Blood Like Wine

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Leah’andra sat at the head of the empty dining hall table, in a drunken stupor. None of the servants standing around her dared to caution her against such a state. They knew her temper, and the fury of her whip. They dared do nothing to stop the Drow Matron from indulging deeply.

The house was a mess, as much of a mess as a Drow home could be. It was situated far from any of the other great Houses in the deep subterranean city Leah’andra had grown up in herself. She preferred her privacy, and it made the home one of the most desired and expensive known in her circle of wealth. But since the falling of her fortunes and the disappearance of her only child on the surface, Leah’andra had no desire to attend the upkeep of the home.

She sat now, distraught and angered, staring in lost thoughts at the glass goblet of wine in front of her. It was half full but was the sixth of a line of fully drained cups. She had been drinking her sorrows away nightly, after a day spent in bed, alone.

Alone. A Drow Matron alone. She knew she ought to be out courting some lover or other, wooing some male into her web so that he could take care of her most basic of needs; money, protection, and lust.

But since the letter came of her son’s disappearance in one of the most insane crusades to the surface she had ever heard, Leah had no passion for anything. She hungered for nothing, ate very little, and fed her broken heart on wine alone.

Soon, this night, her head began to loll. The servants lining the walls as commanded looked at each other solemnly. They would be unable to move from their positions until she allowed. Now she was passing out from her drink, and they would surely have to stay where they were all night long. Maybe, in the morning, she would release them to their rooms. But they wouldn’t know for sure until then. Leah’andra’s temperament was fickle and unpredictable.

Somewhere down below the dining hall, a door swung open, letting in the fetid stench of the unkempt courtyard. Then it slammed shut and a running of feet was heard. Up the stairs came someone wearing armor, and the servants cowered.

Were they finally being run over by vagrants? Bandits? The soldiers of another Matron who intended to oust Leah’andra and have the house for herself?

It was none of these.

Preleis burst into the dining hall, panting. He glanced quickly around the long room, until his eyes settled on the slumped forward form of his mother, sitting in what once had been her throne. His panting breath caught in his throat as he saw her there. And he knew what had happened.

She had fallen for the trickery of one of their enemies. Some fiend had sent her the false papers suggesting he was disappeared, dead or worse, somewhere on the blasted light-covered surface. Poor Leah’andra, who had chosen to bear only the one child, and that a son of all things, was drowning her sorrows.

Had she finally drunk herself to death, he wondered, dashing forward to smell the goblet.

He tossed it from the table, letting it shatter on a wall nearby a servant’s unflinching head. From the smell of it, it was poor wine but not poisoned. So his mother was not dead from suicide or further treachery. She was morning the supposed loss of her only child, one that could never be her heir but one she loved more than life itself.

Preleis smiled then, and put a hand against his mother’s cheek. Her eyes fluttered, but he could tell the crystal blue orbs saw nothing of him. He was covered head to foot in armor, besides. It was new gear he had bought with his mother’s generous and constant donations to his journey. She may have despised his insisting that he go to the surface, but she had ensured he had every comfort on the journey. Nothing was to be spared for her only child.

Smiling still, Preleis pulled his mother into his arms, lifting her frail form from her heavy chair and carrying her from the room. He knew the way to her bedroom well enough, though he had never been allowed to enter therein. He was her First Boy, the only male child she would have allowed herself to have. Unbeknownst to those outside the House of Acre-Mons, Leah’andra intended never to bear a child again. Her heart was devoted to the male offspring she had produced, that she had even dared to suckle. Most male children were lucky to be allowed to live, never mind to grow into a useful role within their Matron’s home. Preleis was more than just lucky though. He was Leah’andra’s beloved son, and regardless of the protocol of Drow society, she gave him everything she dared. It was one of the things that made their privacy so crucial and important.

Up stairs and around corners, Preleis walked, slowly. He took his time, admiring his mother’s unconscious form. The perfect line of her lips, the pointed cut of her ears as they poked from the white cascade of her hair. Her head lolled, softly, on his armored bicep, and he pulled her closer still. He could smell the incense on her thin robes. And if he dared to look carefully, bahis firmaları he could see the subtle curve of her nipples through her bodice.

