CHAPTER 2 

- A Night out -

Jaromir looked around and then pressed himself to a pillar, his dark grey clothing hiding him from the gaze of the bored guard. He stood there, waiting for his breath to calm. After climbing up the outwall at an almost unused part of the huge castle it was a jump and hide to evade patrols and watchmen and then he had looked around in the castle to find a way to the treasure room. That wasn't the best plan, the dark Ylvas had to admit, but there was no way he could get a layout of the castle and he lacked the money and connections to get information from the castle personnel. So he hoped that this castle wasn't that different from the castles he knew and that the treasure room was somewhere in the middle and in the basement.

After another hour he found corridor that looked promising. It was better lit and there were more patrols plus two guards standing in front of a big oak-wood door that was enhanced with steel strutting. Now he needed a plan and he needed it quick.

Syran had been slightly shaken by what had happened with Kolli. Obviously his half uncle had lost it for good! However, luck had been on his side and it had only been because of that dark eared idiot that he had been taken off guard like that. So he didn't tell his parents; his mother would just overreact and send guards with him 24/7 and it was not Syran's idea of fun. Plus he could take care of himself! He wasn’t a child anymore.

That night the white eared prince didn't sleep well, so he decided to dress and sneak out of his room. Maybe jewels would make him feel better? He loved everything shiny, pretty and expensive after all.

Jaromir had taken a blowpipe with him but he had to aim very, very good to hit an unprotected patch of skin of the guards at the door. Jaromir counted his heartbeats between the next two patrols, thinking. Well, sometimes the direct way was the best!

When the next patrol was out of ear shot, he just walked out from his hiding spot, going to the guards who eyed him warily but not too alarmed since he didn't have any weapons on him - well, no visible ones at least.

"Hey buddies," he beamed at the guards. "I got kinda lost. I was looking for the lavatory to get some bedcovers for the servants and me. We are attendant of the ambassador that arrived today and yeah, we arrived a few days early. Good weather, good horses, you know?"

 "Erm..." the guards looked at each other and Jaromir used that short moment of diversion to make a quick step and then his hands shot out and he skilfully pressed two small arrows with poisoned needles as arrowheads into the men's pulse and after only two heartbeats the guards went to the floor with only a small moan.

Syran strode along the corridors, humming to himself. He smiled at the guards that he passed by and if they were handsome his smile grew a bit more flirtatious. Syran loved the attention he got from the young guards. When he was going down the stairs one of their oldest, most trusted male servants walked by and gave him a stern look.

“You should be in bed, prince Syran,” he said. “I know your parents wouldn’t like you walking around at this late hour… Especially when your father has a meeting with…”

The young Ylvas glared at the man, interrupting him. “I am free to do as I please in my castle! I am inside after all, there should be no problem.”

“Of course you highness, but I know that the king has requested you to…”

“Requested not demanded… I am not a child anymore and you have no authority over me!” Syran huffed and without another word continued his way, causing the tired servant to sigh and shake his head. The prince was young, an only child and spoiled in many ways. He wasn’t a cruel boy by any means but just a very stubborn teenager who should learn to be more careful.

Jaromir didn't care about removing the motionless bodies; the missing guards would be an obvious sign that something was wrong to any by-passer. The lock was ridiculous easy to overcome and he opened the heavy wing of the door which he left ajar and entered the room, which obviously was the treasure room with all the jewellery around.

When Syran entered the basement where the treasure room was he was surprised to see the two guards down and instantly got wary. Someone had broken in! The wise thing to do would have been to call other guards, but Syran being Syran... he believed he could take care of this situation on his own. The small reached to take the sword from one of the unconscious men, before carefully sneaking closer to the door that had been left slightly open. He would show this no good burglar and prove to his parents how well he could handle things on his own!

Looking around Jaromir realized how bad his planning was. He had no idea how the crown jewels looked like! He was hoping they would stand out the most but there were like ten different kinds of jewellery placed on podiums... Flashy ones, old and rusty looking ones, plain ones... And those Norther Ylvas were a weird kind, so who knows what actually was the crown jewels. The blue-black haired man looked from one to another, sighing. His master would scold him and let him climb up the city's tower without rope a whole day if she would know this. Suddenly Jaromir's ears perked up – he had heard some clanking sound and with a fast motion he stepped behind the door, close to the wall.

