Mage and Consort Pt. 01

"Please, if I may, Lady," he said, stepping closer. Her eyes widened and he immediately halted.

"You've been trained," she said slowly, eyes dropping to the floor. "Of course, they would do that. You know how this works." She gestured vaguely.

"Yes, of course," Leo said, trying to sound soothing, but he didn't think he'd succeeded. Lady Carwen hadn't prepared him, not for this. Already the dizziness and nausea were overwhelming his arousal. He tried to think of Lady Charlotte, but his vision was going spotty.

"I suppose you'd better do what your training says," the Lady said from somewhere in the distance. "I'll just get on the bed, and you do what's necessary. But, be careful. I know it hurts, and -- I'll have to be able to do this a lot, won't I? You can do it carefully, I suppose?"

"Of course, Lady," he heard himself say. And then somehow the floor tilted and slammed into his shoulder.

#

Anya put one leg on the bed, trying to nerve herself for what was coming. It would be fine. He had training. Thank the Skies that one of them did.

There was a gasp, and a loud crash. When Anya turned, she saw that Leo had fallen heavily.

She gaped, and then moved hesitantly to crouch at his side.

"Leo? Are you all right?"

He groaned, shifting slightly, and Anya tried to help him roll. It looked like he'd hurt his shoulder. He was so solid, and his skin felt feverish under her hand. Distantly she realized she'd never touched a man this way.

"Ow," he said distinctly, and that ordinary reaction soothed Anya more than all his stilted courtesy. He wasn't a statue. He was a strange young man who'd collapsed for no apparent reason, and Anya had no idea what to do. But she knew instinctively that she couldn't call for help. Whatever else, she was bound to this man for the immediate future. Any weakness of his -- that would weigh against her as well. It might tip the Jeharias into giving up on her.

"Do you need water? Food, a pillow?" Anya surveyed the room, trying to think of what might help. She had no particular knowledge of medicine.

With great effort, Leo hauled himself up to sit leaning against the bed.

"Water, my Lady," he rasped. "If it is not too much trouble."

She retrieved the pitcher and filled her own cup, handing it carefully to him. Leo's hands shook as he drank, and he had to pause to catch his breath. He wouldn't even look at Anya.

"I have made a serious error," Leo said finally. "My Lady, deepest apologies. I will be of little use for a while. But I will do whatever I can to regain my strength, so that I --"

"No," Anya blurted. "No, don't do that. You should rest. I asked too much, in my ignorance."

"Not at all, Lady," Leo said, looking pained. "It was my failing alone. This is what I am trained for. I will rest, but I would call on you at your earliest convenience. My Seed is yours as you desire."

Muscles straining, he used his good arm on her bed frame to haul himself to his feet. It was a little intimidating to see his strength, and Anya stepped back instinctively.

"My name is Anya," she blurted. "Anya Tur. I think -- you should come back tomorrow. I have class this evening."

"As you wish, Lady Tur," Leo said. "But I may be recovered sooner. Shall I call on you tonight, afterwards?"

She frowned, then shook her head. "At eight hours tomorrow morning," she said. "They moved the morning class later, so we could..."

He nodded gravely, rubbed his shoulder absently, then turned to her, executing a perfect bow despite everything.

"Leo," she said nervously. "I think it best we don't mention this episode."

"Thank you, Lady." he said. She was shocked to realize he was trembling. "Thank you. Until then, my Lady."

"Anya," she said, but he just bowed again, walking carefully but steadily to her door.

She stared at the door after he left. She should feel disappointment, and there was that. But mostly it was relief, and dread.

#

Behind Anya there was a whooping shriek, and the sudden *fwoomp* of flame. Heat blasted her, and she turned reluctantly. Essia was dancing around her bonfire like a mad queen.

"Bitch," mumbled Melina from the side. Anya watched carefully, because for all her attitude, Melina was good. A real fire Mage in the making, Teacher Killian had said as much.

Melina closed her eyes, moving her dark hands just so, gathering her energies, which would only be enhanced by the Seed she'd just taken. She looked less ebullient than Essia, but Anya stepped back nonetheless. The moment came, Melina gestured, and the fire roared to life.

"Hah!" Essia yelled. "I finally beat you, Melina! Did you even get more than a dribble?"

"Shut the fuck up," Melina spat. "You got lucky."

