All finished stories from the Unconventional Couples board, the Crossover board, and the Alien Abyss boards will eventually be moved here. See those forums for descriptions.
Title:Adventures in the Desert Author: suicide_eagle_rath
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, WB and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement intended. I am only attempting to finish a riveting story from one point of view.
Pairings: main paring: Zan and Rath (a.k.a. TellymonRath or Tellymon in my books)
Rating: Adult Mature Only
Author’s Note: The story is one of many that has come about since I have been to post The Chronicles of Antar These additional stories came about through a series of contests, ideas, scenes from the book that have been expanded and posted to sites where the entire series is not being posted and even challenges. Many of these will be incorporated in Book 2 onwards, so look for them and how or if they changed.
Warning: Read at your own risk. Profanity, strong language, violence, war/battle descriptions, and sexual scenes between m/m, m/f and f/f may occur in this piece.
Summary: TellymonRath is called away from the Palace to enlist the help of Lord Sakhar, a desert warlord in securing the Kilamajah desert from rebel terrorists. Expecting to be a quick day in and day out, that plan soon changes as the desert opens up a whole new box of chocolates for TellymonRath to deal with.
Originally done as an entry for “A Long Roswell Fanfic Contest” for “A Roswellians' Fantasies”. This selection did win. It is short. Enjoy.
Last edited by suicide_eagle_rath on Mon Apr 10, 2006 5:02 pm, edited 22 times in total.
Tellymon hated sitting in at the council meetings, they were long and boring and more than often had little to do with the military. He looked around at all the older men, he and Zan were the only ones that could still remember where their teeth were at night. Well maybe not all were that old, but it seemed so as they dolled on and on about state business; what to build where, where the money was needed most, what legislative laws were being challenged, and so forth.
This was the King’s office, Zan always sat at the head of the rectangular table facing the morning sun and looks to the empty spot in front of him representing the setting sun. Symbolic of his power that begins when the sun comes up and continues when the sun retires.
TellymonRath sat at the right of the King; Vilandra always sat to the left. She was allowed there by virtue of her birthright, but that birthright allotted her no position and thus she had no say. That of course changed once she married Tellymon; she was then in charge of the ‘House of Rath’ and had a heavy vote in the council chambers in that regard. Today her seat was vacant, as Vilandra had remained in the White Palace for the last few weeks of winter before the Royal Family traditionally moved back to the main Palace. Zan and Tellymon had returned early, the weather was still cold but decent enough, to attend the meeting.
Tellymon’s position in the council, besides being that of Second in Command to the Throne of Antar, as the Commander of the Imperial and Royal Armies; his presence was paramount in any proceeding.
Already way into three hours, Tellymon failed to detect any feeling in the lower section of his body; his legs were like pins and needles. Zan glanced over at Tellymon and smiled, knowing the constant sitting and being proper was beginning to get to him. He subtly slid his hand under the carved dark wood table. Fortunately, Tellymon always sat a little a skewed so part of his body was in close contact with Zan. Zan easily found Tellymon’s hand and squeezed it. Tellymon felt Zan’s hand and looked sideways at him, then opened his palm as Zan wrote a message to Tellymon, in their own coded shorthand.
‘Bored are we?” he wrote then laid his palm open as Tellymon answered.
‘No ready to kill if they do not shut up!’ Tellymon smiled contently at that thought as he wrote.
‘Make it up to you tonight.’
‘Really! How?’
‘Oh I can think of a way or two.’ Zan shifted his eyes to Tellymon then quickly back to the council, as a question was directed n his way.
‘Details! I want details!’
Zan almost lost it laughing; he had to hold his composure very tight, not to let even a crack show on his face. He cleared his throat, to concealed chuckle that almost blurted out.
“Council members! Is there anything else that the Throne can be of service today.” Zan wanted to wrap things up, get dinner and then retire to his room, no more correctly the room he and Rath shared in the Palace
“Yes, Your Majesty there is one more item; it concerns the Kilamajah desert and recent reports of raiders against civilians and government homes, business, and personal beings,” stated Yorhil whose office was handling the complaints that had been filtering in the last two weeks.
“Why has the Army not taken care of the rebels?” questioned Zan.
“Because they are forbidden in the desert, it is an old agreement with Lord Sakhar, loyal to the ‘House of Rath’,” answered Yorhil.
Tellymon looked up, “Well guess I am off on a little trip.”
“How dangerous is this area?” Zan did not want Tellymon going off into some secluded desert location, especially if his life will be endangered.
“Nothing that I can’t handle Zan.” Tellymon retorted, a little pissed that Zan was once again treating him like a child. “I will leave tomorrow morning. I need an escort and a guide.”
“Your Majesty there is a Captain Garladar that may be service in that area. He is the son of the local warlord Sakhar.”
“Loyal to the Crown?” questioned Zan.