Syran held the blade before him, listening carefully as he as quietly as possible pushed the door open only slightly more to get in. He looked around, eyes narrowed, then he sensed the strange scent, strange and familiar at the same time and he tightened his hold on the blade slightly nervous. He turned then and growled at the sight. "You!"

Jaromir blinked, a thin steel sling in his hands, talons extended. He had thought that more guards were coming but then it was this brat. "Isn't it past your bedtime? Or were you on your way to put on some flashy collar to go and booze in a drinking hole again?"

Syran was furious; he hated that guy! He was still bitter over that tail incident. "I wouldn't try to be smart here, if I were you. You're in big trouble, you idiot! A filthy thief!" He spat, pointing the blade towards the guy. "Don't even dare to move a muscle!"

'Think Jaro, think!' The tall Ylvas racked his brains. Well, as long as the guy kept talking he wouldn't attack. "And what are you going to do? Throw me in prison? And how would you explain it to the guards that you are here in the treasure room?"

"I have the right to be here!" Syran snapped. "I live here!" He said though he knew how much his parents didn't like his nightly exploring trips. But he dismissed this thought soon and then grinned, relishing the feeling of power he thought he had over the other. "You should beg!" He decided.

"Beg?" Jaromir narrowed his eyes. "And you should say thank you, brat. Or didn't your parents teach you some manners?"

"Why in the world would I ever say 'thank you' to a low life like you?" Syran asked astounded by the nerve of this idiot.

"I don't know." Jaromir's eyes darted back and forth to see if there was an opening. "I remember three armed guys that were threatening you after I defeated you in the tussle you wanted. I saved your life – or at least your freedom."

Syran was surprised. Suddenly he found himself trembling slightly. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment he couldn't tell but wanted to believe the first option. "It was your fault they surprised me..." He said a bit tightly.

"You're unbelievable..." Jaromir didn't know whether to laugh or to beat some sense into the white eared Ylvas. "So it was my fault that guy threatened to kidnap you?"

Syran's lips tightened and he was quiet for a moment. "You hurt my tail..." It sounded more lame than he meant it to – he sounded like a hurt child and wanted to beat himself for it. He narrowed his eyes. “You played unfair and, and... Left me there and they surprised me." He nodded, not ready to accept that Jaromir had been the one to save him by doing what he had. Though deep inside he knew it and that made him hesitate.

"I taught you a lesson. Most strangers won't fight fair, following some weird codex. I didn't slit your throat and I helped you out, whether you believe it or not!" Jaromir smiled brightly. "So, before the next patrol comes, how about you let me go?" Taking a small step forward, holding his hands up, green eyes bored into turquoise. "And perhaps you would be so nice to point out the crown jewels. I am sure the sovereign won't miss it," he added with a wink.

Syran glared at him. "Idiot," he hissed, slightly distracted by those intense green orbs. "Like hell you get any jewels! Now leave before I scream!" He suddenly pointed at the door wondering if he had lost his mind with letting the idiot go when he could get him arrested.

Jaromir licked his lips, thinking for just a moment before he walked to the door, not turning his back to the smaller man. "Well, thank you, I guess." Stepping through the door he stuck his head back in for a short moment. "That, by the way, are manners. To thank someone who helped you." Grinning he winked and then vanished, calling: "Bye cutie!"

Syran stared at the door blinking; that guy had some nerve! Unbelievable! And then he kept standing there like some idiot – 'Bye cutie'? The nerve! Though... it wasn't that bad... He shook his head – what was wrong with him? He pondered, staring at the sword still in his hand and wondered what to do with the situation and with the two passed out guards?! Well, he would make up a lie  that was partly true! He had caught the burglar red handed, fought with him and won! And the slime, realising Syran's amazing powers, had ran with tail between his legs! Syran smiled; everyone would be so amazed by him!