She was an eternal beauty, elf-born even though she was Drow. The heritage of the Dark Elf was long since torn from those of the surface dwelling, tree-hugging elves that frolicked foolishly in field and forest. But one thing all Drow shared with their light-loving kin was near-immortality. With great care, a wise Drow avoided poisoned cups and well-hidden daggers, deadly creatures slipped under bedcovers, and grew to a ripe and ancient age. Of course, it was necessary to the Drow lifestyle that not all be so lucky and wise.

With a booted foot, Preleis pushed open one of the two heavy doors that guarded Leah’andra’s bedroom chambers. The gaggle of servants that had been following them quietly on padded feet slipped in behind him and began lighting soft candles and incense burners, readying the room for their mistress. After their work was done, Preleis hissed at them and moved to the veiled four poster bed set in the center of the room.

Once there, he carefully laid his mother down on the soft velvet blankets, pushing the curtains until they wound around the posts so that he could watch her and make sure she was comfortable.

He stared at her, as her eyelids fluttered once more. She looked up at him, and he was sure she thought she was having a dream.

“Who are you?” she whispered softly.

Preleis leaned closer, pulling off his helm and placing it on the floor next to the bed. He knelt there, taking his mother’s hand in his.

“Your son,” he said, kissing the top of her hand tenderly.

“My son is dead,” replied Leah’andra.

Her eyes filled with tears, drunk as she was. The pain of her loss was that prevalent in her thoughts that even in a stupor, she felt it’s keening.

“No, mother. I am alive and well! It was all lies…”

Preleis took his mother’s hand and rubbed the palm against his bare cheek. He was still so young a Drow that he did not have facial hair, only a boy really. But what passed for a boy among the dark elves made him a man on the surface.

Leah’andra blinked and seemed to gaze at nothing. Her lips curled in a smile as her eyes closed, and she pulled Preleis close in a weak embrace.

“If I am dreaming, let it never end,” she whispered in his ear.

Preleis let her arms fall to her sides finally. He knew he should leave her rooms. When she woke in the morning, she would be angered to think he had carried her here. It would be more that her pride was wounded. Leah liked to come across as a strong woman, not a weak and simpering fool. The thought of her son carrying her across the house would appall her good sensibilities, never mind that he had entered her private rooms.

But when he looked down at her, her fingers were slowly reaching for him.

“Don’t leave me, Preleis. Never again leave me,” she sighed.

Her breath was the same as the wine she had been drinking, sweet and intoxicating. Preleis looked to the doors of her rooms, which were once again closed. No one would see if he removed his armor and stripped down to the leather undergarments he wore beneath. Then he could climb onto the giant bed and hold his mother while she slept. Her anger be damned the next morning; he couldn’t bear leaving her alone just now. And she seemed so weak and fragile.

Undoing the armor alone took Preleis longer than he had hoped, but soon he was wearing his soft leather tunic and leggings that came down to just below his knees. All the rest of the padding he used to protect his ebon skin from chafing was piled with the rest of his war gear, at the side of the bed. Carefully, he crept around his mother’s bare feet and made his way up next to her on the bed.

Preleis slid his arm beneath her snowy head, letting her curl up against him unconsciously. He stared at the veiled canopy above the bed, studying the webbed designs there. Knots of lace were wrapped at odd intervals in the shimmering web, looking much like flies caught and poisoned and saved for later. Is that how Leah’andra saw her conquests, her lovers? Preleis thought to himself.

Then he considered the thought that he held his mother now much like her lovers did. He couldn’t remember her having had a lover for several decades. She was very focused on Preleis’ education and war training. She spared no time for her own frivolous needs.

So does she lie here at night alone, then, staring at this web and remembering the feel of a lover’s kisses?

It made the young man sigh in regret. It wasn’t natural for his mother to care for him as she did. Matrons did their best to oust the males they birthed, as soon as they could. Giving a son up to foster in another’s House was an ideal way to make or break a bond, depending on if the boy survived to full adulthood. That was the Drow way, death and intrigue at the hands of those close by. The enemies and infidels of the surface were simply past-times used kaçak iddaa to practice on and train. The real enemy lay in the House next door, in one’s neighbors and relatives. And in one’s own family.

