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Chapter 8 — For What It’s Worth
The address Glauvas gave him led Cam to an older neighborhood with narrow alleys shadowed by window gardens that dripped greenery and orange flowers. Flowers could not mask the faint odor of sewage and rot from the stagnant canals he crossed on bridges of stairs. The non-descript building presented a plain face to the street, but the door was of solid wood with a small shuttered window. When Cam knocked, someone opened the shutter to look then let him in. A white-haired woman gestured him toward a staircase where a thick carpet muffled his ascent. At the top of the stairs was a single door, which he opened.
When he found Myron alone within he put his last fear to rest. The room’s austere accommodations, with a large bed and only one chair, brought to mind another room and Cam hesitated, not knowing what to do. Without a word, Myron laid a finger on Cam’s lips, tracing their shape until they parted. Still silent, the man began to undress him. When Cam stood naked with his discarded clothing piled at his feet, Myron retreated to the chair and sat back in it, studying him.
“You are every bit the beauty Glauvas claimed you would be.”
“Nice of him to pimp me out.”
“Don’t be angry with him. He’s being a friend. I hope you never have to chance the wharfside again.” Desire warmed that Staubaun voice. “Come here, beauty. I will spill myself just looking at you, so take it if you wish.”
Cam knelt between Myron’s knees. The carpet was soft and deep. As Cam waited for the man to open his trousers, he noticed ink stains upon the fingers. The cock that reared up, almost slapping him on the cheek, was long and elegant, the barrel slender and tapered. Wrapping his hand around the hot shaft, Cam gently slid back the foreskin and began softly laving the head with his tongue. The crown, with a wide eye and pronounced flare, was already slippery with arousal. Those drops of Staubaun essence drew him on, along with a clean, heady musk rising from the silver curls at the base. Myron’s right hand, bare of rings, moved to his head. Fingers combed his hair deliriously, then laced among the strands.
“Oh, beauty,” the man gasped, stiffening. “Oh, yes!”
Not yet ruled by the jitters, Cam took his time. He nibbled and licked along the shaft, wetting it entirely, flicking his tongue along the underside. Next he paid special service to the balls, licking lightly and swirling each orb with his tongue before moving back to the cock in his hand. Here, now, he was in command. The long, pale organ quivered with excitement under his fingers, wetting his lips with droplets of arousal. He guided the fully engorged head into his mouth, where he lapped it with strong, long strokes. Myron’s breathing, the lifting of the man’s hips, betrayed pleasure. When his tongue detected the swell of imminent release, Cam took the cock head deeper into his mouth, enveloping the head completely. He sucked hard and deep. A resonant growl erupted from Myron’s throat. The burst of semen that followed slid easily down Cam’s gulping throat, as did the next emission. He continued to suck the softening member until it was fully depleted, cleaning it and swallowing every trace of ejaculate before letting it fall from his mouth.
He looked up, pleased with himself, to see Myron sprawled in the chair, head back and breathing hard.
“Beautiful—and talented, too.” Myron wore a satisfied smile.
“I like cock,” Cam said. “Yours is perfect.” It was only the truth.
Myron rose, then drew him to his feet. The man looked sated but not yet ready to end their time together. Cam wondered if he owned the room, or rented it. He watched Myron strip off his garments, revealing a pale body soft from easy living but clean and reasonably fit for an older man. Like all Staubauns, he was hairless but for the head and groin.
Though of plain workmanship, the bed welcomed their bodies with a sumptuous luxury, the mattress firm beneath soft sheets. Cam lay on his side, calm and relaxed under Myron’s admiring hand as the man angled on one elbow above him, gazing warmly upon what his fingers caressed. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the simple pleasure of being stroked, enjoying another man’s hand tracing the hard muscles of his upper arm, skimming his waist, firmly owning the curve of one buttock. When the Staubaun lightly brushed a thumb across one tight nipple, Cam inhaled sharply, his body reflexively arching to beg more.
It was then that Myron leaned over and kissed him.
Cam opened his mouth, allowed the Staubaun to gently penetrate him with his tongue. He sucked on it, indulging pure sensuality. It had been months since he had felt anything but raw jitters and need. Now this man’s every touch ignited his flesh, awakened senses he had all but forgotten. Strangely, though his nipples tingled and his hard dick ached for release, he felt no desire for the man who aroused these things. He felt nothing for Myron other than a vague gratitude for giving him the semen to quench his jitters. All the rest, his body’s ardent illegal bahis response to sexual stimulation, sprang from roots Penargos and Ralen had nourished and twisted. He surrendered to the pleasure because it was pleasure, and because Myron was talented also.