“Yes your majesty, he is a loyal. He chose to be a member of the Imperial Guard. He has many commendations from his actions in battle.” Yorhil bowed lowed, he did not like brining up items of a military nature to the council or the King. He was well aware of Rath’s temperament and unpredictable behavior.
“Good have him prepare to leave and order him to assemble an escort.” ordered Commander Rath as he shifted in his seat ready to end this whole sordid business section. He actually looked forward to getting out of the stuffy palace and into some fresh air.
“I don’t want you to go,” announced Zan as he walked into their private bedroom; one that Zan had created for Tellymon, it belonged to neither of them separately but both together. It was rare for them to use this room anymore. After his marriage to Vilandra, she curtailed Tellymon’s sleeping arrangement, leaving him only one free night a week with Zan, had lost his steady bedfellow. They now steal away when they can or find time like this when Vilandra is away from the Palace.
Tellymon was relaxing on the leather sofa in front of the fireplace; his feet were up on the large wooden table topped in copper with an intricately engraved pattern He had been reading one of his favorite books on Ancient Antarian History, more fable than truth as far as Zan was concerned. However, Tellymon always believed in the old legends and stories and treated them as fact, sometimes it was as if he had lived in those days.
Zan crossed the expanse of the room, “Did you hear me?” as he walked down the short steps into the sunken living area stopping behind the sofa. He leaned his hands on the back of the sofa as he peered over the top looking at what Tellymon was reading. “Reading that old musty book again,” as he tried to grab the old leather bound edition.
Tellymon was quicker as he flipped around facing Zan, and then suddenly he pulled him over onto the sofa. He pushed him down into the leather cushions, the sofa itself was deep and easily two people could lie together with room to spare.
“Tellymon I wanted…”
TellymonRath grabbed the back of Zan’s head, smothering any further words with his tongue in his mouth. Finally, breaking the kiss, "So, you miss me?" Zan asked as Tellymon stroked the front of his silk dark blue bedclothes. "Or is it you just miss that?" Zan asked with a glint in my eye.
"Oh, I missed that, but I missed who it's attached to even more." Tellymon responded as he took Zan back into a deep sexual primal kiss.
They were writhing on the sofa, tearing at their clothes, trying to get to the hot flesh that lay so close below the thin silk material. Tellymon moaned loudly as Zan grabbed and pulled down the black silky pants as his hand wrapped securely around the throbbing sex organ. He was slowly and methodically stroking Tellymon’s cock enjoying in his body as it arched and in the low guttural moans that escaped from his lungs.
Tellymon’s tongue embraced and stroked Zan’s tongue mimicking the action of Zan’s hand on his cock. The room had grown very hot as they continued to kiss; kiss of passion, kisses of remembrance, kisses of lust filled sex.
The leather of the sofa was sticking to their backs and sides as the fireplace heated their skin. “Zan it is too hot here and cramped,” Tellymon broke the kiss to whisper in his ear. “Let’s move to the bed.”
Zan failed to answer as he was concentrating on kissing his way down Rath’s neck, stopping to feel the blood race under his tongue, the blood was pumping fast for him, for desire for want.
The sofa, though spacious, was a little confining as the two held each other in a deep kiss. The two were overcome in the sensation of hard body against hard body, tongue against tongue and cock against cock; exhilarating, stimulating and defiantly arousing.
Their actions staring getting more rough and physical as Tellymon was wanting to feel himself in Zan. Frustrated at no room, he finally growled as he rolled off the sofa and urged Zan silently to turn onto his stomach, while dropping his legs onto the fur rugs below.
“Anxious are we?” grinned Zan turning his head around, knowing that Rath had probably been thinking about his ever since the council meeting.
“Hey you said you would make it up to me.” Tellymon said as he nipped, licked and massaged Zan’s back, following the muscular contours. “I suffered through that council meeting for you,” as he spread Zan’s legs apart and snuggled in the center. “I am so in the mood to fuck.”
Zan was enjoying the hands and lips on his back as he arched as he subconsciously shoved his ass towards Tellymon. Zan felt the harden steel cock poised at his entrance; his breathed shortened in anticipation, waiting for that first step.
Tellymon wanted Zan to enjoy this evening; tomorrow he would leave, and truly never knew if he would come back to the Palace. He knew if was fool hearty for him to leave the away he always did, but his blood boiled for war and thirst for the blood of the kill. The battlefield calmed the rage inside him, it helped him to keep it from rearing its ugly head and destroying the only two people he has ever loved, Zan and Vilandra.
His hands dipped downward as one finger slowly inserted, there just beyond the entrance, he massaged the gland that helped to release the moisture that made male alien sex as desirable in the fervor, the sensations, the ecstasy, and the passion as any female of the species could feel.
