Jeremiah is a simple man with a love for farming, ill suited for his life as a Soldier. But war has fallen upon the realms of Men, and vicious Northmen have invaded, sweeping aside age-old empires and changing the world forever. After being captured by the enemy, Jeremiah agrees to transport young prince Tobias to a monastery in return for his freedom. The Soldier and theJeremiah is a simple man with a love for farming, ill suited for his life as a Soldier. But war has fallen upon the realms of Men, and vicious Northmen have invaded, sweeping aside age-old empires and changing the world forever. After being captured by the enemy, Jeremiah agrees to transport young prince Tobias to a monastery in return for his freedom. The Soldier and the Prince discover a mutual attraction, one that frightens the repressed Tobias but warms Jeremiah within. Their hearts will face battle, pestilence, and certain death before they can find love....more
This novella was a good read of an enduring love. The soldier, Jeremiah, is to escort the Prince, Tobias, to a southern monastery. Both Jeremiah and Tobias are but young men with the Prince naive and the soldier world wise. Love blossoms during the trip south but war, plague and politics change each man radically. The story flows well and I enjoyed seeing Tobias grow more worldly. The ending, though not what I expected, was very well done.
Hello lovers of erotic fiction, I decided to provide a copy of a juicy excerpt from All Romance.com. Be warned Tobias and Jeremiah have been denied forbidden plesure too long! Have a tall glass of an iced beverage while reading it! Mother nature is in full force here, Tobias and Jeremiah are bad , bad boys!
JEREMIAH lay on the wooden pallet that served as a bed and waited for his death. Above him, in the corner of the darkness, was an ancient cobweb, its denizens long since turned to dust. The irHello lovers of erotic fiction, I decided to provide a copy of a juicy excerpt from All Romance.com. Be warned Tobias and Jeremiah have been denied forbidden plesure too long! Have a tall glass of an iced beverage while reading it! Mother nature is in full force here, Tobias and Jeremiah are bad , bad boys!
JEREMIAH lay on the wooden pallet that served as a bed and waited for his death. Above him, in the corner of the darkness, was an ancient cobweb, its denizens long since turned to dust. The irony was not lost on him.
Even here, secreted away from the ways of the world, news had reached him of the fall of his homeland. If the Northmen had crushed his people, then this land would soon follow. Not that he would live to see it.
The young man knew he was now a worthless hostage. They could free him, but there was no gain in that. No, an assassin’s blade would finish him.
He rolled over onto his stomach and placed his head in the pillow to sob softly. His mother, his father, Elias. All were dead now.
The Northmen were merciless to those that opposed them, and even a blind man could see that the Red Cloaks would fight to the last man. No, it was over—his life, such that it was. His eyes stung as he lay on his back once more, staring into the darkness. He did not know how long he lay there, for there was no sunlight in this place.
Eventually, a distant sound reached his ears: footsteps scraping on the cold floor, growing ever closer. Jeremiah felt his body tense, and his breathing grew shallow. Despite his training, he felt cold, and fear grew within him.
The footsteps stopped at the great oak door that imprisoned him. Slowly, maybe deliberately so, it swung open.
Jeremiah squinted his eyes at this intrusion of light, and when he could finally see, his breath stopped in his throat.
“Sire?” he whispered, unsure of himself. Should he stand?
The King was alone, with no escort or guards. Jeremiah sat up in the bed but stopped himself from standing, so as not to seem threatening. Finally he came to his senses.
“Sire, should I get you a seat?” he asked, and the old man nodded. For he was an old man now, Jeremiah realized. All vitality had left the King. The man’s skin seemed waxy and flaccid, as if he were a walking corpse. In truth, Jeremiah suspected he was. He pulled over the wooden seat, completely flummoxed.
“I want to talk to you, boy,” the King said eventually, and the young man nodded numbly, his eyes widening. “Your people have succumbed to the Northmen,” he said in a cool voice. When Jeremiah’s face clouded with anguish, he added, “You knew this?” “I heard the guards talking,” admitted the young man. “You understand what this means?” Jeremiah made to speak but stopped himself, and then decided to say something different. “The Guards didn’t mock me with this news,” he said. “They are afraid.” “Aye, boy,” the King agreed. “I was told you were a smart one.” He shook his head sadly. “If the Red Cloaks were crushed, what hope do the rest of us have?” Jeremiah said nothing, suspecting it was a rhetorical question. “I should have you executed,” the King continued, “yet I come here alone, without a guard.”
