Clevon had mentioned 'the Plan' to him before in some of his letters. Always capitalized, and often with equal parts respect and annoyance, the Plan had, by all reports, been going along quite well. But as someone had once said, God laughed at the plans of men, and Clevon's blossoming was proof. And as he felt his wife-to-be's heart pounding so near his own, he couldn't help but be deeply grateful for this particular twist in their grand Plan.
His fate was also not what he'd planned when he was younger. The youngest of three brothers, he thought it unlikely that he would ever sit upon the throne, and had looked forward to a relatively quiet life. 'Little Cale', his brothers had called him, though not unkindly, and he'd been quite content to be so.
But then his middle brother, Thomas, always a somewhat sickly child, had succumbed to illness at age fourteen. A terrible loss for the family and the kingdom, and for Caleb especially, as he and Thomas had been quite close, but it still left Caleb as the spare, not the heir. But then one day while Caleb was away with his mother, visiting her relatives, his eldest brother, Samuel, had gone out riding. His horse had returned late that evening... without its rider. His body was discovered the next day, at the bottom of a ravine near one of his favorite hunting trails, his neck broken; with no evidence of foul play, it was concluded that his horse had spooked and thrown him at just the wrong time. There was nothing to be done but mourn.
His younger self had left his keep as 'Little Cale'. He had returned as Lord Caleb, and his whole life had changed. His education had changed. The way people regarded him had changed. What was expected of him had changed. No longer could he just do as he pleased; every decision required consideration. Consideration of how it might reflect on him, how it might reflect on his kingdom, his people. How it might affect the running of his own kingdom, from affairs of state to the traffic of goods in the market. A thousand factors he hadn't considered before.
His own kingdom dealt largely in agriculture. There were plenty of artisans, scholars, builders, and the like of course, but the pride of their kingdom was the food it produced. From its vast golden fields of grain to its orchards of fruit and gardens of vegetables, the soil of their valley home was kind to them, seldom failing to produce a surplus both to sustain them through the winter and to be exported and sold. And of course, their home's bounty also supported herds of animals and flocks of fowl; sheep and ducks were the most numerous, but cattle, pigs, and goats could also be found grazing his land's fields, and chickens, pigeons, and geese pecking in its yards. Some also kept rabbits, both for food and fur, and the river and streams produced a fair supply of fish in most seasons.
But where food and other products of the land were plentiful, finer finished things were less so, which was how his kingdom and Clevon's had initially begun their dealings with one another. Doubtless fruit, grain, and cheese from his kingdom had crossed Clevon's table, just as fine plates and cups made in or imported by Clevon's kingdom were frequently seen on Caleb's. And their marriage would likely serve to make both kingdoms more prosperous.
But all that was in he past and the future. Just then, his promised wife had his undivided attention. "I'll be forever grateful for both their incompetence and their discretion, then," he said. Not all the survivors of Clevon's party had fared so well, but such grim news could be saved for when they were both more clearheaded. "I'll have my healers examine you at the first opportunity; they'll be a far better judge of what care your injuries need than I. Until then, I'll just have to be as gentle as our activities allow." Which was probably good for a first bedding in any case; even with heat, there was such a thing as too much too quickly.
Though it would have been easy to forget that with the way he pressed his rump up against Caleb's cock, not quite wriggling, but still shifting deliciously in a way that pulled a sound that was half moan, half growl from somewhere deep in his chest. His hardness throbbed between them, hot and eager; he'd have a knot swelling before long at this rate.
And his promised mate was clearly no less eager, given the way he squeaked for that nip. He chuckled near Clevon's ear, his voice husky. "A taste, my love, of what's to come on our wedding night," he said, speeding up his stroking, his breath hot on his promised bride's neck. "Would that I could give you all now, but anticipation will make the feast that much sweeter when the time comes. And I intend to eat and drink my fill."
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His fate was also not what he'd planned when he was younger. The youngest of three brothers, he thought it unlikely that he would ever sit upon the throne, and had looked forward to a relatively quiet life. 'Little Cale', his brothers had called him, though not unkindly, and he'd been quite content to be so.
But then his middle brother, Thomas, always a somewhat sickly child, had succumbed to illness at age fourteen. A terrible loss for the family and the kingdom, and for Caleb especially, as he and Thomas had been quite close, but it still left Caleb as the spare, not the heir. But then one day while Caleb was away with his mother, visiting her relatives, his eldest brother, Samuel, had gone out riding. His horse had returned late that evening... without its rider. His body was discovered the next day, at the bottom of a ravine near one of his favorite hunting trails, his neck broken; with no evidence of foul play, it was concluded that his horse had spooked and thrown him at just the wrong time. There was nothing to be done but mourn.
His younger self had left his keep as 'Little Cale'. He had returned as Lord Caleb, and his whole life had changed. His education had changed. The way people regarded him had changed. What was expected of him had changed. No longer could he just do as he pleased; every decision required consideration. Consideration of how it might reflect on him, how it might reflect on his kingdom, his people. How it might affect the running of his own kingdom, from affairs of state to the traffic of goods in the market. A thousand factors he hadn't considered before.
His own kingdom dealt largely in agriculture. There were plenty of artisans, scholars, builders, and the like of course, but the pride of their kingdom was the food it produced. From its vast golden fields of grain to its orchards of fruit and gardens of vegetables, the soil of their valley home was kind to them, seldom failing to produce a surplus both to sustain them through the winter and to be exported and sold. And of course, their home's bounty also supported herds of animals and flocks of fowl; sheep and ducks were the most numerous, but cattle, pigs, and goats could also be found grazing his land's fields, and chickens, pigeons, and geese pecking in its yards. Some also kept rabbits, both for food and fur, and the river and streams produced a fair supply of fish in most seasons.
But where food and other products of the land were plentiful, finer finished things were less so, which was how his kingdom and Clevon's had initially begun their dealings with one another. Doubtless fruit, grain, and cheese from his kingdom had crossed Clevon's table, just as fine plates and cups made in or imported by Clevon's kingdom were frequently seen on Caleb's. And their marriage would likely serve to make both kingdoms more prosperous.
But all that was in he past and the future. Just then, his promised wife had his undivided attention. "I'll be forever grateful for both their incompetence and their discretion, then," he said. Not all the survivors of Clevon's party had fared so well, but such grim news could be saved for when they were both more clearheaded. "I'll have my healers examine you at the first opportunity; they'll be a far better judge of what care your injuries need than I. Until then, I'll just have to be as gentle as our activities allow." Which was probably good for a first bedding in any case; even with heat, there was such a thing as too much too quickly.
Though it would have been easy to forget that with the way he pressed his rump up against Caleb's cock, not quite wriggling, but still shifting deliciously in a way that pulled a sound that was half moan, half growl from somewhere deep in his chest. His hardness throbbed between them, hot and eager; he'd have a knot swelling before long at this rate.
And his promised mate was clearly no less eager, given the way he squeaked for that nip. He chuckled near Clevon's ear, his voice husky. "A taste, my love, of what's to come on our wedding night," he said, speeding up his stroking, his breath hot on his promised bride's neck. "Would that I could give you all now, but anticipation will make the feast that much sweeter when the time comes. And I intend to eat and drink my fill."