Zan began to buck backwards; he craved more as the drive inside him began to increase. Tellymon could tell Zan was more than ready as he quickly withdrew his finger and grabbing Zan’s hips he smoothly entered him not stopping until he was fully sheathed. He felt the tightness surround him as he began to thrust back and forth, the firmness on his cock was tactically enticing as he sped up his actions, wanting to feel more as his cock began to swell.
“Fuck Zan,” his breath was short, coming in pants as he pounded away. “Oh fuck… I… oh... fuck it.”
Zan growled and moaned low in his throat as he rocked with the action. He gripped the sofa’s cushions and he slammed back against Tellymon matching his sped and power of each thrust. He was so close; the pressure was multiplying exponentially, as he felt Tellymon cock swell and throb hard inside him.
Zan’s own cock was trapped, between his body and the soft pliable leather; he was held tight and firmly as if in a glove. Each time Tellymon trusted, his body moved putting friction on the hard member. He could feel himself ready to come, as Tellymon hit inside him repeatedly, stroking the glands that produced the rapture that was waiting.
“Fuck…. Fuck… fuck” Tellymon roared as he came fast and hard, Zan was only seconds behind him. He dropped his head onto Zan’s back, resting as the alien high took over and they both passed out momentarily.
Upon waking Tellymon withdrew and sat back on his ankles as Zan pulled his sticky and sweaty body off the leather and stood up.
“Told you it was hot,” commented Tellymon looking up and down Zan’s glistening frame.
Zan cleaned himself off with a wave of his hand as he walked over to their bed area; he walked up the short steps and pulled back the gold mesh curtains. Jumping up he walked the enormous expanse and plopped down in the center of the bed.
“You have no idea of what HOT is,” Zan smiled wickedly, emphasizing the word hot.
Smiling at what was to come, Tellymon turned down the fire as he sauntered over to the bed. Zan looked exquisite lying there behind the veils; so tempting, so seductive, so alluring. His cock had grown hard again as it bobbed up and down inviting Tellymon in; drawing him into the web of unfathomable desire, carnal lust and forbidden passion.
Zan woke the next morning early, before Tellymon. It was a gray, dull winter day as the soft morning light that entered from the balcony doors, filtered through the gold mesh as it danced and sparkled across Tellymon’s nude form. The bed covers had slipped down during the night so that now only his lower section was covered. Zan lifted his head off Tellymon’s shoulder, as the figure below shifted slightly and then relaxed again.
Leaning on one elbow, Zan let his eyes roam freely over Rath’s muscular back and shoulders. He enjoyed the way Rath’s waist tapered in just above the hipline; a hard, defined body of a warrior. Zan traced his hand down the finely sculpted muscle; he felt Tellymon sigh under his touch as he shifted his body again, this time turning his face to Zan. As Zan looked at him, he suddenly realized how young Tellymon really was, his face when asleep was innocent, like that of a child, yet he was a fierce warrior in battle, having proven himself a man countless times.
Zan lowered the black silk sheets as more of Tellymon’s smooth white skin was slowly revealed. He had a firm, rock hard muscular ass; one cheek having a very pronounced dimple. The sheet came down further, Tellymon shuddered as the cool air hit him and he curled up one leg, still sprawled out on his stomach. Zan with a wave relit the fireplace and four large copper and bronze braziers that flanked the corners of the bed area.
Soon Zan had fully exposed the finely carved and exquisitely detailed marble statue that lay prone in front of him. He reached out and caressed the smooth skin, starting at his shoulders he moved down, the warmth of his body was filling Zan with desire. Tellymon moaned in his sleep, although he was aware at some level of being touched and responding to that touch.
Zan straddled his back and slid down as he pressed his body against Tellymon strong back. Tellymon moaned immediately moving back pressing his ass against Zan’s harden cock.
Tellymon was fully awake now as he bucked against Zan, mumbling incoherent words while a few were clear enough to be understood. “Yeah….want… fuck …. Zan…now….”
Zan had not planned on a morning fuck, he had originally just planned to wake Tellymon gently so he had time to dress and shower before he meet with the entourage downstairs. Zan found himself kneading Tellymon’s cheeks, relaxing the stiff muscles as he slid his finger in, finding Tellymon already excited and moist. That made Zan even harder, knowing that Tellymon’s body yearned for his cock.
Tellymon moaned as his ass arched upwards, his face buried in his pillow as his hands grasped for the material of the sheets.
"Roll over…" Zan whispered into his ear ear. "…on your back."
"I like it on my stomach,” mumbled a sleepy Rath, too relaxed to move.
"Please, I want to see your face when I fuck you.”
A low audible chuckle come out of Tellymon as he stretched to flip over; the chuckle soon turned into groans and growls as he complied with Zan’s wishes. Zan lifted his legs, supported them on his shoulders as he began to slide inside past the tight muscular ring. Tellymon’s head went back, sinking into the soft feather pillows. "Oh, yeah," he said, his voice nearly a moan.
