Stolen Pleasures: version 2 - 8. Chapter 8

“Is that new?”

“Oh, hey Zai. Yeah.” Jahke stroked the remaining spare shelf of the beautiful lacquered bookcase with a smile. “Sitka and Shindae brought it from Upstairs. It won’t fit in our room, but Kiorl said I wasn’t allowed to fill the den with books.” He placed the last book onto the shelf and closed the finely glazed door. “Tobias said no-one really uses this room, and I thought it might be nice to keep the recipe books and some other stuff down here.”

Zai arched a steel grey eyebrow.

“All these are about food?”

“Four shelves,” Jahke replied proudly. “Novels are on the bottom.”

“And you’ve got some space free still.” Both turned at the sound of Kiorl’s return from the Palace. “Though I’m sure you’ll fill it soon enough.”

Jahke had become adept at divining where his housemates had been based upon their clothes and general demeanour, and Kiorl was wearing a richly embroidered tunic in a dozen shades of black, gold cuffs on his wrists, biceps, and tail. His smile was faint and knowing, and his mohawk had lost it’s height, lying back between his ears: Jahke was certain he’d spent the day at the palace. Sitka had finally found him enough paper and time to make a calender, and it was Rexsa, the day when the King was most likely to hold court. But observation was nothing compared to Zai’s empathic skills, and the other demon grinned at his friend.

“Pulling double duty again, are we Kiorl?”

“Fuck off, Zai.” Kiorl replied good-naturedly. He smiled broadly at Jahke, and the young man blushed, trying not to let it show that he was thinking about the big panther naked. Zai’s laugh told him he had not been successful. “I stopped by Nassau’s court today too. I have a present for you, Jahke.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, though why he can’t bloody tell you himself I don’t fucking know.” Kiorl rolled his eyes, the tip of his tail broadcasting irritation. “But if His Lordship wants it hand delivered….” Kiorl didn’t bother to finish his sentence, but held out the item to Jahke, who took it eagerly.

It was a book, small but nicely bound with a tooled leather spine and slightly faded gold blocked lettering. Vestments and Ritual: A Guide to Ceremonial Clothing. Jahke stroked the cover happily.

“The Prince of Hell sent me a book?”

“His Highness, Lord Nassau Del Rae, Commander of the Seven Armies, Last Scion of Ifrit, Master of Storms, Heir and Prince of Hell did not just send you a book. Though knowledge of your love of them does appear to have travelled rather. Open it.”

Jahke did so, and held between two fingers a thick, hand lettered card similar to those Jahke had coveted when academics attended lavish dinners and parties.

“An invitation?”

“You’re wanted at the Palace.” Zai’s voice was almost reverential. “Oh Jahke. You have done well.”

When Sitka arrived home from the office, Jahke was lying on his favourite chaise, the book at his side, turning the invitation over in his fingers, reading the words for the hundredth time without really seeing them.

“Hey Beautiful.”

“Mmm...”

“Jahke?” There was a clatter as Sitka dumped whatever he’d been holding, before his hooves clattered across the stone floor. He fell to his knees next to Jahke and hugged his mate hard. “What’s wrong?” He paused. “What’s that?”

Jahke turned to the demon he loved and watched as Sitka read the card he’d already memorised, feeling elated and dreadful in turns.

“Prince Nassau wants to see us?” Sitka’s ready smiled faded as he met Jahke’s frown. “Beautiful, I don’t understand. This is a good thing.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I was going to ask Kiorl if he would take us to court. We have to get you in front of Nassau somehow if we want to request for you to stay here forever, and it’s not like I’m senior enough to just… show up and expect to be seen.”

“But...” Jahke traced the fluid calligraphy with one finger tip. “Kiorl said no one has been summoned for a private audience in many years, not since well before Tobias came. He didn’t sound happy about it.”

“Kiorl hates that we haven’t got to ask his permission for you to stay.”

“He wants me to leave?” Jahke half sat up, propped in his elbows, still holding the invitation.

“No Beautiful. Kiorl doesn’t want you to leave. You impressed him at Summas, and since then too.” Sitka ran a hand up Jahke’s bare thigh, and the young man sighed contentedly at the contact. “Kiorl likes to feel important, that’s all.”