Jaromir was lost. He hated to admit it, but he was lost. Completely and utterly. Orientation in buildings just wasn't his strong point. He knew where to possibly find a treasure room and the prison (to avoid getting there or to help a comrade out) but escape routes just didn't stick in his memory. The tall man found the main entrance but of course he couldn't just walk out there. There was some ruckus a few minutes after he left the blond haired brat so the doors that led to the parapet walk were guarded and most rooms he sneaked in had massive window gratings. The more he sneaked around the more he lost his orientation and now he even wasn't exactly sure if he was on the second or third floor.

Syran had alerted other guards to explain what had happened and the two unconscious men were taken to the medic. Syran felt quite sure that they would be fine. The thief might have been an idiot but he doubted that he would have fatally harmed two innocent men. Feeling slightly sleepy he decided to head back to his room. He could relish in his wonderful story tomorrow and take the full credit for his bravery. While the blond walked he wondered where the dark eared idiot was staying and just who he was? Syran wanted to find out – after all it was unfair that the other Ylvas knew who he was and he knew nothing of him! So annoying!

Jaromir gritted his teeth. This was ridiculous. He had talked and charmed his way out of getting caught and now he was here running around aimlessly in that god damn castle. He could get caught any second by a guard and he hated prisons from the bottom of his heart. Silently the tall Ylvas opened another door and his mind lit up. That one had coloured glass windows, something that was rare. Silently praying Jaromir entered the room. Yes, the windows could be opened and there were no window gratings. The black tailed man knotted sheets together, the material silky and fluffy, good to keep one warm. Tying one end to the bed post of a massive bed he started to climb out of the window.

Syran frowned when he entered his room; his sheets! And they were...Oh hell no! That idiot! Feeling pissed off Syran rushed to the window. "You again! What the hell do you think you're doing, you idiot?" He asked reaching out to take a hold of the guy to stop him from escaping like this.

Jaromir blinked. No, not again... Well, it could have been worse. He evaded the hand that grabbed for him, sliding down a bit more. "Okay, could you please leave the room for like one minute? I will be away then," Jaromir smiled up.

Syran narrowed his eyes. "You're ruining my sheets," he pointed out. "Just who are you anyway?" He asked, climbing on the window sill and looking down.

"Erm, I am sure you will get new sheets." Following a sudden impulse and his intuition Jaromir extended a hand. "What about you follow me and we have a drink? I pay as a thank you and sorry for pulling your tail. I will even protect you from thieves." The tall man said wiggling his eye brows in good humour.

Syran was silent for awhile. He was curious and suddenly not so tired. "Alright," he replied, surprising himself. "Just don't piss me off," he warned. "And I can protect myself," he decided before carefully sliding out to follow the other.

When they both reached the ground Jaromir tugged at the sheets in a complicated sequence of pulls and the silky fabric fell down and the dark-haired Ylvas hid them in the bushes. Then he eyed his companion – bright red and white were the dominant colours on his clothing. "You don't look like a drinker. Not even like a normal townsman... Follow me, boy."

Syran frowned at the word that the darker Ylvas had used. 'Boy!' "If you're going to talk to me, you have to use my name, thief. And my name is Syran." He nodded firmly following nonetheless.

"Okay, cutie. Syran it is." Jaromir smirked, looking down the road. There was a fitting shop. "Okay,  stand here in the doorway and try to keep in the shadows!" After gently pushing the white eared Ylvas in the doorway Jaromir climbed swiftly on the roof.

Syran watched the other, secretly admiring his skilful movements. He wanted to be able to move so smoothly like that! The blond felt slightly annoyed when realising that this was something that this strange dark eared idiot was better at than him. He still didn't know his name and the taller one was calling him cutie for the second time! Syran almost huffed at this, though if he was honest he really didn't mind it as much as he should have.

It didn't take more than some moments and Jaromir returned with normal town folks' clothing. A dark green, simple linen trousers and a grey button up shirt together with a simple black leather hat. Offering the clothes to Syran he smiled: "Okay, noble clothes off and this on. I take the other clothes and hide them, till we return later. We don't want you to be found out by some guard on day release." Green eyes focused on the smaller man.

