Gay Dark Fantasy Romance
Date Published: January 31, 2025
It takes a guardsman with the heart of a lion to love the hunt master and
survive the wrath of the duke.
A chance encounter lands young Curran a coveted position as Duke
Luthias’s personal guard, but his seeming good fortune soon sours as
the evil and deception woven into the castle walls takes its toll.
Tanis, the lover the duke makes Curran surrender as part of his oath of
loyalty, is the only man he can trust to help him stop the duke’s
ill-fated campaign to punish the northern marauders. But Tanis has secrets
of his own, and as much as he loves Curran, they could lose much more than
their lives if he gets involved now.
When the raiders retaliate for the duke’s acts of war by laying siege
to his castle, all three men are forced to take refuge within the fortified
walls. Who lives and who dies will depend on one man having the heart of a
lion.
EXCERPT
England 1446
The Foot of the Chevoit Hills
“This was a fine idea,” Curran Aurick announced to the world at
large. He arched his back until the rest of his naked body floated to the
surface of the steamy water. The natural hot spring formed a bathtub big
enough for ten large men, but this night Curran had it all to himself. Of
course, if one of the castle functionaries ever caught him here, his good
fortune would take a sharp turn for the worse.
“A member of the guard must not befoul the healing waters into which
His Grace’s lily-white bottom descends,” he mocked in the nasal
tone of the keep’s chatelaine. Like Luthias’ arse shat
daisies.
Not that he had any personal knowledge of the arse belonging to Luthias,
the Fourth Duke of Otterburn. Yet. Duke Luthias hadn’t been home since
Curran took the post of guardsman. That in no way diminished the respect and
love which blossomed in Curran’s heart as he listened to the epic
tales spun about His Grace’s battle prowess, kind heart, and lusty
cock.
The great nobleman had beaten back the northern marauders time and time
again. His campaigns on the border separating his beautiful duchy from the
Scottish rocks prevented the butchering heathens from spilling stout English
blood throughout the peaceful countryside.
As his large family lived in one of the duke’s protected villages, it
was a cause Curran wholeheartedly supported. It was also one of the biggest
reasons he’d left home. Curran planned to spend his life chasing
adventure so his younger siblings back home never needed to run in fear from
the barbarians. What better way to accomplish that than by joining the
duke’s army and learning the art of making war from the man who did it
best?
Unfortunately, as a member of the duke’s home guard, Curran had no
opportunity to take an active role in the duchy’s defense. The only
time he’d had to draw his weapon was to fend off a playful attack by a
quartet of maids.
Thank you, ladies, but no thank you. It took something stouter than a
virgin’s plump breasts to make his cock sit up and take notice. Given
the dearth of male lovers in the area, every so often Curran became tempted
to take a bite of the sweet meat the ladies offered him. The notion never
lasted long, for he need only look at their powdered and perfumed bodies to
have his manhood bow down in defeat.
No, his body and soul belonged to men with a warrior’s heart. The
heart of a lion. Rare men like Luthias.
True, the duke was aging, but far from infirm if the stories told about him
contained a grain of truth. His corded thighs were laced with battle scars.
His hands were calloused from a strong grip on the hilt of his sword. No
doubt the man’s cock would stand as tall and proud as the duke
himself.
Curran longed to know what would please so great and worthy a man in the
privacy of his bedchamber. Yet, bedding the duke was a dream destined to
remain unfulfilled. His first three wives were fragile creatures, dying in
childbirth or soon thereafter according to common servant gossip. The fact
that he kept replacing those he’d lost even after procuring a male
heir spoke to his preference for feminine charms.
Did the duke require his wife to pleasure him with her mouth first? Or was
it her warm, wet channel that His Grace preferred? Would there be anything
Curran could do to entice the man to sample what pleasures could be found in
the arms -- and snug arsehole -- of another man?
Curran let his thoughts linger on the arousing topic, generating an
internal heat equal to the temperature of the mineral-laden water
surrounding him. His engorged cock bobbed against his flat stomach as he
imagined being impaled by the duke’s cock. Soon his cock swelled with
the need for release, even if it had to come from his own hand.
Under the water, his feet sought solid ground upon which to rest. The
irregularly shaped wall of the pool provided an alcove which cupped his body
perfectly. His fist encompassed his cock, stroking the hard cock in a steady
rhythm. He didn’t have much room to widen his stance, but he did what
he could with his other hand to bring his balls equal pleasure.
“More, faster,” he moaned encouragingly to the duke of his
erotic dreams.
His imaginary lover complied, taking care to rub a thumb over the head of
his cock on the upstroke, just as Curran preferred.
Sharp edges of the natural formation had been chipped away to provide a
surface that might abrade but not slice through tender flesh. Curran
relished the sensation of the rough texture against his skin as he flexed
his hips.
In and out, his cock thrust through his tight fist. No, not his, the
duke’s. And what was it Luthias was saying? Oh, yes. That Curran was a
brave and honorable man. A man who pleased the duke in so many
ways…
“Yes, yes. Take me fully into your mouth, sire,” Curran said
aloud. It was the last coherent phrase he could utter, for the power of his
release overtook his muscles and he cried out to the full moon in one long,
shuddering breath.
And in the brief silence that followed, Curran heard a shrill, avian cry
that chilled him to the bone.
About the Author
Kira Stone has been around the block…the writer’s block, that
is.
From vamps and witches to historical heroes, from futuristic scientists to
paranormal corporate executives, from Canadian werewolves to off-world
shifters, Kira has written about them all. Manlove has sparked hot and heavy
in many of her plots, but Kira also finds a lucky lady to keep the sexy
heroes company from time to time. While Scotland remains her favorite place
in the world, Kira is constantly in search of new adventures to add to the
creative primordial ooze where her best stories are born.
Author Links
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Author’s Website
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@changelingpress
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