“Oh, is that right?” Jahke smiled at his lover, he couldn’t help it, and Sitka climbed onto the chaise and pulled him into his lap with a growl. “I missed you too.”

“Excellent.” Sitka bent to kiss his abdomen, and glanced up through his mane of ringlets at the boy. “Beautiful?”

“There was something else too.” Jahke handed over the book, and hissed in pleasure as Sitka used his body as a table, spreading Vestments open on his sternum, fingers stroking along his ribs and brushing his nipples as he turned the pages with interest.

“The Prince sent this?”

“Nnghhh! Yes...”

“Kiaza did always say he was fond of riddles.”

Jahke didn’t know who Kiaza was, and didn’t much care as Sitka’s fingers teased at the belted fabric around his waist. Sitka closed the book and kissed him hungrily.

“You should be wearing fewer clothes,” the demon rumbled against his skin, grazing his shoulder with his fangs.

Jahke took a last look at the book and the invitation before giving his demon lover his full attention. Sitka might have wanted him naked as quickly as possible, but riddles were fun, and Jahke already knew he was going to need new clothes if he wanted to impress the Prince.

*

Jahke stretched, pulling his muscles from the softness of sleep, and yawned with satisfaction. It hadn’t been many hours since he and Sitka had finally fallen asleep, and Jahke wanted to stay in the satisfied warm of their bed, doze, and dream some more about being so thoroughly fucked he hadn’t been able to remember his own name. But he’d awoken, so had his bladder, and he scowled as he realised he hadn’t brushed his teeth the previous evening. Feeling annoyed and faintly sticky, Jahke slid from the furs, softly hushing Sitka as the demon reached for him sleepily, and crossed the hallway to the bathroom.

Shindae was sat on the marble surface next to the sink, brushing his teeth, and Kiorl was reclining in the bathpool.

“Not so shy any more, eh Jahke?” the lava patterned demon grinned at him happily.

“Don’t go into the office with foam on your face Shindae, people might tease you.” Jahke turned to the panther. “Will you be much longer, Kiorl?”

“No, but you can join me if you don’t fancy a shower. There’s plenty of space.”

Jahke sighed gratefully, sat, and slipped into the perfectly hot water with a smile. Sometimes he could hardly believe he was now the type of person who was confident enough to be naked around his friends, share their baths and their beds, laugh at Sitka’s jokes, and argue good naturedly with Inai as they played cards. Kiorl passed him a glass bottle of scented soap which Sitka had brought back from Upstairs, and Jahke took a loofah and began to scrub at his sore muscles. His skin bore fresh marks from their rather athletic coupling, as well as a variety of claw-shaped punctures which had been healed by Zai’s gifted tongue until they were no more than faint pink reminders of past pleasure. He washed carefully around Sitka’s most recent bite.

“What’s the Palace like?”

“That’s today?” Shindae queried. “Damn, and I thought I was gonna get to go haul Sitka’s arse out of bed and go Upstairs for the day. We’ve got a list of special orders as long as my arm.”

“It’ll keep.” Kiorl told him. Jahke smiled at the panther, and wished he wasn’t in the bath where he couldn’t see what the demon’s tail was doing. Kiorl’s mood was best interpreted by the appendage, and though they were friends now, Jahke still found him intimidating. “You nervous?”

“Yes. I don’t want to do anything stupid, or get Sitka in trouble.”

“You won’t. Nassau’s a nice guy.” Shindae spoke as though the Prince of Hell was just any other random demon, and Jahke couldn’t help but be buoyed by the thought.

“He is also the only person who can give you what you desire.” Kiorl told him solemnly. “Tread carefully, but try not to be too scared.”

“C’mon Jahke, you’re clean enough. Get out of there before you get all wrinkled.”

Jahke clasped Shindae’s hands and was hauled bodily from the water in one smooth movement. The demon dropped a towel over his head and began to dry his hair.

“Nassau is the most powerful person you’re ever going to meet. And he’s beautiful too. If he thinks you’re worthy, then he’ll give you what you want.” Shindae was still smiling when Jahke emerged from the towel. “You’ll be lucky. I can tell.”

“Just make sure you’re lucky on the way to the Palace,” Kiorl said as he exited the bathpool. “Remember what happened the last time you went outside.”