“So, blue eyes,” his patron said in that calm, arrogant voice all Staubauns seemed to cultivate, “it’s not just the craving. You enjoy men.”
“Yes,” he whispered, gasping when Myron trailed his left hand down Cam’s belly to the dense curls around his dick, now throbbing so hard it wouldn’t take much more to make it spend.
“Have you any idea how beautiful you look, like this?”
Those Staubaun lips pressed to his collarbone and Cam quivered at the spice scent from Myron’s silver hair. Why did Staubaun men always do this to him? Damn them.
“Please,” he whispered. Myron’s fingers circling the base of his dick nearly owned him.
Myron didn’t cease his caresses. His hand moved to Cam’s thighs, his head lowered until his hot mouth covered one erect nipple. Nip led to nibble, creating currents of sensation that left Cam gasping. He pressed his mouth to Myron’s hair, then arched his body to give his nipple even more to that torture. Myron ceased tormenting that morsel and moved across his chest to tease the other.
“Oh, Goddess!” Cam swore. It had been so long. The men he sucked to kill his cravings never pleasured him in return, never gave back. Even the few he had allowed to fuck his ass had done so with as much consideration as they gave to pissing in a pot.
Myron shifted, moving over him, and Cam rolled onto his back beneath the older man. The bed creaked as the Staubaun parted his thighs and hooked his knees over solid arms that then pushed his legs up toward his chest. Thus positioned, Myron lowered his body and began rubbing his long cock in measured strokes against Cam’s engorged dick. The man knew what he was doing. Myron’s cock, half-hard to start, within just strokes attained full hardness, until it commanded Cam’s smaller dick with ease. Cam spent himself with embarrassing quickness, covering both their organs and bellies with sticky white cum. He gazed, stunned, full into the face of the intense, and still very erect, man looming over him.
“Will you let me inside you, beauty?”
Glutted with sex, Cam looked into the tender brown-eyed sternness of a man who was not truly asking a question, because he already was sure of the answer. A good ass-fucking held off the craving longer than a few sucks.
After reaching across him for something on the table, Myron took position between his legs, urging Cam’s legs upon his shoulders. Closing his eyes, Cam submitted to the necessary preparation. Maybe he would enjoy it, this time. He tensed at the touch of Myron’s finger, cool with some kind of ointment, to his asshole, but then relaxed when the finger, after rubbing and teasing for several long moments, pushed into him and circled gently. Whatever Myron was using was slippery, good stuff such as Ralen had once used.
Any other man in his ass always felt wrong, no matter how many times he did it. Like being cheapened. Cam turned his head away, eyes closed the better to imagine it was Ralen between his legs, teasing him open. Ralen . . . the only man in his life who had ever wanted not just sex, but him. Myron introduced a second finger, scissoring until his opening could accept a third. When Myron hooked a forefinger to brush the spot within that sent pulses of pleasure straight to his belly, Cam gasped. The fingers withdrew. Myron pushed forward then, spreading Cam’s legs, and pushing his long cock against the waiting orifice.
Cam hadn’t been ass-fucked in months, but his body was too well-trained, and his current state of stimulation too pronounced, for his anus to resist penetration. A tight sweet burn accompanied the fullness of having a cock in his ass, but there was little actual pain. Myron’s preparation had been expert and thorough. Cam locked his legs around the Staubaun, welcoming the long slender cock that left him feeling so well-filled and yet so completely open. It might not be Ralen’s cock, but it fucked him just as surely. He clenched his ass muscles, his own way of fucking back.
“Oh, beauty, your ass sucks cock even better than your mouth!” Myron plunged into him with deep, sure strokes, his voice thick with pleasure and lust.
Many thrusts later, the Staubaun’s cock released and semen flooded Cam’s hungry ass. The warm fullness gratified him even before he felt the calming effect of his body absorbing the seminal fluid that made him a damn fucking cum slave. He was fed now, safe for another week.
Myron rolled onto the bed and stretched alongside him, holding him almost like a lover. Perhaps the man envisioned himself as one. More likely he was simply decent. Cam welcomed the arm that pulled him near as they both sank into a post-coital slumber.
