Two heads are better than one

[tanks4thememory]

Who: Clu1 and Clu 2 (a_perfect_end)

Where: Their User world abode and possibly other places

When: Some undetermined time post Legacy and after this thread

What: ABO sexytimes and maybe other things; a Clu on Clu catchall

Warnings: VERY NSFW. Multiple kinks, ABO related warnings, sorta incest depending how you view programs from the same User, basically enter at your own risk if you're not into that sort of thing

The life and times- and sexytimes of Clus One and Two in the ABO universe, collected here for the sake of convenience and avoiding page clutter. Multiple scenarios, lots of fun. Mostly of the NSFW variety.

Comments

[tanks4thememory]

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."

[a_perfect_end]

He knew, of a certainty, that fate had not granted his promised husband the easiest path in life. Bountiful and fine were the orchards of his kingdom, fields and gardens fairly teeming with every kind of life that could sprout, creep, fly, or crawl. It was not want that had shaped Caleb's people, nor Caleb himself, but loss. How he still and always would miss dear, cautious Thomas, and Samuel's bold, brave laughter. That truth had wended its way through their letters, a steady undercurrent in all Caleb had told him--their missives being the best way that he could--just how hard it had been, at first, to shed the long golden afternoon of boyhood for sudden total leadership. How he'd shouldered a kingdom without complaint, and had flourished under that responsibility: but just because he could do it, and indeed excelled at it, that did not make his task an easy one.

It was good, to remember and treasure these men he would now never get the chance to meet. To hold them close because his mate still did.

But they were very far from this bed.

And it was difficult to think at all, with Caleb's vows pressed close and gentle in his ear, hot enough to tickle his brain.

It was not his brain that hitched obligingly into the offered fingers, twitching and lively in the narrowing loop of his hand. Clevon was caught, drawn along faster, faster, coils of hot pleasure chased by his promised husband's fingers. Pleasure that only deepened for that long, low sound half-felt against his back, a hungry thrum too harsh to be a moan, but too low and rich for a growl.

Caleb throbbed against him in turn, almost in tandem, and Clevon found himself unable to keep still, instinct much stronger than sense dragging his hips up and back, and a devilish, contrary impulse pushing him to do it slowly, to rub up tight. To pleasure his mate.

He realized with a start, with a sharp, hungry puff of breath, that if it came down to it he would just as much enjoy getting his back painted--as long as alpha wanted that, too.

But as for feasting--oh--

He could hardly take it.

"Oh? Am I a custard, then?" It came out breathy, uneven. He didn't hold back a sharp, bright purr for being stroked. "Y'wish to devour me, m'lord?"

He bared his throat; he rolled his neck; he tried, valiantly, to roll his hips in that treacherous, perfect grip.

"Or simply to take a bite?"

[tanks4thememory]

Caleb fought the urge to swear as his mate rubbed up against him like that. Bad luck, some said, to do so when first bedding a mate, or a promised one. Such encounters were significant, whatever their circumstances, and it didn't do to tempt or offend fate with curses or oaths. And with as narrowly as their story had avoided a tragic end, avoiding such was even more important.

But oh, it was tempting. When Clevon managed to roll his hips like that, catching his cock just so, in a way that both squeezed it and made his balls bounce just slightly, it brought many an obscene term to the tip of his tongue. Strange that so divine a feeling prompted little else more than the urge to sully it.

He settled for a sound half growl and half groan. "A custard?", he managed, his voice roughened with pleasure. "Nay, my love, you're the entire meal, and more besides. But once you are truly mine in the eyes of God and man, I mean to devour every morsel of you, every night that I may."

Romantic as the notion may be, they would not be able to spend every day and night together. Each of them would have duties to perform, and Caleb's were likely to take him far afield at times. But he meant to see that every night they were together was spent blissfully in each others' arms, whether in sleep or lovemaking, and every hour of their days together in warmth and fulfillment.

Another roll of Clevon's hips that sent a thunderbolt of pleasure through him and straight to his groin, and his hand stroking Clevon's cock stuttered as he moaned deep and low. "But for now...", he managed, breathing heavily, "for now, I'd best lay you out and do my duty, before my knot grows too much to manage it. Would you prefer to be taken from the front or the back?"