Chapter 40: Massage Misadventures

Ambermoon sighed as he watched Herald Holly's retreating back. He couldn't believe he'd let her talk him into this. He was leaving White Griffon in the next month and traveling to Valdemar's capital city of Haven, where he would stay for at least the next decade. So why had he agreed to take on a new client when he was busy trying to find other Kestra'cherns to take on his current clientele?

Simply put because from everything his old friend had told him the young Herald needed help. He didn't know what had happened to the boy in his life but what he'd heard … well it inflamed his drive to help.

Well… at least he knew he'd be able to practice his trade in Haven.

Even if his only client was a single oddly scared Herald who came to him for an open ear and the occasional massage to lower his stress – at least he was still answering to his calling. Like a healer who couldn't turn a blind eye to a small child with a broken bone, he couldn't turn a blind eye to mental and emotional pain.

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Yozak cursed venomously in the language he'd known since birth. The human tongue, with the cant he'd never - quite- lost, sounded guttural and harsh in comparison with his more frequently used Mazoku –jin. He was utterly disgusted. The child he'd picked up earlier had been too thin for one who'd been at the collegiums for a few weeks and small for his age to boot. The bruising the healer's had revealed when they'd stripped the newly Chosen boy of his russet red uniform made him sick.

Child abuse (at least in the physical sense) was rather uncommon in Shin Makoku. That was not to say that child abuse never happened, it was just the fact that their species was so long lived that most people didn't have children without completely contemplating the ramifications of that choice; particularly since the choice committed them to the care of that child for the better part of a century. Children where looked at as a gift in his culture and the thought of anyone hurting one – well it just wasn't done.

Sure he had suffered verbal and emotional abuse for being a 'filthy half-breed' but no one had ever raised a hand to him.

He didn't understand this.

How could anyone abuse their own child?

Children were precious, gifts from Shinou, it made no sense.

Furious he screamed his rage as he drew his sword and attacked the pels again and again, trying vainly to diffuse some of it, and expend his penned up energy before he lost control of the gift that allowed him to hold sway over his element.

No one would thank him if he caused a tornado after all.

The sound of steel striking steel rang through the sallie, and Yozak looked up to find Tykir standing before him blocking his sword, with his own. He blinked and stood there for a moment too stunned to move. He then pulled his blade away, nodded and stepped back waiting for Tykir to engage him.

What followed was almost cathartic.

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Conrart glared at Holly, he was not going to go see a Kestra'chern! Damn it, there was no way in hell he was going to go see one of those – those…

He didn't know what

But he still wasn't going to see one.

Over his dead and convulsing body was he going anywhere near one of them!

: Chosen, you do know Silverfox is a Kestra'chern. : Vanyel informed him mildly.

"Silverfox doesn't count," he replied obstinately, ignoring the twitching lips of the other Heralds in the room. "He's Firesong's mate."

:Firesong's … mate or not he's still a Kestra'chern Chosen. : Vanyel replied mildly trying vainly to sound divinely wise or something.

Conrart crossed his arms over his chest and turned his nose up in an alarming imitation of his younger brother. "You're supposed to be on my side."

He got the mental impression that Vanyel would be raising his eyebrow if he could. : I am on your side Chosen. : After a moment the stallion added, : but you need help. :

"Not that type of help!" Conrart snapped, not sure who he was more annoyed with, Holly for bringing it up, or Vanyel for pressing the issue. The other Heralds where coming in a close second with their not so very well suppressed giggles. Honestly why couldn't they all just leave him alone?

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Mel clung to Steffen's neck as he walked; he needed the contact, for both comfort and balance. It had been a week and he was still in shock.

He was to be a Herald.

How in the hell did that happen?

And why did Steffen Choose him anyway?

Not that he was complaining, but still what would someone so great and pure see in him? He was nothing, a nobody. He wasn't strong or brave. He hadn't stood up for himself, or tried to protect anyone like Jedric had. Hell he'd put himself between his father and his friends out of pure panic. Not because he was brave.

He wasn't cut out to be a Herald, and he was sure Steffen would soon realize that and repute him. It was only a matter of time now that he was awake.

: That is –quite – enough Chosen: Steffen's mental voice was kind yet firm. : I will not repute you; you have done nothing to deserve it. Being brave – well it isn't about not knowing fear, it's about facing it. There is not a single Herald who'd have his whites if a requirement of being Chosen was that they didn't feel fear. Fear is a good thing Mel, it keeps us from being incredibly stupid. Van taught me that. You put yourself between that man and your friends despite your fear, despite knowing firsthand what that man is capable of. You will make a fine Herald. :

"But – I was so afraid, and I am nothing, a nobody." Mel whispered.

"You are not nothing, Trainee" A man's voice said firmly. "Trust your Companion's choice, they do not Choose wrong. You will make a fine Herald… even if you have self esteem issues now."