Syran took the clothes looking at them. "I suppose they have to do," he sighed and looked around, "Where am I supposed to change?" He frowned.

There was a small grin growing on Jaromir's face. "I shield you from curious eyes from the street."

Syran huffed – changing outside! That was... well... he should just deal with this he thought to himself. "Well turn around then," he ordered a bit sourly.

"Aww, but that spoils the fun. I mean, you don't have something I haven't seen... Or is there something you hide... Out of embarrassment?" Jaromir teased before he laughed softly and turned, grinning to himself.

"I assure you I have nothing to be embarrassed of!" Syran snapped and turned his back against the taller man's. "Uneducated moron..." He muttered to himself, starting to take his shirt off, looking at the simple clothing given. He didn't like them. They were so... plain... Syran sighed. And it was cold! He shivered fighting to get the shirt on... ‘Stupid clothing.’

"I'd like to check that for myself," Jaromir muttered under his breath. After a few moments he turned and saw the smaller, white eared guy struggling with the shirt. "Come on, shall I help you?"

Syran had somehow managed to tangle himself with the shirt and huffed. "Stupid shirt!" He muttered a little embarrassed, though he wouldn't admit it. "I can manage," he tried to assure the other, finally managing to get the shirt somehow right. Then it was the pants turn.

While Syran struggled with the shirt he didn't seem to realize that Jaromir had already turned and saw glimpses of a naked torso – and the brunet liked what he saw. But then the smaller guy lowered his pants, still oblivious to the fact that he gave Jaromir a show. 'Jackpot!' Jaromir cheered mentally, following the dropping pants with his eyes, a bit disappointed that underwear blocked his view to the mounds that were clearly visible against silvery silk. It still was a great view, the white tail slowly swishing, pushing the underwear down a little where it connected to the spine, giving a small view on the beginning of Syran's cleft. Jaromir's mouth watered when he watched surprisingly strong thighs, white, unmarred skin slightly illuminated by the moonlight. He felt a pull of arousal in his groin when mental images of those thighs wrapped around his waist flashed through his mind. Jaromir blinked when the enticing view was blocked by dark green pants and he regretted it for a moment, before lifting his gaze back to a more modest level.

Syran sighed. Finally! He brushed his clothing after folding his own ones neatly and turned to the other. "Hey! You were looking..." He narrowed his eyes at him. "Weren't you?"

Trying to keep a straight face Jaromir answered: "Nah, I just turned a moment ago. Too bad, I think I would have liked the view." Holding out his hands he added: "Give me your clothes."

Syran still eyed him suspiciously, before slightly reluctantly handed his clothes to him. "Just don't try to trick me," he warned not sure if he should trust the dark eared man.

"Why would I?" Jaromir winked. "Oh, by the way... Sexy... tail..." he smiled and then climbed up to the roof again.

Again Syran huffed watching the other. That perv! He thought while his tail moved up, curling against his side, his hand automatically reaching to smooth the silky fur. Before the man was back he let go of it. Syran hated to admit it but deep down he was getting more and more curious about the darker Ylvas and it would be good to know more about him so... it was perfectly reasonable!

Climbing down and then dusting off his clothes Jaromir grinned at the other man. Was there a small blush dusking the pale cheeks or was it wishful thinking? Anyway... "Okay, lets go, have a drink or two. I know a small tavern close by that offers good beer and some privacy.” With that he turned and started walking, calling over his shoulder: "You're coming?"

Syran quickly followed the other man. "You didn't tell me your name yet." He reminded, walking beside the taller man now and studying him carefully.

"That is important to you, huh?" There was a small smile playing around Jaromir's lips. "But okay, you can call me Jaromir." They rounded a corner and saw the warm light of a tavern illuminating the otherwise dark street. "Here we are. Come on, it's warm inside."

Syran repeated the name silently; Jaromir. Yes it had a pleasant ring to it he decided and studied the tavern ahead. He remembered the foaming drink and licked his lips; it had been somewhat tasty after all. And this place seemed more inviting than the one from the previous night so perhaps even the foaming drink would be better? They stepped inside, the light warm and yellow, pleasant smell of pine mixing with the scent of food and Syran studied the other Ylvas people inside, the simple decor and atmosphere, the laughter. This place seemed more relaxed as well compared to the previous. "It seems... cute." He decided, in lack of a better word.