Jake gulped.

“You can’t come with us?”

“Ha! If Sitka has the balls to ask Nassau for his consideration of you, then he’s gotta get you there all by himself. Just… keep your head down, OK Jahke?” The big panther combed the boy’s hair with his fingers. “I don’t want another crow coming to fetch me because one of you is bleeding.”

By the time Jahke had combed his hair properly and cleaned his teeth, Sitka was up and dressed in a lavishly beaded, and Jahke suspected new, loin cloth in several shades of black, fastening yet another ornately buckled belt over his hips. He had at least four of them on, and another wrapped several times around one arm. Jahke stepped forward, discarding his towel, and finished fastening the clasps which held a tooled leather pauldron in place over the demon’s opposite shoulder.

“So the formal outfit is just for me?” Jahke asked with a smirk.

“Hey! This is a formal outfit.” Sitka caught him around the waist and pressed his face into Jahke’s pale hair. “Mmmm… you smell amazing.” The demon’s hands drifted to cup his arse, and Jahke groaned, but stepped back. “Babe...”

“No. I still have to get dressed. And you were the one who didn’t want to be late. Now, help me with this?”

Sitka took the length of fine, lightweight fabric from him and began to wrap it in a complicated manner around Jahke’s hips.

“What did you say it was called again?”

“A shendyt.” Jahke smoothed the dyed edge of the fabric with one hand as Sitka finished turning the top edge into a proper waistband.

“Looks like a skirt to me...”

“It was in the book.” Jahke rolled his eyes. “Just hand me the belt? No not that one, the blue one.”

Jahke slipped his feet into leather soled sandals, and smiled as Sitka held up the last part of his new outfit with an expression of clear delight. The demon settled the large pectoral decoration over his chest and secured the strings at the back of his neck. The image of the scarab beetle was embroidered so heavily that it had almost become solid, and there were real feathers interspersed along the fabric of the wings which spread over Jahke’s chest. Sitka stroked his shoulders, then his chest, thumbs rubbing over each pink nipple with a predatory smile.

“You look naked.”

“This is the most dressed I have been since we got here.” Jahke countered.

“Yup. And all that skin you’ve covered up just reminds me what’s still on show.” Sitka crouched to kiss his flat stomach, gazing up at him hungrily. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you, Beautiful?”

“No.” Jahke leant for a long moment into the warmth and strength of his lover, then stepped from Sitka’s embrace. “Let’s just go, OK?

“Hang on.” Sitka reached to grab something from the top of the wardrobe, and Jahke stared.

“You’re bringing your sword?”

“I’ll try not to get stabbed with it again this time. I promise.”

Hell was much as it had been on their previous outing, though this time Sitka held Jahke’s hand and took him down a slightly sloping path which passed between high canyon walls before joining onto the main path which bypassed the nearest Portal before leading, always downwards, to the centre of the gently curving basin and the Palace which sat there. As they passed a collection of rough hewn stone benches, populated by people in a variety of shapes and colours, a crow cawed noisily from the black branches of a spiky tree. It was not the first bird they had seen, and Jahke saw another hopping from rock to boulder, eyeing them curiously, before taking wing. It was replaced a moment later by it’s sibling, ruffling it’s feathers from the perch of a spike-leafed plant.

“Is it me, or are there a lot of crows around?”

“More than usual.” Sitka agreed. “The Prince is keeping an eye on us.”

Jahke squeezed Sitka’s hand nervously.

“And it that a good thing, or…?”

“He’s the Prince, who can say? Come, we’re nearly there.”

Jahke was glad Sitka knew the route they had to take, because he doubted he could have found his way back to the house even if he’d had all day. As they rounded a stand of strangely fat trees with stiff dark leaves, Jahke gasped at the hugeness of the Palace. There were domes, spires, minarets, flying buttresses, narrow windows beyond counting, and a pair of doors bigger than Zinkara Rumah and seemingly made of volcanic black stone. Standing on each side of the entranceway was a guard, and one of them was not a stranger.

“Oh shit.”

The black minotaur smirked and leant on the pommel of his enormous bearded axe.

“Well, well… if it isn’t little Sitka back for more punishment. And you brought your pet too, how thoughtful.”

