“But…you want to join in?” Jagger tried to gauge Brick’s mood.

  Brick grinned. “I want to watch, sure. And listen.”

  The sounds were arousing, to say the least. Each gasped-out or bitten-off cry raised the hairs on Jagger’s skin and each scream or shout of pleasure or fulfilment had his balls tightening.

  “And I want to fuck you,” Brick continued, thrusting up. “Nice and slow.”

  “Hmm.” Jagger pretended to consider. “You want to watch but be inside me. So I guess that rules out missionary. Oh, you have a position in mind?”

  Brick answered by tipping Jagger off, to one side of him, his back to Brick. His cock was already nudging at Jagger’s hole. Jagger cast about for his bag to rummage in it and retrieve a small pot that he held up for Brick.

  “Lube?” Brick took it. “Love how you brought the essentials for a journey, food and lubricant.”

  “Be prepared…” Jagger stretched his already relaxed body luxuriously on the grass, pillowing his chin on his folded arms and bending one leg up to expose his hole, for Brick to do just that to him.

  A group of…six? seven? was busy near them. Jagger wondered if Brick was consciously timing his pushes of two thick, meaty fingers into him to replicate the pace at which the tallest tree spirit in the group was thrusting his cock down the throat of another male on his hands and knees in front of him. The volume and rhythm of the moans Jagger gave in response echoed those of the male getting sucked. The very air felt like an aphrodisiac.

  Brick pulled Jagger a little more toward him, his only warning before he lined up and, in a slow, steady push, filled him to the hilt. His pace was leisurely, the movements of his hips more rolls than thrusts, and his arms around Jagger a tight band.

  “Gods.” Jagger wished he could articulate the bliss spreading through him, perhaps emanating from where Brick’s cock was piercing him, but spreading to every corner of his body and literally making his toes curl. He twisted a foot back, tangling it with Brick’s ankles and digging his toenails into Brick’s flesh.

  Maybe Brick understood what Jagger couldn’t express, because he took Jagger’s hand and curled their fingers together, making Jagger’s finger and thumb pinch one of his nipples. At the same time, he licked up the shell of Jagger’s ear, into his elf-point, and Jagger melted. Maybe at some point in the past, at some distant stage in elf evolution, their ear tips had been the sensitive, debilitating erogenous zones that the unknowing still believed them to be today, rather than the mildly pleasant spots they were.

  And sure, Jagger had enjoyed exaggerating their sensitivity for non-elf hook-ups, feigning being brought to his knees when his ear points were caressed or licked or even breathed on, if he was in the mood to play up to a stereotype, then shout “Psyche!” and startle and hopefully educate the guy.

  But this, Brick giving them tiny licks and even tinier nips, so Jagger never knew when Brick’s teeth would come into play, and Brick doing that at the same time he was bringing Jagger’s nipples to sharp, urgent peaks and fucking his ass with his huge cock that any minute now could sprout those gods-be-worshipped bands? Jagger had never felt such rapture, been buffeted by so much bliss.

  His ass clamped down on Brick’s cock with every bite Brick took, and it made Brick grunt in response, his breath stirring even more of Jagger’s senses. Brick had said he wanted to watch, and the sights just in front of them were worth viewing. “Are you looking where I am?” he whispered.

  “Oh, yeah,” rumbled from Brick along Jagger’s chest, the sound seeming to land in his balls.

  The knowledge that they were both staring into the huge, dazed eyes of the male tree spirit, who, after having sucked off one dryad so well, was now taking another’s dick in his ass, his fractured cries ringing his pleasure to the sky, was dizzying. And when Jagger looked up from that spirit, the guy claiming his ass was staring at them too.

  Either the tree dryad slowed, or Brick sped up a little, because their rhythms matched, right down to the speed of the hand on Jagger’s dick, and the slapping sound their bodies made. But it was about more than the sex, as mind-blowing, as soul-bending as that was. Jagger felt a pull to Brick and he’d never experienced anything like that before. It was very unlike the way he lived his life…the way he liked his life. In fact, it tugged him in the opposite direction, and it confused the hells out of him.