Jaromir blinked. "Cute?" Well, perhaps cosy in the Norther style, but cute? Anyway, he led Syran to a somewhat separated corner, taking a seat and waving at the waitress. "Two beers, beauty!" He then turned to the white-tailed man. "You like beer?"

"The foaming drink?" Syran's ears perked up a little. "Yes," he replied casually, frowning when he saw a smudge on the table. 'They should clean better,' he thought to himself.

"Foaming drink?" Jaromir chuckled. "How old are you, boy?”

Syran looked up. "I'm old enough." He nodded, "Approaching my 18th winter" He decided to answer. There would a big party coming which he looked very much forward to. "And how old are you?" He eyed the other in a calculating way.

The beer arrived and Jaromir took a long sip before he ruffled the other's hair - which seemed to annoy the blond but entertained Jaromir quite a lot - and then replied: "I've seen a few more summers. How comes you don't know beer?" He pointed at the mug filled with the foaming liquid.

Syran hissed quietly at him for messing his hair, his perfect hair. "Don't do that." He frowned smoothing it back. He then touched the foam with his index finger and shrugged. "My parents drink wine," he answered. "We don't have this," he explained and brought his finger in his mouth without thinking. Then remembering it was not something that an Ylvas in his status should do, he quickly withdrew his finger cleared his throat and took a proper small sip of the drink. "Where do you come from?" He asked with curiosity.

"A bit from the South, you won't know it." Jaromir waved the question aside. "So... What are you, Syran? Obviously royal since people want to kidnap you. And looking at your well-groomed fur and flashy and expensive clothing you must be someone important."

Syran felt little sour thinking of Kolli, his stupid half uncle, but soon pushed the thoughts aside, looking at the other. "I am important," he smirked. "My father is the ruler of this region and one day it will be mine."

The black-haired Ylvas took in a sharp breath. So this guy didn't lie the day before when he said he was the prince. Destiny was being good to Jaromir and he should thank the Gods the next time he entered a temple - and perhaps he wouldn't steal an altar gem this time. Then the taller man smiled and lifted his mug. "So I am drinking with a real prince here! I am honoured, your majesty! Cheers!"

Syran smiled. Yes the thief should feel honoured; not many would get such a rare chance. "So now you remember your manners I hope," he said with a small grin, again tasting his drink.

"Well my prince, I didn't know. But can I still call you Syran, to not raise suspicion?" Jaromir smiled and gave the waitress a sign to bring another round.

Syran had forgotten the possible danger of being recognized by someone wrong, and shrugged. "Well, this is such an odd place for me, people might think I look familiar, but in these clothes..." Syran grinned. "...I think they won't put two and two together," he replied with confidence. "And as long as you keep discreet, Jaromir from the South."

"Jaromir will suffice, Syran." Talking shortly to the waitress he then turned back to the prince. "So, you never tasted beer before last night?"

"No," Syran confessed. "So tell me about South? How are things there? Why do you steal and why are you here?" The white eared man drowned the other with questions.

Jaromir laughed. "Well, well... That are a lot of questions." He took the third round from the waitress together with two smaller cups, placing one in front of Syran. "But before I will tell you a bit about the South, let’s wet our throats. I guess you never tasted this liquid? It's called Korn."

"Korn?" Syran repeated, looking at the small cup with curiosity. "No I haven't. What is it?" He asked while his hand already reached for it.

"It is traditional liquor made out of grain, a bit hot in its taste. A traditional drink for the farmers of your country. You should know what your future subjects drink, shouldn't you?"

"Hmm... yes," Syran decided, welcoming the good excuse to try this new acquaintance. He closed his fingers around the small cup raised it and smiled. "So... cheers?" He tried before bringing the cup to his lips and pouring it down with one shift motion. It made him cough, his lips tingled and his throat felt hot, almost burning. Syran brought his hand to touch his neck. "Oh my..." he uttered blinking.”It's like fire... in your throat." He wondered loudly. "Strange..." The blond felt his cheeks getting hot as well.

