Summer's Song


Summer's Song




by



Ann Marie Olson





Story 1999 Ann Marie Olson






     
     
      A dream of cool, green scented breezes called to Avilan's loneliness. Arkay had only left six months ago, but to Avilan it seemed like an eternity. Outsider and freak in the Azov sharm, Avilan stared at the far wall moodily. There were no patterns in the cool stone, but still he tried to impose them. Imagining clouds and trees, he pulled the light linen sheet over his head.
      It only made him feel suffocated. He threw the damned thing across the room. Sliding to his feet, the bare floor was slick and hard under his toes. There were many other slick and hard things Avilan would much rather be dealing with at the moment. His forearms burned at the thought.
      Saliva flooded Avilan's mouth and he had to swallow heavily. "Damn it all to hell. I'm the highest production sharm lord in Azov and I'm sitting in the sharm rubbing my own forearms." he muttered to himself. Clothes flew across the room as he looked for something inconspicuous. Avilan barely remembered the skinny little kid he had been when he had established, although his clothes' press did.
      The pale, off white tunic gaped across the front and only covered his chest, barely. With a few pops, ending in a long snarl, the side seams gave way completely. Taking it off only made the damage worse, as half the buttons, loosened by excessive tension fell off to clatter on the floor. "I think I might want to get rid of some of these." he looked at the tattered garment sadly. It had been one of his first projects when he had come to Azov.
      At home his parents had gently teased him for his love of fabric arts. When he had begged them to let him come to Azov, they had reluctantly let their youngest child make his own way in the world. Avilan had no idea why he had so badly wanted a life other than that of his parents, as one of the freeholders living in close association with the Demense, but he had. Particularly as, at the time, he had no idea he would become anything but another midrange lord, even though he had no feeling for when he would reach changeover.
      Avilan's establishment had surprised everyone, including himself. The old Lord Azov had even come to check for himself when everyone else had told him of it. With a chuckle over the memory, Avilan pulled out an oversized green tunic. The scratchy wool did nothing for his mood, but he certainly didn't feel like getting fancy at this hour of the morning. The stitching in the mantling hawk embroidered on the back was dreadfully uneven, but then the tunic did work to cover his body.
      Not bothering with a shirt at all, he stepped into a pair of loose pants and laced the tunic down. Avilan knew he looked decidedly disreputable, but then if anyone saw him, they would send him back to the sharm anyways. Sharm lords really shouldn't be let to run loose while high field was the common wisdom, but Avilan didn't particularly care at this point.
      Running his fingers through his collar length hair, he hoped no one would force an indirect transfer on him again. If nothing else he liked the way his hair looked now. A snarl tangled his finger and he worked it out as he slipped out of his room.
      Holding his boots in his hand, Avilan slid from shadow to shadow. He wrapped his field around him and held it as tightly as he could to his body. Even one insomniac lord and his cover was gone. And lords didn't tend to sleep much unless they had a really good transfer partner. Sliding up the back stairs, Avilan held his nager as a couple of lords crossed the corridor in front of him. They never even turned their heads.
      Practicing his stealth, he finally made it out of the lord's quarters above and into the courtyard. He slipped on his boots with no one being the wiser for his escape. Arkay would be proud of me. his lover was far better at those things which made a potential Sharm Lord, Which is probably why he is Sharm Lord Arkay Kirov now.
