“Gross Indecency: An Otherworld Novel” Chapter Four
Gross Indecency: An Otherworld Novel will eventually be edited and put on sale, but for now, I figured as we worked on it, we would also release the chapters for free. 🙂 Call it an experiment. One chapter a month will be put out here, Tumblr, and a couple of other outlets. However, if you support us on Patreon, you get to see the chapter a week or two before it become publicly available. So… support us! 😀 You get lots of fun bits and bobs in addition to fiction.
Right now, Gross Indecency is 128 pages (42,583 words) long, and that’s not even half of the planned novel. 😉 It’s a kinky romp with exiled faeries, so anything goes.
London, England, 2016
Slate arched under the man’s hands, moaning loudly while a blond head bobbed up and down on his cock. A second man, this one with black hair, leaned in and took possession of Slate’s lips, a passionate display made for the camera that zoomed in close. Malachite stood in the darkness near the back of the set, his arms crossed over his chest and his gray eyes intently focused on his brother. There was a slight frown on his lips as he watched the scene unfold, and he hated his body’s reaction to what he witnessed.
Sex had become a necessary part of exiled Faes’ lives. A perfect profession had risen with the tide of pornography, and Briar had been at the forefront of it all. He had built a small production company, hiring first his Fae friends and family, and then mortals. Briar and Falcon starred in many of the films themselves, a beautiful couple to watch, and Rime had eagerly jumped into the venture. It hadn’t taken Malachite long to follow. Slate had joined them, bringing Vale with him, and after some pestering, Cloud had permitted Whirlwind to partake in the movies. Only recently had Whirlwind convinced Cloud to also become a part of the movie-making lot. All couples, all entwined through exile and trying to make it in the mortal world when they were all homesick for Annwn.
Across the set, just at the camera line, stood Vale, also watching Slate. Malachite had never been able to discern why, but Vale was often on set when Slate was filming without him. As far as Malachite knew, Vale did a lot of the technical work for Slate’ shoots, from choosing who would be his partners to how the scene was lit to the music used. Vale, impressively, was completely dedicated to his lover, and there was a small flame of jealousy within Malachite whenever he thought about it. Vale had Slate. Utterly and absolutely.
Not that Malachite was unhappy with Rime. He loved Rime. He’d loved him since the moment he’d seen Rime first perform for his mother’s court at Ráth Cruachan. A Satyr from the Solar Court performing for the queen, king, and princes of the Lunar Court had been a brazen sight. How long had that been now? Almost eight hundred years ago. Eight hundred years since they’d first fucked in an alcove off the feasting hall, and despite all the trials and tribulations they’d endured, Malachite regretted none of it.
But no regrets didn’t mean there was no longing in his heart for other pleasures… other loves…
His eyes remained on Slate as Slate was directed to turn onto his hands and knees. Malachite’s breath stopped as his brother was penetrated by the black-haired man’s fingers. Slate’ musical cry caressed ancient memories within Malachite, and fueled the passions held at bay in too tight trousers.
Rime had been watching Malachite closely for weeks now, his keen eyes picking up the nuances of light in his lover’s eyes. There had always been a deep devotion between the brothers; Malachite worshiped Slate as a young child looked up to its greatest role model. It had never escaped Rime’s attention, even back before words of love had been shared between Malachite and him.
It was only recently that Rime decided to truly observe Malachite during these habitual moments in the studio. The light in Malachite’s eyes seemed to deepen as he watched Slate being touched and kissed by foreign mouths. His breathing always sped, and, though Rime was sure Malachite thought the movements hidden by his crossed arms, his hands clenched rhythmically whenever Slate was penetrated under the bright lights of the set. Malachite was aroused, and from his frown, he was very unhappy about it.
After weeks of watching Malachite in such a conflicted state, Rime chose his moment to act. He was as silent and graceful as a cat as he approached Malachite from behind. Reaching out, he encircled Malachite’s waist. He rested his chin on Malachite’s shoulder for a few moments, enduring the brief jolt of surprise before nuzzling at the skin beneath the dark curls at Malachite’s neck. Rime’s eyes were drawn to Slate when Slate let out another moan for the camera’s benefit.
You want him, don’t you? His mindvoice was a trickle of cool water as it caressed Malachite’s mind.
In darkness, Malachite felt himself flush with shame. No. Of course not. The lie to the gold-tinged words in Rime’s head was plain to see. Lies between bondmates couldn’t be hidden, no matter how desperately Malachite wished.
Rime smiled, though it was a small curve of his lips that held nothing but affection. Malachite’s arousal flooded his mind, discrediting the denial and making his own pulse quicken. Tell me what you want to do to him, Mal. The tone of his mindvoice was simultaneously comforting and seductive.