Jahke was glad he was smaller than his lover, and stepped behind Sitka instantly. Sitka’s hand went to the hilt of his short sword, and the evil bull laughed.

“You want me to run you through with your sword for a second time?”

“Shut up Baccha.” The other guard was big, beefy, red skinned, and stood with both massive arms crossed across his bare, broad chest. “You can’t pick fights on guard duty.”

“Who cares, he’s just a scavenger.”

“We have an audience with the Prince.” Sitka gripped Jahke’s hand tightly as he spoke to the red guard, and the young man wondered how they were going to convince the demon to let them in before Baccha lost his temper once again.

They were saved by the smooth, soundless motion of the massive doors as they swung inward, and both guards snapped to attention, training overriding all other desires. The person who stood in the doorway beckoned to them, and Jahke skipped quickly along behind his lover, not looking at either of the big demons as the doors swung shut behind them. They were greeted by a short, fish shaped demon in a padded smoking jacket and white leather spats.

“Good morning Sirs. I am Horace, and I shall be attending you today.”

“I’m Sitka, this is Jahke. We’re from Zinkara Rumah.”

“Yes Sir, his Lordship is expecting you. He will see you in the Room With a Sky. Please follow me.”

Jahke had long been used to the many twists and turns, stairways, secret doors, and hidden passageways of the National Museum, but even he was lost within moments as Horace began to guide them through the Palace. Architecture which could not possibly be contained within the scope of any building somehow manifested at every turn, and between the rapidly changing scale of the rooms they found themselves in, along with the various lavish styles of decoration, Jahke found it impossible to determine for how long they had even been walking. After a time which was more than minutes, but less than hours, Horace stopped at an ordinarily sized wooden door, like that of a church, opened it, and bowed them through.

“The scavenger Sitka, and his human Jahke.”

“Thank you Horace.”

“Good day m’Lord.”

Jahke didn’t notice the fish’s exit, or the noise of the door closing behind them, or Sitka dropping his hand in order to kneel, because he’d glanced upward, and now stood staring at the sky. The roof of the circular room, supported by beautifully carved pillars, was not a roof at all, but open to a sky Jahke had not seen in many, many days. The sky was blue, faint traces of high cirrus clouds scudded on some un-felt wind above them, and Jahke hadn’t realised quite how used he’d become to being indoors until he’d seen it.

Everyone gets distracted by the sky the first time.

The voice was warm, soft, full of mirth, and had arrived in his head without bypassing his ears. Jahke tore his eyes from the ceiling which wasn’t, and gaped at the figure who had spoken. The Prince, because Jahke couldn’t think who else it would be, lounged on the white marble throne, smiling faintly. He was a boy just becoming a man, younger even than Tobias looked, dressed in a heavy woollen kilt edged with cloth of gold, his silken hair flowing loose over one shoulder, his creamy skin marred only by a twisted thread of fire. It wasn’t until he moved, sitting straighter, that Jahke even noticed the enormously long feathered wings.

“Jahke!” Sitka’s panicked hiss sent him skittering across the floor to his mate’s side, and Jahke knelt automatically, head down, pressing against Sitka from hip to knee.

“I see you’ve trained him well...” The Prince’s laughter was evident when he spoke, and Jahke had the feeling there was a joke the origins of which he wasn’t privy to. “Stand, and make your request.”

“Sire...” Sitka pulled Jahke up with him as he stood, and the young man realised he’d never truly seen the demon who shared his bed nervous before. Sitka didn’t seem to know what to say, or where to put his hands, and Jahke wove their fingers together, and wrapped an arm around his waist with a smile. “We come to ask for your consideration. Please.”

“You fought well for me, Sitka. I remember that. You like it at Zinkara Rumah?”

“Yes Sire, very much.”

“More so now that Tobias is keeping you all much better fed?”

Sitka made a happy noise in his throat, and squeezed Jahke’s hand tightly.

“And you have the Bag of Holding, correct? Though I see you’ve found something far too special to keep in there.” The Prince turned to look at Jahke, and the young man felt as though the stormy grey eyes were turning him over and inside out somehow. “Come here.”