Zan began to slowly move, he was in control as he brought his cock all the way out until just the tip remained in and sat motionless. Rath became antsy after only a few seconds and tired to impale himself on the shaft but Zan held his hips tightly down. Then without warning he slammed in full strength.
“FUCK!” Tellymon screamed, "Oh,… fuck… Zan ," his voiced dropped to a raspy whisper, "that feels to fucking good." His head was arched back into the pillow as his eyes rolled back; he was in a sexual trance that Tellymon did not want to come out of. Zan leaned down and took Rath in a deep kiss, as he broke the kiss Tellymon whispered to him. "I don't know what you're doing, but it feels so fucking great. Don’t stop."
"Your wish is my command,” replied Zan before he repeated the action, each time getting the same response from Rath. Zan felt himself tighten in the balls, as he was already over stimulated.
Taking hold of Tellymon’s cock, he began to stroke it as he set the rhythm to fuck Tellymon inside and out. Several times Zan pulled back and then slid in full length as he rammed his cock deep and long inside Tellymon, who was so sexually excited all he could do was breathe hard and moan loudly at each and every invasion of his body.
Zan continued to fuck him hard and fast, not relenting in the least. He felt his own climax on the breaking point, His cock swelled up as Tellymon groaned. The cock in his hand also swelled, Rath groaned even more, bucking his hips, as he crashed into Zan, adding additional friction to the hand job.
It was over too quickly, for either of them. Zan came as the muscles of Tellymon’s ass convulsed, clamping down hard on his cock, milking him for all he was worth. . In response, Tellymon exploded with a thousand small lights flashing on the inside of his eyelids. Their organism was so intense; the fluid that was projected out of their bodies was from a bottomless pit.
They both were shaking as the act took hold of their emotions, their powers sparked and crackled as evident by the blue shield that had encased as it did each time, to protect them as they lie defenseless exhausted from the act.
"It was so fucking intense,” breathed out Tellymon as he gathered his thoughts.
Zan could not help chuckling as he lay panting on Tellymon’s chest.
"Why you laughing?” Rath gasped out the words in between deep breaths.
"I told you I was fantastic.” Zan quipped as he lifted his head and kissed Tellymon deeply, lovingly, passionately. Their tongues danced, erotically, twisting and twirling like desert dervishes, an adventure that never ends.
Tellymon stepped off the transport ready for the final few miles to the Bedouin camp; they would now go by traditional methods as Capatian Garladar had stressed the fact that his father and the other elders of the tribal unit council would be displeased to see Antarian war machines within their territorial home bounds.
Tellymon looked out over the bluff to the landscape below the scenery was breathtaking. It was exquisite in its rich simplicity and stark reality. The desert landscape was like a painting, bursting with color. In the far distance, Tellymon could see the spectacular dunes rise up from the desert floor, hundreds of feet as they attempted to lap like waves against the dying sun. The sky had turned the color of blood-wine reminiscent of the slaughtered sun as it set to rest. Alternating bands of orange, magenta, salmon, amethyst, violet, turquoise and rose stretched across the sky, signaling the end of the winter season, soon the desert sands would be impassable as the ground heated up like an inferno. Tellymon could feel a magical aura creating magnetic forcing pulling him in.
“The desert, it is a friend, a foe, a lover.” Captain Garladar said as he came up behind Tellymon riding an Imperial Guard traditional black horse. The Captain’s eyes scanned the vision in front of him. It has been a long time since he had seen the picturesque dunes. They were magnificent with their perfectly contoured shadows of ripples and undulating crests towering against the sky.
“The deserts can be forbidding, inhospitable even treacherous places. The land and its inhabitants are exposed to the harshest elements.” The Captain breathed in the air, the smell of his homeland laid on its cusp. “Yet it is also a place and astonishing beauty. There are places in which that very exposure yields a spiritual cleanliness, a holy trek, a seductive mystery.” The Captain smiled at TellymonRath and started his horse down the path.
Tellymon had never been in the Kilamajah desert before and the emotions he could feel from this piece of living environment was phenomenal, he could feel the pleasure that the sands bring to the feet on a cold blustery day, and the pain of those who suffocated under it blankets when the tortured winds would stream across the baked sands. He started his horse down, following the Captain as they entered the exotic, unbridle, ancient landscape.
They followed the ancient secret road hidden between the dunes. The only place where the stone ground laid just under the surface, the hard surface was needed for the horses as they picked their way along. The sun had set and they were traveling by moonlight, a dangerous method but time was short and the distance was only a few miles.
