Date: Mon, 02 Dec 2002 03:37:20 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Starlight Reverie, chapter three

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 my pen name,
Mickey. It appears here with the blessing of the Palace.

Feedback, always framed, to:

javabiscuit@hotmail.com



Starlight Reverie ~ chapter three

by Biscuit


Morgan was astonished. The few feet Marcus had walked
away from him marked the furthest distance they'd been
physically separated in close to four years.

His child wasn't touching him. A stranger was holding him.

Marcus, who wailed at the touch of a doctor, who even
now shied from Elizabeth Emery, was wrapped in the
arms of a Palace Key.

Marcus had moved through the starlit space by himself, a
handful of steps, before searching for Morgan. His father
traveled with him the last short distance to the bed, but the
boy had moved independently to lie on top of Shaun,
allowing himself to be taken in his arms.

Now Shaun's delicate white hands were stroking him, his
back, his hair, trailing over the rounded cheeks of his ass;
eliciting very sweet sounds of pleasure. The two of them
were only a matter of inches away from Morgan on the
vast round bed, but those inches were a precious,
inconceivable distance.

Morgan lay still on his side, transfixed by the scene
unfolding in front of him, wishing Emery could see
what he was seeing. The Starlight Key was teaching
his son how to kiss.

He could imagine that they weren't a maimed child and
a pleasure slave. He could imagine them as two young
lovers he was privileged to watch. Beautiful together,
bodies matched in size and color. Both of them were
small, slim and pale-skinned; Marcus's complexion was
creamy compared to the Key's pure milk.

His son was rubbing his mouth on Shaun's.

The earnest attempts were being gently shaped; nudged,
licked, and guided into open-mouthed kisses. Morgan's
own mouth was getting wet as he watched them, his lips
tingling, his cock getting hard. He bent his knee very,
very slowly to obscure his erection, afraid to disturb or
distract them. Marcus's gaze slid toward him every few
seconds, monitoring his presence. Each time it did
Morgan reminded himself to breath.

Shaun moved sensuously, rocking his inexperienced
partner in the cradle of his thighs. Morgan's arousal
intensified, watching his son's hips begin to thrust in
response. He could feel Marcus's pleasure in rubbing
himself into Shaun's pelvis.

Little grunting sounds came from Marcus's throat as he
found his rhythm, thrusting harder and harder. Then
suddenly his head lifted, startled eyes seeking Morgan.
His face was flushed, he was breathing hard -- his hand
shot out, reaching for his father.

"Yes, baby," Morgan said, gripping it, his own body
tightening as he watched him come. Marcus's eyes shut
and he squeezed his father's hand tight.

Morgan pressed Marcus's fisted fingers to his lips, kissing
his tensed knuckles.

Dazed-looking, Marcus crawled off of Shaun. The Key
was still breathing hard and Morgan saw, with a shudder
of lust, that he was still very aroused.

His son was propelling himself toward him, pushing at
Morgan to lie flat so he could drape himself across his
chest. Morgan steered him, hoping his own pounding
heart wouldn't alarm the boy, holding him so their
lower bodies didn't touch.

It had never been possible to really hide from Marcus.
There had been a brief awkward time when his erections
fascinated his son. Eventually, however, he'd stopped
staring and trying to touch and Morgan had evolved ways
of holding him close that shielded both of them from overt
contact. He was rarely troubled anymore, with his careful,
self-imposed schedule of release, by getting hard at
inappropriate times.

Now, however, he was dying, and intensely aware of
Shaun knowing it. Lust-filled, prurient, obsidian eyes
were caressing him.  Morgan knew, without needing to
see movement of iris and pupil, that Shaun's unearthly
gaze was focused with hunger on his cock. He fought
to control what that gaze was doing to him.

This was a moment he'd been dreading, as much as
anything; his control breaking in front of his son -- in
the presence of a willing partner who would consider
it his job to satisfy him.

Morgan was in a sweat and there was no way he could
hide it. He met the Key's unusual and expressive eyes,
acknowledging, both to Shaun, and to himself, what he
wanted; praying that it wouldn't upset his son.


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


Shaun Vidar, for all the delicacy of his appearance,
was surprisingly strong and physically demanding. He
was an aggressive Key and to him, Morgan on his back,
so flagrantly excited, was like a toreador waving a red
flag at a bull -- irresistible.