Sitka let him go reluctantly, and Jahke stepped forward, trying to remember that the person in front of him was the one who had sent him the interesting book, and was spoken of so highly and fondly of by Tobias. He tried not to shiver as the Prince’s gaze raked over his body, and Jahke knew there wasn’t a mark or faded scar that the winged demon missed. Just then, he couldn’t see how the demon in front of him could also be considered anyone’s friend, because he nearly vibrated with power. Someone so important could never do something as normal as sit in their kitchen and eat dinner.

And yet, I do. Kiorl tells me you have been increasing Tobias’s repertoire.

“Jahke, is it?”

“Y-y-yes Sire.”

“Do you know why you’re here Jahke?”

The young man nodded, pulled his eyes away from the bright, powerful image of the Prince of Hell, to look at his lover. Sitka was standing just where’d he had been before, looking equally nervous and proud.

“I’m here because of him.”

And you don’t doubt that he loves you, do you? The Prince’s voice in his mind had a distinctly happy flavour. He took you away from everything you ever knew... but you forgave him that a long time ago.

Jahke smiled, and thought of lying in their bed, laughing with Sitka and Shindae as they flicked through yet another book of explicit sexual encounters, trying and often failing, to recreate the fantastical positions the author had declared possible. The Prince grinned at him.

“Well aren’t you quite the exhibitionist? Tell me Jahke, do you really wish to stay here, in Hell, with him?”

“Yes.” Jahke was completely sure of his answer, but he still shivered when the Prince spoke to him, suddenly remembering how impossible it was to try and keep secrets around Zai or Tobias. The Prince of Hell could see inside his head, and Jahke felt suddenly guilty that he’d been imaging the winged demon naked. He blushed.

“Are you scared of me, boy?”

“Yes.” Jahke didn’t think there was any reason to lie to a person who was not only infinitely more powerful than he was, but was watching his thoughts even as they formed.

“Do you want to be?” Nassau arched a perfect eyebrow at him, and spoke to Sitka without breaking eye contact with Jahke. “When did you last use your powers on him?”

“Not since Summas, Sire.”

“And only because he asked? Interesting. Use it now. Compel him. I want to see how he answers when he’s not afraid.”

Sitka’s hand on the back of his neck was warm and familiar, and Jahke leant back into the contact with a purr.

“Beautiful?”

“I-It’s OK.” Jahke hated the way his voice shook when he spoke, but he didn’t look away from the Prince. “I love you.”

Compulsion flooded his senses, cool on the raw edges of his anxiety, a lovely counterpoint to the heat of Sitka’s skin wherever they touched. Jahke turned, fingers securing a hold in his mate’s ringlets automatically, moaning gently as they kissed.

“You love him?”

“Uh-huh...” Jahke moulded himself along Sitka’s front, wishing he hadn’t bothered with such ornate clothes and jewellery, and ran a hand down the demon’s chest.

“And you want to be with him forever.”

“Yes please.” Jahke smiled happily, his mind full of ideas of all the things they could try out if they had forever to experiment with.

The Prince seemed to consider this, wrapping a strand of his lengthy hair around his hand.

“And is there anything you want to ask me, pretty boy?”

Jahke bit his lip and smiled.

“So what does the Prince of Hell wear under his kilt?”

Ohhh… you’re welcome to find out.

Nassau didn’t quite look as though he’d been expecting Jahke to follow through on his offer, but he smiled, and waved away the beginning of Sitka’s apology as the young man rose up the dais on which the throne stood, and dropped softly to his knees. Jahke sighed happily, half wishing he’d asked if he could kiss the Prince first, and placed his hands on Nassau’s thighs. The winged demon cleared his throat, adjusting his position, and Jahke pushed the pleated fabric aside with a distinctly happy noise.

“Your compulsion always has this effect?” He asked Sitka, his voice still quite level and measured.

“Yes sire. Generally.”

“You did choose well- oh dear gods!”

Jahke had become rather bored by the conversation, and was pleased his actions had managed to derail the Prince’s train of thought so well. He hummed happily to himself as he sucked the length of Nassau’s hard on deep into his mouth once more, then wrapped slim fingers around the base and began to lick him, the motion interspersed with wet open kisses. Jahke made a mental note to say something clever about there apparently being no undergarments in Hell, but he was distracted by the moaning of the Prince as he sucked him, and the knowledge that Sitka was watching him do it. Jahke glanced up to see the storm grey eyes wide and transfixed as he continued his ministrations, and he vibrated with pride at the expression of open lust which made Nassau pant heavily.

