Date: Sun, 24 Nov 2002 19:16:44 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: starlight reverie, chapter two

This is a Sci-Fi/ Fantasy story involving incest, male/male,
teen/adult, graphic sex and it's not intended for reading by
minors. If you are underage, or this type of material isn't
legal where you live, stop now, and go read something else!

This is a fantasy meant only for the purpose of pleasurable
reading. These people don't exist, this world doesn't exist.

This story originated as part of a fiction writing game
which is hosted at a site called The Palace. For those
interested in the game and what is known as "key fiction,"
the site address is, http://www.ravenswing.com/~keys/. A
version of this story is posted there under the pen name,
Mickey. It appears here with the blessing of the Palace.

Feedback, always appreciated, to:

javabiscuit@hotmail.com



Starlight Reverie ~ chapter two

by Biscuit

Shaun was excited and restless in anticipation of the key
holder and his son. He was bathed and lotioned and had
prepared his body to be entered. Any moment the two
would arrive.

Initially, he'd been disappointed that Dr. Emery wasn't
going to use his key herself. He liked her. He liked her
very much, and relished the sessions he had with her.
There were not so many now, but still she came to see
him once a month. When he learned that she'd given his
key as a gift he was intrigued and flattered.

Two were coming to him, a man and his child. It was
something Shaun had never experienced before. His
curiosity ran wild. The child, his trainer told him, was
special and required cautious handling. He suspected
that special, in this case, referred to a disability. The
boy was mute, his trainer said, and very shy. Shaun
knew he had to treat him with utmost care.

He studied the star lights overhead, thinking of Dr.
Emery, her gentle voice and concern, her soothing ways.
Shaun decided, though no one had said so, that the child
being brought by his father must be her client. He felt a
flutter of pleasure at the thought that she was entrusting
him with one of her own.

Dimly, he saw pale-skinned children in his mind; a
group of small ones like himself whose skin glowed
with a healthy sheen, whose ears poked through their
hair in tiny points. Somewhere in time he'd seen them
cavorting in play with an abundance of energy that had
sent their bodies tumbling together in laughing heaps.

Look at the picture of the past, and treasure it.

That's what he told himself when images like this
arose. That is what Dr. Emery had told him to do.
Many times, the pictures were not as pretty as this
one.

"The memories can't harm you, can't hurt you," Dr.
Emery had said. "Collect them and keep them in your
special place and we'll talk about them together."

It is not a small one who is coming here, Shaun
reminded himself, as at last he heard the key turn in
his door.


------------------



Morgan's fears had multiplied as they traveled, and,
as if sensing his father's anxiety, Marcus was restless
on the plane, twisting and turning until he was ranged
across the man's lap in a tangle of his clothes and the
airline blanket. If it hadn't meant making a multitude
of arrangements and subjecting his son to yet more
hours of confinement, Morgan might have turned right
around when the plane landed. But it was late. Both
father and son were hungry and tired.

A Palace driver was awaiting them. Morgan told
himself that if nothing more, he would at least eat and
rest at the Palace before making plans to go home.

They were driven a short way out of the city to a
surprisingly rural site. Morgan had never been to the
Palace. He was surprised to see a border of greenery
where he'd expected walls or heavy fencing. It reminded
him of the grounds of his prep school. The front of the
building was ivy-covered stone which furthered the
impression of a school. It was vast, branching out in
wood and stone additions that hugged a series of small
hills.

The foyer they entered was surprisingly sedate, with
leather furniture and bookcases suggestive of a library
or study. Here he spoke to a formally attired gentleman
whose manner was more like the head servant of a grand
estate than the overseer of a brothel. The man examined
their key, made arrangements for a meal to be brought to
them and rang a small bell for a Page. Not once did he,
or the Page, betray any curiosity about, or reveal any
response to the sight of Marcus wound around Morgan's
body.

Father and son were escorted to an elevator and Morgan
was alarmed to see that the direction they were traveling
was down. Being underground filled him with misgivings
as they were guided to the Starlight Key's quarters.

Claustrophobic twinges tugged at him as they walked a
dimly lit, windowless corridor. The homeworld of Shaun
Vidar, Morgan knew, was fed by a weaker sun. His eyes,
Emery had said, were light sensitive. The Page waved
them through a door.

"You'll see the keyhole in the dark, sir," he said.

Morgan hesitated, but went through the last door into
utter darkness. Marcus gripped him tightly.

The key turned smoothly in the glowing lock, and the
door slid open without pressure. Beyond the threshold
was an impression of soaring height, like the night sky.
The sense of space at once relieved Morgan's dread.
Stars sparkled overhead, a multitude of pinpoint lights
against a velvety midnight sky, soothing his nerves as
the room took shape for him.