Jaromir laughed softly but without malicious joy. "Well, they wash it down with a long sip of beer. And the second one is better than the first." He waved to the waitress and she brought a second helping of Korn and another round of beer. Jaromir lifted the cup. "Cheers!" Looking at the white-eared prince, whose cheeks were getting redder and redder, Jaromir inconspicuously tilted the strong booze away to the floor.

After the second Korn thingy and more beer; Syran found himself snickering; his head was spinning slightly and it was new quite confusing experience to him. He cleared his throat, tried to compose himself and act normally which was getting kind of... difficult, but it was also kind of funny. "I feel like being in a bubble." He snickered after awhile resting his elbows against the table, gazing at the dark eared Ylvas, wondering if he felt similar.

"But it's fun, isn't it?" Jaromir brought his lips close to a white, furry ear, whispering against it. "My prince?" Seeing the flushed face Jaromir decided for a third round of Korn and another helping of beer before getting to the next step of his plan. After all, if this boy passed out it wouldn't be of any help. "In the South we have bubble baths –  they are fun," he added randomly, pushing the next cup into Syran's palm.

"Bubble bath..." Syran sighed dreamily, licking his lips and looking at the drink. "Bubbles are funny..." he concluded. "Bubbles..." he repeated and snickered deciding that the word was also funny. "It all makes sense now," he said then, perking up slightly before drinking down the third shot. "You know? This stuff makes them happy! Happy people with Korn drink are... happy people," he repeated. ”They should keep the Korn drink!" He decided and reached for the beer. "Do you like bubbles?" He grinned at Jaromir, taking a mental note that the other was looking kind of sexy in that light. Or perhaps he looked sexy in any other light, too? Quite possible.

"I liked them a lot when I was little... Later on, I didn't have much time for bubbles..." For a moment a stern look was appearing on the dark-haired man. "But yeah, Korn makes people funny," he smiled at the quite tipsy - well perhaps a bit more than that - white-tailed Ylvas. "But Syran, we should stop after that beer."

"You think?" Syran pouted slightly, looking at the glass and took a sip while his tail moved under the table to tickle the others leg slightly. Holding his glass up he grinned playfully, watching Jaromir.

A soft shudder ran over Jaromir's leg, and his gaze misted a bit. He had to be careful. He had only two beers, but that young man was quite a hottie and when being tipsy the smaller guy was funny and not so snotty and bratty. Gulping Jaromir smiled at the Norther prince. "Well, yeah... You have your duties after all, right Syran? But we can repeat that, if you want." The dark male flicked his tail tip teasing against the white, furry appendage that tickled his leg.

Syran snickered, lowering his glass and nudging his tail against the other. "Yeah... duties... but sometimes playing is fun, too..." He grinned. "Don't you think?"

Jaromir licked his lips. That guy was tempting him and he had problems holding back. "Well, certainly it is fun from time to time... Especially with such a sexy play partner like you are..." Running his tail tip up the other's tail till it reached the point where it vanished in the trousers, Jaromir signed for the waitress to bring the bill.

Syran purred slightly, suddenly feeling very needy of more contact. Touches, he wanted to be touched. His own tail circled along Jaromir’s thigh now. It felt difficult to think straight at that point, though distantly he realised that he wasn't acting like he normally would have, yet he found it impossible to really care about it enough to change his act.

Jaromir paid and then got up, helping Syran who was swaying quite a bit and leaned close to the taller man. Encircling the smaller man's waist he stabilized the other and left the tavern. "Lets get you your old clothes back, huh cutie?"

"Okay," Syran purred only happy of this contact. "It was fun, Mir," he decided to say. "Korn and all..." He slurred slightly, his tail randomly moving along the other man's body, doing a small exploration that made him snicker.

"Mir?" Jaromir lifted a brow. "I kinda like the sound of that..." Pressing the smaller man unconsciously closer he steered them towards the tailor. But if this little prince won't keep his tail to himself, the black-tailed man would have ravish him in the middle of the street and though there were almost no people out, the chance to get caught by some guards was too high. So Jaromir caught the white, furry appendage at the base with his hand and then stroked along it, applying gentle pressure.

