As a Jedi Knight, he was required to be as well versed as possible in the rituals and customs of places to which was was sent on diplomatic mission.It was mostly simple and straight forward, and there were times when he could clearly see the patterns in how belief systems and convictions worked their way into the consciousness of different peoples through different channels and different means.It would make for a fascinating study one day if he was ever sidelined into becoming and administrator or a teacher.
Not that he wanted such a role.
There was far too much else to learn, for him to settle down and live quietly.
Besides, he rather enjoyed the challenges of being a diplomat.
It wasn’t always boring meetings and politely misinterpreted commentary.Sometimes there was Lightsabers and actual battles to be waged.
Jean Luc Picard stared at the person in front of them, wondering if he missed something in the briefing. He glanced at his second, trying not to snicker at Riker trying his hardest not to react.
“You’re late.” Riker pointed out, inwardly cringing at the accusation, he just had no idea what else to say. They had been at the Grey Heaven’s docks for an hour.
He was ignoring Picard’s side-eye, and the snickering he could hear from at least two of the crew members behind him.
“Wizards are never late, nor are we early. We arrive precisely when we are meant to.”
“Are you kidding me?” Riker shut his mouth in horror of what just came out of it. “I apologize, I didn’t quite get your name.”
“Gandalf.”
“Seriously?”
Picard glared at his second, then turned towards the wizard. And that was the thing, he was standing in front of a bonafide wizard. Not that it should be that shocking, he had actually met Dresdon once, add in his own family line that tied into Mutants, and Charles Xavier – seeing a wizard or an alien isn’t shocking.
It was the fact it was Gandalf the Grey.
As if he just stepped into the Lord of the Rings book.
Which considering the fact he knows Aragorn and Boromir – it still shouldn’t be shocking, but somehow this just seemed weirder than usual.
“Gandalf, I’m Captain Picard and we’ve been sent by the Federation, with cooperation from the Jedi Council to check on you and the inhabitants, as the Separatists have been moving through this territory and according to our briefing, this planet requests to be mostly left alone.”
“I had received reports from Yoda about this Separatist movement, but so far they have not shown themselves here, and if Dooku wants to try … well I kicked his ass when we were in classes.” Gandalf leaned against his staff.
“Wait your a Jedi?” Riker was now completely confused.
“Yes. How do you think I pull of the ‘Wizard’ part of this job. This planet is well protected, once they got rid of the …”
“One Ring?” He asked before he could stop himself.
“Yes.” Gandalf was giving Riker an odd look. “The people of Middle Earth came together, Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, and Man to dump the Ring into the fires of Modor. I’m not sure if it was destroyed, but the Goa’uld was not coming through it anymore that was for sure.”
“The one ring is a Stargate?” Riker couldn’t help the smile. “That’s amazing…”
Gandalf looked at Picard. “What is with him?”
“We have a book series, called The Lord of the Rings back on Earth – it’s the story of Frodo Baggins taking the One Ring to Modor to be destroyed, except it was an actual ring.”
“I could see that, considering how many of those were stolen from their homes. Then must know, from that moment on there has always a Frodo Baggins, Aragorn, and Gandalf … which at this moment in time is me.”
“You weren’t born Gandalf?” Picard asked.
“Heaven’s no. I fit the part, and accepted the role. This is more my retirement. It’s usually very quiet only times when the Dragon acts up, or the Elves and Dwarves poke at each other. But if these Separatists think they can come here to cause havoc. The people of this world will unite and fight back.”
“Would you show us around?” Picard asked, shocking Riker. “We can change if need be.”
“Sure. You can play the role of Rangers.” He grinned waving his staff, motioning for them to follow.
“Sir…” Riker stepped closer to him, voice quiet.
“Tell the men we’ll be staying for a while.” Picard informed him. “It will just be you and me.”
“What is going on?”
“What’s going on is, I just found my Mate, and he’s a wizard.”
It was an old song, written millennia ago for Saint Alia of the Knife, famed Aunt to Leto II, and sister to Maud’dib.
The people had sung it in their market places, and at great celebrations in her honor.