Mel turned his head and looked for the owner of the voice. They were in the Healer's gardens surrounded by rosemary and other medicinal plants he couldn't even begin to name. As such Mel was fairly certain the voice belonged to a Healer.

However when he looked he found a white clad Herald sitting quietly in a shady glen, using his companion as a backrest. Mel recognized him after a second, as the Herald who'd showed up at the store when his father had attacked him.

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Conrart couldn't believe he was doing this. How in the hell had he let Vanyel and Holly talk him into this? What was he doing going to go see a Kestra'chern?

Oh calm down, you great coward, He told himself crossly. All you're doing is getting a message. Shinou, Gisela prescribed messages years ago as a way of reducing your stress anyway. So stop panicking. But then there was a rather large difference between having Gisela – a trained healer, or even his closest friend, Yozak, giving him a massage and some random Kestra'chern he'd never met before.

Conrart found it mildly amusing that Gwendal exuded "don't fucking touch me," when the man was really nothing more than a big, socially awkward teddy bear. While he didn't particularly care to be touched by people who he wasn't on a first name basis with and yet people tended to gravitate to him as if he was some sort of guardian angel who's wings they could shelter under.

It drove him quietly mad, and all he could do was offer the people a small smile and a place to shelter while he screamed, raved and whimpered on the inside. Yuri was an exception to his 'first names' rule. The boy was after all his godson and the current incarnation of one of his close friends. Still it had taken every ounce of his will power not to run away screaming the first time Yuri had simply hugged him.

It was odd really.

How jumpy he was

Yet he hadn't really become 'jumpy' about being touched until his 85th birthday. Sadly he could see how it all made sense.

Rather abruptly he found himself standing in front of the Kestra'chern's door. He stopped short of entering the man's home – office, he wasn't really sure which; and didn't start moving again until Vanyel gently prompted him. Conrart swallowed, forced down his irrational fear and knocked.

"Come in," a man's voice called from inside.

Conrart fought back the urge to whimper, squared his shoulders and entered the Kestra'chern's front room. It wasn't what he was expecting. With a small sigh he picked a spot not covered with miscellaneous pillows or partly packed crates, intermittent with the occasional open bag or things he couldn't even begin to identify, and stood there at military attention waiting for the man to show himself.

Finally after a minute of listening to the odd noises and shuffling emanating from one of the rooms hidden from view by a brightly colored tapestry, a man with the trademark bronze skin and ice blue eyes of the Kale'dain emerged from behind the tapestry. He wore lose fitting drawstring silk pants of a beautiful shade of golden amber and patterned with feathers. A loosely fitted open silver and black patterned robe with trim that matched his pants completed the look. His build however was very atypical of the Kale'dain. He was tall and broad in the shoulder with a well built chest, and pecs.

In a word he was hot

That made Conrart very, very uncomfortable

But not as uncomfortable as the way his body was reacting without his permission.

His breathing was becoming a bit irregular, and he was starting to sweat. He wanted to turn around and run, run until he was as far away from himself as possible. He wasn't supposed to be 'turned on' as Yozak had once put it.

That only led to trouble.

He focused on the man's eyes in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. The man offered him a small smile, held out his hand and introduced himself.

In an almost gentle tone of voice

As if by some unknown reason the man knew he was going to bolt.

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Ambermoon did his utmost to appear nonthreatening, the young Herald – Conrart if he recalled correctly – looked like he was about to flee. He couldn't imagine why. He hadn't even touched him yet. With a sigh he glanced down at the supplies he'd unearthed from a box in his bedroom. He'd carefully chosen his message oils. Holly mentioned the boy's odd anxiety, and he'd selected oils to counter that. However he had enough experience to catch Conrart's slight reactions, both physical and emotional. It was obvious to his trained eye that the young man found him physically attractive; it was also painfully obvious that he intimidated the Herald.