Jeremiah nodded, but he finally understood. The King had accepted defeat.
“I offer you your freedom. Your land is no more, boy, but you still have the air in your lungs.”
Finally Jeremiah found the courage to speak. “At what price?” The King smiled bitterly at that. “It is said you people will never break your oath, is this true?” “Aye, it is, Sire,” admitted Jeremiah, and the old man seemed to consider this. “I want you to bring my son south,” the King said. “There is a great monastery on the peninsula where he will live his life. He is like you, little more than a boy, but he would not survive even the journey alone. Bring him there and you will receive 10,000 talents from the Abbot. Enough gold to last ten lifetimes.” Jeremiah was in shock. He had no idea what to say. With horror, he found the King’s steely gaze on him. To reuse was certain death, he knew. “I… accept,” he said through gritted teeth. The King’s hand grasped his in a firm hold. It was a surprisingly powerful grip. “Your oath,” he hissed. “I swear to bring your son there safely….” THE two horsemen slipped south just after dusk with hopes of avoiding prying eyes and loose tongues. As they galloped through the countryside, the castle receded into the night, a deep inky black disappearing into a memory. The young man, Tobias, wore a heavy brown robe in the manner of the southern monks. His blond hair was cut short, and the crown of his head was shaved bald. Jeremiah thought to himself that it made the man look very boyish, though in fact, he was the same age as himself and quite a bit taller. The soldier was forced to admit to himself that the young prince was not unattractive, and more than once, he wondered what kind of body shape hid beneath the thick fabric of the robe. Cursing himself, he removed the thought from his mind. He was still in shock from the events that had unfolded both in his life and in the world at large, and he knew he struck a sad, melancholy figure. Jeremiah felt that he now lived a life without meaning. The road south would be difficult, but he genuinely didn’t care about the promise of gold that waited at journey’s end. He felt like a man living in a dream, a twilight world in which he was neither living nor dead. For his part, his companion was equally uncommunicative. They were awkward in each other’s company, speaking only in monotone and grunts. Worse was the fact that they had left so late. They would only travel for a few hours before stopping for the night. Jeremiah expected an uncomfortable night of small talk and long, pregnant silences. As they rode, Jeremiah felt the breeze begin to strengthen. Cold rain was coming. He knew the signs well enough. The night was eerily dark, and he began to grow uncomfortable. He had never been this far south, being a frontier man at heart. Jeremiah was not tall, barely reaching five foot eight. He wore his black hair short and spiked, as was the way of his people. His face was smooth and beardless despite his twenty-one summers on this earth.
The young warrior had the dark, tanned skin of a Southerner, as legend said his people had originally lived in the harsh warm climes of the Deep South. His body was slim and lithe, and he emanated toughness. His people had always been warlike, though he was unusual for his kind. There was gentleness to the soldier, a thing that he guarded closely. Jeremiah had been sent to the kingdom of the roundheads as a hostage, a guarantee of peace between two warring lands. Instead, the Northmen had come from the mountains, and they had numbered more than the stars in the sky. The old kingdoms of the frontiers had set aside their enmities and fought, but their resistance had proved futile. The army of his land, the Red Cloaks, once the most feared army on this earth, had been crushed. The land of this young prince-turned-monk would soon follow it to dust. Jeremiah felt like wailing, his mind and body in turmoil. Almost unwillingly he found his eyes resting on the young man time after time. He noticed the crook of the prince’s neck; how his skin seemed white as milk. The hands that held the reins of the horse did so with the ease of a born horseman. With horror the young soldier found his wandering eyes caught, and he looked away, embarrassed. His charge did not speak, however. Jeremiah sighed. Despite himself, he wanted company. The cell and his confinement had been lonely these last few months, and he wanted to talk, even to a stranger. He wanted to cry; he wanted to be held in a man’s arms and rocked to sleep as if he were a