Leah stirred next to Preleis, in the throes of a nightmare. He turned to watch her, leaving his arm beneath her. And his breath caught in his throat as he saw that her bodice, having been loosely laced in the first place, had now come undone.

Leah’andra’s perfect and rounded breasts had pushed from the purple material. Her navy blue nipples were tinged with a color of burgundy like the blood from some sacrificed maiden, and Preleis could see clearly every ripple and bump on the areolas before him.

He felt his groin tighten unnaturally in his leggings, pressing against the leather and demanding attention. His mind was focused now though on the breasts exposed before him. Leah’andra tossed again, towards her son, and one heavy breast pressed suddenly against Preleis’ side.

She was heaving, in her slumber, panting in fear or anger at whatever demons tortured her dreams. And it made her breast drag slightly up and down the leather covered side of Preleis’ tunic. As he watched, enthralled, the nipple hardened from the sudden stimulation, becoming erect and peaked like a small dark mountain.

One I can never climb, he thought warily to himself to ward off his unbidden lusty thoughts.

But his groin had a mind of its own, and it throbbed between his legs. Preleis looked again at the bedchamber’s doors. He chewed his bottom lip, and with a careful hand, slowly reached down to touch the outline of his cock through his leggings.

The House of Acre-Mons was a House of oddities, indeed, he thought. Never had Preleis bothered to waste his time with the affections of the many maids his mother dutifully shoved his way. He pleasured them, learned how to please a woman, but never slaked his own thirst on them. Somehow, they never seemed perfect enough. They were too young, too innocent, too inexperienced for what he felt needed to be an epic adventure. He shied away from the Matrons that plied him with gifts when he was a handsome boy going to gallant balls and parties as his mother’s escort. Always he stayed at her side, ignoring the beckoning fingers of the women around him, mature women with wealth and fortune he could ill afford to ignore.

And yet he did just that — ignored their wooing words and courteous gifts. It was a secret he kept from his mother, never wanting her to know of his dislike for that side of Drow culture. He knew learning to please a woman could mean a man’s life or death, and he learned his lessons well. But never once did Preleis dally with a woman longer than he had to.

Men, of course, he had enjoyed thoroughly, especially the men whom he had served or who had served beneath him. Men did not love. They slaked their thirsts as was needed, giving in to the physical as a means of release. When approached the first time by an instructor who held a different kind of sword in his hand, Preleis had been mystified. But his initiation into the army had started thus, and he accepted that this was how men of war needed to act when there were no women around. They weren’t like the human armies of the surface, who dragged wenches from farmhouses and serf’s homes for the sole purpose of dallying in pleasure. The Drow men used each other only as they needed, so that they could focus on the battles at hand.

Now, Preleis was finding himself suddenly attracted and intrigued by one woman in particular. And again, it was something that couldn’t be. His mother, driven by sorrow to a drunken stupor, lay exposed next to him. Her nipple was hardening against the leather of his tunic. And he had a hand on his groin, stroking carefully the ridged outline of his cock through the leather of his leggings.

She wouldn’t know if he touched her, now, he knew. The thought was a temptation. In her sleep, Leah pressed herself up against Preleis, her dreams suddenly seeming ardent and passionate. He sighed and rolled to his ribs, facing Leah’andra and adjusting himself for what he was about to do.

Carefully, he pushed her to her back with one hand. But when she had rolled over, he did not pull away. Instead, his fingers began to move over the purple material of her blouse until they reached the darker colored bodice and its undone lacings. With great care, Preleis watched Leah’s face as he pulled the bodice completely apart, letting the lacings fall to the sides. Leah sighed heavily with relief as her breasts were freed from the tight and binding top. Preleis chewed his bottom lip, staring at both of the exposed breasts.

Now both nipples were hardening, equaling each other in their peaked firmness. He lifted a finger and dared to touch one. Leah moaned softly, likely thinking it was a lover in her dreams who touched her this way. She was too drunk to think anything more of the stimulation she was feeling.

Preleis circled the nipple slowly, sucking in his breath as kaçak bahis he felt the small ridged peaks of each breast. Then, he brought his finger to his mouth and licked it, returning to the dark nipples with wetted digit. He circled each nipple again, watching as the saliva gathered in the dips of each areola and glistened in the soft candle light.

