STORY EXCERPT

Climbing the beanstalk was possibly the most difficult and twisted thing Lyre had ever done—and he’d spent more time than he wanted to think about trapped in a prison of ice. The massive plant felt smooth under his fingertips, but it was also alive with emotion in a way it shouldn’t have been. Lyre had loved it at first, but it soon became obvious the strange anomaly wasn’t as much of a gift as he’d thought.

The emotions coming from the beanstalk echoed into him, piling on top of each other in a mind-melting and confusing assault. Anger, affection, yearning, dread, loss—everything swirled in his head and in his heart, until he literally no longer knew which way was up. At one point, he had to stop because he wasn’t sure he hadn’t accidentally started going down. It certainly didn’t help that he couldn’t see anything anymore, having long ago passed anything remotely resembling reality. Even the clouds had vanished, and diffuse masses of shadow and light now swirled in the nothingness around him. Was this really the realm of the gods? Maybe Lyre should have asked more questions before he’d embarked on this journey.

But there was no way to take a break either, and he refused to turn back. And so Lyre steeled himself and hummed the herald’s song under his breath. Just like before, the sound soothed him, even if it came from his own lips.

He didn’t know how long it took for something to change. The beanstalk swerved slightly, and a different branch opened, guiding him in a different direction.

Lyre hesitated. The confusing assault of emotions aside, his trip had been fairly straightforward so far. There had been no crossroads, only one path to take. He didn’t like the change.

He looked up at the long expanse of beanstalk he still had to climb. The ominous shadows were beginning to crowd in on him more and more.

Meanwhile, the second path looked steady, clear of any real obstacles. It was almost like a bridge. He’d be able to walk over it as easily as he did on any road back home. 

It was too easy. It had to be a trap.

He turned away from the easier route, ready to continue his climb. But before he could do that, he glimpsed a familiar figure coming from the direction of the bridge.

It was him. It was the herald. He was standing at the other edge of the bridge, his body glowing like a beacon through the thick fog. A massive beast lurked behind him, its eyes shining with a feral light. Even from the distance, Lyre could see it bare its three snouts, exposing thick, sword-like fangs. It seemed seconds away from taking the beautiful man’s head off.

Panic erupted through Lyre. Was the bridge the herald’s creation, his last attempt to call for aid before he was consumed by the creature? Fuck, he was an idiot. And here he was, turning away from it out of distrust.

Abandoning the beanstalk, Lyre jumped on the bridge and took off running. He couldn’t risk falling off, so he didn’t dare to run as fast as he could—and probably should—have. His failure cost him. The fog around the end of the bridge thickened, and just like that, the herald vanished.

Lyre could have sobbed in frustration. For a few seconds, he entertained the thought that he’d been tricked, that he hadn’t seen the herald at all. But no, that couldn’t be it. He might have only caught a very distant glimpse of him, but his heart couldn’t lie. The same way it had shown him the truth about this mysterious man, it would always lead him in the right direction.

And so, even with the herald gone, Lyre kept moving forward. The walk seemed to take forever, and before long, it turned into a steep climb. The air became harder to breathe. Lyre had worked for years in the stables of the Nexus royal family, but as strong as he was, he had trouble advancing.

His stubbornness paid off, when finally, he stumbled off the bridge onto a wide, green plain. Beautiful flowers bloomed everywhere, an explosion of color that dazzled the eye. Anyone else might have been charmed. Lyre—who had experience with just how dangerous flowers could be—recoiled. 

He stayed away from the flowers and walked through the grass, which was relatively safe. In the distance, he spotted a glittering river. Waterways were always a good option when someone was lost, because unavoidably, people or settlements gravitated toward them.

Perhaps this realm didn’t follow that rule, or maybe Lyre was just unlucky, because when he reached the river bank, he saw nothing of interest. There was no bridge across, and no one he could ask for directions. He supposed he’d expected a little too much by hoping for something like that.

He bent over the river, wondering how deep it was. It barely reached his waist, so even if the current was strong, he could probably cross it. He’d swum through worse in Nexus.

As he mused over his options, the water glinted invitingly. Suddenly, Lyre felt very thirsty. He was tired after his trek, and his throat was parched. Surely, a drink would be exactly what he needed and would give him strength to find the herald.

Before he knew it, he kneeled on the river bank and plunged his hands into the water. It felt pleasant on his skin, not cool, and not warm—exactly right. As he scooped water into his palms, for the first time in forever, he felt at peace.

ADULT EXCERPT

When Lyre finally reached Aeron’s cock and gripped him in his hand, a keen escaped Aeron’s lips. And when Lyre took his dick in his mouth, a surge of explosive pleasure erupted over him.