Inama nushif Al asir hiy ayish
She is eternal No malice can touch
Duncan had read about her in the Archives left to his care at Dar-Es-Balat by the God Emperor himself in those final days before His Division in the desert.
He’d read about a lot of things that might otherwise have been left to the sands, and was made the wiser in so doing, for he knew more of the history and legacy of Arrakis than any other living Soul by the time of Leto’s re-emergence from the deep Sareer.
And that knowledge made him as dangerous as he was clever.
The last of a long line of men who bore the name Idaho, Duncan had become the most respected advisor in the Court of the Divided One.
It was a name that rather amused him, considering what had happened so very recently to actually unite him that much closer to those who were already his lovers.
Through their Bond, he could sense contentment and peace.
Which he took to be a blessing.
Such moment were all often few and far between.
When he found them, they took his breath away.
Their private wing of the renovated Fortress Citadel, was blissfully quiet.
He could feel the air being stirred by fan blades in the ceiling that mimicked the warm breeze which blew endless across the high walls of the Fortress defenses.
It was likely to be a beautiful evening, as recent storms had cleared the sky, the day’s business was concluded, and there were no official functions to attend for at least the next two days.
Someone outside was singing that old song, it’s music floating in from the Square, but the words had been changed to reflect not the tyrant Alia, but the return of her nephew, the God Emperor, Leto II.
Inam nushif Al asir hiy ayish
He is eternal No malice can touch
Lia-anni Zaratha zarati
Singular and ageless Perpetually bound
Hatt al-hudad Al-maahn al-baiid
Ay-yah idare Adamm malum
Through the tempest Be it deluge or sand
A singular voice Speaks through the torrent
Duncan paused, pulling back the Spice Fiber drapes across the archway that led to the bedroom.
Their space had been decorated as a fusion of Fremen and Arrakian styles, in a manner that felt comfortable to all three of them.
Familiar and secure.
The bed lay over under the windows in the light of the setting sun that was fading over the last remaining acres of the Forbidden Forest.
Arrakis was also re-emerging from the past, becoming again the Dune of old, transformed once more by the Sandworms into the great desert it was always meant to be.
No other illumination was necessary to show him everything he need see, and as he put his books down on the table to his right, just inside the room, so he smiled warmly, for there upon the softest white sheets were his Mates, wrapped naked in each other’s arms.
Leto always seemed so very small and fragile when compared to his Fremen Naib, who had for decades held together the last remaining true Sietch at Jacurutu with nothing but a Crysknife and sheer bloody minded tenacity.
Lia-anni Zaratha zarati
Singular and ageless Perpetually bound
Indeed they were.
Separate journeys finally intertwined.
Or at least that was how Duncan had reasoned it until Leto patiently explained to him that everything was connected, woven together as a great fabric whose strands touched others in an endless, seamless whole.
It was a considerable burden for one who looked so youthful and innocent, to be so wise and ancient.
A dichotomy between truth and perception, knowledge and expectation.
The famous God Emperor of Dune was no more than a small slip of a boy now to the unknowing eye.
He lay on his back, fast asleep, and seeming all the more vulnerable for so tranquil a pause.
His head, a perfect fit to his Naib’s broad right shoulder, was crowned with tousled dark red hair, through which Macbeth ran his fingers, slowly and gently.
Soothing.
Calming.
It was their way whenever Leto dreamt of the sands, of being once more Shai-Hulud, moving deep beneath the desert’s surface, building the future.
Such dreams were not distress, but instead the painful longing for an existence no other Soul could ever properly fathom.
Inam nushif al a sadarr Eann zaratha zarati
Forever his voice sings Through the ages eternally bound
Kali bakka a tishuf ahatt Al hudad aiman dali
Sacrifice is his gift One that cannot be equalled
Macbeth slid his left arm around Leto’s abdomen, drawing him closer, their bodies moving sensuously against each other.
The sheets barely covered them, and the Naib’s arousal was more than obvious as he kissed his Emperor’s forehead with tender concern.