But as the rest of the class took on their piles of wood, Anya had to agree with Essia. A half dozen of the other students were approaching Melina's previously unmatched results, and their giddiness spread, with the fires building higher and higher. Anya furiously worked on hers, and was relieved that no one seemed surprised when she only managed to bring a few twigs to a smolder. Finally Melina stalked over and put an end to it by lazily torching Anya's wood, the sudden heat sending Anya falling back on her rear.

To her dismay, Prala tagged along with Anya when class finished. Stupid, annoying, and barely more talented than Anya, but tonight she practically glowed.

"I never knew it would be like this," Prala said, sighing. "I thought it would hurt, but he was so gentle, even though he was bigger than Jakob, but I never really liked Jakob anyway. And the Seed! Oh, Anya, isn't it magnificent? The way the power flows into you, like an electric shock. Like, well, you know. I think I had one of those too, at the same time."

"Yeah," said Anya. "It's something else, isn't it."

Prala smiled knowingly, and Anya tried to match it. Prala was too brainless to tell she was faking.

But even brainless Prala was in a different league from Anya now.

#

Leo stared up in the dark, trying to sleep. The day played and replayed: his humiliation at the ceremony, then the even greater humiliation in private. He knew full well he'd overdosed on the herb, but he'd been desperate, so desperate. Taking a double dose beforehand, to look impressive, and hoping it lasted through. Then that last dose, such a fool.

Lady Tur had been surprisingly kind about it, in her nervous way. Maybe she was too young to have developed the sternness he'd expected. He had better learn how to please her quickly, so that she had no cause to complain. Most importantly, he had to perform his duty. She wouldn't expect miracles from him, but he had to provide her what Seed he had.

Clearly he would need to be the teacher with this woman. It was an odd reversal from Lady Carwen, but he could hardly imagine being a worse teacher than the old Lady. What truly terrified him were the potential gaps in his education owing to Lady Carwen's negligence. Perhaps there were other techniques known to the teachers, ways to handle the problem he couldn't ignore anymore. Secrets other men might even know.

There was only one person he could imagine asking, without risking humiliation and possibly serious consequences. Sure, Kit might have laughed, or told him he was an idiot, or failed to give a useful answer. But his roommate was all right, and thoughtful enough not to gossip about important stuff. A good roommate, if not quite a friend.

He turned to the empty bed, lit faintly by moonlight spilling through the high-up window. At the Matching, Kit had been taken second, higher than Leo would ever have guessed. Claimed by a true Mage, so maybe Kit wasn't all bluster. And now he was gone, to a different life. Perhaps he'd be a second or third Consort to the Mage that had taken him, or perhaps it was more complicated, some kind of political power game. All that was beyond Leo's understanding.

And that left no one to figure out his problem, except Leo himself. He sighed, trying the breathing exercises to relax, along with the particular concentration that was supposed to increase circulation without relying on the herb. But he fell asleep limp and frustrated.

#

"My Lady," Leo said, bowing as she opened the door.

"Please, just Anya," she replied uncomfortably.

Leo nodded, but he wasn't about to change his address. Always better to err on the formal side, said Lady Carwen, and in this at least he trusted her. Other Ladies said much the same.

He followed her in, trying to calm his racing heart. He'd woken early and skipped breakfast, the whole time agonizing about whether to take the herb. It had been well past twelve hours, but he'd taken so much yesterday. In the end he'd used a half dose, and so far it seemed he was getting all the downsides without the intended effect.

"My apologies for yesterday," Lady Tur said, sitting carefully on the bed. "I was overwhelmed and unprepared for the Matching. I can't expect you to do all the work. I'm the one who will be benefitting after all, for what it's worth."

Leo shook his head, politely, wincing. He knew he was the worst of the Journeymen, but he wished she wouldn't remind him. But then, there was something in her voice. He looked at her more carefully.

She was obviously nervous, maybe even more than yesterday. But she was wearing -- nightwear, not so different from Lady Carwen when he visited. It had lace edgings and looked quite fine, reminding him that whatever her status, she was after all a Lady.

"It was no fault of yours, Lady Tur. I myself was overwhelmed by the prospect of the Match, and thus mishandled my doses of herbs. They do have side effects. You were very kind to set aside this mistake."

"It was no trouble. I think we both have reasons to make this work, don't we? And I want to make sure I'm not making this unintentionally difficult for you. Please, don't hesitate to ask if there's anything you need."