Malachite swallowed thickly, cock pulsing hotly as Slate was finally penetrated by one of his partners’ sexes. Nothing.
His smile faltering a bit, Rime squeezed Malachite’s waist, pulling him against his bare chest. Don’t be afraid… and stop lying to me.
Malachite’s eyes fluttered, threatening to shut as he was pressed deliciously against Rime while Slate was taken both from before and behind. He remembered vividly the tightness of his brother’s body, the sweetness of his mouth. That part of my life is over. I have you now.
Things had been different before the treaties between the Lunar Court and Solar Court had been forged. It had been a time of war and blood, not a time for courting or marriage. And in those darkest, harshest times, it had been his own brother he’d turned to for pleasure and comfort. Not unheard of among their kind, but Slate had been in love with Vale, not him. When the torment of so many dead became too much and the loss of Vale had been too harsh, Slate had taken his own life, welcomed Death rather than remain with him. Malachite had been left behind, blood drenching his soul, and he’d fought through the stalemate as Annwn had been torn apart. It had been Herne who had brought an end to the war, his roots old and deep. He’d created the Fae Council, a body made of representatives from all realms and freeholds in Annwn. Once all had a voice in the ruling of Annwn, the war ended. The dead eventually returned, some reborn among the same kithfolk Family, some born to new kithfolk Families. Slate had been one of them, reborn to their very same mother, but not Malachite. No, Malachite endured, lonely in his survival. Even when a poisoned wound would have taken his life…
Aye, you do have me, came the response as Rime drew his tongue from Malachite’s shoulder to his throat, but you want him.
Malachite shuddered as Rime’s tongue trailed along his flesh. Silence fell between their minds as Slate’ cries grew louder when his mouth wasn’t filled. Malachite battled within himself for a long time as he watched Slate’s pleasure captured by the camera. Finally, his mindvoice barely audible in Rime’s head, Malachite admitted to his desire. Yes… I do.
Knowing how much it took for Malachite to admit it, Rime nuzzled against his ear, lips and tongue brushing along the lobe and point. His eyes never left Slate, and he purred, the vibration traveling to Malachite. He is beautiful…
Beautiful as the rising sun, Malachite said without hesitation. Slate was dawn to Malachite as Rime was twilight. It had never escaped Malachite’s notice how the two loves of his life were such opposites. Slate’s eyes, full of laughter and shadows, had entranced Malachite since childhood. Tall, peach-skinned, and thick hair to his backside the color of a copper penny, Slate was stunning. Even at the heights of sweaty fucking, Slate possessed amazing grace and subtle agility Malachite appreciated and craved.
Rime’s eyes fluttered as he saw Slate through Malachite’s mind, and the metaphor made him smile. It was with a minstrel’s eye that he took in the beauty of Medb’s eldest son, and Malachite’s description was simply flawless. And what would you do with that sunrise? Caress those warm rays with your fingertips until they burn? Wind your hands in red silk and let the heat consume you? Tell me what you want to do to him, Mal. He nosed Malachite’s hair from his neck and began sucking, his hands moving slowly along the clothed planes of Malachite’s chest.
Malachite couldn’t contain the quiet moan as his head lolled to the side. His hands clenched at his sides, aching to touch his brother as he once had, and fire burned low in his gut, fanned by Rime’s words. I would press my lips to his navel as he arched under my touch. I would hear him sing while my fingers teased his nipples to hardness. Malachite wet his lips, pushing back against Rime. He sings wonderfully, love… when my tongue travels over his hip…
A wave of desire rushed through Rime, and he hummed as his teeth tightened around skin, slowly raising a mark. Rime’s eyes stayed locked on Slate as he was repositioned and took himself astride one of the mortal’s hips, but his mind was awash in pleasure and desire not wholly his own. And would your fingers stray lower… caress his thighs, parting them so you could settle between his legs? What would you do to make him ache for you? Tell me. Scattered images came to mind, and he pressed his erection against Malachite’s ass, grinding ever so slightly while his hands moved lower, reaching for the button and zipper of Malachite’s trousers.
Biting harshly into his bottom lip, Malachite stifled all sound as his heart raced. Blood rushed in his ears, mingling with Slate’ groans and sighs. Delicious pain radiated from the mark on his throat, and his body trembled when Rime thrust against him. Rime’s arousal somehow soothed what shame remained within him. I would tell him to clasp his hands together above his head… lift his legs and spread them wide. Bend them back as far as possible so his ass was elevated enough that I could lean down and drive my tongue into his body. He’d done that very thing many times during their trysts, causing Slate to scream and his thighs to shake. He would taste as heavenly as honey… his muscles quivering around me as I took him over and over with only my tongue… until he whispered… begged… tears on his lashes because he wanted me so much… He couldn’t contain the whimper as the memory became acute and sensation washed over him. “Dáire,” he breathed, Slate’s old name a mixture of want and anguish.