Duncan could only wonder at how Macbeth normally seemed so very fierce, so very harsh, angular and sharp edged, carved by the desert winds and remorseless sun.He was ruthless, vicious, unwavering in the defense of both his people and his lovers. But lying there with no other concern save the immediate comfort of Leto’s presence, it appeared as though he somehow softened, his edges smoothing out to lift the burdens from his Soul.
At least for a while.
His shimmering blue, half-lidded glance in Duncan’s direction was a promise of passion that could not denied.
Inam nushif Al asir hiy ayish
He is eternal No malice can touch
Lia-anni Zaratha zarati
Singular and ageless Perpetually bound
Duncan undid his shirt and let it drift to the floor.
They were indeed perpetually bound.
Bonded.
Forever.
Part of that endless fabric.
As vital as the Spice that was once again flowing from Dune.
Professor Vogelmann finished up his lecture on Roman History, giving out the writing assignments, and reminded the class of the test next week. The students moans and whines, fell on deaf ears.
“You’re lack of planning doesn’t constitute empathy from me.” He gave them all look. “We got two review sessions next week, so take a breath.”
“Professor, will it just be on Roman, or all of Antiquity?” One of the students asked, as others started packing their bags.
“It will focus on Greek, leading into early Roman history. Next segment we’ll focus on the expansion of the Roman Empire. Pack up, have a good weekend, and see you Monday.” He closed his own books, and put them into his dark leather satchel, listening as the kids moved around and headed towards the exits.
“Have a good weekend, Professor.” One of the kids yelled out as they headed out, dodging a younger man who stepped into the room.
Nicholas smiled when he saw Robbie at the back of the lecture hall. He had one of the oldest around, still looked as if he was teaching history in the 1800’s. The building was the last on the renovation schedule, it would be at least another five years before he got an updated classroom.
As the last of the kids left, he could hear a few of them asking who the hot guy was. ‘It’s his husband.’ ‘Professor Vogelmann is gay?’ ‘Yeah who cares.’ ‘But…’ ‘Stop being an asshole. His husband is hot, my god just to see those two making out would be …’
He tuned them out and focused on his Mate. “When did you get back?”
“Got in this morning, I’m not sure what time it is let alone day!” Robbie had been on a world tour for his latest book, he lost track of cities, conventions and book readings. It was good to be home, and had no intention of leaving their bed for days.
He seductively walked down the last few steps, making his way to his Mate, who looked exceptionally hot in his suit and black robes. He leaned against the front school desk, smiling coyly. “I’m sorry I missed class Professor. I’m sure I can make it up to you.”
Nicholas gave his Mate a look, ignoring the fact he was half hard already. Robbie could get him off with just the filthy words coming out of his mouth, let alone wrapping those red lips around his dick.
“You’ve been gone half the semester.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking very stern.
“Family emergency, my nana was very sick.” He pouted, sighing dramatically.
“And you were a good boy by taking care of her.”
“I’m sure I can take care of you.” Robbie moved closer to the podium, and long table that still held some of Nicholas’ class papers. “Whatever you need, Professor. I’m good for it.” He licked his lips seductively.
“I needed you in class, to do you work.” He tried to keep the want out of his voice be he knew it was slipping.
“I’m sure I could do some extra credit.” Robbie moved around the table. “I’m really good at taking directions, all you need to tell me what to do Professor.”
“You think this seductive act is going to get you a passing grade?” Nicholas watched his Mate stalk closer.
“I know I’ve been a bad boy, you could bend over your desk for a spanking. Then fill me up with your hard thick cock. Drilling me until I scream, filling me up.”
Nicholas closed his eyes, imagining that very scenario. “And if want you to beg.”
Robbie dropped to his knees, mouth slightly open. “Did I mention I have no gag reflex, you can fuck my throat raw, making me swallow everything.”
“There are times I hate you.” He threw out his sense, making sure no one was in the area. “Unzip my pants.”
“Thank you Professor.” He crawled closer, until he was inches away from the large bulge, filling the tailored suit pants. With a shy smile, he unzipped the pants, and pulled out the thick cock. “So big, I can’t wait to taste it.”
