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A Legend In Time

A short gay erotic romance by

Shayne Carmichael

Catching the occasional fleeting glimpse of the shimmering clothing of the elf, Nash did his best to keep up with the figure. Because he couldn’t see as well in the dark, the lower hanging branches from trees would hit him in the face when he walked into them.

“Why am I doing this?” He muttered to himself as he felt the hard sting of another branch catch him squarely in the forehead. He knew why he was doing it. He just questioned the wisdom of following the wild rumors of a tower that held an unbelievable hoard supposedly guarded by a ghost. Some of conversations he had overheard were spoken in tones of awe, telling of a fanatical spirit who none could get past. The tales certainly didn’t stop anybody from trying to reach the infamous tower to gain its riches.

But it wasn’t the treasure that lured him. He had no use for anything like it. The ghost and the chance to learn about the afterlife kept him hot footing after the elf.

Up ahead, Nash saw the gleam of torches, glimpsed between breaks in the brush. He’d been following the damn elf for more than two hours and had enough bruises on his face and body to prove it.

When the trees thinned out, the dark foreboding sight of a gray stone tower loomed above the trees as he looked upward. Moving as quickly and safely as he could, he headed towards it. The size blotted out the star littered sky when he was finally near enough to make out the lines of the stone that comprised its shape.

The elf stood beside a wooden door, dancing impatiently from foot to foot. Nash approached and he gestured towards the door. “That’s the way in. You go up the stairs inside and you‘ll meet the ghost.”

Before Nash could say a word, the elf bolted back into the safety of the forest and disappeared from sight.

“Gods, I didn’t think he’d be that scared of this place.” He muttered to himself as he stared at the dark wood of the door. Shaking his head, he moved towards it then pushed it open. An eerie silence greeted him as he stepped inside the huge circular room. Nothing adorned the bare walls and a set of stairs leading upward was the only place to go.

The torches lining the wall gave off a glowing light, and as he looked up, Nash could see several platform landings. The tower contained several floors, but he knew what he sought would be at the very top of the stairs.

As he moved up the stairs, the stark barren condition of the tower wouldn’t lead one to believe anything worthwhile would be kept here. Nothing relieved the monotonous gray of the walls. At each floor’s landing, Nash ignored the shut doors. Whatever else the tower contained didn’t interest him. When he reached the top, an enormous archway led into a small room. Through the open doorway at the back, Nash caught the glitter of a myriad of colors sparkling from a huge, overflowing silver chest..

Ignoring the chest as well, Nash waited silent for the ghost to appear. After a few frustrating moments when nothing happened, Nash entered the small room. Immediately to his right, he saw a young man laid out on a stone table.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at him. Uncertainly, he slowly approached. He didn’t know if the man was sleeping or dead. Or maybe this was the ghost. Dark raven hair spilled over the edges of the table in long luxurious curls. The pale composed features seemed innocently lost in a peaceful sleep. Dark lashes fanned the fair skin and the firm line of the closed lips held Nash’s gaze. Instantly a singular thought flitted through his mind, wanting to feel those lips on his own. Nash felt an odd, distinct ache in the region of his chest.

Unable to help himself, Nash reached out and gently touched his shoulder, and a sensation of warmth greeted his hesitant action. Glancing downward, Nash could see the slow rise and fall of the chest beneath the white silk shirt. Pink flesh and the strong contours of muscle were visible under the thin shirt. Biting at his lip, he couldn’t stop his gaze from moving even lower. The sight of the black, tightly encased, muscular thighs and the outline of the man’s cock caused another catch in Nash‘s throat.

A quiver ran through Nash in an unexpected rise of lust, and he hastily tried to subdue it. The form beneath his hand showed no awareness of being gently shaken. This couldn’t be the ghost, he was a living, breathing man. And one totally unresponsive to the continued gentle prodding of Nash’s hand.

As his gaze lifted back to his face, a soft movement of his fingers brushed slowly over the man’s lips. Why wouldn’t he want to kiss this beautiful man? The tug of the urge became more overwhelming and without thought, Nash slowly leaned over.

The softest brush of his lips replaced the touch of his hand, and Nash felt a stirring to the body of the sleeping stranger. When the lips slowly parted, his tongue teasingly coaxed between them. Nash swallowed the soft sound rising from the man’s throat as he felt the instant response to him.

After a moment, Nash had to slowly straightened, drawing a deep breath. When his eyes opened, he found himself staring into a pair of velvety green eyes. Something far more intriguing than any sparkling gem.

“Who are you?”

Clearing his throat, Nash realized the odd circumstances he found himself in. He shouldn’t have kissed the young man. “I’m Prince Nash, of the house of Charming. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Blinking, Nash stared at him, astonished. “I came here to find the ghost and talk to him.”

He stepped slightly back as the stranger sat up then turned to face him. “I am Prince Elliot, of the house of White. The ghost guards the treasure from thieves, but you showed no interest in the treasure. And many have tried to awaken me but only love‘s true kiss had the power.”

When Elliot stood, Nash stumbled slightly in his backward footing. Love’s true kiss? A great deal of lust definitely, but love? “But, but I’m n-n-not in l-l-love with you.”

A knowing look challenged Nash before Elliot spoke, “It was a part of the spell keeping me sleep. My stepfather tried to kill me by tricking me into eating a poisoned apple. Several of my friends who had taken me in were able to change the spell. Instead of dying, I fell asleep and waited for you to come to me.”

Pausing to lay his hand on Nash’s shoulder, Elliot slowly drew him towards him. “The dwarves who protected me put me here with the chest in the hopes it would lure others.”

Nash couldn’t find it in himself to back away from Elliot. Not when he wanted to feel the strong press of Elliot’s body against him. As he closed his eyes, he could feel every inch molding in a tight, arousing fit. When he felt fingers begin to strip him of his clothing, Nash couldn’t protest to save himself.