Captain Garladar felt the air shift from the north to the west that meant only one thing a storm was brewing. Looking up he saw the night was clear; all three moons were out giving the landscape an eerie bluish glow. Even with the bright moonlight he still could not see very far in front of him, when the sands hit their visibility would be cut dramatically. He pulled his horse up sharply, dismounting, as the caravan stopped
“Here,” Captain Garladar handed two sections of rope to Tellymon, “Your highnesses, tie yourself to your horse and the other rope to us. When that storm hits we will be limited in sight, sound, and sense of direction.”
“How long Captain before the storm is upon us?” Captain Garladar was an expert in the desert locations having grown up as the son of the person they were going to visit. He had left the tribal unit and found his niche as an imperial Guard and was the head of the 5th regiment, that specialized in desert warfare.
“Minutes Your Majesty. We will keep pushing forward, there is shelter within a mile, but it will be a long and enduring mile.”
Tellymon nodded as he tied the rope first around himself to the Imperial Guards and then the second rope to his horse.
Tellymon looked over this young Captain, they had some interaction in the past, but this was the first assignment they had been on. His skin was a pale olive, his short hair was black, not like Zan’s raven color, but a coal black, with patches of gray threaded throughout and his coal black eyes had streaks of green and brown revealing his Bedouin heritage. His mannerism and exotic smell was reminiscent of his background, growing up in the tents among the exotic rich opulence of his father’s court.
In the distance, Tellymon could see the stars darken as a brown heavy blanket of sand covered the landscape, burying all in its path. 'What else would I find in a desert?'’ Tellymon thought to himself as he braced for the forthcoming storm. He drew up his hood and placed a black cloth up and over his mouth, tying it behind is hood. The cloak was pulled tight around his body as he felt the fist stinging sand pellets.
Within seconds, the first true winds had begun. “Anchor yourselves,” called out Captain Garladar, who stood to the right of Tellymon within arm’s length, his voice was already lost in the howl of the desert.
Tellymon push his feet into the warm, red tinged white sand, anchoring himself, against the buffeting of the wind. As it became stronger, he fell to his knees repeatedly as they stumbled forward looking for shelter from the barrage.
“Damn” Tellymon cussed aloud as he the thought of being concealed inside a huge sand drift, as he could feel the sand swirl about his legs. He cold use his powers and create a shield that would protect them from this abuse, but he feared that Captain Garladar would disapprove since his father strictly forbade any use of power that would upset the natural order of things. In addition, since he was on an ambassadorial mission, Tellymon decided he should respect their local customs and beliefs, no matter how much he was suffering right now.
“Shelter,” Captain Garladar voice was barely audible even though he was no more than three feet away.
The gale winds struck with such force it knock the men down to the ground several times, as they struggled to regain a foothold. Tellymon found himself face down in the sand time after time, he would claw at the sand, trying to hold ground and brace himself to stand erect. But the sand fled from him like water, it ran though his fingers. The sand stung his face and eyes as they watered, yet he and the men trudge onward, Tellymon had never felt such punishment on his body as this sand was causing. The grains scraped any exposed flesh raw and left stinging wounds on his skin through protective clothing.
Soon his finger found the edge of the ancient stonewall, announcing the old complex. The men followed the wall until they were free of the wind, lodged safely behind the thick limestone walls, inside the inner sanctum.
“Where are we?” asked Tellymon coughing as he pulled the mask down from his face.
“The ruins of Kharga,” answered Captain Garladar. “We will wait the storm out here, only couple of miles left to my father’s winter encampment.”
Tellymon nodded remembering the ancient books that he read at length while at the Temple, “Kharga was the last stop on The Forty Days Road.” This place was the midway point for those who traveled the old path between the White Palace and the Palace of the Silver Rose. To the south, within a couple of miles, there were thermal springs at Bulac reputed to be beneficial to the body for they contain vital minerals.
“If we go further in there is a spring where we can bathe and refresh our bodies,” suggested Captain Garladar, holding his lantern high as he turned and walked towards the center of the old complex. High limestone walls were excellent barriers against the rash storms that plagued this area.
Tellymon followed the Captain through the maze of rooms, until they reached a large rectangular center area with a high beamed ceiling. The room was void of any freestanding furniture or comforts although there were large stone benches carved out of the rock to rest upon. The floor was done in an exceptional mosaic work represented massive rug patterns. The limestone walls were polished smooth and burnished to a high gloss.
Surrounding the room, above the lintels of the doors was a carved trough filled with an oiled resin that caught fire when the Captain lit it. The results created a glowing blaze of light that cascaded down the walls creating a soft glow causing the grains of mica in the limestone walls to sparkle in the light.
Tellymon shook off his clothes off as threw down his cloak, shaking out his long blonde hair.
“Through that arch…” Captain Garladar pointed, “...are steps that lead downward to a grotto where an underground pool is located.” He started walking in that direction; the other men were already descending the stairs.
TellymonRath really did not know what to do, he did not want to insult their culture or traditions, but he was not going to show them his markings of the Uraeus and the Shadow Hawk, his status was still a secret. He walked down the stairs, immediately feeling the temperate drop several degrees.