      The rich scent of animals warmed the air as he stepped into the stables. His favorite gelding nickered at him, nodding his golden head. Black tipped ears pointed straight at him as Donar begged for a treat. Avilan grabbed a bridle off the hook in the tack room and returned with it and a handful of sweet feed. "Greedy." he whispered, letting the animal eat his treat before bridling him. As Donar had a coat like polished silk and a knife sharp backbone, Avilan did not feel brave enough to ride without a saddle.
      Finally he managed to get the sidesaddle in place and himself mounted. Arkay had often called him silly for observing such propriety in his riding, but Avilan had no desire to risk parts of his anatomy which were so very precious to him the way Arkay did by riding astride.
      "Safe" he whispered as the two of them passed into the forest at the edge of the Azov estates. Or at least safe from busybody lords. sometimes it seriously annoyed Avilan the way so many lords seemed to want to take care of sharm lords. It was ridiculous. Anyone with any sense would realize sharm lords were of course superior to any but the most powerful Lords of Russia.
      The only breeze now was the air stirred up by their passing. Brilliant stars winked out one by one as the coming dawn began to light the sky. It almost seemed like they were brighter in summer to make up for how short the nights were. Avilan shifted uneasily in his saddle as the thought reminded him of the times he and Arkay had snuck out to play together in the warm green darkness.
      It wasn't as though he had any true physical desire, but when he was high field he really didn't like being alone. Avilan sighed and sniffed the air, enjoying the pure delights of the warm night. Silver began to streak across the sky from the east. "Lets go." he clucked to Donar, hoping to make it to a big clearing he knew of before the sun could escape the horizon.
      They burst out into the verdant clearing as the first rays of the summer sun struck them. The golden light flashed of his horse's golden coat with magnificent splendor. "I wonder if I could repeat than on a tunic." Avilan mused, resting his chin on his hand, leaning on the leaping head of his saddle. Donar, of course, could care less and was busy trying to eat the entire meadow, all at once.
      "I would like to see that." a strange tenor said from behind them. Avilan jumped, almost coming unseated. For some strange reason Donar hardly even flicked an ear.
      "Who?" he twisted in the saddle, as the gold bay could care less about anything other than breakfast and was not moving for anything short of the end of the world. Giving up, Avilan dismounted so he could see behind him.
      His first impression was one of instant lust. I want this sime! he felt his pulse race instantly. Rich chestnut hair framed a face of exquisite beauty. Stepping forward, Avilan's breathing stopped. No one could be this desirable. Pale green eyes, the color of new leaves looked up at him warily. He is his body responded. Need sang on his nerves and he felt his field reach out to the stranger. He wrapped the slender Sime in his nager and saw the Sime's eyes go black with desire. "Yes, pretty one." he moved even closer.
      Heat rose from the stranger's body, wrapping Avilan in the scent and feel of Sime in hard need. He licked his lips. Their eyes met and almost instantly hot, tentacles lashed around his arms. All resistance faded as the green eyed stranger's laterals slid into place. "Take me." he begged, pressing himself against the much smaller Sime.
      Selyn flared as the stranger began his draw. It was hesitant and slow. No! Avilan protested, not wanting yet another half-assed transfer. He pulled back, ripping at the emotional contact. The Sime snarled up at him from behind closed lips. With a crash, the stranger yanked at him with all his might. Bright hot energy, rivaling the newly risen sun poured out of him. It was better than anything Avilan had ever felt. Harder and faster he felt his own choking Selyn being pulled from him. He resisted and it went even hotter.
      Riding the growing tide, Avilan silently screamed out his ecstasy. Then it slowed. Too soon he protested and drove the final overwhelming ends of his own Selyn into the strange Sime. A sharp flash of pleasure on the edge of pain snapped the last resistance in him.
     