She smiled unconvincingly, leaning forward and displaying quite a lot of cleavage. In his distraction yesterday, he'd barely even looked at her, and Leo realized she wasn't unpleasing to look at. Taller than average, with a healthy slight roundness. Very plain face, small nose and eyes too close together, but she looked smart. The night garment was too small, and it stretched tightly across her high breasts. A blossom scent tickled his nose, and he realized it came from the Lady.

She'd done this for him, he realized with shock. Prepared herself, as though he was more than just a Consort. She was treating him as though he were courting her.

The thought terrified Leo. "Some Ladies may attach more to the brief joining than is appropriate," Lady Carwen had said. "This is perverse and dangerous for both. A Consort may rise to power in the Lady's wake, and may even become a private advisor. But he must never mistake this for a partnership. The central duty is one of service: the Consort provides, and the Lady takes. Any disruption of this core transaction weakens it, and a Consort behaving above his station will be cut to pieces."

Leo swallowed. "Has my Lady thought on any service I may provide? Something to put you at ease, so the task can be comfortable? If you prefer, I have taken the liberty of bringing oils that smooth the joining."

Lady Tur opened her mouth, and then suddenly her face began turning red again. It was uncomfortable to see, when he'd been trying so hard for the polite distance they needed to establish.

"I," she began. "I -- prepared myself somewhat. Though perhaps it was less than I should have. Do you -- what is your suggestion?"

Leo nodded. This much he had prepared for. "I believe I may be most efficient with my mouth. It is frequently a Lady's choice."

"Oh," she said, turning even more red. "Then, I guess that's the thing to do."

Slowly she pulled at her garment, grunting as she tried to free it around her breasts. Then it was loose, up and over her head. She turned quickly to fold it on her bed table, then faced him, hands clutched nervously in front of her sex.

Leo found himself staring at her full breasts, soft and inviting, with their tiny nipples so unlike Lady Carwen's. She had a lovely body, and he realized his dizziness had subsided and his manhood was finally stiffening.

"Do I -- just lie back?"

"Yes, Lady," he said. "Make yourself comfortable, and please correct me if anything does not please."

She sat back on the bed, legs hanging awkwardly off, but this would be a good position. Leo moved forward, kneeling and holding her leg still when she tried to move further back. The healthy dense hair surrounding her sex was matted with her dried juices, and now he could smell her true scent.

The Lady was quivering, but he was on familiar ground now. With careful ease, he touched his tongue to her hole, bringing the tip up swiftly to the left. She tasted less like Lady Carwen than he'd expected. He brought his tongue down to the right, stroking along her thigh, and she shrieked.

"Tickles," she coughed apologetically. He filed that away. Lady Carwen had been insistent that not every woman liked the same things.

So he settled in, as directly and quickly as Lady Carwen had taught. Nothing too strong, but never easing. The Lady was quivering much more now, and he took that as encouragement. Lady Carwen did that when she was truly feeling her own pleasure. But there were confusing surprises to his tongue. Lady Tur had differences in places he didn't expect. The lips were thinner, and he wasn't sure he had found her most sensitive button within the folds. Cautiously he flicked his tongue across his best guess.

"Skies ablaze," she yelped, bucking away from him.

"My Lady," he stammered, bringing his head up and trying to peek at her face between those breasts.

"It was surprise," she said weakly. Her eyes glanced down very briefly and then snapped away. "Please, Leo, continue as you've been trained."

He nodded, confused by her reactions. She did seem to be producing some lubrication, and with his saliva the joining should be comfortable enough at this point. But he followed her implication and settled his mouth within her fur once more. She didn't protest when he continued as he'd been doing, though she jerked slightly from time to time.

In truth this prolonged stimulation was far more exciting than he'd expected. Like with Lady Carwen the first few times. He could feel the Seed faintly, gathering within him. He'd been right all along: whatever else, this Lady was physically exciting, and he was free of the particular dread he'd felt the last few months with Lady Carwen.

The Lady coughed and pulled away from him.

"I, we're -- we're a little short for time. I think I'm ready."

"Yes, I believe you are," he said, standing up smoothly. With a flick of the wrist, he undid his breeches, freeing a manhood stiff enough for once to make him satisfied.

At her odd strangled sound, he looked up to find her propped up on one elbow and staring with an expression that looked like horror.

"Didn't remember it was -- so big," she said. "Best get it over with, I suppose."