Nicholas groaned at the sight of those lips wrapped around the head of his cock, with Robbie’s blue eyes staring up at him intently. There was a reason his erotica books sold mainstream. His Mate had a way with words, the amount of times he got off just reading the rough drafts was embarrassing.
But for Nicholas the very fact he was the one who got to taste those lips, feel his hands roam across his body, and slide into his tight heat, made it all so much more erotic.
He reached down, gripping the long locks as he fucked into that filthy mouth, enjoying the moans pulled from his Mate’s throat. He wasn’t going to last, and they both knew it – they had been apart for too long. In mere moments he was coming down Robbie’s throat, breathing out his release out, controlling the need to scream his name.
Robbie wiped his mouth with the back of his hands and stood back up, giving Nicholas a smile. “God I’ve been thinking about that for days.” He leaned forward kissing him, hot and passionate, letting him taste his own essence. “Was that good Professor.”
“I think you might need to retake your test.” Nicholas grinned as he pulled him closer, kissing him again. “Welcome home, Robbie.”
“It’s good to be back, my dear Nicholas.” He laid his head on his Mate’s shoulder, just enjoying being in his company.
It made his chest ache, as though in reminding him of the heartbeat that such a moment would once have set pounding so desperately fast.
He had broken the rules.
For the first time in a very long time, he had done wrong.
And he would suffer for it.
His Master already knew.
Of course he did.
Their Bond was so widely open, that such a rush of guilty shame and fear could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was.
In part he was annoyed at his own stupidity, for it was one thing to maintain dignity and self-control while on occasion suffering the results of having committed some minor infringement of the simpler rules that governed his life.But it was something else entirely to confess an infraction of far large magnitude that would take time and effort to repair.
His fear was clarifying though, reminding him of the reasons why rules existed for people like himself.He needed their limitations, their certainties, their shape and scope to define his life.
Everything had rules.
Everything mattered.
And so even as he stripped off his clothes, he placed them neatly where they belonged, before adorning his body with the symbols of his status as the Slave he had become for his Master.
It was a familiar sensation, to put on the thick leather cuffs at his ankles and wrists.The metal ring that hung from each one, had been fashioned to match the much smaller version he always wore on the forefinger of his left hand, and the one that pierced the head of his cock.
The metal served its purpose, with or without recourse to other forms of restraint, for his Master had a particular skill in more than just the manipulation of his body.
He smiled, despite the knowledge of what was yet to come.
His Master was unhappy with him, and that would require correction.But he knew what he had done wrong, and he knew how to make amends.
Contrition.
Obedience.
Suffering.
Kai looked at himself in the full length mirror, satisfied that his appearance was both pleasing and appropriate in the naked vulnerability of his well toned flesh.
As with everything, there was a time and a place for nudity, and a reason for its necessity.His body was, after all, not his own.It was the property of his Master, who enjoyed it’s many fine attributes, in many creative ways.
Kai had only to take the very best care of it, in every way, and for that he was lavishly granted whatever he might desire.
Which rather made his own foolish slip up all the more shocking to his own mind.That he could have forgotten something so important…
He sighed, adjusting his hair slightly so a wisp fell across his forehead innocently, and enhanced his eyes.
He was ready to face the results of his failure, knowing that it would make his Master proud, and further enhance the Bond they shared so freely.
When the Marquis stepped into his private rooms, Kai was waiting.
With deliberate intent he slowly closed the door and locked it behind himself, never once shifting his gaze from his Mate, who knelt in naked subservience on the bare floor at the foot of the bed.
Eyes downcast, hands at his sides, back rigid, knees placed at the correct angle to allow for nothing hidden – he was perfection.
Had the moment not required serious discipline, the Marquis knew he would have instantly softened all the tightly held rage and personal embarrassment that his Slave had so thoughtlessly brought to him.
Kai had not failed him so, in a very long while indeed, which forced him to wonder whether his Mate was subconsciously desirous of the punishments to come.
Nothing had to be said.
Kai knew that apologizing was pointless.
So too were excuses.
None were required.
None would be accepted.
He would scream when it was permitted, and that would serve due purpose.
But not before he suffered.
