Under The Surface *NC-17 Content*

Laughter rang through the newly erected stone hall as torches burned from their perches amongst the rock. Long wooden tables ran down the room's length. Each filled to their capacity with celebrating villagers. Music played, and food was plenty as the warriors ate and drank their fill. Happy to finally be able to enjoy all their hard work and labor.

Indeed the finishing touches of the stone hall had been only completed the day prior. And today, they all sat in the magnificent chamber, drinking and eating and basking in their craftsmanship.

At one end of the hall, a massive fire burned, warming the whole room and keeping the frigid air out. The celebrations deafened the crackling of the wood so only the pleasant smell and myriad of reds and oranges could be enjoyed.

From his seat at the table, Minow sat with his back straight. His face an unreadable mask as an unlikely scenario thwarted his reveling. Dark eyebrows knitted together the longer his gaze remained on the subject of his ire. After a few minutes, his scowl only deepened.

"I think that Prince of Dorl has an unhealthy obsession with our brother," Minow grunted as he watched the aforementioned two laughing together as they sat by the fire. Wylen was a good hundred paces or so away conversing with the two Chieftains.

Minow's brows narrowed even further as he witnessed Prince Taemor rest his hand on Jaelan's knee and throw his head back at something the other said, mirth radiating from him like heat from the sun.

"Why you say that?" Nokiel mumbled as he picked the meat off a bone, starved like a wolf. Fingers coated with a fine layer of grease, he gave each digit a good licking before digging into the steaming meat. "And what are you doing?" He hissed as the hot morsel became too uncomfortable to hold. He dropped it into his plate and gave Minow a speculative look. "You're never this talkative during a meal."

Soral nodded as he licked his fingers clean, eyeing the full plate in front of Minow with a weary expression. It was odd behavior indeed for the younger Aldor clansmen. At even the mention of food, the young warrior would usually forget about whatever matter plagued him to fill his belly to its fullest capacity instead. If there was something Minow loved above all else, it was a good hearty meal, and both Soral and Nokiel had come to learn that—each through their own way.

So begrudgingly, Soral looked to where the young warrior was staring and accessed for himself, lips pursed in contemplation.

Indeed Prince Taemor was friendly with Jaelan, as he usually was, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "I don't see anything strange, Minow."

The youngest of the three shrugged his shoulders, eyes remaining glued to the pair as Heekam came up to the two and offered them more plates topped with freshly cooked meats. After speaking with the duo for a few minutes, Heekam was called away by one of Lady Senisari's attendants.

When the eunuch had departed, Minow tensed and locked his jaw as he found Prince Taemor still had his palm resting on Jaelan's knee. Immediately his suspicion flared brighter. Having spent so much time with Jaelan and his cousins, Minow had termed them family in his eyes. So seeing something of this sort stirred the defensive blood inside him.

"He hasn't moved his hand."

"What?" Nokiel half mumbled as his eyes remained on the feast before him. He smacked his lips that glistened with oils together and only half-mindedly listened to the youngest.

"Look," Minow jerked his chin towards the two men and raised his voice, unable to let the matter pass as a mere fluke. "Prince Taemor has kept his damn hand on Jaelan's knee far too long for it to be considered friendly."

Soral pursed his lips, eyes darting away from his plate as he wiped his fingers against his sleeves in habit. His attention, though only flittering as he gave Jaelan and the Prince just a passing glance, "Nah…you're just seeing things."

"Am I?" Minow stressed, annoyed that the other two weren't taking him seriously enough. "If Jaelan were a woman, the two of you would have already slit the man's throat! He's stepping over the line."

"But that's just it," Soral stated, motioning to his crotch crudely to get Minow to drop the subject. "Jaelan isn't a girl. So there's nothing there."

"But that Prince doesn't care!" Minow snapped, irritated by the fact that his two compatriots were turning a blind eye. "Jaelan was able to conceive a child! Surely you two don't think he's just the same as you and I?"

"Hey, watch your mouth," Soral growled, eyes narrowing defensively.

"To that Prince, he is just as good as a woman!" Minow retorted, eyes glaring invisible daggers. "I am sure of it! We need to tell Wylen."

"That's enough, Minow!"

"Yeah, Minow!" Nokiel joined in, disliking the accusing tone the warrior was using. "Don't make a big deal out of something so insignificant! You're reading too far into this!"

It's not insignificant. Minow gritted his teeth and only turned his head away from the suspicious Prince when Wylen took a seat beside Jaelan. He bit his tongue, narrowing his eyes further as he watched how Prince Taemor's hand slipped away at Wylen's arrival.