  There’s a whole world out there to fuck! he shouted inside his head, and, as if he’d voiced the words, Brick drove his cock into Jagger’s ass hard, dragging a moan from him and slamming him forward on the grass. All Jagger was sure about at the moment was that he wanted this. “Need this.”

  That part was out loud, and Brick slammed harder and longer than ever with a hoarse shout, his hot cum jetting deep into Jagger. That and his hand on Jagger’s cock pushed Jagger over into the storm of his climax, its power tearing through him. He’d never felt anything so intense, something that touched every inch of skin on his body and every nerve within it.

  Brick hugged him tighter, his breath hot on Jagger’s neck. He gave a small start, and Jagger opened his eyes to see a shape coalescing alongside them—the dryad they’d been watching. He was mirroring Jagger’s position, which was only fair, since Jagger and Brick had been copying him a few minutes ago…well, copying the pace and intensity at which he’d been taking at least two cocks.

  Jagger got an impression of a shadow behind the dryad. Was there another guy lying there with him, like Brick was with Jagger? If so, was this guy’s cock still in the dryad’s ass, like Brick’s was in his? Jagger wanted to ask Brick if he thought so too.

  There was a lot he wanted to ask Brick about, and hardly any of it connected to the figure or figures lying next to them. But it would have to keep, he supposed. Brick gave him a last hug and slipped free. Jagger instantly missed him. He glanced up—if there had been another guy behind the dryad on his side next to them, he dissolved and vanished. Jagger and Brick were left only their companion in fucking, or whatever what they’d done was called.

  The other dryads hadn’t sneaked back into their trees, though, merely retreated to form a circle at the edge of the clearing. The air pulsed with their presence. Jagger had no need to hold his breath to see if he could hear their breathing—they were panting from their sexcapades, the air heavy with the scent of their cum. It made the atmosphere hyper-charged with arousal. It wouldn’t take much for them all, Brick and him included, to start screwing again.

  Brick cleared his throat, making Jagger look over his shoulder at him. He thought he could read the same questions, the same confusion in his eyes.

  “We should dress,” Brick said.

  Was he speaking to the dryad next to them as well as Jagger? Jagger could have told him dryads had no hang-ups about nudity. And probably no clothes to put on. He nodded and stood, passing Brick various items of clothing and accepting his, and all the while the trees spirit watched them.

  “Well…” Jagger tried, once he was clothed.

  The guy stood too, as tall, slim and ethereal as people mistakenly believed elves to be. “What a rush!” he exclaimed, and whooped, the sound taken up by the other tree spirits. “We haven’t had that energy in an age—we haven’t left the trees in so long.”

  “Glad we could help?” Jagger shot a glance at Brick and saw he was at a loss too. “Be polite,” he reminded Brick on a fake cough. “I’m Jagger, and this is Brick.”

  “Ash.” The dryad put his hand to his chest and bowed.

  “As in the tree?” Brick asked.

  “Yes. You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name.” Ash shook back his long hair. His eyes looked a pale gray in the moonlight. “You need food and drink after that? I do.”

  Another dryad scurried up with fruit, using a flat stone for a platter, and a second came bearing drinks in leaf cups, that they deposited on the ground.

  “Ambrosial fruit and pomeberry juice.” Ash sat, gesturing that they should too.

  Brick snatched a handful of the pulpy fruit and threw it into his mouth. Jagger had wondered if he were still growing, the way he needed food. No, just has a big frame to fill. And he can fill mine anytime too.

  “The juice…” Ash started, half-turning aside.

  Brick choked on the mouthful he’d taken, and Jagger thumped him on the back.

  “Has to be mixed with water,” Ash continued, moving his shoulder for the dryad behind him to pour sparkling water into the cups. “Or else it tastes like gall.”

  “See that, yep,” Brick answered, his eyes streaming. “Ash, are you the potentate? The king?”

  “The duly elected spokes-dryad, you mean.” Ash seemed a little bit of a hippie.

  Jagger took a drink of the pomeberry juice and found it heady. The expression drunken orgy crossed his mind. Only, here, the participants get smashed after. Which reminded him. “Did we pass?” he queried. “With what we gave?”

  “Pass the entrance test?” Brick added.