Morgan's eyes were drawn to a creature who could
have come to life from the pages of a fairy tale. A
milky-skinned elf in the middle of a vast round bed,
huge black eyes in a pretty face, a cupid's bow mouth
curved in a welcoming smile.

Shaun sprung up lightly from the bed like a sprite,
unselfconsciously naked. He offered them a slight bow
which caused a silky waterfall of black tresses, shot
through with shimmering highlights. Morgan's first
thought, was of the hours Marcus could spend brushing
that long, long hair.

"Welcome," said the Key, in a clear voice as sweet as
a kiss.

"Thank you," Morgan said, and was startled to feel
Marcus twist around, peeking curiously at Shaun.
Shaun was returning the gaze, his very unusual black-on
-black eyes glinting prettily, their strangeness softened
by long sweeping lashes. His smile grew wider, dimpling
his cheeks.

"Hello, Beauty," Shaun said to Marcus, cocking his head
to the side. Morgan was enchanted by the sight of them
looking at each other, his own son as other-worldly in
his own way as the pleasure slave.

"His name is Marcus," he said to Shaun, gently, not
wanting to break whatever spell was weaving between
them. "Mine is Morgan. He is my son."

Shaun stepped closer, his movements light. Morgan was
holding his breath, and let it out slowly as he watched
Marcus raise a hand to touch Shaun's bare chest, his
fingers spreading across the glowing skin.

There was a sudden clattering sound as an attendant
wheeled in a tray of food. Marcus shot into Morgan's
arms, hiding against his chest. Shaun took flight. He
dismissed the attendant, quietly wheeling the serving
tray toward a grouping of cushions surrounding a low,
black table.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Morgan assured his son,
inwardly cursing. He'd been so rapt, himself, by the
sight of Marcus touching Shaun, that he'd been as
shocked as the boy by the sudden intrusion.

He stroked his son's back and kissed his forehead.
Marcus's skin felt very warm, slightly damp with
sweat and Morgan took the opportunity to slowly
ease his coat off him. Shaun appeared and  took it
from him. Unasked, he assisted Morgan in slipping
out of his own so that the father could keep one arm
or the other around his son.

"Would you like to remove your traveling clothes?"
Shaun asked.

"That would be nice," he answered. The room was
almost oppressively warm. Naked would be more
than nice, he thought.

Marcus had his hands on Morgan's waist, waiting,
watching him.

"We'll take off these clothes, baby," Morgan said,
stroking his son's warm cheek.

He spoke to him as if the boy understood him. He
believed his son did, much of the time, though there
were moments that speech seemed baffling to Marcus.
Communication between them was a complex mix of
sound and touch and impressions.

Marcus's dark blue eyes showed acceptance, whether
or not he knew what had been said, growing dreamy
as he was slowly undressed. Morgan could feel the
heat rising off him, and vicarious relief as he freed
him from the confines of his sweater, his shirt and
his tee-shirt. "It's very warm in here," Morgan said,
handing his own shirt to Shaun.

"My body temperature is a little higher than yours,"
Shaun said. "Is it uncomfortably warm for you?"

There was something of a geisha about the boy,
Morgan thought, the way he attended them, and the
sleek shimmer of his black hair.

"No, it's fine."

Shaun's skin reminded Morgan of a porcelain glaze,
reflecting light. The only color, that Morgan saw,
was in his lips, his cock and his very tender-looking
pink nipples. There was a pertness to his bare genitals
that both amused Morgan and made him want to touch
him. Shaun's cock pointed up at a jaunty angle over his
bare, rounded testicles. He was a slim, small boy but
this part of him was chubby and pinkish and begged to
be fondled.

Shaun knelt by Morgan's feet.

"May I help you with your shoes?" he asked, looking
up. He might have the manners of a geisha, Morgan
thought, but his impish smile was something else
altogether, unstudied and charming. When Shaun's
head tilted down, Morgan saw another hint of pink in
the point of an ear that showed for just a moment
through his hair.

"Thanks, yes."

The Key had a delicate touch, unlacing and removing
his shoes. Morgan found it surprisingly erotic, very
intimate to feel Shaun's fingertips slide down his ankles
and over his soles as he removed the socks. Marcus
looked down to watch as Morgan did.

He kissed the top of his son's bowed head.

"Now your shoes, baby," he said, and was relieved that
Marcus remained calm as Shaun touched him, though
he looked up, eyes focusing on Morgan. He pressed his
body forward, wrapping his bare arms around Morgan's
naked waist. Morgan stroked his son's back as Shaun
carried their shoes away, relieved to see that he was
relaxed again.