The grotto was stunning, light filtered though the translucent ceiling several stories overheads, created from an outcropping of creaming milk quartz. Hanging from the ceiling were huge stalactites that dripped a steady stream of water as it filtered downwards from the rock layers above the cavern. The water was crystal clear, one could see to the depths where bright blue stones radiated a soft light.
The men from his entourage had already stripped and were diving into the brisk pool as they swam laps and generally behaved as any group of boys would when school got out. The men tired from the arduous couple of miles that stressed their bodies and pushed their limits of endurance, were now exuding newfound strength and vitality.
Captain Garladar noticed Tellymon sitting off to the side; he pulled himself out of the pool and dried off with a rough hand woven towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he walked over to the young prince.
“Your majesty. Are you feeling all right?”
Tellymon looked up, “Yes just a little tired. Did not get to sleep last night was busy with plans and strategies,” the lie was small; Zan and him did discuss plans, just not Antar’s plans. “I think I will retire.”
“Of curse your grace.” He started to signal for the men to set up camp.
“No don’t bother them I can find a wall and rock floor to sleep on myself. Good night, wake me when we can travel.”
Tellymon climbed back up the stairs leaving the cool atmosphere behind. The room was a bit warm and stuffy, the storm still raged outside. Picking up his cloak, he balled it up and found a wall that looked comfortable, well as comfortable as a rock could be. He sat down and stretched out his legs and leaned his head back. He heard the men returning trying to be quiet thinking, their prince was asleep. However, he was more awake than asleep. Slowly the men settled down as one by one they sleep. Waiting a couple more hours, Tellymon finally opened his eyes and check all around to see if all were asleep.
Getting up he silently glided across the floor as he stole away down to the grotto. The drops of water echoed as they hit the surface drop by agonizing drop. Tellymon stripped out of his clothes laying them on a smooth boulder stained with mineral that glazed the surface in streaks of rust, black, and copper. He dived smoothly into the water, letting the waves created by his stokes to wash over him. It did feel good, the pool was suppose to have medicinal value that would take the aches and pains of the travel away.
He was content as he floated on the rich salt infused water, he thought about Zan and Vilandra and how the two of them were driving him crazy, each pulling at him, each wanting to be the only one in his life.
Tellymon felt refreshed as he pulled himself out of the water, his skin reacted to the cool air of the cavern. He dried himself off with his powers, after all everyone was asleep, so he also cleaned his clothes before dressing.
However, he was not alone. A pair of eyes saw him rise and leave the sleeping area. The eyes followed him down the stairs to a ledge where he could watch. The eyes examined the body revealed, one article of clothing at a time. The eyes lusted over at the fine physique that was presented to them. The eyes grew very large when he saw the ancient Shadow Hawk emblazed across Tellymon’s shoulders. Finally, the eyes were shocked to see the snake’s eyes glaring at him from his owner’s lower abominable area.
I don’t really think there is anyone reading this but if there still is I will finish the story and then end another any further Zan’s Adoration of the Warrior Series posting. I apologize for taking up cyber space.
~The Storms Rages Inside and Out ~
Tellymon woke the next morning early; he only needed a few hours sleep at any one time. Following the path, back out he soon discovered that the storm was still raging. Disappointed he went back to the main area and decided he would concentrate on his training to take the edge off. He was not happy at being trapped here nor at the storm.
He found a somewhat secluded corner and knelt down; crossing his ankles and placing his hands behind his head, he interlaced them; his elbows were parallel to the floor. His back was straight and rigid, his neck firm, his eyes looked outward the middle of the room, yet they did not see.
Soon the men started to wake, Captain Garladar looked quickly around ascertaining where his men were and did not see the Crown Prince right away. Standing up, he was intending to move towards the grotto door when off to the side he saw Tellymon kneeling on the hard cold stone floors in a typical Shadow Warrior endurance position. He motioned for his men to stay away as they gravitated to the other side of the room as far as possible. Tellymon did not see or even hear them; he was deep in meditation, his body solid; enduring hours in this position was nothing to him.
The men went about taking care of their business. A couple went out to where the horses were stabled, grooming and soothing their fears. All of the Imperial horses were of rich stock, black bodies, manes and tails. They were massive in the chest, the muscular structure bred for war conditions, the color chosen to fade into the dark recess of a battlefront.
The Prince’s impressive burnished copper steed stood almost 17 hands high with a strong muscular chest and strong forelocks; the breed was well-known for their great speed and endurance. The animal had long, silky snow-white mane and tail that drags the ground that was reminiscent of its master’s platinum blonde hair. Silver hooves pawed at the ground, sending sparks up through the ground. The eyes of violet speckled with gold flakes watched carefully as the soldiers curried his coat.
