The Alpha Elf Lord's Omega: A MMM Alpha Omega Shifter Romance Read online

  He laughed in despair, then buried his face in his hands, weeping bitterly as he imagined facing his parents now, his brothers. What was there left for him now? Who would take him as consort? Some minor noble, a captain of his father's army maybe, who would use him for nothing but pleasure and his connection to the court, disregarding all the political and diplomatic skills he had been taught.

  "You will not take me as consort, will you?" he said despairingly. "And I am unfit for your Lord now. Maybe one of your guards might take me, spoiled though I am?"

  He could not return home, never again. Seeing his parents' disappointment would kill him—he could not bear even the thought of telling them what he had done. Better to remain in the Goldwood, consort to someone insignificant enough they would not mind how easily he had given his innocence away to someone else. Perhaps one of the betas would not mind that he was no longer untouched... Another sob broke free, and he blindly pulled at a piece of clothing, trying to cover himself now that it was too late.

  Arms came around him then at last, and after a moment's reluctance he wearily leaned into the alpha's embrace, all too aware that if this man would now offer to take him as his, he would agree and be grateful for it, too, without even knowing his name. Lelyon knew that after this, he would get no better offers anymore.

  "Lelyon," the other murmured into his ear, "calm yourself. I am sorry, it was a cruel thing to do—yet how could I not have tested you when you were so innocent and trusting, so naive?" The alpha sighed and took hold of Lelyon' chin, gently turning his face to press a kiss to the tear-stained cheek.

  "I am Casphar, your betrothed; forgive me for causing you such pain. You will indeed be my consort, I promise you that. And yet... you are truly very young still. You have seen nothing but your forest where you were well loved, yet the Goldwood is not like the Elmwood, Lelyon. There are a few here who do not agree with shifter customs, and I fear how that dislike shall affect you when you have never had reason to distrust someone before. In a week, you shall be bound to me as my consort. But for a year and a day, you shall stay with a tutor, learning much of love and life before you will return to my side. I will send you to Lord Deron, my bird—among the sun elves you will learn when to trust, and when not, while being under the guardianship of Deron. You will see their fabled city of black rock they call Mountaintop. You will see how they live there, form friendships maybe... and grow older and wiser until you will return to my side at last."

  Lelyon was silent, had been so during his speech, trembling still while he tried to understand what the alpha told him. Tears glistened on his cheeks once more when at last he raised his face again, but his voice was calm and almost without tremble when he spoke. "I have done you a grievous hurt, Lord, and betrayed my own people as well. I am well aware that you do me a great kindness now, and I swear that I shall never forget it. I shall go to Mountaintop as you command and be a good student to Lord Deron there. And when I return, I will never again cause you shame in any way whatsoever again, I swear it, my Lord."

  2

  Lelyon had settled into his new life in Mountaintop—more or less. For almost twelve full months now he had lived with Deron, who to his great relief had proved to be less dour and rigid in his beliefs than most of the sun elves. Of course, given his age and experience, he had to have been aware of shifter traditions for a long time. Rumour even had it that he had once thought of taking a consort or two himself, and with a guilty thrill Lelyon imagined what might have been had he asked for Lelyon from his father. No, as fearful as the prospect had seemed at first, Deron had been a good choice. Especially as after having been exposed to one of the guards' censure in the Goldwood camp, a part of Lelyon had wondered if Casphar might not make him the ward of a strict and conservative master as fitting punishment.

  Yet his Lord—his husband now, he thought with a thrill, yearning for the day when he would have his place at his alpha's side back—was not so cruel. Lelyon might be kept from the consort's suite in the Goldwood and from his Lord's company, yet Deron made a formidable handler for a young, inexperienced consort. He was strict; no amount of needling or begging would change his mind about the decisions he made, Lelyon had soon found out. And yet, unlike many others in Mountaintop who still held to the prudish sun elf laws, Deron saw no shame in embracing the ancient ways of the shifters and wood elves. He saw the honour in being given the education of his charge—and the honour inherent in Lelyon' position—just as it had been at Taril's court, where none would ever have dreamed of belittling the worth of the King's consort, or the children he had begotten with her.