With precision, Preleis blew gently on each nipple. He raised his head up and looked down at his mother, watching her brow furrow as her chest heaved. She was enjoying this dream, he knew. And he wasn’t sure if he could stop enjoying it himself, just when he should.

With a son’s hunger, he stared at the tight areolas of the breasts before them. As a child, he had suckled there, he knew. He almost remembered the soft caress of his mother’s fingers on his cheek as he drank deeply of her milk. Most Matrons refused to feed a male child, finding a wet nurse to do the duty instead. Usually, that wet nurse became a child’s first lover. But Leah’andra had suckled Preleis herself. And he hadn’t completely forgotten the feel of her nipples in his mouth…or his desire to have her be his first lover.

Slowly, he bent his head and closed his eyes, his lips parting to take the peaked areola of the breast closest to him into his mouth. He enveloped it slowly, then began to suckle it firmly. He sucked hard, remembering the dribble of milk that used to flow from this breasts over his tongue. Now there was no milk, but the nectar of his passion made this just as sweet. He tongued the nipple until it was soft, larger now. And he opened his mouth more, his hand gripping the breast from underneath and holding it firm to his mouth. He filled himself with his mother’s breasts.

Beneath him, Leah’andra groaned and shifted. But Preleis did not release her. He adjusted himself, pulling his other arm from beneath her head slowly so she did not wake. He lay next to her now, almost on top of her torso. He let go of her breast with his hand and moved his fingers to the mammary left unattended. Then he tweaked that nipple, hardening it. Deftly, he transferred himself from one breast to another, quickly suckling on the fresh one until it too was soft and swollen.

Leah’s hands on his head were a surprise, but not enough to make him pause in his suckling. She was asleep, she would remember none of this. Her fingers curled in his hair wantonly and he drank deeply, feeling himself fill with his mother’s slumbering passion.

It was such a natural move, to release her breast with his hand and let his fingers slowly slide down her ribs and over the material of her thin robes. It was so right, to Preleis, that he reach her skirts thus, and begin to pull them up his mother’s thighs.

There was no going back now, he knew. His cock was hard, aching for these next moments. And Leah’s need was clear as she squirmed and moaned beneath him. Her thighs parted as the skirts exposed the ebon skin of her legs. Preleis turned his head to look at her knees, his mouth still anchored to her breast. Then, as the sight of her exposed privacy came into view and the skirts were at last completely bunched in his hand, he gasped lightly and the nipple dropped from his mouth.

As Leah lay there, writhing in want and need, her legs spread and closed rhythmically. Her perfectly trimmed pubis was almost bare of the soft downy white hairs she kept trimmed down to a small triangle on her mons. And Preleis could see the pouting fullness of her labia, her lips slightly opening and closing with the movement of her thighs.

His hand let go of the material of her skirts. His fingers moved lower, grazing across her abdomen. Then, he was cupping her sex, no longer caring about being tender. He held her firmly in his palm, reveling in the feeling.

Here it was, the thing she had always hidden from him by duty and cultural law. Her sex, her mons, her privacy, the thing she shared with others in this very bed — but never with him.

Carefully, Preleis moved his head lower, finally resting it just above one of Leah’andra’s thighs. He wanted to see it all. If he was going to at last see it, he wanted to miss nothing.

He pried her lips apart with careful fingers, licking his lips as he saw the glistening moisture tucked between the cleft of the swollen outer labia. With the fingers of each hand, he maneuvered the lips apart until he could see the budding clitoris beginning to swell right before his eyes. And there, nestled snuggly in the flesh of her cunt, were the inner labia of Leah’s sex.

Preleis moved himself to between his mother’s spread legs. She had parted her thighs wide for whoever it was she dreamt of. And he intended to take full advantage of the position.

His tongue darted out expertly, tasting the nectar of his mother’s forbidden sex. He closed his eyes, reveling in the musky scent that was woman. Again his tongue came out, and then again. He began to lap almost furiously at the cunt lips, teasing out every drop of moisture that he could. Here was the milk a man could drink, here was what he no longer needed to get from the breast. Between his mother’s legs he found the milk of life, the nectar of the gods, all that was heavenly and made of ambrosia.

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