These horses are descended from ones brought back by King Athar from an alien world. Legend claims that the originals were immortal and could fly great distances. Over the centuries, the horses have been mixed with other DNA creating the infamous battle horse still prized today throughout the galaxy.
Inside the great hall, the men were sitting around playing a card game as they chewed on some dried meat and even drier bread, washing it down with water from the pool. The storm was not going to end soon, so they decided to make the best of a bad situation.
Morning turned soon to afternoon before Tellymon stirred. He stood up slowly as he stretched his arms and legs; the men were entranced that he knelt there motionless for over five hours. Tellymon looked around, seeing the Captain he walked over, his movements fluid and graceful not awkward or stiff, as they should have been. The Captain marveled at this man coming towards him.
“Captain has the storm ended for us to continue?”
“No my lord, maybe tomorrow if we are lucky.” The Captain then motioned to the satchel on the stone bench to the side of him. “We have saved some dried meat for you…”
“No you will need it before me I can endure for days.” interrupted Tellymon as he turned and walked away. Leaning up against a wall, Tellymon withdrew a small silver tin from his pants and took one of the small green pills. The Captain recognized it as the vitamin supplements, Shadow Warriors take for nutritional value while they are in the field.
Tellymon slowly slid down the wall, soon he dozed off; the air was hot, stuffy, and warm. He found himself back at the Temple, in the caves, the secret caves where he was tortured so many years ago, so frequently, so horribly.
The iron about his wrists burned cold as it leeched its metal tainted poison into the open wounds. He was on his back, his wrists and ankles shackled to the cold slab, heavy collar circled his throat pinning him down; his clothes removed as he shivered uncontrollably in the darkened cave.
He was unseen left there to die in the dank halls of this dungeon, the ordeal was exhausting, his body tired, he was too young to be abused in this fashion, his soul to weak. Tellymon felt himself slipping further into the vortex; a dream, a memory, a nightmare.
He tried to move but he had no slack, the metal cut against his throat and with each breath, he winced in pain. Tellymon moaned low in his throat, a sound like distant thunder. The coldness was sapping him of his strength, his will, his freedom.
Minutes passed into hours, darkness surrounded his eyes bound in a black band. He moaned again, the stone slab vibrated with the intensity of his power, yet he was unable to speak as his mouth gagged.
Tellymon could not shake the coldness as it began to consume his soul, he struggled to remove himself from the torture but to no avail, he was dammed to relive his childhood, the storm raged inside him as he struggled against all odds. Using all his strength he forced himself awake, only to find that the cave was gone, the shackles were gone, the child was gone, but the fear remained.
Captain Garladar noticed TellymonRath jerk suddenly awake. He looked around the room as if he expected find himself somewhere else. ‘He must have had a nightmare,’ thought the Captain as he clearly saw a pale pallor in Tellymon’s face appear, the wide opened eyes of fright, and slight tremble to the prince’s hands. Some vivid dream or memory had scared this man who was fearless in battle, he himself had seen TellymonRath produced terrible atrocious upon the battlefield. Atrocities that could even turn his stomach. Yet away from the war, TellymonRath seemed different; freer, calmer, childlike; at least that was the Captains opinion.
Tellymon had his knees drawn up and had hooked his arms around them with his head down. When he awoke with a start, he was not sure where he was, there was no cave, no shackles; his mind clouded. Slowly it dawned on him where he was as he rose and stretch. Deciding it would be better to walk a while, shaking off the tremors that still wracked his body; he started to explore the complex.
There were many rooms, Tellymon walked one surveying the various styles; some were fashioned to hold perishable foods, others that appeared to be armories, and still other holding areas for animals. Coming around a blind corner, he found a series of small rooms, each decorated in a myriad of primitive frescoes in bright colors applied to a thin layer of mud brick. He stood there studying the paintings depicting the great ages of Antar. Each room represented a different age; his hands followed the ancient brush marks faint but noticeable.
Room after room he entered until he stood face to face with a life-size likeness of Atarh. He was dressed in black robes, tinged in silver; his long blond hair was flowing loosely in the wind as he stood, his liquid silver eyes overseeing a battle. He was tall, with the broad shoulders and narrow hips of a warrior, a hunter of evil and injustice. In his hand was the sword of justice, the sword of retribution, the sword of power. It is the same sword that today Tellymon wields in battles. The same sword today, thrust into the ground in remembrance of one’s duty to the Throne. It’s present at political meetings instill justice and obedience during a political meeting such as the one he now ventures forth to meet the lord of this desert land.
Atarh was a strong in body and fair just and in mind. He had a sense of duty to his country that was unrivaled and earned him the love of his subjects. Tellymon stood mesmerized by the man that he once was in the far distance past, or at least he believes he was; the memories are faint, translucent images of a bygone era; he remembers battles and old forgotten stories.