Shaun wanted him. He was more than ready; his body
primed and lubricated before his Keyholders arrived.
As soon as Morgan's eyes signaled acceptance, he
swept forward and slung his leg across the man's hips.
He impaled himself on the swollen cock with a moan of
pleasure.


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


Morgan was a lover of men, attracted to every type
from the most sylph-like, to the brawny and muscular.
He'd had very young lovers as well as affairs with
much older men. That he was attracted to Shaun Vidar
didn't surprise him. That he was fucking a prostitute,
a pleasure slave, did.

"Your type," his wife had once teased him, "is male.
You're a slut Morgan. If it's got a dick, it's your kind
of guy." He'd laughed at her assessment of him, but
admitted it was basically true.

He'd been promiscuous, adventurous, even reckless.
The only line Morgan had ever drawn was paying
for sex. In any way, shape or form, it offended him.
He'd never wanted to fuck someone who wasn't doing
it for the same reason he was. Friends of his who liked
the luxury of paying for it, being serviced without
obligation, told him it was just vanity on his part, a
fear of being taken advantage of for his money. He
didn't think so. He believed that sex should be a
mutual pleasure, a meeting of equals, even in the
briefest encounters.

Now he was at a loss. The part of him that rejected
the very concept of what he was doing stood apart
in silence. There could be no partner less equal than
a slave and yet Morgan believed Shaun wanted him.

The Key was as tantalizing to him as rich pastry to a
man with a sweet tooth who's denied himself sugar for
years. The whipped cream and chocolate had literally
landed in his lap. It wasn't just the promise of Shaun's
warmer than human body Morgan couldn't resist, it
was the passion he saw in Shaun's eyes.

When Marcus stirred, alert and curious, it wasn't to
Morgan that he looked, it was to Shaun, who reached
out to him smiling. Morgan watched his son fly to
the open arms like a moth to a flame.


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


"It feels good, Beauty," Shaun said. He wasn't surprised
to see Marcus struggle up from his father's side, little
cock getting hard again. He was trying to get as close to
him as he could, astride his father's body.

The Key hugged him and pressed their mouths together.
His hand dropped down to knead the boy's stiffening
prick.

"You do me, too," Shaun told him, pulling back slightly.
He guided Marcus's hand to his cock, showing him how
to stroke him by squeezing the fingers under his own
and moving the fist up and down his shaft. The boy's
fingers tightened and loosened awkwardly but he copied
Shaun's rhythym. The Key shuddered with pleasure and
kissed him. He was inundated by sensation; fucking,
touching, and kissing.

Morgan's need became paramount, his thrusting urgent.
Shaun tightened his muscles around him in the first hints
of climax, knowing Morgan was getting close.

"Beauty," he breathed to Marcus, "I'm going to come all
over you, look, baby, look." He palmed the boy's cheek,
urging his face down as the spasms of coming got closer
and closer.

Morgan was gripping him tight and Shaun felt every hot
stroke bringing him closer and closer.

"Yes," he gasped, spitted with pleasure between the
father's cock and the son's hot pumping hand. His body
stilled for a breathless moment -- then shook as bright
opalescent strands erupted from his cock, striking
the child's body.

The boy's thin cum spurted through his fingers as the
little shaft twitched and pulsed in his grip. Then he felt,
or imagined he did, a shower of sperm deep in his bowels,
as Morgan's hips jerked under him.

"So good," Shaun murmured weakly as his body echoed
in the aftermath.

Marcus was trying to get closer, shaky thighs climbing
up Shaun's, trying to wrap around his waist. Shaun tried
to help him, holding him as well as he could. Marcus's
nose burrowed in his hair, lips and breath tickling the
point of his ear. It felt divine to Shaun who shuddered
with a last ripple of pleasure as he cuddled him.

It was as good as fucking, he thought, to swirl his tongue
in the son's mouth and feel the father's cock still hard
inside him, filling him, subsiding slowly. Both sensations
were warm and wet and satisfying.

Inevitably, Marcus wanted down, craning to see his
father. With Morgan's help, Shaun slowly eased him
onto the bed and watched him moor himself like a
little boat finding safe harbor; tucked along the man's
side, sheltered by his arm.