It took everything in Aeron’s power to not come on the spot. Maybe he would have, but Lyre’s hands landed on his hips, steadying him. Just like with everything else, Lyre’s warmth both threw Aeron’s heart into chaos and anchored him. Magic still coalesced under his fingertips and he let go of Lyre’s hair, burying his hands in the sheets instead. It was probably a good decision, because the scent of scorched material filled the air. Aeron had never felt so out of control, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it or fear it.

Ironically, it was his own loss of composure that gave him the strength he needed to speak again. “Lyre… Please. Fuck me.”

Lyre could have easily made him come simply by using his mouth. Aeron knew that very well. But they both needed more. They’d waited for one another for so long. They might not have always been aware of it, but the feeling was still there, their long separation still an unhealed wound on Aeron’s soul.

Maybe he’d never truly feel Lyre was actually here with him. It still seemed a little surreal. But taking Lyre inside him would go a long way in convincing him he could actually have this.

Just like Aeron had hoped, Lyre couldn’t deny him. He released Aeron’s cock from his mouth with a wet pop and met his gaze with feverish eyes. “Oil? Do you have…?”

Technically speaking, Aeron’s body could have easily adjusted to anything Lyre wanted. In the underworld, nothing could hurt him. But he had no desire to explain that, not when it could break the illusion their lovemaking was weaving around them.

And so, he reached underneath his pillow and produced a bottle of oil. It hadn’t been there before and Lyre probably knew it, but fortunately, it didn’t matter.

Lyre uncapped the vial and poured a generous amount of liquid on his fingers. The oil was scentless—a deliberate choice on Aeron’s part, since he knew Lyre didn’t always appreciate floral smells. He suspected Lyre didn’t notice, though, because he couldn’t seem to focus on anything except Aeron.

Aeron spread his legs and bent himself in half, lewdly displaying his body for Lyre’s pleasure. Lyre clenched his jaw so tightly Aeron was surprised he didn’t shatter his own teeth. It felt almost malicious that he enjoyed Lyre’s near-distress. Then again, a part of Aeron would always belong to the darkness, no matter how much he might have liked to deny it. It was just as well that Lyre didn’t seem to mind.

“My beautiful Aeron,” he whispered. “You really shouldn’t tempt me like this. I’m going to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Maybe I am,” Aeron couldn’t help but answer. It wasn’t even a lie. He certainly couldn’t seem to stay away from Lyre, even when he told himself he should, for Lyre’s own sake.

“I’ll consider myself blessed then,” Lyre replied.

It wasn’t much of a blessing, coming from a deity of the underworld. But the way Lyre was looking at him made Aeron feel like he was the only god his lover would ever want to worship. Unlike his father, Aeron had never experienced the desire to be worshipped, nor did he need it to exist, but coming from Lyre, it was more beautiful and powerful than he could ever express.

And then Lyre thrust two oil-slick fingers into Aeron’s ass, and Aeron’s fanciful thoughts dissipated like smoke in the wind. The only thing that remained was that litany of desperate pleas, the same words that had tempted Lyre so badly earlier.

Yes, yes, yes. Please, please, please fuck me.

This time, he didn’t have to say anything—if he ever had. His body spoke for him, as did his heart and his mind. A song rose around them, the song Aeron himself had weaved through determination, grief, desire, sacrifice, and deception.

Lyre’s heart sang it too, and it had guided him here. He’d played it on his instrument, with the same fingers he was using to drive Aeron insane. Maybe Aeron had turned into a lyre now, too, ready for his lover to use. Somehow, he wouldn’t have liked it any other way.

When Lyre pulled his fingers out of him, the song didn’t falter. It paused, only to hit an even more powerful note as Lyre positioned his dick against Aeron’s hole. And when Lyre finally slid inside him, the melody escalated, its crescendo crackling through Aeron, so powerful it was almost alive.

Aeron’s body was made out of fire and flowers, of lava and cool spring water, of life and death twisted into one. He was a creature of paradoxes, and his dual nature was often at war with itself. At that moment, it didn’t feel like it.

As Lyre started moving in and out of him, every single part of Aeron was both aflame with desire and at peace. His magic flailed, but this time, it did no damage. He became a vessel of the pleasure they created together, and he fully embraced it.

Lyre never looked from his face, and his eyes were fiercer and hotter than the fiery pits in Tartarus. He angled his thrusts just so, pegging a spot inside Aeron that made sparks explode in his vision. His mouth didn’t move either, but Aeron could hear what he was thinking, anyway.

“Mine, mine, mine. My beautiful soulmate. My herald.”