“All of this time, I dreamed of the one who would wake me. You exceed every one of my dreams.” The husky whisper of Elliot’s voice filled his senses with the soft press of his kiss to Nash’s ear.

Nash’s pants slid down, and he felt the intimate pressure of Elliot’s hand wrapping to his cock. Gasping in a breath, the air exhaled in a soft moan from Nash. The torturous pleasure flooded Nash with the instant desire to possess Elliot. Turning his head, his mouth claimed the willing lips opening to him.

Sliding his hands beneath Elliot’s shirt, he tugged upward on it and broke from the kiss to remove it. A heated emerald gaze held his, and Nash drowned beneath the blaze of fire ignited between them.

Unfastening Elliot’s pants, a downward tug of his hands left him bare to Nash’s eyes. The mouth watering view of Elliot’s cock springing free of the material distracted Nash. Later, he thought. Time for that later.

The persistent nudge of Nash’s body pushed Elliot back towards the table.

A slow smile curved Elliot’s lips as he slid down on the table. His arms lifted upward towards Nash, and the line of his body beckoned silently to him.

The feast laid out for Nash held him spellbound. Every sweet inch was open to his sight as Elliot parted his legs. The slight rise of his hips gave Nash a glimpse of Elliot’s beautiful ass. The firm curves enticed Nash and his cock throbbed with the need to have what he saw.

Hastily, Nash removed his shirt before he slid onto the table between Elliot’s legs. Settling the weight of his body to the willing one beneath one, Nash ground his hips tightly into him. His hot breath stirred over Elliot’s skin as he lowered his head, fastening his lips to Elliot’s nipple. The edge of his teeth teased at him as his tongue flicked repeatedly over the hardening nub.

Nash felt the jolt of response in Elliot’s body, and the soft sound of his groan rewarded his efforts. Lifting his head, Nash wet his hand and then slowly stroked over his cock, lubricating it.

The pleading look in Elliot’s eyes echoed in his voice, “Now, Nash, please, now.”

Unable to deny the urgent begging, Nash’s hand positioned his cock then he slowly pushed forward. The tight resistance of Elliot’s body surprised him.

Merciful heavens, he’s a virgin. The thought ran through Nash’s mind as the tension of his body increased. Struggling for control, Nash whispered, “Relax, Elliot, I’ll try not to hurt you.”

Shaking his head wildly, the desperate arch of Elliot’s hips tried to grind more tightly as his legs twined to Nash.

Groaning with the sharper pulses invading him, Nash gave into him. A sudden hard thrust pushed past the resistance, and Elliot’s body took him in fully. The incredibly hot tightness sent a repeated shudder through Nash. Hearing Elliot’s initial hiss of pain, he stilled momentarily.

His hand nudged between their bodies to curl his fingers around Elliot’s cock. The slow motion of his hand, stroking over him, tried to reawaken the earlier passion from Elliot.

Staring up into the midnight blue of Nash’s eyes, Elliot understood why he had been the only one to awaken him. The quiet patience held in Nash’s expression told Elliot far more of Nash’s emotional state than the man was willing to admit to. The wavy locks of golden hair drew the touch of his hand, and his fingers smoothed over the strands.

As the intense pain faded to the pleasurable sensations spreading through his body, his hips nudged more tightly to Elliot. The slow grind of his body brought out even more intense pulses, centering in his groin and ass.

With another groan, Nash accommodated the movement and begin to slid slowly out of Elliot. The inward push of his hips reburied him back inside of Elliot. His body mimicked the slow stroke of his hand over Elliot’s cock.

Keeping the tempo very slow at first, Nash had to struggle with the urgency riding him. He wanted nothing more than to fuck Elliot as hard as he could until he lost himself. This first time Elliot’s pleasure was paramount. Knowing he’d been a virgin, Nash couldn’t give in to the instinct of his body.

The heat and tightness engulfing him with each inward thrust made his body shake. The feel of it was simply indescribable. Looking down at Elliot, his voice was slightly strained as he whispered, “You feel so fucking good. You have no idea what this does to me.”

“Let yourself go, Nash. Lose yourself in me.” Elliot’s urgent whisper filled the air as his legs tightened around Nash.

The tone and words flooded deeply into Nash; and with a low moan, his hips answered Elliot with a brutal thrust. When Elliot cried out Nash’s name and his body shuddered, Nash quickly withdrew only to repeatedly drive back into Elliot’s body. Both of them began to shudder as the intensity overwhelmed them. The contractions of Elliot’s muscles around him signaled his orgasm as he called out. “Nash!”

The milking pressure over his cock sent Nash spiraling over the edge of his release, and the sound of his cries joined Elliot’s. His body strained in a rigid line into Elliot as each pulse hit him. He felt the spasms of Elliot’s body as the slippery warmth of Elliot’s come spilled over his hand, and the heat of his own filled his lover. Locked together in that moment of time, Nash knew this wouldn’t be enough for him. He wanted more than once with Elliot.

Resting his forehead to Elliot’s, Nash drew in deep breaths. Their hearts pounded in a twin rhythm until they finally settled back to their normal pace. Tilting his head slightly back, Elliot’s lips molded to the feel of Nash’s, seeking the reassuring contact.

Instinctively understanding what he wanted, Nash’s lips lingered in a tender brush over Elliot’s. “Come home with me, Elliot.”

The simple words surprised Elliot at first. As he drew his head back slightly, Nash could see Elliot’s answer in his eyes, and his body relaxed.

And the rest is history.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's deranged imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

All this stuff is mine, mine, mine. You touchy, I hurty. © 2017 and all that jazz.