child. The young soldier was not a fool. He knew that he grieved and yearned for a human touch to drive the fear away. Any other less-than-pure thoughts were the natural reaction of a healthy man who had been cooped up in a cold cell for months on end. They continued their silent journey, reaching a small cobblestone road that lead away from the castle. The young prince halted and pointed south, indicating the direction they should go. For a moment, the young men stared into each other’s eyes, and Jeremiah noticed the blond-haired prince had eyes as blue as the morning sky. This time, the young prince blushed and looked away first. He dug his knees into the horse, and it moved onto the cobblestones. Jeremiah followed him silently. “WE SHOULD stop,” said Jeremiah, eyeing the bleak sky. The night had begun to cloud up, and a cool breeze now whipped against his body. Again, he eyed the young prince’s thick robe, though this time less mockingly. “So soon?” asked Tobias, sounding disappointed. Instead of answering, Jeremiah led them through a thicket of trees, searching for a suitable place to camp. Although he hadn’t expected it, he found himself tired. This myriad of emotions he felt was proving as potent as any physical exertion. Twenty minutes later, the two men crouched by a small fire. Jeremiah cooked some oatmeal for them to eat. Off in the cover of the trees, the horses whickered, perhaps due to the odor of the food or, more likely, the gathering wind. Though not bade to do so, Tobias stood and went to rub the horses down as Jeremiah prepared the food. The young soldier suspected it was an excuse not to have to talk to him. “Looks like rain,” Jeremiah said morosely. His companion merely grunted, and Jeremiah sighed inwardly.
This is going to be a long night, he thought to himself. They ate in silence, and in the flickering light, Jeremiah studied the young prince again. While he had thought him attractive in passing, up close, he was forced to concede the young man was beautiful. His skin had a supple, healthy tone. Tobias’s lips were red and full. Even the blond hair was unusually lush despite the almost comedic bald patch that sat atop his head. Jeremiah could not understand the holy men he found beyond his own land. Even more confusing was why a prince would choose that life for himself, war or not. “Have we cover?” asked Tobias, almost nervously. Jeremiah was pretty sure it was the first time his companion had initiated a conversation. His voice was rich and melodic, the young soldier noticed. He saw those pretty blue eyes studying him and he finally came to a realization. “You don’t need to fear me,” Jeremiah said softly. His words did not have the intended effect. If anything Tobias seemed even less at ease. Still, now that he had trodden in with one foot, he figured he might as well jump in. “You should know I have no idea what’s going on here,” said Jeremiah with feeling. “I was offered my freedom if I brought you south. I really think your father could have done better to be honest.” Tobias sighed. “My father was never the great thinker.” “Still, if we are to travel together, it’s best we’re… civil. Is that the word?” “It is,” agreed Tobias. “I did not mean to seem cold. My mind has been elsewhere.” “That I can understand.” He reached across the small fire. “My name is Jeremiah.” The young man opposite him smiled, and it lit up his face. “And I am Tobias.” He has the smooth, even tones of an educated man, thought Jeremiah. This one was no warrior, he told himself, understanding a little better the young man’s choices. “You are a Red Cloak?” asked Tobias. Jeremiah nodded. “I am,” he answered. The question seemed to have some significance for the young man, but whatever it was, its meaning was beyond the soldier. “So you think it will rain tonight?” asked Tobias, changing the subject. “Soon, I think,” agreed Jeremiah. “Well,” said Tobias. “I think I may sleep now. If we leave at dawn, we can get close to the Citadel by day’s end.” Jeremiah nodded his agreement but stayed by the fire. He watched the young prince lean against the trunk of a tree, covered a little by the green branches above. The soldier found himself staring into the flames, but the rain soon came, and before long, the warmth of the fire was a distant memory. The soldier moved under the cover of the branches, keeping a respectable distance from his companion. He wrapped himself in his deerskin blanket but soon found it offered little respite from the biting chill and the drops of rain that slipped through the tree.