* * * *
The sound of Myron rising and dressing woke him. Cam blinked until his eyes focused. Judging by the lamps, there illegal bahis siteleri was still plenty of night left. The Staubaun stood at the bedside, smiling down at him. He placed a heavy purse beside Cam’s hand.
“Take this, beauty, for the pleasure you gave.”
Cam sat bolt upright at that. “You gave me what I needed, and I liked it, so we’re good. I won’t take your money.”
“Then I will leave it here.”
“And so will I.”
Myron sighed, but he retrieved his purse. “The room is paid through the night, so you may stay if you wish. Would you be interested in seeing me again?”
Cam nodded. The man gave as much pleasure as he got, which was a far cry from anything he might find on the docks. “Just don’t try to pay me.”
After adjusting his cloak and moving toward the door, Myron turned back. He had a pleasant face, for an older man. “Glauvas will be our intermediary. The room will be different each time. Just let him know when you get into town. If I cannot come for you, I have friends who would be available, if you would agree to that. We are respectable men, with interests our society has consigned to the streets. We dream of finding partners such as you.”
He weighed that. He’d known that Staubauns liked fucking Kheld boys, no secret in that, but never thought about how it might not be easy for some of that lot to find boys to fuck. Going to Fences or wandering the wharves was the usual way. But this was different. Myron was offering to arrange reliable sources, clean safe men he could suck in nice rooms.
“I’ll meet them,” he agreed. “And if I like them, I’ll pleasure them, just like I did you. But they better not try to pay me, either.”
A slight smile tugged at Myron’s lips as he left and closed the door behind him.
* * * *
In the morning, Cam left the house early. He was half afraid the old woman would ask him for money, but she just kept to her dusting and didn’t, so he went out the door. He dashed straight away to his boat, where one of Glauvas’ men gave him a brisk nod and sauntered off. The man never acted like he knew what Cam had been up to, though with any Kheld on the waterfront staying out all night that had to be the thought.
He was all the way to Rainill before he found the extra crate in a corner near his bunk. He opened it to find six more bottles of that fancy Teremar wine with the silver rings on the necks, all winking with green jewels. It would be just like a Staubaun weasel to set him up as a thief, but it seemed more likely Myron had found a way to pay him. Muttering the whole way, Cam kept to his schedule. He didn’t have so many customers he could afford to lose even one to a missed delivery. He kept every bottle save the one he’d paid for, which he sold to the Kheld chieftain for ten gold kings, making enough profit to pay for his whole trip. On his return to Dazunor-Rannuli a week later, he watched to see if any of the city guard lay in wait to clap him in chains, but none were to be seen, so he headed straight to Glauvas’ shop.
The wine merchant beamed at him.
“I’m giving back the wine,” Cam said, before Glauvas could get out a word.
“What wine? The juggers of Tollech are too young to have gone vinegar.”
“The Teremar wine. Six bottles, put on my boat while your man was watching it.”
“That was no wine of mine. I’ve still got six of my ten. Did my man mention a delivery?”
“I didn’t ask. Who delivers in the middle of the night?”
But they both knew the answer to that question. Glauvas lifted an eyebrow. Cam sighed and shook his head in disgust. The merchant clapped him on the shoulder.
“You might as well get used to it, lad. Your alternative is to forage on the docks after dark for your ease. The fact of this matter is wealthy men of any character at all are going to want to give you gifts. It alleviates their guilt at enjoying what has been done to your body.” He drew Cam over to a chair and bade him sit. “Here,” he said, breaking out a bottle already uncorked and poured two glasses. “This one’s new, from Merced. I hear the Ardaenan king serves it at his table.”
The wine was good, bright with lingering notes of apples. After drinking half a glass, Cam asked, “Why? Why are you helping me?”
Glauvas pondered the deep red liquid in his glass before raising his dark eyes. “Because you’re fighting it, not letting it destroy you. I’ve been watching you making your route, keeping your contracts, timing your visits. You’re determined and smart, and I like that in any man. Thought I could give a hand by hooking you up.” He added to Cam’s cup, then his. “It helps that you’re damn good-looking.”
“Myron’s not his real name, is it?”
Cam hadn’t ever really thought it was. He took a deep sip of the fruity Merced wine, then put down the glass. “Just tell him no more damn Teremar wine, right? I’m not sure I can sell it, and I would rather drink river water than something that costs a gold ram every sip!”
“If you want, I could buy that Teremar wine off you for four kings a bottle.”