Syran made a small purr like sound; he loved it when his tail was stroked like this and suddenly a mental image made him snicker. He wouldn't mind if his other tail received these caresses as well. He tried to clear his mind then – he should try and behave! Hold some amount of self dignity here! "I like your hands," he purred then; apparently his mouth got ahead of him.

Pressing the smaller man into the doorway Jaromir’s lips caught a white furry ear, purring with the silkiness and flicking his tongue against it. "Where is your dignity, my prince?" Breaking away Jaromir smirked teasing at the young man. "I get your clothes - you can undress if you are impatient..."

Jaromir's words woke the familiar annoyed feeling back. "Shut up..." He muttered and took a hold of his own tail, patting it like it had been hurt by the other.

Chuckling Jaromir stepped back and started to climb up to the tailor shop's roof, returning with the prince's clothing a few moments later. "Lets get you out of those ugly clothing and dress you in yours." Stepping closer and starting to unbutton the tipsy man shirt. Jaromir couldn't help but feel the soft skin and chiselled muscles every now and then.

Though still slightly annoyed Syran was also still affected by the alcohol and it made him allow the help with that damned shirt. He shivered from the sudden cold draft not liking it one bit, trying to reach his own clothing, still somewhat disoriented which made him pout. "It's cold!" He complained.

Draping the much fancier clothing over Syran's shoulders, Jaromir leaned down and kissed along the other's pulse and neck. "What kind of wonderful jewellery will be hanging from this beautiful neck when you become king, Syran?" He asked and then one hand popped open a trouser button.

This was distracting but Syran licked his lips again and couldn't help but purr slightly. "Silver.. Icy turquoise jewels..." He murmured.

"They will match your wonderful eyes perfectly," Jaromir purred against the other's throat and then kissed down while buttoning up the shirt, nuzzling the others quivering abs before he closed the last shirt button and pulled down the dark green trousers. Smiling at Syran's aroused state he couldn't help but gently nibble at the bulge that strained against silvery underwear.

Syran closed his eyes, his hips bucked slightly forward unable to control himself, he bit his lip. "Evil..." he muttered, somewhere in the back of his mind knowing he'd be embarrassed about this later.

Jaromir murmured against the fragrant erection under his breath so that Syran couldn't hear him: "You have no idea, little prince..." He helped the white-eared man to step out of his borrowed pants and then pulled the prince's trousers up, closing the buttons. Pressing against the lithe form he cupped one buttock with one hand, pushed back a strand of blond-white hair and peered into clouded, turquoise eyes. "Let’s get back to your room, my prince."

Syran breathed through half parted lips and could only nod as a reply. He was drunk and aroused, lacking any good judgement. There was only a tiny voice of reasoning left that tried to remind him of being cheated by this dark eared Ylvas before. However this voice was a quickly fading resource.

Supporting Syran's weight while they walked back to the castle Jaromir kept the small, teasing caresses of the other's tail, hip and sides, trying to keep any coherent thought out of the white-eared man's mind. When they neared the walls, he stopped to whisper to one ear. "We cannot climb up to your room so is there another way to get in and don't raise a ruckus? Your parents won't like it when you are out boozing in commoner’s taverns, right?"

Syran bit his lip and nodded. It must have been very late; it was so dark... He led the other to the back. "This is bad idea..." he muttered to himself on the way, "very bad..." He tried to reason to himself, stopping by the window through which one could get to the kitchens.

Jaromir furrowed his brows. He was too close to his goal! Stepping behind Syran he held the other close with one arm, back against chest. "What is so bad?" He asked with a purr, nipped at the other ear tip and slipped a hand into the trouser and underwear, cupping a hot arousal. "You want it and I am willing to give, Syran. We just need your bed." Running his index finger under the others foreskin he pressed against the tiny slit there.

Syran trembled, moaning, his legs felt weak, he leaned against the strong chest. This was so evil because it felt so good! 'Unfair...' he thought to himself finding it more and more difficult to keep himself from giving in.