Whether it was a conscious movement or not, there was something behind that touch—and it was far from the innocent intentions his friends thought them to be. He was sure of it. There is something that man wants from Jaelan…whether he has admitted it to himself yet or not…it's there…I can feel it.

:::

Lying amidst his blankets in bed, Jaelan gently placed one arm over Wylen's warm body. The scraping of branches against the walls of their home seemed to echo throughout the room as the wind blew. However, the chill from just behind the blankets could not penetrate his cultivated heat.

Jaelan felt incredibly warm, inside and out, what with their son soon to arrive. There were just two months left until his birth, and the half-god, much as he tried to hide it, couldn't wait to see the child he had helped create. His whole body thrummed with excitement.

In the cover of darkness, he didn't need to hide it. He could act as happy as he wanted without seeing Lady Senisari before his eyes. Over time, he had slowly come to accept the fate of the woman. So he tried to look at things positively. No one was guaranteed a long life. Hell, he might die at the end of a spear, be it in a week or a year. Who really knew? In a way, it was a release—to know when you were going to leave the world. That way, you can pass without any regrets.

Yes, that would be a blessing to have no regrets before you die.

The black of night hid the small smile on his face. It also cloaked the glitter of his eyes as he lay there. Yes, the darkness was his friend.

Grinning to himself like a fool, Jaelan pressed closer to his lover when he felt Wylen's warm palms press into his sides, the pads of his fingers ghosting lightly over his skin and making him inwardly shiver in delight.

"Wylen…" He whispered, wanting and yet too embarrassed to tell what it was he craved. Luckily for him, his lover didn't need a lot of clues.

In seconds Wylen had rolled on top of him, mouth pressing against his while his hands traced the curves of Jaelan's muscles.

Fingers lost themselves in Wylen's thick, beautiful locks. Jaelan moaned in response as his body arched off the bed, ready to rub against his lover and create pleasure for them both.

"You're awfully eager tonight…but we're going to have to keep our voices down. She's become a light sleeper these past few weeks," Wylen whispered against Jaelan's lips before claiming them once again, tugging on the plump lip. At the same time, his hips drove down into Jaelan's, creating pleasant friction that had the both of them stiffening into hardness.

It felt like he was living in a dream.

Wylen was his dream.

"I just can't get enough of you." He moaned out, voice barely above a whisper, once his lips were returned to him. Closing his eyes, he rolled his hips, grunting as the sweet sensation pulsed through his whole body.

Wylen tried to stifle his groan but could not hold back the sound, what with the way those words had affected him. Jaelan wasn't typically the one who instigated these sorts of things. Usually, it was him—at first dancing around his lover, gauging how receptive he would be to a union of their bodies. It required some effort and work, but usually, Wylen got what he wanted.

But having Jaelan coming to him and asking for it was a hundred times better.

He loved the man to death. He was sure of it.

God forbid something was to happen to him. Wylen was sure he would kill himself—unable to live even five minutes without the half-god present and to breathe the same air as he.

He shuddered to think such thoughts.

No—he and Jaelan would live like this forever.

In this settlement…in this home, they built themselves…surrounded by their families…by the people who care about them…and their future son…

Lovingly he wrapped his arms around Jaelan's nakedness, tongue trailing down to lick a pattern across a perfectly sculpted throat. At the same time, his fingers danced across the familiar stiff length pressing into his thigh.

To hear his voice was music.

His moans, groans, and short whines simply heaven.

Completely ensnared by the desire to join with the man he loved, Wylen returned his mouth to Jaelan's lips as he maneuvered two ivory legs, spreading them and hauling them up to give him room. Then with trembling fingers, he pumped Jaelan's cock, milking him until his fingers became coated with white. Patiently he then placed those fingers by Jaelan's pucker and began to insert them gradually, one after the other.

From on the bed, Jaelan moved his hips, welcoming those fingers eagerly as he sucked on Wylen's tongue, eyes closed and skin sensitive to the touch. As he pressed up into the strong warrior atop him, his nipples pushed up against Wylen's chest, rubbing divinely against the smooth muscled skin and making him moan out loud from the sensation.

Kissing Jaelan thoroughly, Wylen used this as a distraction to plunge himself in, going deep until he had sunk to the hilt.

Heat.

Tightness.

Pleasure.

Their movements were of one.

Moans and whispered words of love floated through the air as they rocked on the bed, limbs wrapped tightly together.

There was nothing more that they needed from the world.

Just the two of them.

If they were together, they could withstand the passage of time.