“Not canlı bahis siteleri a chance. If I can sell it at all, I can get twice that downriver.”
Glauvas laughed and leaned over to pour more wine into his glass. “Shall I let him know you’re in town?”
* * * *
The next year demand for Kheld goods grew when the King’s Kheld-sired grandson, Stefan, became Prince of Dazunor and sat on the High Seat at Trulo. Stefan ordered his domain to open more avenues of commerce to Amallar, and Cam benefitted by his existing ties in the Staubaun towns along the river. His first boat, bought with Staubaun gold he had earned on his knees, soon earned him enough gold to buy another. He leased a bit of land in the Kheld river port of Tualla. The town was well-situated on the Amallar bank between Eldwash and the Trulo Bend. Over the next few months, he built a small warehouse with a long, sturdy pier and began storing his inventory there. The damn Teremar wine helped him buy a refurbished barge and he was well on his way to prosperity. He would never need to whore for Staubaun gold again.
He hid as best he could his forays into Staubaun towns in search of men to stave off his jitters. Thanks to Glauvas, he no longer needed to put himself at risk in Dazunor-Rannuli. The small group of men who sought his attention were respectful and discreet. He was attractive and clean, not bitter, and generous with his body—once he was familiar with a man and let down his guard, he truly enjoyed the acts he bestowed. Though often his liaisons sought to win his favor with gifts, and sometimes he would accept such, he extended no promises to them.
He met Myron every second week at a rented room on the waterfront. He still knew nothing about the man but that he would be there. The arrangement, which had worked for nearly a year, suited him well. He would arrive in the afternoon after traveling upriver from Rainill, order his goods and secure those he had ordered the week before, then after dark would make his way to the room. The next day, his need for Staubaun semen sated, he would return to his boat and resume his trade, sailing downriver to Rainill again and then on to Omadawn and Tualla.
* * * *
Dazunor-Rannuli’s palaces glowed like flame as the sun dipped through blood-red clouds the day Cam sailed in with a hold full of pungent Frendeli cheese. After unloading and making the delivery, he tied down the next leg’s cargo before sharing a cup of bran with his only help that trip, an older Kheld man of uneven wit and no family with whose distant kin he had formerly boarded. Soon after, he left the boat in the man’s care and sought the dusk-shadowed waterfront.
Though Khelds were forbidden to wear arms in Dazunor-Rannuli, Cam carried a dagger strapped to his side, well-concealed by his cloak. He had spilled Staubaun blood on a few occasions in the first rough year after his escape, though not since, due to the success of his cautions. He might be a cumbuck, but he lacked the desperate manner associated with that condition. He knew where his source would be found and, even if that man did not appear, another would be there who was just as Staubaun and just as safe. He could get what he needed on the docks if he had to. His looks had not dimmed, if the glances he still got meant anything. There were Staubauns enough who admired dark-haired young men with deep blue eyes that promised only pleasure.
Cam had just stepped into the narrow alley leading to the address Glauvas had given him, when he realized he was not alone. His hand fled to his dagger but was caught by a crushing grip just before something dark and loose—a sack—was thrown over his head. A hard arm circled his neck and pulled him off balance, a blade pressed to his ribs.
“You won’t need this, friend,” a Staubaun voice informed him as other hands, clearly from a second man, swiftly divested him of the weapon.
He had never heard a voice so murderously calm or felt hands more efficient. Fear such as he had not known in a year seized him. “What do you want?” He prayed against a dozen possibilities.
“You. Just you. Your services, your time if you agree. You will be well-compensated.”
“We know why you come here.” There were but two men, certainly Staubaun, though their speech had a cadence with which he was unfamiliar. The south, he thought.
“It sounds to me that you are looking for a whore,” he said, forcing calm into his voice, trying to buy time to think. “I’m not one.”
“We know. But you are what we are looking for.”
“Go to hell.”
He gasped as the second man pushed him against a wall and pressed the sword harder against his ribs, reminding him it was there.
“You don’t want to do that, cumbuck,” the Staubaun said in a low voice, his words continuing to be coldly impersonal, even with the insult. “All we have to do is take you in that room and wait long enough. We made sure your friend would be busy.” He adjusted a cloak over Cam’s shoulders, a cloak with a hood that would hide the sack covering his head. AWe know who he is, and that you don’t. We know who you are. Where you come from, how often, and why. It’s nothing to us. But you need to find a man tonight, and our Lord just wants a little of your time.”
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