Maybe he'd be better off using oils that were meant strictly to calm. The licorice and cucumber oil he'd originally chosen made people comfortable and lowered anxiety levels but it also increased the potential of arousal. Somehow he didn't think that was a good idea, particularly not when Conrart already seemed uncomfortable with his body's reactions. Lavender and Chamomile massage oil, should do the trick. He offered the boy a small smile, and gestured at the pallet lined with fluffy blankets that lay on the floor. His table had already been packed away, to await his return home in a decade or so; for now, the pallet would have to do. "Alright, get undressed, lay down and cover yourself with the sheet. Call me when you're ready, I'll be in the other room." Herald Conrart gave the pallet a skeptical look and seemed almost frozen. Ambermoon gave him an encouraging smile. "We could use my bed if you prefer." He offered after a second. The young man shook his head vigorously at the offer and actually took a step back in alarm. "No, no, the pallet is fine; I've just never had a massage on the floor before." That established Ambermoon turned and disappeared behind the tapestry that separated his workspace from his living quarters. It only took him a minute to find the right bottle of oil. As he waited for the young man to call him back into the other room it occurred to him that some music might lighten the mood and help the poor thing relax. It also occurred to him that closing his shirt might help as well. He walked across the room to one of his cabinets and looked at the large Conch shells that held the magically recorded instrumental pieces and even the sounds of nature itself. Ambermoon looked them over and chose one that held the sounds of the sea on a tranquil day. At last Conrart called to him from the other room, he entered quietly and tried not to laugh at the sight of the boy covered up with the sheet like a virgin girl about to have her first massage. He rolled his eyes and set the shell down onto a small shelf that had been carved out of his stone wall, after turning it on. The soft sounds of the sea rose up out of opening of the shell.

He knelt beside Herald Conrart and deftly turned the sheet down. It only took a few seconds to warm up the oil he spilled between his palms, and then he started the massage. He started at the base of Conrart's neck working his way slowly down and across the lad's shoulders using his scant gift of healing to loosen the knots and ease the tension that had knotted his muscles to the point that Ambermoon was surprised the boy could even move.

He smiled, ten minutes into an hour long session and the boy was already relaxing significantly under his hands. He moved steadily downwards working the kinks out of Conrart's back. The boy's back had been a network of tight knots. He was almost afraid to see what his legs and buttocks were like. He paused briefly to lower the sheet a bit more, and blinked when he encountered the man's rather strange smallclothes.

Well he supposed he hadn't told the boy to remove them, still it was mildly amusing.

He let his hands travel just a little further down the small of Conrart's back working his way towards his patient's rump, while he debated removing the thin strip of hardly there white cloth, asking the boy to do it, or just ignoring the fabric all together. Accidentally his fingers slipped below the hem of the other man's small clothes, and Conrart stiffened under his hands.

In hindsight he should have brought his hands back up the boy's back and asked him if he was comfortable with his massaging him there. However he felt it better to simply show the young Herald he was not doing anything out of the ordinary by continuing. He massaged the young man working his way around his hips as if it was perfectly natural – which of course it was.

However that's when things went sour.

The young man's smallclothes lifted slightly around his hands and moved ever so slightly down as he moved his hands to massage around the boy's hips.

Conrart screamed and lashed out, striking him full in the chest with a tightly coiled force he absently and rather belatedly realized was the young Herald's fetching gift. His world spun as his back slammed into the stone wall on the far side of the room. Around him anything that held water, large or small, exploded outwards. A small lizard like creature of water and ice snarled at him hissing like an enraged snake. There was a heavy weight on his chest and he couldn't breathe. It felt like he was being choked by the moisture in the air. And then like a gift from the Star-Eyed goddess, the pressure lifted, and the enraged serpent shattered and fell to the floor with a splash.

Ambermoon gasped for breath and tried to get his vision to clear.

It had only lasted a minute or two but it had been terrifying. He made a mental note to treat an emotionally scarred Herald as gently as he would an emotionally traumatized mage. That had been rather painful, and he was fairly certain that his entire back was going to be one big bruise.

Herald Conrart – and the sheet – where nowhere to be found. The young man's white clothing however was still neatly folded by the pallet.

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Holly looked up as Conrart ran past her wearing nothing more than a sheet, she didn't even have time to say anything before the boy bolted down the hall and she heard the door to his room slam shut. She sighed when she realized his cheeks had been streaked with tears.

Well that hadn't gone as expected.

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Ambermoon raised an eyebrow at the truly odd sight of a beautiful blue eyed white stallion standing in his doorway. He rose slowly to his feet and addressed the stallion – who he assumed Conrart belonged to – directly. "You're here for the boy's forgotten clothing." He said mildly.

The stallion nodded his head.

Ambermoon smiled and gestured toward the neatly folded pile. "I suppose the boy looked pretty silly running through the city in his smallclothes and that sheet. Go ahead take it to him."

The stallion walked past him, calmly picked up the folded clothing in his teeth and left.

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Hands ghosted down his cloth covered body in gentle caresses that made him moan and squirm.

"You like that?" Odalis breathed into his ear.

Conrart nodded his head vigorously and moaned as one of the man's large hands caressed his nipple through his shirt. Odalis laughed and smiled down at him, before leaning forward to lick the shell of his ear.

"Do you want me to make you feel even better?" The man asked gently trailing one hand down his side and letting it creep up under the hem of Conrart's shirt. Carefully Odalis caressed his hip before sliding the fingers of his hand down along the crest of Conrart's hip bone, under his pants.

Conrart moaned and nodded his head again, only to freeze when Odalis pulled up his shirt and opened his pants. "What are you doing?" he asked as his boyfriend of more than a year pushed his open pants down so that they rested low on Conrart's young hips.