  Ash laughed, his chuckles taken up by the circle of dryads. “Oh yeah. And not that we didn’t appreciate the show, but usually we just make travelers answer a riddle.”

  “A riddle?” Jagger echoed. “We could just have answered a gods-damned riddle?”

  “Yeah, you know, like, I die once every year, but grow stronger over time—what am I?” Ash asked.

  “A tree!” someone called from the shadows, following that with, “What has lots of bark, but no bite?

  “A tree!” called another dryad. “What wears rings without having fingers?”

  “A tree!” Ash answered. He crammed a slice of fruit into his mouth and asked around it, “What leaves without going anywhere?”

  “Is it,” Jagger asked, fighting not to roll his eyes, “a tree?”

  “Oh, you heard that one.” Ash looked from Jagger to Brick. “Rowan, ask one of your brain teasers.”

  “Which side of a tree has the most leaves?” called a male voice, presumably Rowan’s.

  “Erm…” Jagger tried to think.

  “The outside!” Ash slapped his thigh. “Here’s another—what looks like half a spruce tree?”

  “The other half,” Rowan shouted.

  “Jagger…” Brick’s voice was a whine and he pulled on Jagger’s sleeve.

  “Which animals can jump higher than a tree?” asked a new voice.

  “All of them. Trees can’t jump!” answered a chorus.

  “Make it stop,” Brick pleaded. “It’s worse than hoot night at the Claw.”

  “Ash—” Jagger began, to be stopped by an upraised hand.

  “How many oranges grow on a tree?” Ash demanded.

  “Erm, all of them?” Jagger tried, and the entire clearing erupted in applause and cheers and loud whistles. “Okay. Well, we’re pleased we could assist you to…‘leaf’ your trees…” He waited for more applause, but instead a slow hiss went up.

  “I guess they do the tree jokes,” Brick muttered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Spokes-dryad Ash, we’re on a quest and ask your help.”

  “Would ask your help,” Brick corrected Jagger, to make it more formal. “Thy help.” Yes, that sounded even better.

  “We seek out the true meaning of a prophecy,” Jagger continued.

  “An ancient prophecy,” Brick butted in again.

  “Is it? I’d never heard of it until recently.” Jagger frowned.

  “Me neither,” Brick realized. “I guess they were keeping it from us?”

  “And anyway, aren’t all prophecies ancient?” Jagger asked. “If you want to get technical.”

  Oh, touched a nerve. A councilor-shaped nerve. Jagger must have thought he was the best at all the official stuff. “I crave your indulgence,” Brick said with a slight bow. Let him out-official that.

  “There’s already been a lot of…indulgence.” Ash tipped his head to one side, a sly grin tilting his lips. “But anyway, what is this foretelling?”

  Jagger and Brick both started to speak at once, and Ash held up a hand. “The eldest should speak. They have less time.”

  “Go ahead, old man,” Brick invited, patting him on the back.

  Jagger made a quite a good job of explaining, Brick thought, listening carefully, and even brought out the scroll from his snatchel, to show the actual words.

  “Well, I’m no soothsayer,” Ash said, looking from one to another, “but it seems clear enough that the divination speaks of a union between the two houses…in the form of you two.”

  “No.” Brick shook his head. “No one should have to be tied to m— To be tied,” he corrected. “Especially Jagger.” The elf was vibrant and burned brightly—to think of him forced to spend the rest of his life with Brick the Dull, Brick the Plodder and Blunderer, the shifter who’d be a permanent invalid in the elf kingdom? It’s cruel.

  Sure, Brick brought out the fun in him, and he could give free rein to those parts of himself he supressed around the official world of the Ruby Throne, but that was because he and Jagger were outside real life here, were companions with benefits. A few days of Brick farting and belching as he met Jagger’s fellow councilors or nose-bleeding over dignitaries from other realms as he tried to show them what shifting looked like, and Jagger would soon lose what little patience he had with him…and all liking for him.

  “Okay, so the sex is amazing, but…” Oh, troll shit. He’d said that out loud. “I mean, and in addition, I seek medicaments for a sensitivity. Oh, fine—an allergy. I don’t deal well with magic.”

  “This sacred grove is imbued with much magic, and you seem fine to me,” Ash observed.