  Lelyon still felt bewildered by the dislike shown on one of the guards' face after they had come down from the treehouse, Lelyon still pale and uncharacteristically silent. When Lelyon met that guard's eyes, his mouth had twisted into a sneer of disgust, for of course all the guards had seen them enter the treehouse together, and must certainly be aware of what they had done there. And yet this disgust was not for the fact that Lelyon had lain with Casphar before there was the legitimacy of the consort's bond, weak though that might be in the eyes of the guard. No, there had been a whisper, and Lelyon had flinched at how he was called a disgrace that brought shame on all elves. There had been a sharp word from Casphar then, and the guard had turned away and desisted from further comments, yet still, even a year later, Lelyon could not fully comprehend how in a predominantly shifter elf realm such as the Goldwood the old customs could have come to be viewed with such disgust.

  Those who came to the Woodelf realms an age ago and thought to rule had had to adapt to Woodelf ways, to shifter ways—it had always been so. After all, what better way to ensure tight bonds amid a realm than to make certain that the greatest houses were all bound to its alpha ruler through consorts?

  Deron at least treated him with all the respect his position deserved, for all that he was in charge of curbing the Prince's all too naïve trust, and of course further his experience and skills in what bed games pleased his husband.

  This morning, Lelyon had woken in the bright heat of the morning sun bathing the silken sheets in brilliance, curled around Deron who answered his charge's hopeful tries at instigating more pleasurable activities with a laugh and a shake of his head.

  Instead, Lelyon got to get up and and help Deron dress, as soon his husband might demand of him, then readied a bath for him and tried to be as pleasing as possible when he used a soft cloth to wash him. Later they broke their fast together and then took a walk, discussing poetry as well as the complex political machinations of Mountaintop. Lelyon did well in all these things. He was indeed as highly skilled as his tutors at home had proclaimed, and Deron agreed with their assessment and found himself praising the Prince, too, for his quick understanding and the intelligent questions he asked about differences and similarities between the governance of their realms. Yet one difference there was: Lelyon had lost the carefreeness of knowing himself beloved of his parents as well as the entire realm. The memory of how he had betrayed—almost betrayed!—his own people as well as his now husband still weighted heavily on his heart, and despite his praise, Deron could see in his eyes that the Prince would not allow himself to forget the duty his position brought.

  And yet, despite those painful memories, this was a happy time for Lelyon as well, for they would spend the evenings in their rooms, engaged in a multitude of pleasurable activities so that Lelyon's education in matters of the bedroom would not be wholly theoretical anymore when at last he would met his husband again. There were a great many things Lelyon had learned already, and this afternoon, it seemed that once more he would have to endure a lesson in patience.

  He was kneeling on the floor, naked, his skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat as he tried to hold still for Deron's inspection. Deron, his tutor, had fitted gleaming rings of gold around his shaft and the heavy scrotum below which kept him hard and helped him not to find release until Deron allowed it, and to heighten the erotic torment, Deron had used a phallus
of smooth, polished wood to spread him, fill him, so that it was all Lelyon could do not to moan aloud with every breath he took.

  "You yearn for Lord Casphar now, do you not?" Deron asked and laughed at the groan of pure misery that was his answer. "Ah, what a lovely vision you are... If he could see you now, I do not think he could keep resisting you. But as he is not here..."

  He smiled at Lelyon, a little wicked, yet as always there was kindness in his regard as well. Yet even for the friendship that now connected them, Lelyon knew that for Deron the duty of his position would always come first, and so he groaned again because he knew the Lord might torment him in millions of pleasurable ways before allowing him to find his pleasure—if he did at all.

  "You have come a long way already, but it is best to keep up practise," Deron said and gestured towards his feet. "Come here and let me see once more if your performance is indeed up to your Lord's exacting standards."