The Marquis took even strides toward his Slave, with slow, steady purpose, stopping only when he knew the toes of his immaculate, hand-stitched Italian loafers were within sight of Kai’s unflinching vision.
The pause that followed was exquisite.
In his right hand he already carried the cane that would mark its correcting fire on Kai’s buttocks, and he was tempted to tap it impatiently on his own thigh as a warning.
But Kai knew what was required, and with a grace that belied his physical build, he bent forward, palms flat on the floor to either side of his Master’s feet.
And with great reverence he placed a kiss on the toe of each shoe.
“When done correctly, there should only be pleasure.”
The words murmured in his right ear, struggled to make themselves understood against the sudden surge of pressure rising up within his gut.
No stranger to the ways in which men used men for their own physical purposes, he knew he was indeed far more than the chattel he once had been, yet in this new learning he again felt as helpless as he had been back then, trapped in all his weak smallness beneath the heaving flesh of a rutting Lord who cared nothing but for his own sexual satisfaction.
Sweat prickled down his back.“It is unusual,” he agreed, disturbed at how easy it had been to accept Harold’s instruction without thought to his own desires.
Sexual coupling had thus far in his few enough years, been in no way an experience worth describing as pleasurable, yet there he was naked, lying on his stomach across soft, warm furs before the fireplace in his very own room, discovering an entirely new degree of intimacy he could never have imagined.
Upon the nearby couch sat Rhys, watching the lesson he had confessed himself to have once learned at the hands of his Mate, whose own instruction in such matters had been far more brutal than there were words to adequately describe.
Knowing he was not alone in having experienced great sufferings in his youth, had endeared him to Harold most deeply, and impressed upon him the growing belief that men could in fact share themselves without recourse to shame, or fear, or torture.
For his part, Harold had embraced him almost as a favoured nephew, and so they had come to a mutual understanding no one else could really grasp who had not endured the abject humiliation of once being owned as a plaything to be abused at whim.
David gasped, finding his fingers clenching into the furs even as the gentle fingers inside him pressed once more into his aching flesh, and then repeated the same gesture not unlike a rampant man spearing his insides.
Heat far richer and more intense than that which the flames in the hearth could themselves provide, began to burn somewhere within him, not from the penetration of his entrails, but rather from a more internal source within his body, one only he could sense.It stole his breath, and as Harold placed his other hand firmly, palm down upon the curve of his back, so David found himself whimpering, urging from his thought every hideous recollection of times past when other men were not so kind, or so considerate toward him as to ensure he was pleasured by their ministrations.
In fact, it was a constant source of wonder once he knew that pleasure was permitted him, and that he was capable of receiving it.
When told of it, he did not believe until finally it was shown.
There.
In his own room.
Before the fire.
Safe.
Needed.
Wanted.
That he was being watched, mattered not at all.
They were naked, the three of them.
Equals.
Nothing hidden.
Nothing unexplained.
Nothing granted without consent.
All questions answered.
Without the slightest shame.
He squirmed as new sensations assailed him, the likes of which he had never felt.
There was no containing it.
No words could do it justice.
He was aroused, and increasingly in need of the relief that only a hand could otherwise have wrought upon his inflamed manhood.
But it was untouched, and so he wriggled against the furs, seeking release, unsure how to make it so.
The whine in his throat became a plea, though he knew not why, nor what he wanted to say.
Sparks akin to those on a badly balanced fire, illuminated his vision.
And while he wanted it to end, he wanted also for it to never end.
It was a strange insanity, and it took him a moment to realize that Harold was urging him quietly to let go of all the fears he still retained.
It was trust.
No more than that.
Trust in himself.
Trust in the man teaching him.
“I don’t know how!” he wailed, his face hidden in the furs.
“Stop fighting,” Rhys said firmly, remembering his own first explorations at the knowing hands of his Mate.“Accept that it is real.”
David let his fingers unclench.
Then his shoulders ease.
With deliberate effort, he forced his aching buttocks to relax and accept the invasion pushing up inside him over and over again.
When the moment of triumph came, it hit him so completely it was terrifying, and a cry burst out of him that spoke of his first real climax at the behest of another.