Rime shuddered, pulsing in his loose trousers as he thrust steadily against Malachite. His hands finally slid into Malachite’s unfastened pants, taking a firm hold of his burning cock and stroking in time with the thrusts that made Slate moan and rock forcefully backward. He worked Malachite’s neck until the skin threatened to break, releasing the flesh with a low, musical sigh. He teased the red mark with teeth, tongue, and breath. Gods, the two of you together… He licked his lips. What pace would you set, sliding into the glorious heat of him? Tell me how you’d make him scream your name! His breath became erratic as his senses were overtaken by the blaze of Malachite’s desire. Reaching down a little more, Rime massaged Malachite’s sac, pushing him easily to the edge, but he withheld release as he waited for an answer.
It was heaven and hell, lost between mind and body, lover and brother. Malachite’s breath hissed in and out. His hands gripped tightly to Rime’s hips as his knees threatened to buckle under the onslaught. I… gently at first… never would I wish to cause him pain… and when his body softened under me… ah!… swiftly… hard… his legs wrapped tightly so he could meet every movement of my body as we pounded our way to release… until he howled my name to the rafters! Rime’s hand tightened on him, and Malachite was overtaken by his climax. In front of his eyes, Slate arched, spilling his seed just as Malachite did. Tightness, licking flames, pleasure that stole all thought from the logical mind. It didn’t matter the fantasy of Slate brought him to smashing release… all that mattered was how much he loved Slate, how much joy they’d once brought each other, and how perfect it felt to whisper his name once more in the aftershocks of orgasm.
“Mal…” It took all Rime had to hold back his cry, resorting only to the whisper of Malachite’s name as he thrust a final time and climaxed in his trousers. He held Malachite tightly to him, his mind reeling with visions of Malachite locked in furious passion with his copper-haired brother. Malachite loved Slate, wanted him, and the song that echoed in Rime’s mind, spilling over from Malachite’s, was pure and radiant and wrapped in so much complexity.
Rime’s eyes rolled back as he tried to focus on keeping them both upright. When he managed to find his bearings again, he opened his eyes to see Vale watching them from across the set. It was clear from the look on Vale’s face he knew precisely what they’d just done, but his gaze was strangely blank, giving nothing away. Rime held Vale’s gaze for a several moments, wondering at that expression, what it hid from him. Then Malachite shifted against him, sending another wave of hypersensitive bliss through his body, and he buried his face in the crook of Malachite’s neck and shoulder.
“Rime,” Malachite whimpered. He wanted Rime to know it was him he loved without fail… without end. Rime was his bondmate. On weak legs, Malachite turned in Rime’s embrace, bringing Rime’s seed-slicked hand up to his mouth. Gray eyes full of smoldering secrets kept hold of the icy gaze as his tongue snaked out. Gradually, Malachite cleaned Rime’s hand of every drop of his come while his other hand cupped Rime’s damp, tacky trousers. “You, lover, are wickedness personified,” he panted, licking the last of his own seed from his lips.
Rime hissed as his groin was touched. The friction of his clammy leggings sent small sparks up his spine to join the heat filling him as he watched Malachite tend to his hand. “Gods, I love you, Mal,” he breathed before bringing their lips together in a slow, deep kiss. His hands wove through thick waves of hair, every note within him singing his devotion to Malachite.
Malachite slid his tongue against Rime’s, and his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He murmured into Rime’s mind, I want to go home. I want to fuck you until you can’t sit for the rest of the week without remembering vividly how much I love you.
A throaty groan was lost in Malachite’s mouth, and Rime deepened their kiss further, his eagerness clear. “How can I deny you your desires?” he asked breathlessly the moment his lips were released. “Besides,” he added with a smirk, “it’s been too long since I’ve earned a severe reprimand from Briar.” Reaching down, Rime fastened Malachite’s jeans and fussed with his shirt until he looked presentable again. “Come on, let’s go.”
Malachite held back, a slight frown on his face. “What about you?” he asked, nodding to Rime’s current state of partial, messed dress, along with the distinct spot coloring the groin of his trousers.
“Leave it,” Rime said with a smirk. “I’m shameless, remember?”
Another quick kiss, some good-natured laughter, and Malachite led Rime from the set, completely unaware of Vale’s intent eyes on him.