The Key admired them, both loose limbed and sated,
radiant with pleasure. But he felt a whisper of sadness,
as if a curtain had drawn around them, closing him out.

Even though he was still half connected to Morgan's
body, the now soft cock still clutched in his ass, they
seemed complete unto themselves. The boy nestled on
his father's shoulder, the man's lips pressed into his
son's dark hair.

Then Morgan looked up at him, dark eyes as blue as
his son's. He extended his arm to Shaun.

Warmth spread through the Key's chest and tears prickled
behind his eyes as he stretched luxuriously along Morgan's
side, fitting himself to the curves and hollows of the man's
long, relaxed body.

Shaun felt the curtain had opened and he'd been drawn
inside.



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




Morning light was a subtle thing in the Starlight quarters.
The overhead sky was still dark but the lower edges of the
room blushed with soft rose and pale blues. Morgan and
Marcus quickly grew accustomed to waking up warm in
the half light to Shaun's kisses, the seductive aroma of
coffee and the rich scent of spiced tea that Shaun drank
to start his day.

Father and son ventured out, at least twice daily, for long
walks through the landscaped countryside. Outside, winter
reigned. There was snow on the Palace grounds. They
walked cleared paths through the gardens, seldom meeting
others.

A month, Morgan thought, three more weeks. Not enough
time. His eyes played over the snowy border of the path they
quietly tread. His son was coming to life -- in ways Morgan
never thought he'd see. The boy was unendingly fascinated
by Shaun, stimulated by him in ways that had little to do
with sex, and then again, a lot to do with it. Their sex
play spilled into other games and back again.

Morgan wasn't surprised that Marcus spent dreamy hours
brushing Shaun's luxurious hair or listening to him sing; but
there was so much more. Marcus and Shaun played games
together that amazed him. They played with dice, with dolls,
and Shaun had introduced Marcus to paints. More and more,
Marcus left his side, holding onto Shaun. Shaun seemed to
welcome it, adapting easily to moving with a clinging shadow.

Another client had already bought the Starlight Key for the
following month. The thought of it made Morgan almost
physically ill.

I've got to do something, he told himself, but what he'd do
didn't come to him. I've got to do something soon, he thought
as they made their way deeper into the snowy garden.

It wasn't just for his son's sake, though he preferred to think
about what it meant for Marcus. The truth was more
complicated. He could think about what Shaun meant to
his son, easily. What Shaun meant to him was more difficult.

He felt the tug of Marcus's arms tightening around him, and
stopped. Marcus was bundled up in a heavy coat, with a scarf
wound around him from neck to nose. A thick woolen hat
covered him down to his brows; the boy was all rosy cheeks,
pink nose and wide eyes looking up at him. Morgan smiled at
the sight, and thought Marcus must want to turn around and
head back indoors. But Marcus wasn't urging him to turn
around. He was lifting his chin up out of the scarf, his eyes
full of intent that Morgan couldn't read. His breath puffed
white in the cold air when he opened his mouth.

"Daddy," he said in a voice like a rough whisper. Morgan
stared, disbelieving his ears, and Marcus stared back at him,
eyes blazing. He coughed and his face clouded with panic,
then he started choking on tears, reaching up to be held.

"Baby, sweet baby," Morgan said, lifting the clamoring
body into his arms; Marcus's legs and arms locked around
him. He covered every bare inch of his son's face with
kisses, enraptured by the echo of the spoken word even as
he tried desperately to soothe the crying. Marcus wept like
his heart was breaking, gulping for air between sobs,
thrusting his face into Morgan's kisses as if he could batter
his way into his father's mouth.

"It's okay," Morgan said. He said it over and over until at
last the crying softened to whimpers and the boy hung
weakly against him, his hot face pressed to Morgan's cheek.
Morgan walked slowly toward the Palace, blinking through
his own tears, warmed by Marcus's breath, his lips, still
hearing the sound of his voice in his mind.

By the time they got back to the Starlight rooms, Marcus was
walking but buried deep inside Morgan's coat, with his own
coat open. He'd grown restless in Morgan's arms and wriggled
down to his feet, pulling uselessly at his own buttons and
Morgan's with mittened fingers. Morgan knew what he
wanted and helped him to get as close as he could. It was how
they'd walked together years before, when Marcus couldn't
tolerate the distance of bundled clothing between them. Their
first outings in winter had been with Marcus literally inside
his coat with him.

