Date: Thu, 20 Feb 2003 15:39:22 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Starlight Reverie, chapter 8

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 story originated as part of a fiction writing game
which is hosted at a site called The Palace. For those who
are interested in the game and what's 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 & framed, to:

javabiscuit@hotmail.com


Starlight Reverie ~ chapter eight

by Biscuit


Shaun's attention wandered from his book. He was
sprawled on the bed, on his stomach, waiting for his
keyholders to come back. The book lying open in
front of him, was The Hobbit. It was a favorite that
he loved to re-read.

Marcus and Morgan had been gone a long time for
their meeting with Elizabeth Emery and he was
wishing they'd come back.

What are they talking about? he wondered, his chin
in hand, resting on the open book. His dick stirred a
little when he thought about the father and son. He'd
been longing for them since morning. He pressed his
hips into the mattress to feel the pressure and the
slide of the satiny cover under his cock.

He'd talked about Morgan and Marcus in his own
session with Emery, but he doubted that he occupied
the same place of importance in theirs.

Closing his eyes, he thought about his loved ones, as
his cock grew harder beneath him. The paper and ink
smell of the book right under his nose mixed pleasantly
with the dab of sandalwood oil he'd put on his wrist
after bathing.

He'd met with Emery that morning. Their meeting
place was his training room. She'd asked Shaun to lie
down on the massage table when he told her about
the memories that had come to him since he'd last
seen her. She'd brought the tall stool close and sat
right beside him, holding his hand. It was a calming
ritual they had evolved for memory sessions.

"Close your eyes," she'd said. "Picture the special
place."

The cave. It was an image that had come to him the
very first time Emery asked him to imagine a safe
place. It was warm, dry, well-protected. The rock
surface under his feet was smooth, the dark walls
familiar.

He'd nodded, breathing deeply. He saw the cave by
lantern light. A lantern from his homeworld, fueled
by a resinous dirt that was both a blessing and curse
for his people. It was this rich organic sediment that
had drawn the mining companies from Earth. Shaun
knew it, though he had no memory of when the men
arrived.

The soil glowed softly as it burned, sparkling slowly,
as tiny particles, more volatile than the rest, ignited.
The smell of nutmeg from the Palace kitchens was
reminiscent of the scent that wafted from those
lanterns.

"Let me speak to Shaun of the past," Emery had said.
"We'll talk to him, together."

Alone, he would have been afraid to summon his
young self, but she was with him. Shaun felt he was
both seated in the small chamber that was the heart
of the cave, and with Emery. Out of the shadows at
the edge of the lantern light, he saw his young self
appear. So tiny! Thin, pale, with big eyes full of pain,
and need. His long black hair was dull and dirty.

Shaun's chest tightened and he squeezed Emery's
hand.

"Keep breathing," she'd told him, and her voice had
strengthened him as he gazed at the boy he'd been.

"He's ... lonely," Shaun had whispered. "He's scared."

"You can hold him," Emery urged, and he'd opened his
arms to the child, encouraging him to come closer. He'd
felt a surge of relief when the small one touched him.

"I'm talking to you, small Shaun," she'd said to the boy
clinging to his side. "We're always with you, Shaun and
I; we're always here inside for you to find. You tell him,
too," she'd addressed his present self. "Help him to
understand that he survives."

"We're here," he'd said, rocking the light weight of his
childhood body. He'd kissed his own hair, as he'd seen
Morgan kiss Marcus. Tears escaped from under his lids
but there was great comfort in the touching; he felt it in
the present and the echo of it in the remembered past.

"I'm you," he told the boy. "You live."

"There are many good things in the world that will
be your home," Emery had said to the child through
him. Shaun felt that his boyhood self absorbed that
knowledge as he absorbed the bliss of being held .

"There's a man who loves you very much," she had
said, and the words thrilled both his present and
past selves. "A tall, handsome man with very dark
hair. There's a boy who loves you, too. A beautiful
boy who needs you very badly--he's waiting for
you here. Think of them, think of us, when you feel
trapped."

Shaun had gently touched the tracery of blue lines
that formed the flower between the child's bony
shoulders. Without words, he told him to picture
Morgan when the unseen hands touched his hard
penis.

Think of the man who loves you in place of the
faceless strangers.


He'd felt drowsy then, irresistibly drawn toward
sleep. He'd stretched out on the floor of the cave,
with his young self in his arms, and slept, as magic
threads wove the past to the present.

Shaun had awakened in the soft starlight of his
training room, to the sight of Emery. She'd held
his hand in both of hers.


Before lying down with his book, he'd uncovered
the flower on his back, hoping the father and son
would arrive while he was reading, and be seduced
by the sight of it.

It seemed to him now that he'd always known he
would meet them, that he'd loved them for years
and years. The day they'd arrived at the Palace, his
first sight of them, was the fulfillment of a very old
promise, made to him in childhood by his future
self.

I'll have them another whole month, he thought.
Almost a whole month. Days were slipping past.

At first he'd felt wealthy with four more weeks on
the horizon. The news had come to him twice in the
same afternoon! First, from his Master's page, and
then from Morgan, himself.

Now it didn't seem so vast an amount of time. I'm
like a hungry hobbit, he thought, closing his book.
The pantry's never full enough.