"What's the problem, Syran? It's just about us, some fun and joy. I can make you feel good, my white-eared prince," Jaromir purred, his hand taking a lazy and slow pace on the throbbing dick that  pressed into his palm.

"This window... And then... there are... secret...hallways..." Syran panted, knowing it was bad to let that secret go, but at that stage his thoughts really weren't clear at all.

“Okay, sexy." Jaromir smiled against an ear. "You lead the way to your bed and then I will lead the way to heaven." Nuzzling the base of one cat ear the taller man ran a hand along Syran's furry, silky tail.

Shutting down any thought of reason Syran opened the window and slid in. He waited for the other, before sneaking towards one secret passageway; one that would lead to his room and was meant to secure his safety. If the castle was attacked, this was one way to escape. It was dark; usually Syran kept an oil lamp with him, but placing his hand on the cool stone they could follow the path he had learned by heart.

When they entered Syran's room, the smaller Ylvas lit an oil lamp while Jaromir closed the windows that were still open from their earlier escape. The moonshine filtered in through the glass and the taller man turned and gently shoved the prince on the bed. Kneeling in front of the bed he nuzzled a cloth-covered crotch, taking in the musky, arousing smell and ran his fingers under the shirt before unbuttoning it, pushing the disturbing fabric off of slender shoulders. The trousers followed suit and then Jaromir slid off his shirt, crawling on the bed, pressing his chest against Syran's, purring into the other man's snow-white ear: "Have you been together with another man, Syr?"

Syran loved the feel of the warm skin against his own, his ear flickered slightly from the deep sound of Jaromir's voice and he opened his eyes slightly. "No..." He breathed, licking playfully at the other cheek as his palms moved gently along the darker man's back. "Have you?" He asked with curiosity, though judging by those skilful touches he guessed that the answer had to be positive.

Chuckling warmly, Jaromir nuzzled his nose against the base of the furry ear. "A few... But it doesn't matter; it's you who matters now." With this he slid down, resting the side of his face against the others soft belly and pulled down the underwear. Syran's erection sprang free, resting short before Jaromir's mouth and he blew on the slightly twitching arousal before giving it a tentative lick.

Syran gasped and his hips bucked forward, impatient and needy. This was new and he definitely wanted more! His tail tapped on the sheets next to him, expressing his enjoyment, before moving to caress the man's face and neck; begging to have more.

Smiling satisfied with the reaction Jaromir secretly brought forward a small bottle with a sleeping poison and dripped only one drop on his index finger. This would let the already intoxicated man sleep in a few minutes but Jaromir wanted to at least give something to the blond before leaving. He pressed the finger against luscious lips, pushing them into the other's mouth while engulfing the engorged dick head with his mouth at the same time.

Syran started sucking on the finger by instinct, gasping around it when feeling Jaromir’s hot mouth around his organ; it felt so good and soft...

Retreating his finger Jaromir repositioned himself over the pulsing organ of his white-haired lover, circling the other's entrance with a prolonged talon teasing for a few second before pulling his claw in, pushing into the tight heat while descending on the dripping arousal. He sucked and licked while his finger searched for a moment and when Syran bucked up Jaromir knew he found what he was looking for. Massaging the spot he knew would rocket the smaller man through the roof in no time, Jaromir pushed down Syran's hips and then moved up and down the white, hot dick, relishing in the taste of male arousal. It only took a few moments and Syran was mewling and growling, hands on Jaromir’s head trying to push him further down while the dick in the taller man's mouth twitched, jerked and then filled it with semen, flooding the dark-tailed man's taste buds with a salty liquid, that held a flavour of snow and ice. A white tail wrapped around Jaromir's arm and the thief let the prince calm down, gently licking the softening dick. When he peered up, he looked into the peaceful, relaxed mien of the prince of the North. Moving up, Jaromir placed a gentle kiss on soft lips, smiling. "Sorry Syran. I wished we had met under different circumstances," he whispered to the sleeping Ylvas and was surprised by his own words because deep inside they struck a cord he couldn't quite understand.

Web published: Octoberr 28th, 2009.

My Secret Shore

© KOLGRIM and NIRKAL 2009

Persistence 03

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