The warm flow of his own seed spilled copiously onto the furs, and it amazed him that he could be brought to such a response without his cock being stroked or even held.
The fingers gently withdrew from his body, and it caused him to shiver, yet Harold remained beside him, rubbing his back, easing him past the moment tenderly.
There was no embarrassment.
No shame.
Nothing had been demanded of him.
Nothing was required.
Catching his breath took him a while, but there was no rush.
He could lay there for as long as he wished.
He was permitted to enjoy.
There was much he still wished to learn about himself, now that he was free, and that night’s lesson was just the beginning.
He knew he was somehow liberated all the more by being allowed to discover a better, nobler dignity in himself.
“Teach me more?” he asked at last, blinking up at the sweet man he was so indebted to.
And Harold smiled wisely in return.“One thing at a time, I think.”He nodded.“Slow and steady with all this.”
David chuckled.“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.Perhaps in times to come, you can then teach others too.You could help them also understand.You could show them that there is no shame or fear in being a whole, knowing, sexual person.”
It was an appealing concept.“I like that idea,” he agreed.“I like that I could help others be unafraid.”
He had left everything he knew behind. Started off on a grand adventure, to see new worlds, and experience life out of a saddle.
Joshua tip his hat, and gave the porter a smile as he settled the steamer trunk next to him. “I just need to go out front, pick up a carriage to get to my hotel?”
“Yes sir.” He motioned for a small boy, who looked to be about twelvish, wearing the uniform of the ship. “Billy here can show you the way.”
“Are you a real cowboy?” The kid stared up at Joshua taking in his jeans, button down cotton shirt, covered by a leather vest, accented by a long dark duster. Finished off with a cowboy hat and boots.
“Sure am. Born on the plains of the Wild West.” He squatted down to be closer to the kids eye level.
“You fight Injuns?” The kid asked in full wonderment.
“Actually, was good friends with a few. Good people.” He gave the boy a last smile, then stood looking down at him. “So where do we go from here?”
“My good man, I couldn’t help but overhear you, is the Wild West show back in town?”
Joshua turned to see a middle aged man wearing an expensive suit, with an actual Top hat and cane. “I’m not with Buffalo Bill’s show, just got off the ship, was seeking some culture and decided to tour Europe.”
“Well in that case, I’m Lord William Beringar, and let me show you London.” He held out his hand, smiling brightly.
Joshua took it, giving him a good handshake. “Thank you, I’m Joshua Faraday, just a simple cowboy, who’s not quite sure where to start.”
“First let’s get you settled.” He pulled out a few coins and looked down at the boy. “Make sure his trunks arrive safely and untouched.”
“Yes sir.” He nodded eyes wide at the extra coins. “Will do, sir.”
Joshua tipped his hat, gave his thanks to the Ship steward who was kind to help him, the past few weeks, and then followed Lord Beringar out into the streets of London. He ignored the stares, second glances, and comments as he made his way down the street, following William who was talking about his trip to New York, and how he had wanted to visit the West, but hadn’t realized how far away it was from the city.
“It’s a vast country.” Joshua gave him a small smile. “I’ve only seen portions of it, mostly the middle and from the back of horse. But there is still so much to see, once I’ve finished touring the old cities, I want to travel more of my home before settling down.”
“Do you have a little lady back home?” He asked with a grin, knowing he had gotten the western lingo accurate.
“No. My life wasn’t suited for marriage. I got some years yet, before … ” He suddenly stopped, turned and grabbed the hand of the teenager who was trying to take off with his wallet. “Nice try kid, but last I checked you’re not supposed to feel me up in the process.”
“Oh shite.” He stared at Joshua with wide eyes, as he backed up bowing his head. “Sorry Jake didn’t recognize ya’ in the cowboy get up. I had no idea the Rooks were out this far.”
“Who the hell is Jake or these Rooks?” Joshua asked with a frown.
“I get it.” The kid glanced at Lord Beringar, then gave another bow to Joshua. “I’ll be goin’ now, sir.” And with that he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
“Well that was odd.” Joshua turned back to William, giving him a shrug. “Show me this city of yours.”