Jeremiah felt the cold biting into his feet and hands. He silently watched his companion lying a few feet across from him. The soldier had spent years on the hard trail, and he knew the young man feigned sleep. Eventually his resolve cracked. “Tobias?” he whispered into the night. At first he thought his companion would not reply, but the young man’s head popped up from the cover of his blanket. “Is something wrong?” he asked, worried. Jeremiah could see the man shivering. “It’s cold,” he offered. “It is,” said Tobias grudgingly. “Best we share a blanket tonight.” “I’m sorry?” Tobias was obviously blushing despite the dim light. “Is that a problem?” asked Jeremiah, nonplussed. Tobias smiled shyly. “In my land, when men share a blanket….” “Ah,” said Jeremiah, “I did not mean we would share our love. We must conserve our body heat.” “I know,” said Tobias in that shy way he had. “It was just the way you said it.” “Is my language a problem?” asked Jeremiah a little defensively. “No, you speak my tongue perfectly. I didn’t mean to be rude.” “Such love is a problem for you?” Tobias’s face went red as blood. “No… I….” “Have you not had such love?” asked Jeremiah innocently, and for a moment, Tobias did not know where to look, until finally his gaze met the grinning face of the young soldier. “You’re mocking me!” he said, shocked but unable to stop the grin reaching his own face. “Only a little,” he said, and again Tobias smiled. Despite himself, the soldier felt butterflies in his tummy. The young prince moved to sit beside him at the base of the tree, and Jeremiah pulled the blanket over the two of them. “We need to undress,” said Jeremiah. Tobias was shocked. “I—” “It is nothing untoward, my friend,” the soldier said swiftly. “I give you my word.” Tobias seemed uncomfortable. “We will not be together long, my friend,” said Jeremiah, “but we should learn to trust, even for this short time.” The young prince did not answer. Instead, he removed his heavy brown robe, careful that the deerskin blanket did not slip and reveal his nakedness. Wordlessly, Jeremiah removed his own clothing, and he pushed the prince so he lay on his side.
Gently Jeremiah rested against the prince, his muscular abdomen pressing against the prince’s naked back. His unerect cock nestled against the gap in the man’s buttocks. Jeremiah pushed his feet against Tobias’s. “Better?” he asked. “Yes,” said Tobias. “It feels much better.” Jeremiah squeezed the prince’s chest reassuringly and closed his eyes. He locked his mind down, allowing no unnecessary thoughts. Yet in his heart, something in him shifted subtly. As he drifted to sleep, the young soldier found himself thinking of destiny. JEREMIAH’S eyes shot open, but he did not move.
Around him, the wind laced through the trees, and the cold rain splattered against the deerskin blanket. Yet that was not what woke him. There was no one else here, no one watching them from the cover of the darkness.
Tobias was muttering in his sleep, gibberish by the sounds of it. During the night, they had reversed positions, and now the prince held him.
Jeremiah could feel the hard shaft pushing against his naked buttocks. Slowly and gently he craned his head back, but his companion still slept fitfully. Every now and then, the blond-haired man shuddered as if in the depths of a dream.
His own cock grew hard, arousal reaching him like an exotic scent. Slowly his hand slipped down to the bulbous head of his own penis, and he began to knead his cock, careful not to run his hand down the full length of his shaft lest the sudden movement wake his sleeping companion. Instead, he gently rubbed and kneaded his bulbous cockhead. Slowly and gently, Jeremiah opened his thighs so that Tobias’s hard cock slipped between them, the head resting against his balls. The young man moaned in his sleep, but still, he did not waken. Tobias’s cock began to move involuntarily.
Jeremiah’s probing of his own manhood grew more urgent. He felt Tobias’s warm breath on his neck, he felt the young man’s hips tensing and relaxing. Finally, he understood: the young prince was dreaming, and soon, his seed would flow.
Jeremiah lay wide awake, feeling the tensing of hips behind him, his own cock beginning to widen, become slick. A warm liquid covered him from behind, enveloping his balls and thighs. The breath on his neck was red hot. He tensed as his own seed shot from him, layering the inside of the blanket. Jeremiah lay in the darkness, his breathing shallow. What had just happened? Above them, the wind howled, and it seemed the earth shook.
“Jeremiah?” a voice said from behind him. Tobias sounded so weak, innocent… scared. It seemed he awoke as he came. The soldier reached behind and pulled the young prince’s arm over his stomach. They lay there, hidden from the elements.
“Go to sleep, Tobias,” urged Jeremiah, and he said no more.