  Lelyon bit back another moan at the thought of doing this to Casphar, the enigmatic alpha he still dreamed about almost every single night. Still, he obediently moved forward until he knelt between Deron's spread thighs, his breath hitching at every movement that drove the wooden phallus against the small gland inside himself. He parted Deron's robe with gentle hands, licking his lips at the vision that awaited him—his tutor's hardened shaft, dark and hot, and beneath, the tight sac. He pressed a gentle kiss to it first, then moved up, savouring the taste, the feel as he pressed small kisses to Deron's erection from root to tip. There was a drop of clear liquid at the crown, and he licked it up with a sigh of relish before he took him into his mouth, skilled enough by now to relax his throat so that soon he had taken him in to the root, his nose brushing the wiry black curls before he moved back again.

  "Very good, Lelyon!" Deron groaned and gently cradled his head in his hands, encouraging him to move back down and take him in completely once more. Lelyon closed his eyes, wanting to groan in pleasure at the way Deron felt in his mouth, at the praise he had earned... and then there was a sound behind him, silk brushing against the wooden floor, and two hands came to rest on his hips. His eyes widened and he tried to move back, unable even to make a sound of protest with Deron's shaft filling his throat, but the Lord's hands did not allow him to retreat.

  "Hush, Lelyon... please me like I taught you!" he said sternly, and after a moment Lelyon gave in, unsettled by this new test—if that was indeed what this was—yet unable to rebel, for it was of course still up to Deron to decide how to educate or test his charge.

  He served Deron as well as he could, yet the pleasure of pleasing him in such a way was gone now, replaced by the unease the stranger's touches brought. His hands stroked up and down his flanks as if to calm him, then slipped lower to cup his buttocks, slowly massaging the rounded muscles. Legs moved in between his own, forcing him to spread his thighs even further to allow the stranger a good view of where the tight muscle was stretched around the phallus, and then a finger slowly but insistently penetrated him as well alongside the wooden implement. Deron allowed him to draw back at last and Lelyon gasped, desperately trying to suppress a sound of pain at the burn of being stretched so but the elf behind him did not relent, his other hand coming to tightly close around his scrotum as if in a warning to remain still.

  At last he finally drew back, and when he spoke, Lelyon wanted to weep at once more hearing the beloved alpha voice he had so missed.

  "You are so beautiful, Lelyon," Casphar said softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. "I missed you so..."

  Deron's hands still held him in place, encouraging him to go on, and so he concentrated on doing his best, wanting to show his husband that he had indeed been a most attentive student of the tutor his Lord had chosen for him. He closed his eyes in bliss when he felt Casphar press a loving kiss to the small of his back, but then almost choked on Deron's length at the next question.

  "Is this all he can take? Or have you worked up to more already?"

  Deron chuckled breathlessly at the question, and Lelyon knew that he had pointed towards the box where he kept most of his toys when he heard Casphar get up.

  "The ebony one?" Casphar asked and returned to them, and Lelyon wanted to groan when Deron encouraged him to try it. It was the biggest in Deron's selection, made from a dark, smooth wood found only in countries far south, and Lelyon had secretly named it the orc cock, because that was what it felt like. For a moment he even contemplated begging his husband not to use it—it had left him so sore he had been unable to ride for two days the last time Deron had used it, and now that his Lord had returned, the thought of losing even a single hour of his company was unbearable.

  And yet, how could he show disobedience when Casphar had only just returned to him? The thought was even worse, and so he tried to keep silent, focusing all of his attention on Deron's hard length in his mouth, using all he had ever been taught to bring the Lord pleasure with his lips and tongue and throat while fingers first worked the phallus loose and then applied more oil when it had at last been pulled out of him.