"It will be easier with time," he agreed. "But it should not hurt the first time, either. I will be very careful. Do you have any preferences?"

When she shook her head, he nodded and positioned himself carefully. She had her eyes squeezed shut, her hands grasping the sheets tightly. Clearly terrified.

"Try to relax, Lady," he said. "I can stop immediately if you are in discomfort."

He hoped she didn't stop him. His cock was alive with energy. The brush of her wet curly hairs along the tip, her smell still on his lips and nose -- even the slight jiggling of her breasts, though it shamed him to know that was a result of the Lady's discomfort. He looked at her breasts, imagined what Lady Charlotte might look like under her robe -- it could be, after all, given the vagueness of his fantasy. He imagined fastening his lips on her perfect, tiny nipple. With a groan, he pressed the tip against her, and glanced down in confusion, because he thought he'd gotten it right.

"Is it in?" she whispered, a question that gave him no small alarm. He hadn't yet entered at all, merely pressed against her entrance.

"Not quite," he said. "Breathe easily, my Lady."

He moved slightly, testing the angle. Lady Carwen had assured him that he was not abnormally large, that he would cause no pain to any woman if he was cautious at first. But she was holding her sex closed against him, in her fear. Not knowing what else to do, he put his hand on hers, where she gripped the sheets. To his discomfort, she moved it, grasping his fingers awkwardly and tightly. But if it gave her something to focus on --

Carefully, slowly, he pressed inward. She made a small grunt, but nodded. One more push, letting his weight help -- yes, he was entering her. More than that, he could feel her need, the way his Seed reached out to meet something inside her -- oh, he thought he imagined this, the few times it'd happened with Lady Carwen, but it felt so real. Another push, and his head was fully inside her. His Seed was gathering, a roiling heat as powerful as he'd ever felt, but above all he couldn't hurt her. Lady Carwen had drilled that in, so many times.

"Lady, are you in discomfort?"

She didn't answer immediately, and in fact was hyperventilating. He had a bad feeling that she might reenact his performance from yesterday.

"No," she said, gasping. "Yes. Don't know. We're so close, just -- let's finish."

"Of course," he said, the thrill filling him. He pushed deeper, and she yelped, gripping his hand tighter.

Whatever she said, he understood that reaction: no further. But the Seed needed to be delivered deep, as far in the body as he was capable. Perhaps it wasn't so important, this first time.

He swallowed, looked at her beautiful body, and let her scent run through him. The Seed yearned for her, and she reached. She reached.

"Lady," he gasped. "Prepare --"

His balls erupted as if his small hairs were aflame, the heat exploding up, up, his manhood pulsing with its power, and then it slammed into the Lady.

"Aaahh," she cried, and suddenly the sweet warm embrace of her sex was gone, leaving his Seed to blast through the air, onto her abdomen, her humble face, her straight golden hair, and all across her sheets. Leo's body shook with the aftermath, but the fire had faded the moment the joining broke, leaving nothing but globs of sticky liquid still pulsing out until the last dribbled on his thighs. Not Seed at all.

The loss was obscene, horrible to Leo. To have come so close -- surely his body had finally done it, producing the Seed he always thought was possible, only to be thwarted by this Lady's idiot clumsiness.

"Lady," he rasped, but he didn't know what to say.

She opened her eyes, and for a moment they locked on his. Her intensity rocked him back.

"I feel it," she whispered, splaying her fingers out.

There was a slight rattle, a shift somewhere, and then it was gone.

"I did it," she said, closing her eyes. "I can do it. Oh Skies, I'm going to be sick."

All of a sudden she was up, coughing, reaching under the bed for her private bucket. He turned away, shocked and embarrassed, but despite her retching it didn't sound as if she'd brought anything up.

"May I --"

"Thank you," she coughed. "Oh, no, I have to be in class. I -- tomorrow, the same time?"

"Of course, my Lady," he said, backing out and trying to wipe himself discreetly as he stuffed his still-firm cock into his breeches. "I look forward to it."

#

It was so unbelievably messy. No one had told her that. His -- Seed was everywhere, all over her room, her face and hair, and it smelled. Not exactly a bad smell, but the effect was making her sick. Or maybe it was the extraordinary feeling, that sudden burgeoning of power when it had entered her. Some portion remained, a satisfied humming deep inside her that felt alien and not entirely pleasant.