  “Is it the chemicals released by the amazing sex?” Jagger asked, his lips twitching as he tried to hide a smirk. “Because if so, I have the remedy to hand, one might say.” He added a hip thrust.

  “Or is this clearing not as magical as it once was?” Ash mused. “I do sense changes, new energies, new zephyrs. A new dawn, perhaps, with my people out of the shadows…” He shook his head slightly and looked as though he were pulling himself together. “What treatment is it you need?” He sat forward, interested.

  “Gesic root,” Jagger answered.

  “Oh.” Ash curled his lip.

  Brick guessed that gesic must be a generic cure-all, real beginners’ level herblore. He looked a question at Jagger, who shrugged.

  “It gets the job done,” he muttered.

  “Take what you need from my tree, there,” Ash offered, practically rolling his eyes as his fellow-dryads tsked.

  “This is almost too easy,” Jagger said a minute later, when they were searching the moss around the tall ash tree. “Dryads are supposed to be tricky and—”

  “One caveat,” Ash called across.

  “You had to do it,” Brick muttered, elbowing Jagger.

  “Take what you need,” Ash continued. “As in, to satisfy your immediate needs. What the forest provides is not to be hoarded away from the earth in which it grows.” He brought over a fresh cup of juice, and Jagger finished tugging free a handful of gesic root.

  Ash gasped and almost dropped the cup. His face flushed and his mouth gaped open.

  “I think he’s just come!” Brick whispered.

  “Ah. I think we discovered the reason you can’t go around harvesting stuff from here. There seems to be a…connection between the vegetation and the spirits,” Jagger surmised.

  He passed him the root, and Brick chomped on it, swallowing the mulch down with the fruit juice and water mix. Both were awful and he held his stomach with his hand, willing it not to heave.

  Handing the cup back, Brick noticed a tiny flower growing near the roots. It must have been a bright pink, in daylight, but even in this light, its color and pointy petals intrigued him. He bent and, pretending he was tying his shoe, picked it. It was one of a small bunch, so he snapped them all off and slipped them into his pocket. You never know what you’ll need in a wind, as they said back home.

  “Will the effects of the herb last until we reach the Cave of the Worlds?” he asked.

  “You’d best hurry.” Ash seemed to commune mentally with his fellow dryads. “Take the shorter route underground.” He pointed down, at the roots of his tree, and although nothing changed or moved, a hole was evident. No, a tunnel.

  “Ah.” Jagger took a quick peek down and his lips tightened. “You know, a scenic route could be more…scenic.”

  “You want to spend longer in your wyvern’s company.” Ash looked understanding.

  “No, it’s not that,” Jagger replied.

  Brick tried not to feel stabbed in the ribs. “No, not that,” he parroted, unable to think of anything else to say.

  “Brick, I didn’t mean…” Jagger reached for his hand, but Brick crossed his arms. Jagger sighed. “I don’t like confined spaces, okay?”

  Oh. Brick recalled Jagger leaving by a window rather than an escape tunnel, and his heart squeezed for the elf. “I understand. Well, what if we go overland? I’ve had a whole lot of medicine—I could shift and fly us.”

  “What if you feel ill again? Or if the stymph birds are waiting for another attack? No.” Jagger folded his arms too. “The shorter way’s better.”

  “We’ll get through it together, okay?” Brick promised him.

  “And you would dispute this prophecy that speaks of the two of you uniting,” Ash said, under his breath.

  “We must take our leave.” Brick closed his eyes at what he’d just said. “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean ‘leaf’.”

  “And I give thee gifts for thy journey.” Ignoring Brick’s babble, Ash stood straight. A fat stick appeared in his hand and he handed it over. “A quarter staff,” he explained.

  “Because…?” Brick asked.

  “I can manifest objects made of wood that you might need on your journey.” Ash shrugged.

  “Could we trade this for a javelin, in that case?” Jagger asked. “More useful.”

  “If it’s no trouble,” Brick added, elbowing Jagger.

  “My thanks.” Jagger took the pointed spear Ash had changed the staff into and slotted it into his sword belt. “Oh, and anything else wooden you think might come in handy…” Jagger frowned at the stringed instrument in Ash’s hands. “Thank you.”