The door opened into the soft darkness of Shaun's room.
Shaun wasn't there, he was still at his daily training session.
Morgan sighed, feeling Marcus's grip tighten around him as
he turned his head this way and that, looking for the Key.

"He'll be back soon," Morgan said, and Marcus hid his
disappointed face against him. He began slowly easing them
out of their layers of clothes. Soon. He could say it now,
he thought with a weight of dread in his heart. Three
weeks and he'd have to explain to his son that they were
leaving Shaun.

The joy of hearing his son speak seemed like an impossible,
receding dream. But it had happened! He thought of Emery
and wished for the hundredth time she was there. He wished
Shaun was with them. Marcus had spoken, he'd heard him
plain as day.

He's scared now, Morgan thought, wondering what had
unlocked his son's voice and what terrors had been unlocked
with it. He kissed the top of Marcus's head, running his
hands down the now bare back.

"We'll take a bath, sweetheart," he said, hoping the hot
water and the massage of soaping would ease him. "Shaun
will come soon."

The Starlight bathroom shimmered with the same low,
magical light as the rest of Shaun's suite. It's vast sunken tub
was edged with tiny stars and submerged blue lights glowed
through the rippling water. Morgan tipped a few drops of
Shaun's aromatic bath oil into it, making the steamy air
delicious to breathe. Marcus was sullen, his eyes teary, and
his clinging, sadly, more intense than it had been in a very
long time.

Morgan needed to relieve himself and tried to gently ease
Marcus aside from the front of his body. Marcus stubbornly
hung on.

"Baby, you know how we do this," he said.

Marcus butted his head hard into Morgan's chest, clinging
to the front of him and with a muffled whimper he started
peeing, his soft cock pressed against Morgan's thigh.

"Oh God, Marcus," he said, despairing, feeling near tears at
his son's sudden regression. He didn't try to stop him, or
push him away.

"It's okay," he murmured but felt little hope that Marcus
was understanding him. The boy was crying again and
weakened against him. As well as he could, Morgan soothed
him, holding him gently aside as he fumbled to empty his
own bladder and wipe up the mess on the tiled floor. The
bath was filled by then and he prayed that it would work
its magic.

Morgan relaxed against a sloped side of the bath with
Marcus draped across his thighs, head snuggled close on
his shoulder, crying quieted to sniffles. The boy's loosened
hair floated around them.

"I love you, baby," he said, grateful for Marcus's relative
calm. Movement drew his eyes. The sprightly naked form
of Shaun appeared in the doorway.

"Bath time?" the Key asked.

"Yes," Morgan answered, and felt his own tension level
ease at the sight of him. Morgan felt Marcus stir, sitting
up slightly, turning his head to see Shaun. His expression
unchanging, he nevertheless was following him with his
eyes as Shaun wound his hair with a few deft twists and
secured it on his head with two shiny black sticks. Shaun
stepped down into the bath, moving through the water with
a sigh of pleasure toward them. Morgan loved the way the
Key looked with his hair fastened up, his lovely shoulders
bared and his beautiful tattoo -- a flowing, elegant blue
flower, exposed. More than a tattoo, Shaun had tried to
explain, exhibiting it to them in the wee hours of the first
night. Its tracery marked pleasure centers across his back
and shoulders, so sensitive that Shaun shivered from the
lightest touch there. Morgan adored seeing it, not just
because it was beautiful, but because Shaun seemed more
naked when he uncovered it.


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


Shaun was surprised that they'd gotten back to the room
before he did. He'd expected to have some time to himself,
some time alone with his thoughts before seeing them. But
the bath scents were inviting, wafting through the room,
and he moved eagerly to join them. Though he'd showered
in the training room after his workout, this bath would be
for pleasure.

A somber air surrounded them and Shaun felt a moment's
fear, gazing at them from the threshold. He'd smiled when
he felt Morgan's eyes caress him, somewhat reassured. But
his own wistful mood still clung as he joined them in the
bath tub.

Strange thoughts. For seven days, the father and son had
been part of his life, seven days unlike any Shaun could
remember. So full, so rich. He pined for them when they
went walking and for the first time since he'd come to the
Palace, he was restless with curiosity about the world
beyond his rooms. What did they see on their walks,
without him?