      The world went dull and dark as the Sime's laterals slid over his arms. Avilan could feel the slick wetness of them as they stroked the soft hairs above his wrists. With a moan, he licked at the stranger's lips. His own hips rocked into the Sime, desperate to ease the growing tension in his loins. "I want you," he slid his hands up the stranger's arms to pull him closer, "and I don't even know your name."
      "It's T'aszo." the Sime murmured, nibbling at Avilan's jaw. The almost bites made Avilan's breath catch. He could feel T'aszo's response, hard against Avilan's thigh.
      "I take it that's a yes." Avilan slid the man's clothes off.
      The only response was T'aszo removing Avilan's tunic.
     
      "Oh Gods, I can't let my father catch me like this." T'aszo scurried for his clothes. Avilan was completely taken on the curb.
      "What's wrong?" he tried to hold T'aszo. "We didn't do anything wrong."
      T'aszo snorted vehemently. "Nothing wrong, he says. You ascended me, that's what's wrong."
      "What?" Avilan pulled on his tunic. "What do you mean?"
      Hopping on one foot, T'aszo managed to get the rest of the way into his clothes. "I have to get out of here." he bolted, away from Azov.
      "Oh hell." Avilan swore, getting the laces on his tunic tangled. "I am not up for this." he ran for Donar, who now decided it might be fun to play tag, with himself as it. Finally he managed to get mounted again. Looking carefully over the gelding's shoulder, Avilan could see the footprints T'aszo had left on the forest path. "Simes" Avilan swore again, clucking to Donar to pick up the trot.
      Fortunately, T'aszo was not thinking too straight and managed to leave a trail even Avilan could follow. Through the heavy woods, the path wandered all over the countryside. Through heavy brush, over fallen logs, even, one time, through a cave. Which, fortunately, Avilan knew only had one exit. Finally they came to the Volga. It was heavy with spring run off. "I can swim and you two can't." T'aszo called out as he dove into the water.
      Donar leaped into the river, almost unseating Avilan again. Hurriedly, he pulled himself free of the saddle, and hung onto Donar's wispy black mane for dear life. "What got into you?" he asked the horse. Even before T'aszo could make it out of the water, he was resettled on Donar's back.
      Green eyes stared at him in absolute shock. "How did you do that?" he gasped, bolting for the city, not waiting for a reply. Soon Avilan knew where they were again, only minutes from the Azov town house. He tried to wring the worst of the water from his hair, for once thankful it wasn't down to his ankles like a Sharm Lord's.
      He stumbled as he tried to vault from Donar's back, almost falling to his knees on the cobblestones. It had been a long, long day of hunt and seek with T'aszo. He still had no idea why the young Sime was so dreadfully upset. The wool tunic had shrunk to his body like a second skin and his pants were not much better. There were people sweeping up footsteps as he burst into the foyer.
      They trailed off towards the throne room. He burst into the room, ignoring the fact both doors were open for formal court. T'aszo was kneeling at Lord Azov's feet, his hair tangled and brushing the Lord's soft boots. "Please, otyet" he looked up with one hand raised.
      "What did you do to my son?!" Lord Azov bellowed, bright green eyes flashing in anger.
      "I didn't know he was your son." Avilan tried to backpedal, only to be caught by the door guards. The renSimes crossed their spears against his back. He didn't even have the comfort of their hands on his arms.
      "Even if he weren't my son, you didn't have the right to rape him." he stroked T'aszo's downy soft hair. Avilan's hands itched at the remembered touch of the silken locks. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to reach out to T'aszo.
      "But he didn't rape me, otyet." T'aszo looked up at Avilan, blushing furiously.
      "I thought you said he Ascended you?" Lord Azov leaned back, with the faintest hint of a grin on his face. "Tell you what. If Sharm Lord Avilan doesn't have a transfer partner, then he'll become yours. If he does, well, then I think I will have to kill him for taking your innocence when he has a lover at home."
      "I was, upartnered." he smiled shyly at T'aszo. "If m'Lord desires me, I'll do my best for him."
      Avilan almost fell on his ass as T'aszo jumped into his arms. Hot, wet kisses trailed down the side of his neck. He moaned, turning to try to get T'aszo out of here before he got any more carried away. Although Avilan wasn't entirely sure who was more likely to get carried away. "You don't mind being stuck with a sharm lord?"
      "Didn't you hear otyet. He called you Sharm Lord Avilan." T'aszo slid his hand inside Avilan's tunic.
      "So he did." Avilan laughed delightedly. "Then you'll have me?"
      "Right here on the floor if you keep talking." T'aszo grinned wickedly.