  At the first touch of the cool, smooth wood against his entrance, Lelyon took a deep breath and then, resolved not to shame himself by showing reluctance, swallowed around Deron's shaft once more until his throat was filled and he could not have made a sound even had he wanted. At the same time, Casphar had forced him to take in the crown of the hated black phallus, and it felt just as impossibly huge as he remembered. Tears sprang up in his eyes when his husband began to push it deeper inside, stretching him so much that he knew he would have cried out had Deron's shaft not blocked his throat. He remembered now why he had dubbed it the orc cock—this was what it must feel like to be ravished by one, he thought helplessly, holding still so that Deron could use his throat as he liked while Casphar showed him no mercy and made him take the huge phallus until it felt as if it would split him apart. One of Casphar's hands began to stroke his back as if to coax him to relax, but only when that hand eventually moved down to instead close around his swollen length did he finally accept the painful intrusion. He concentrated on the pleasure his alpha gave him until at last the thought of having Casphar watch him impaled on the hated orc cock aroused him so much that he moved back against it when his Lord next moved the phallus, forcing himself to take it in up to the widened base when he heard Casphar groan in arousal at the view.

  "Spirits!" Casphar breathed, "you have done amazing work with him, Deron! But let him stop for a moment and relax that sweet mouth—believe me, you want this to last a little longer."

  The two Lords looked at each other above Lelyon' arched back and laughed softly, so that Lelyon wondered what more they could be planning—certainly there was nothing worse than what he was enduring already? He moaned softly when at last Deron's erection slipped from his mouth, his jaw sore now and his lips swollen and tingling from the service he had given. Deron's shaft was a dark red, harder and bigger than he had ever seen him, and with a whimper he pressed his lips to him again, breathing in the scent of arousal, musk and heat, unable to think of anything now but the pleasure the cruel golden rings had denied him for so long.

  "Come, friend, tilt that mirror there so he can watch... and then return to us," Casphar bade Deron, slowly stroking Lelyon' length until his consort gasped his name in a breathless plea.

  "There, watch yourself in the mirror, my bird," Casphar commanded, his voice thick with amusement and desire alike. "See what you look like... Can you even imagine the things I want to do to you right now?"

  "Missed you, my alpha," Lelyon breathed, too far gone to form complete sentences. "Would do... anything for you, h-husband!"

  His breath hitched at the view that waited for him in the mirror. He had indeed taken the huge phallus completely in, stretched open so wide around the black wood that he would not have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. There at the base the phallus was almost twice as wide as the ones Deron usually used in his lessons and his shaft twitched against his belly, a flush heating h
is cheeks when he realised that the two Lords must know that the almost obscene vision of seeing himself stretched open so completely for their amusement had only heightened his arousal.

  "Ah, by the Spirits!"

  With a groan Deron knelt down next to Casphar, taking hold of the phallus in fascination. "I've never made him take so much before..."

  He began to gently pump it in and out, forcing loud moans from Lelyon now that at last he could no longer muffle his sounds. The Prince watched through half-closed eyes how the mirror showed him his husband disrobing, the embroidered silken robes sliding from his broad shoulders, his engorged shaft springing free as soon as he had started to unlace his breeches. Deron pulled the phallus out at last and Casphar gripped Lelyon' hips in his hands, sliding inside in one easy thrust. Lelyon made a soft sound of regret—his Lord was well-endowed, but after taking in the huge phallus as they had wanted him to, it just was not enough now.

  "Ah, little forest bird, do not be so disappointed... we are not finished with you yet."

  Casphar pressed a loving kiss to his nape, then gently encouraged him to straighten, wrapping one arm around his young consort's waist as he manoeuvred them both to rest on the floor, Casphar coming to lie on the thick rug with Lelyon stretched atop his body, his back against Casphar's chest. Then Deron came forward to kneel between their legs, his hands on Lelyon' knees forcing the Prince's thighs to spread even wider, and he grasped his own shaft to align it with Casphar's erection. Lelyon' eyes widened as he watched in the mirror, but then Deron pushed forward, into him, and Lelyon moaned in surprise, trembling when his husband's arms came around him to play with his nipples as he was filled and stretched like never before. He could not take his eyes from the mirror, moaning low in his throat at the vision of the two swollen shafts penetrating him at the same time, Deron's a dark, angry red after being kept from fulfilment for so long, his husband's a shade paler. Both of them were not exactly small, yet after the huge wooden phallus, they felt impossibly good in him, smooth and hot where Deron's toy had been unyielding cold wood.