Free Wings by J. C. Owens Page B

Anyar with ever-increasing force, his hand coming
    down to work his slave's shaft.

    52
    J. C. Owens

    Anyar felt passion rise, as always, in his master's grip. He arched beneath the larger man,
    eyes closed as he left out a soft gasp that soon turned to small keening noises as the sensations
    rose to engulf him.
    Vanyae kissed his neck and bit softly as he commanded, “That's it, little one, sing. Louder
    now. Sing.”
    He could not help himself. As his body tightened, he cried out, louder and then louder yet;
    a passionate song of surrender and reluctant pleasure.
    He and Vanyae came at the same moment, and he arched back as Vanyae curled forward,
    his master swallowing his sounds, taking them into himself, utterly possessing even his voice.
    Anyar collapsed then, with Vanyae curled about him, and he lay replete, actually enjoying
    the feel of the prince's hand caressing his hip. After Bayner's touch, presence, Vanyae felt like a
    haven.
    As though Anyar's thoughts summoned him, Bayner spoke. “He is a wonder, my friend.
    No wonder you do not wish him ruined by others. No wonder you keep him caged. No one could
    hear his cries without wanting to possess him utterly. He is a treasure.”
    “Yes,” the prince whispered, his tone warm and fond as he stroked his little slave softly.
    “He is my treasure.” The prince knew in that moment that he could never do this again. Sharing
    his treasure would not happen in the future. This would not drive the feelings from him. For
    some reason, this was not the answer.
    He laid a gentle kiss on the black hair and wondered with a type of dim despair where this
    strange relationship could possibly take them.

    * * * * *
Anyar sat with his back against the stone wall, his wings spread wide, his face turned up to
    the warmth of the sun. The wind blew softly across his bare body, and for the first time since his
    capture, he felt a small amount of peace in himself.
    Vanyae had lengthened his chain so that he could sit out on the massive balcony, still far
    enough from the edge to suit his master's fears. To be outside… He sighed long and low and
    closed his eyes. To be alone at last…

    Wings
    53

    He opened his eyes and, staring up into the sky, watched the clouds and envied them their
    freedom.
    The breeze ruffled his feathers, and he felt the sensation with a pang of sorrow, his peace
    fading. The loss of flight was a nagging pain that never left him, a sense of loss. Would he ever
    fly again, or would they simply keep clipping his wings?
    A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away with a swift, angry motion. What use
    were tears? They would not see him free.
    He wondered about Tanyan and how he was faring with all this. Had his wings also been
    clipped? Was he being used in the same manner, slowly broken day by day?
    Gods, he hoped not. He hoped he was the only one they would treat in such a fashion. He
    could not bear to think of the brave commander brought low. He held to his feelings for Tanyan,
    as the last bastion against Vanyae, the last bit of his homeland that he could hold close and keep
    free of taint, the only reason he could accept what was happening to him.
    He felt the change in himself, felt that he was weakening, becoming what the prince
    wanted. He fought less, obeyed more, worn and tired in his mind and body. Sometimes he found
    himself recognizing a command before it was voiced and acting without question; he was
    becoming a true slave.
    Yet there was something else, some part of him that began to respond to the prince, began
    to see him as a man, not his captor. During the periods when Vanyae was achingly gentle, there
    was something in his eyes that Anyar could not really understand, and yet with that look Anyar
    would feel emotion rise in him. Something warm and—
    It sickened him…in the part of his mind still left. The rest of it simply conceded; anything
    for a measure of peace, a lack of pain. His eyes squeezed shut as another tear coursed down