“Hnnn… you’re very good at that. Ahh!”

I’ll bet you fit right in there. An image of their house passed through Jahke’s inner vision as the Prince spoke in his head. They are my favourites you know.

Jahke was too polite to talk with his mouth full, but as he felt Nassau’s body tense, knuckles going white as he gripped the armrest of the throne, the Prince answered his question anyway.

Oh yes, you can have any wish you want!

Jahke shivered happily, held fast to the Prince’s hips, and sucked him greedily. Nassau bucked against him, one hand tight in his hair for a brief, painful, pleasurable second, and then he groaned deeply as he came. Jahke drank him down, watching the powerful demon as the tension left his body, sinking back into his throne as though he was malleable. Jahke sat back on his heels, releasing the Prince’s softened cock gently, and smoothed his kilt back into position before he stood.

“Babe...”

Jahke tucked himself back under Sitka’s arm happily, knowing that his arousal was obviously tenting the front of his garment, and wondering if it was considered bad form to masturbate in front of one’s sovereign.

Normally, that would be something I’d happily indulge you in. Nassau smirked with the thought, and Jahke felt the latent desire all the way up his spine. But I think you’d rather have this.

The boy on the throne opened out one wing, and with a brief grimace of pain, plucked a single long, bronze flight feather, holding it out towards him. The feather tip was like silk as Nassau passed it over his lips, before placing the hollow shaft in his hand.

“And what do you wish for, Jahke?”

Jahke but his lip softly, and smiled at the demon he loved.

“I want to be like Sitka.”

That’s a good wish.

Nassau exhaled a single hot breath onto the feather and it burst into bright, painless flames between Jahke’s fingers. In a moment it was nought but ashes, and Jahke flicked the remains from his hand with a soft frown.

“I don’t feel any differ- oh...” Jahke gazed down at himself in wonder, gasping as Sitka touched him.

“Immortality, the better ability to heal which comes with being a demon, and a form to match...” Nassau smiled broadly. “You look excellent together.”

Jahke shuffled his pale hooves against the stone floor, marvelling at the new way he held himself on them, and the smoothness with which the pale blond fur rose so seamlessly from his now milk-white skin. Sitka’s fingers stroked his hair, and Jahke blushed as his lover found the very small, rather sharp horns hiding in his curls.

“You’re so gorgeous Jahke.”

“Babe...”

“I thought you would want to keep the blush,” Nassau said happily.

Jahke flung his arms around his mate and kissed him greedily. He was taller on his new hooves, but not by much, and Sitka still towered over him. The demon laughed breathlessly as they parted, and Jahke turned to Nassau and without thinking about it, kissed him in thanks.

The Prince of Hell froze under his lips, then kissed him back with all the force of a thrown punch. Jahke vibrated under the onslaught of his tongue, and was gasping and breathless by the time Nassau let him go.

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” Jahke replied anyway before stepping back to take Sitka’s hand with his own, enjoying the contrast of their skin tones even more now that his had changed. “Thank you Sire.”

“You’re a real demon now, Beautiful.”

Jahke picked up a hoof, raised it and brushed imaginary grit from the sole as though he’d been balancing on the narrow cloven shapes his whole life.

You’re a natural. Go have fun.

Jahke nodded to the Prince, kissed his mate, and skipped as they headed for the door.

“You want to go show the guys?” Sitka asked, obviously pleased.

Jahke beamed.

“Yes. But first I’m going go tell that idiot Baccha that he can stuff it. He’s a jerk.”

Sitka laughed, and Jahke kissed him again.

“You sure about that?”

“Damn right. Ain’t no one messes with my guy.”

Nassau smiled as he watched them go. He doubted they would need the crows to watch over them on their way through the Inner Circle, because Jahke acted like he’d belonged in Hell for years, and already, Sitka was walking taller with his mate by his side. Nassau set the birds free of their task with a gesture, and wondered just how quick Kiorl would be in recounting whatever form Jahke’s ‘showing off’ was going to take.