, which was unusual for a man of his age. Most of his tribesmen were mated by their eighteenth cycle, while their women were mated at a much younger cycle, usually at sixteen. The prince could command any willing body that he desired and had several lovers in his past, but he would not force the one he truly longed for to come to him.

The one called Anxo.

The young blacksmith’s heart beat a little faster when he spotted the prince astride his mount, coming toward the spot he had maneuvered himself into for a better look. He wondered if Gwillym could hear his heart beating just for him as he caught his eye and held it steady.

The prince would swear that he could hear the increase in Anxo’s heartbeat as he locked eyes with the one he was hoping to court on Red Moon. He squirmed uncomfortably in his saddle, trying to adjust the growing bulge in his leather breeches, but to no avail. As leather squeaked against leather, the rhythmic gait of his steed increased the friction on his cock, making him groan softly as he hardened. Gwillym reluctantly tore his eyes away from the blacksmith but not before he gave him a small nod of his head as he rode by.

Anxo blushed and lowered his eyes, bowing his head in respect as Gwillym passed. He slid one big hand down to cup his hardened length, hiding it from those gathered near him, hoping he could return to his tent unnoticed. There, he would masturbate to his fantasy of the prince taking him in hand and stroking him to completion. Unfortunately, he was jolted from his thoughts by a small girl forcing her way in front of him.

Wrenn pushed her way through the crush of bodies, wriggling in front of Anxo, hoping to get closer to Prince Gwillym and catch his eye. The tiny slip of a girl, barely five feet tall, had been in love with the warrior for as long as she could remember. At sixteen cycles, she was at puberty and fertile, having already bled during several white moons, a requirement for Red Moon when she would be mated or claimed. Every night before sleep, Wrenn would make a small offering to her goddess, Metra,* for Gwillym’s attention.

After hearing the call to Greeting, the girl had fretted to her mother that she hadn’t enough time to dress properly for the prince’s arrival. She had pulled her work frock off and thrown on the first clean dress that she found and had settled for an emerald green ribbon in her hair that matched her eyes. Not waiting for her slower moving parents, she had run as fast as she could to secure the best spot to see her imaginary lover.

Wrenn beamed when Gwillym’s eyes searched and finally came to rest in her direction. He seemed to be looking right at her and her heart beat excitedly at the thought that she might have caught his eye. She strained on tip toes, hoping the prince could see her as she waved frantically and when she blew a kiss to him, she could swear that, when he had nodded his head as he passed, it was for her.

“Gwillym...”

Anxo moved away from the annoying redheaded girl in front of him and shouldered his way back to the privacy of his own tent. He couldn’t get his breeches unlaced and down around his ankles fast enough, groaning when his cock sprang free. Grabbing his turgid flesh in one hand, he fell to his knees on the soft animal pelts that he used for his bed and quickly stroked himself to completion, moaning softly as he shot ropes of cum over his hand and onto the furs.

“Gwill...”


Gwillym was grateful when the cluster of tents that made up his compound came into view and he let out a sigh of relief. His intimate friend and confidant, Rowan, had already mustered the royal household into action and all were lined up outside his tent, ready and waiting to serve his every need.

A stableboy held Gwillym’s mount steady as he slid from his saddle, hoping no one would notice the obvious bulge in his pants. If Rowan had noticed, he said nothing as he greeted his old friend.

“Welcome home, my Lord. We have already sacrificed an offering to Dagda* in thanksgiving for your safe return. There is food and wine set out and a cooling bath is waiting if you require it.”

The prince smiled fondly at his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Rowan. You always take such good care of me. Right now, I need only a short time to thank Dagda privately and then we may eat and drink together.”

The colorful beads braided into Rowan’s thick auburn hair clattered together as he bowed his head and lowered his hazel eyes in respect.

“As you wish, Lord,” he said softly. “I am yours to do with as you will...”

One of Rowan’s tasks in the royal household was to see to the prince’s every need, and considering the obvious state of arousal that Gwillym was in, he secretly hoped that he would be allowed to service him. He bit back a groan as he felt himself harden at the thought of kneeling before his prince and bringing him release with his mouth, of swallowing that release, that part of Gwillym that he knew in his heart, he could never have.

Gwillym had recognized Rowan’s subtle request to service him and he was torn. Unmated males of age in the clan were permitted consenting, discreet relationships with one or more partners, so there was no stigma attached to what he and Rowan shared on a regular basis. A warm, willing mouth would bring him to completion quickly and would be more satisfying than his own hand, but he would feel the guilt, as he always did, when it was done. His friend had always hoped for more than being the royal concubine, but Gwillym could never give him more than that.

Gwillym smiled softly at Rowan and the gentle refusal was reflected in his eyes. Rowan nodded in silent understanding as he watched the prince turn toward his tent. Gwillym had only taken a few steps before his knees unexpectedly buckled and he sank to the ground, overcome by the heat and the heavy breastplate that he wore.

Rowan and three of the prince’s most trusted slaves rushed immediately to his side and guided him to his feet. They carried him into his tent and gently laid him down on the soft leopard skins and pillows that was his bed. As one royal slave rushed to retrieve cool water and a cloth, the two remaining with Rowan helped him to quickly remove Gwillym’s armor, clothes and boots.

When the basin of water was brought to the prince’s side and he was stripped naked, Rowan ordered the slaves away and a guard to be posted at the entrance to the tent with orders not to be disturbed. As the room emptied, Rowan wrung out a cool cloth and knelt down next to the prince, dabbing gently at the sweat on his brow. He tried desperately to keep his mind on what he was doing and not let his eyes roam down Gwillym’s beautifully sculpted body to the half hard cock that seemed bent on getting his attention, filling and lengthening as he watched in fascination.

The prince groaned softly and gave a slight buck of his hips, his body twitching as one would when having a dream. Rowan’s head snapped around and his eyes shot to Gwillym’s face at the sound, but he was still unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief and tried to finish wiping his prince down, but it was to no avail. He couldn’t stop himself. He was the prince’s courtesan and it was his sacred duty to service his master... and he would.

With shaking hands, Rowan cupped Gwillym’s face and gave him a light kiss on the lips. He shuddered as the sensation went straight to his cock, making it strain against the hard, leather laces at the front of his pants. His breath grew hot and ragged as he kissed his way down his lover’s throat, licking the salty sweat from his skin as he slid ever so slowly toward his prize.

His tongue licked Gwillym’s nipples into little buds and he suckled at them, first one, then the other before he played in the ridges of the washboard abs. He rested his head on one muscled thigh and nuzzled at the soft curls that formed a nest for the awakened sex and he moaned softly before swallowing Gwillym whole.

Gwillym moaned and shifted his weight at the pleasant sensation on his cock. His long, thick lashes fluttered weakly as he tried to open his eyes and focus on the beaded, auburn head of hair that was bobbing up and down on his shaft in earnest. He raised his head and gasped as recognition hit him, but it was too late. His balls had already drawn up and he felt the surge of cum through his shaft as it pulsed out into the willing mouth.

“Roe...aAAh!” Gwillym gritted out between clenched teeth as he fell back onto his pillow.

Rowan turned his head and smiled sweetly at Gwillym, his lips still around his cock as he sucked and swallowed every bit of cum that shot down the back of his throat. Then, he closed his eyes in ecstacy and allowed himself to come.


~ tbc ~


*Metra - Celtic Goddess of Fertility
*Dagda - Celtic Good God of the earth, skilled in combat and healing.