Marcus's head swiveled to search for Shaun, who
returned, waiting with his hands clasped in front of
him, staying in reach. Morgan saw, with a surge of
pleasure, how Marcus devoured the Key with his eyes.

"He's beautiful," Morgan murmured, "like you."

Maybe, he thought, this will work. Shaun seemed to
understand how to be close without being threatening.
He had already succeeded in getting closer to Marcus
than any stranger Morgan had ever seen. Was it his
chemistry? he wondered. Was there something in his
make-up, or something missing in it, that kept his
scent from triggering fear in Marcus? Whatever the
cause, Morgan was grateful.

He dropped slowly to his knees in front of his son
and Marcus's hands sought holds on his shoulders,
tearing his eyes from Shaun to gaze at him again. He
was flushed, the skin over his cheekbones bright with
color in the dim light. It didn't surprise Morgan to
find Marcus's little cock erect and quivering. He slid
the boy's pants and briefs down his legs and off,
handing them to Shaun.

It did surprise Morgan that he felt none of the
uneasiness he was used to feeling when he was
confronted with Marcus's excitement. Inches from
his face was the miraculously hardened shaft of his
son's cock, not much bigger than Morgan's finger,
giving off heat and a vague intimate scent of musk.

It was a gift. His son's sexuality. Now Morgan silently
acknowledged it, finding the sight of him inexpressibly
beautiful. A pang of guilt stirred in his heart, knowing
he'd wished Marcus could remain asexual and innocent
in the aftermath of the maiming. As if, in innocence,
a world of pain and conflicting emotions could be
denied.

It was impossible to see his son's genitals without the
awareness of what had been done to him. Impossible
loss and pain. Nothing could ever hurt Morgan again
like sight of his son's small eggs, still wet with blood,
in a plastic bag with a ransom note. It had been worse,
so much worse, than even the news of his wife's death.
To know that his son continued to live and suffer.

Morgan shut his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. He
opened them, misted with tears. He felt his son's hand
touch his face and a sweetness flowed through the pain.
He resisted the urge to press his face into the valley of
his son's slender thighs and kiss the scarred sac, so
ruthlessly mutilated.


-------------------


Shaun was fascinated and aroused. Surely, he thought,
these are the handsomest humans I have ever seen! He
looked from one to the other, comparing, desiring.

They behaved so oddly, looking at each other more
than they looked at him. But he felt he could watch
them forever, and when they did look at him -- it was
thrilling!

The child wasn't a small one, but he was so much like
a small one that Shaun wanted to baby him, to pet him
and feel his little wand poke at him, seeking pleasure.
The rosy shaft was whole and healthy but Shaun saw
there was something wrong with the testicles. He
glimpsed a scar, and thought how strangely compelling
it was, as if the imperfection underlined the beauty of
what it had marred. He didn't understand how the man,
who clearly wanted to, could resist sucking the little
flesh twig that was popping up so temptingly right in
his face! Shaun's mouth watered, imagining the perfect
fit of it between his lips.

In his heart, he believed that the child would soon be
squirming in his arms, wanting to be touched and
kissed everywhere. It was written in his deep blue eyes
every time he looked at him.

The father was far more mysterious to him. The Key
had never seen such a depth of passion expressed so
gently. It made his heart ache to look at him touching
his son. To be touched like that! The thought was too
sweet to bear. Even a taste of it would be heaven.

Thank you, thank you! In his heart, he uttered his
gratitude to Dr. Emery and swore to be worthy of
her faith in him.

Shaun approached the bed, every pleasure center in
his body alive with anticipation. The meal that had
been brought, he knew, could wait. The air was heavy
with other, more potent hunger. He positioned himself
to lure them. He gathered and safeguarded his long hair,
and lay back with his arms outstretched on the ebony
sheets. He smiled when the child started toward him,
but kept silent, afraid to frighten him. Marcus took a
few steps and looked back at his father, who responded
at once, walking toward him.

"It's all right," he assured him. He put his hand on
Marcus's shoulder and walked with him.

Shaun wanted them both so badly he could taste it.


Then the boy's head turned, cheek burning hot on
Shaun's shoulder, eyes seeking his father.
Marcus crawled toward him on his hands and knees
as Morgan lay down at his side.

Yes, come to me, both of you! he urged silently.

The boy's eyes were wide, looking from his father
to Shaun, moving toward him cautiously, his lips parted.
He was no bigger than Shaun himself. He was smoother
than any human male the Key had ever seen.

Shaun held up his arms and slowly the boy moved into
them, climbing over him with a whispering slide of
skin against skin that made his whole body tingle with
pleasure. Shaun held him, cradling his light weight
easily. The child's heart was beating wildly and he made
small pleasure sounds as he was stroked and pet.

"I'm here, sweetheart," Morgan said softly.