I have to treasure every moment I have them, he thought,
banishing the growing ache he felt. He knew the dread
that he felt every time they left him for their walks, was
knowing the time would come when they'd bundle up in
their coats and not come back at all; no more happy
homecomings, the two of them rosy from the cold, as eager
to be reunited with him as he with them.

He saw the signs of weeping in Marcus's face, the bruised,
shadowed look of his eyes and it made his throat tighten
with alarm. What could have happened? He hated the
thought that something could happen to Marcus out of his
sight. But surely Morgan wouldn't allow it!

"We had an unusual walk today," Morgan said. Shaun
heard the weight of emotion in his voice, and with a clutch
of pain, realized how upset Morgan was. Shaun's heart
skittered as he tried to calm his thoughts.

"What happened?" he asked carefully, looking from one to
the other of them.

"Marcus spoke to me," Morgan said, then he sighed, his
eyes misty. "I think it scared him."

Shaun floated closer, twining an arm around each of them,
kissing Morgan's damp cheek, loving its hint of roughness
under his lips.

"I wish I'd been there!" he said, and was relieved to hear
Morgan draw a deep breath, to feel his arm come around
him under the water. The boy was watching, alert, but
painfully distant, from deep inside.

Shaun glided away a little, and found Marcus's foot under
the water. He caressed his toes.

"There's a fish in this pond," he said, lifting the foot until
it broke the surface. "Look how pretty it is. Mm, and I'm
hungry." He sucked a toe into his mouth and nibbled it
gently, watching Marcus's eyes widen and his face
transform with pleasure. The boy's lips pressed together,
and he leaned toward the Key.

"Uh oh," Shaun said. "Baby's mouth is jealous of his toe."

He floated closer to him to kiss. He felt the tickle of breath
from Marcus's nose. He had a way of kissing, Shaun thought,
that was all his own, as singular as everything else about him.
It was selfish, in a way. It varied, like any lover's, from
endless soft games to blatant fucking with his tongue -- but
always, he demanded exactly what he wanted. The pure
expression of his need was powerfully arousing to Shaun.

Morgan's kisses were very different, more guarded.
Shaun could feel the conflicts, almost hear the wheels
spinning in Morgan's brain through his lips. Shaun had
to work harder, to tease and seduce him into letting go.

Marcus was excited now, rasping at Shaun's lips and
tongue with his, pushing at him with a rocking motion
of his chin like he wanted to nurse on him. Shaun held
on to him, cupping his hands on Marcus's head, and
felt the boy let go of his father, a hand seeking down
Shaun's side to his waist, trying to pull him into his lap.


In the buoyant warm water Morgan had both of them,
light and slippery and twined together, on his lap.
Marcus had gotten both more calm and aroused once
he had Shaun close, with the Key's legs around him
and Morgan still holding him, stroking his back.

It was impossible to think of giving this up. It couldn't
happen, Morgan thought, he couldn't let it happen. He
was plagued by a hundred heavy thoughts, but rapidly
losing the ability to concentrate as he felt Shaun's thigh
press against his hardening cock, sliding along the
underside of his shaft.

Marcus's lips were open, swollen and wet from kissing
when he turned to him, eyes beseeching.

"What baby? I love you," Morgan said, his hand tracing
down his son's backbone to settle at the base of his spine.

"Kiss him," Shaun said. "He wants you to."

Is that what Marcus's dark eyes were asking for?

Morgan's eyes fell to his son's open mouth. He felt a
warning tension in his brows at the thought of it.
Shaun leaned into him, arm sliding around Morgan's
neck and the tension bled away, feeling the Key's skin
slide against him, the teasing light weight of him in
the water.

"Kiss him," Shaun said it again, but Morgan turned
his face to kiss Shaun instead, whose face was close
and whose mouth was safe; pink and moist and
incredibly warm. But Shaun only let Morgan kiss
him for a moment, pulling his head back, showing
dimples with his smile. "Not me, Daddy," he said,
"him."

Morgan's brain shifted gears, hearing the 'daddy,' in
his head, spoken by Marcus. It struck him that his son
might have said the word to imitate Shaun, not from
memory.

Kiss him.

It was like being told by Elizabeth Emery, "Hold
him."