“He looks so much like you,” whispered Captain Garladar into Tellymon’s ear as he stood directly behind Tellymon’s right side.
The sudden sound started Tellymon, his lowered his hand extinguishing the bluish white light. The only light now visible was a lantern. “Sorry, I know your traditions forbid our powers in the desert.”
“No it is all right, I often forget myself and use what weak powers I have been blessed with.” The Captained looked at the young prince, “I can only fathom the power that must have surged through Atarh then and though you now.”
Tellymon turned; the soft glow of the lantern caught his face in a surreal look so desirable, so lustful it weakened the young captain’s knees. “I am no one special,” he announced as he walked back to the main area, chewing on his green vitamin pills as he walked. It was evening when he arrived back at the central hall, most of the men had gone for another swim, it was still hot and stuffy; Tellymon silently wished he could relax in a cool pool, but he dared not show the marks.
Soon night came and all were asleep, Tellymon was dreaming, his mind unconsciously pulled Zan into his realm.
He was walking in a similar maze as he did that day but this maze was the one he created to fool and confuse any who dared enter his mind. The paintings were bright, the colors vivid as he walked the corridors, Zan stood off to the side enjoying the view. He loved to see Tellymon walk; he was like water, so fluid, so sensual, so incredible sexy.
He was worried about him; the reports of the storm had been foremost in his mind. However Tellymon looked okay, a little stressed but that was normal. Zan wondered if he could control a portion of this dream and live his own fantasy. Concentrating the maze turned into the inner sanction of their room at the Palace, Tellymon turned around looking in all directions for who caused the picture to change, Then he heard a low laugh, from behind, as a arm encircled his waist and soft lips suckled his neck. “Zan,” he whispered. “You came.”
“I missed you,” Zan took his hand and led him towards the bed. “I hear you are trapped in a sand storm.”
“You have no idea how much I hate sand right now,” answered Rath, his hand interlaced with Zan’s.
“Really!” Zan led him onto the bed and pushed him down under him.
“It gets into everything.”
Zan started to remove Tellymon’s shirt, “That is bad, very bad,” his hands glided under the buttons one by one, sliding them out of the holes. He then slide his hands under the open fabric marveling at the harden muscles underneath, his thumbs grazed back and forth on his nipples.
Tellymon took in a deep breath as he arched off the bed, “Oh shit”
“Like” smiled Zan as he straddled Rath’s body, his hands lowered until they slid under the waistband causing the pants to disappear from view. “Much better view,” sighed Zan as he grabbed for the eager cock in front of him wrapping his hand around it. His hand was warm as he started to rub up and down the length.
“Does that feel good?” Zan softly asked.
“Oh yeah,” was all Tellymon could manage to say as his head dropped back his mouth opened in soft steady pants.
Zan revealed in the feel of Tellymon’s cock as he pumped it up and down for a while, all the time the moans grew louder.
Zan then let his tongue flick back and forth over the head and down to the base. He then ran his the tip of his tongue around the base of the corona, softly nipping it. Tellymon could swear he almost came right there and then.
“Fuck Zan.” Tellymon grabbed the sheets in a ball, “Where did you learn to do that?”
“I didn’t, it just… came to me,” Zan answered as he licked down the harden shaft with his tongue. Tellymon watched his eyes never leaving the erotic sight. Zan eyes fell upwards as he gazed and locked eyes just before he slowly took Tellymon’s cock deep into his mouth. After a few seconds, Zan very slowly pull back until his cock is just at the tip of his lips.
Tellymon watched , his eyes wide opened, as Zan leaned forward and took it into his mouth. He watched his hard cock disappear though the reddish tinged lips into his mouth and felt Zan’s tongue swirling around the head, licking and nipping along the entire shaft.
Tellymon shifted a little spreading his legs, giving Zan access to more of his cock, he place a hand on the back of Zan's head.
Zan lifted his head off Rath’s cock and looked at him the eye. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
“Oh Fuck…. yes….” Tellymon stammered, “Fuck…. More… I need more.” wanting Zan to bring him off.
Tellymon almost went ballistic, the feeling was incredible, he struggled to toss Zan off and under him but he was held firmly in place.
“Oh no this is my fantasy; you will lie still and let me fuck you.”
“Oh shit...” Rath panted
Zan smiled as he bent down and continued to lick and suck for all his was worth. Tellymon felt himself swell as he began to throb and twitch.
“Oh fuck Zan…” he panted hard as he …
“Your Highness...”
Tellymon heard the word as he fought to remain on the dream plain. “No…” he arched his hips up as Zan continued to suck harder. “Yes …Zan…just a little more…oh…”
“Commander Rath we are ready to go, the winds have subsided,”
“FUCK ….NO…..” as the dream ended and Tellymon woke into the real world. His eyes took a second to focus.
Standing in front of him was Captain Garladar. “Your Majesty?”
