As Trystan crossed the field, he fixed his watery gaze on his small cottage. Smoke bellowed from the chimney, barely visible against the darkening sky. He reached the house as the sun dipped below the horizon. Lifting the wrought iron latch, Trystan opened the door and stepped inside, leaving the darkness behind him.
***
Trystan moaned, arching his back a little, as lips trailed down the sensitive skin of his hip. A man knelt between his thighs, cupping his groin as he licked and kissed his way toward his cock. His warm, wet tongue swirled around the tip.
“So strong and handsome,” he muttered. “So perfect.”
His seemingly familiar green eyes glowed a little, but didn’t scare him. Trystan knew he was safe with this man. He loved this man.
With his hands, the man spread his legs further and buried his face in the crevice between his manhood and thigh, inhaling deeply. He licked the skin, drawing a shiver over Trystan’s body. Needy moans fell from Trystan’s lips. His cock twitched. Gods, he’d never known the primal desire to mate until now, but by the heavens, how he needed it. If this man didn’t take him soon, Trystan would go mad.
The man ran his tongue over the tip of his shaft. Trystan bucked his pelvis, whimpering. “Please.”
“Not yet, angel.”
His husky whisper sent waves of heat rippling through him. He licked his manhood again then sank his mouth over it. Trystan cried out, never having felt such pleasure before. His mouth sucked his shaft, pushing Trystan rapidly toward the edge of ecstasy.
“Please,” Trystan begged. “I need you.”
The man sat back, pulling his mouth off him. Trystan’s small cock, slick and wet and aching for release, barely protruded from the curly hair of his nether region.
“I’m going to take you now. Make you mine.”
The man kneeled up between his legs, stroking his long, hard member. He positioned the tip at his entrance and pushed all the way inside him with one steady stroke. “I’ve waited so long for this,” the man said, his familiar, baritone voice washing over him.
Each stroke of his manhood rubbed inside Trystan’s sensitive tunnel, eliciting uncontrolled moans. As the pleasure built, he leaned down, crashing his lips to Trystan’s. Tunneling one arm beneath his neck and wrapping the other around his waist, the man drove into him with deep, powerful thrusts.
Wave after wave of deep exhilaration rippled through him, the man’s passion unrelenting and so full of love. He pounded harder, faster. Trystan gripped the sheets, his body tense and then it hit. He moaned louder into his mouth as the orgasm raced through him, reaching for its peak. The exquisite pleasure erupted deep inside him, and he yelled out as he tumbled over the edge, into the abyss of unbounded joy.
The man reared up, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts, as Trystan writhed beneath him. His vision whited out as he fell apart.
“Mine,” the man growled, grunting loudly. The man stilled inside him as a splash of heat filled him. Wrapping his strong arms around Trystan again, he squeezed him against his muscular body. His hips jerked until he’d emptied his seed deep inside him.
The man kissed Trystan gently and muttered something about being eternally bound.
Trystan awoke suddenly, drenched in sweat, his breaths coming hard and fast, competing with the pounding of his heart. He shifted and sat up, running his hands through his damp hair. The memory of what the man in his dream did to him had Trystan reaching for his cock. He found it sensitive and wet and slowly softening.
Darkness surrounded him. The cool night air crept in around the wooden shutters. The gentle breeze outside pushed against one that was loose, causing it to tap lightly against the window casing.
Trystan pulled in a long deep breath. It was the same dream.
He tried to remember the face of the man in his dream, but the details, as always, were a blur. Part of him wanted to imagine that it had been Emrys, but he recalled the man seeming different and younger. It couldn’t possibly be him, or maybe it was Trystan’s mind wishing for someone like him—younger version of the man he loved.
Trystan sighed.
The dreams hadn’t started until after Owaine’s death. Since then, they’d become more frequent and intense, happening at least once a week now. Maybe it was simply a sign that he needed to find a mate.
Trystan lay back down and closed his eyes. As he drifted off again, his body relaxed and sated from the very real sensations of his dream, a voice whispered.
Trystan.
He sat up again.
The hazy image of a young woman peering down at a child in her arms materialized before him.
The woman spoke.
My sweet darling. Your father and I love you with all our hearts. But now, you must go. Myrddin will protect you. When the time comes, you will remember who you are.
The image and voice faded.
Trystan blinked, and let out a breath. Why his imagination saw fit to conjure this image every night baffled him. It too had started shortly after his father’s death, but this time, it wasn’t quite a dream. This time, he was somewhat awake. The frequent occurrences had driven Trystan back to searching for his real mother and father after having given up years ago.
Could there be a connection?
Trystan wondered who the woman was. Could she offer some clue as to who is mother was? Was the child in her arms him? And why the mention of a man named Myrddin? The only Myrddin he knew of was the one who’d served King Arthur.Myrddin will protect you.
Trystan stared up at the wooden ceiling long into the night and early morning, mulling over the possibilities of what the recurring dreams could mean. Eventually, sleep took him once again.