Odalis pulled away slightly and gazed down at him. "I thought you wanted me to make you feel good?" he replied softly.

"Why are you taking off my clothes?"

Odalis laughed. "Because baby, it will feel better that way."

Conrart sat bolt upright in bed, his body dripping with sweat. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to throw up at the memory. He'd broken up with Gwilherm two months before his 85th birthday but they'd actually dated for 3 years before that.

He tried not to cry as the memories of everything that had happened flooded his mind. Gwilherm had been less than a year shy of his current age when the man had first started courting him. Although he'd been a bit young to court, Gwilherm had done it anyway. They'd dated for 3 years before Conrart had broken off their relationship, first privately and then when the man hadn't gotten the hint rather publicly 2 months before he'd been old enough to legally be betrothed.

He should have listened to Yozak when his best friend told him Gwilherm was too old for him. It would have saved him a lot of pain. However Gwilherm had been very flattering and Conrart had easily fallen for him. He'd been thrilled that a man with Gwilherm's family reputation had been interested in a half-breed like him; and Stoffel had approved of the union. He'd still wanted desperately to impress the man at that age. He'd wanted his approval. But the crowning glory had been Gwendal. He'd loved and admired his elder brother; to the point that dating Gwendal's friend's baby brother had seemed like a good idea. The fact that both Zebastian and Leuthar where honorable men and well respected members of the community; had only added to his appeal. All in all it had seemed like his only chance at the most advantageous marriage he was ever likely to get.

He should have listened when Yozak told him a man Gwilherm's age couldn't possibly have honorable intentions if he was courting someone the human equivalent of 13. However Conrart had known the chance to be a part of the current reigning family was a step up for the youngest son of a relatively minor lord. Still good breeding and the chance for an advantageous marriage hadn't stayed Gwilherm's hand once Conrart had broken up with him; he shuddered at the thoughts of the things that man had done to him.

He defiantly wasn't getting anymore sleep tonight.

: Calm down Chosen, you're safe.: Vanyel said gently into his mind. : You are in White Griffon, that man cannot hurt you here.:

Conrart looked up and across the room at the large softly glowing white shape in the darkness. The Heraldic quarters in White Griffon had been designed so that Herald and Companion shared a spacious room connected to six others like it.

Vanyel's presence was soothing despite his nightmares, and Conrart slowly lay back down on his bed. Slipping one hand under his pillow he removed the arm band he'd nicked form Yozak's rooms before he'd left and tucked it up against his face. He imagined he could still smell his friend's familiar and comforting musk on the old supple leather.

It calmed him and allowed him to think rationally for the first time since the Kestra'chern had put his hands inside of his underwear earlier. He'd over reacted – still he didn't even want to think about going to see the man again; even if it was only to apologize.

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Conrart sat quietly on a large rock looking out at the sea, feeling the water's glorious buzzing in his very soul. Vanyel was frolicking in the surf, kicking up his heels with his flagged tail held high. Water splashed around the stallion's legs as he played. He shuddered at the memories of his encounter with the Kestra'chern, still ashamed over how he reacted.

He'd had a full body massage before, so he knew what to expect.

Hell Yozak routinely gave him a full body massage and he'd never reacted like he had last week. It was odd but sometimes he even got – cuddly – for lack of a better term afterwards. It was damned annoying, particularly since it sometimes happened even without the massages. At first Conrart wasn't sure why but he got cuddly almost every 10 years. The part that alarmed him the most was that the times he got cuddly coincided exactly with other changes in his body and temperament.

For one thing he sought out Yozak a lot more; it was almost like he was addicted to the other man's attention. The feel of Yozak's skin against his own feverish flesh was –

Almost intoxicating

He hated the way it made him feel.

Yet loved every second of it

For another thing, every ten years when he got cuddly, he also became docile.

He'd briefly entertained the idea that his erratic behavior might have been a sign that he'd gone 'into Rut' since the Mazoku were only fertile once a decade. However his behavior hadn't followed any of the symptoms of Rut that he knew of. While it was true that a male demon could go through either a Rut – 6 months of aggression, over protectiveness and general posturing – or fall into heat – a period of time when submissive males openly watched other males for signs of who would make a better mate – his symptoms hadn't truly coincide with either.

He'd caught himself looking at other males a time or two during his periods of odd behavior. However the only male who'd ever held his attention was Yozak and it wasn't even remotely sexual – all he really wanted was to be held. Submissive males and females in general where very – well – provocative when they were in heat. So for a while he'd thought it couldn't possibly be that.

However, Gwilherm, had gleefully confirmed his first heat, less than a month after his 85th birthday; 15 to 25 years before he was supposed to go 'into season' for the first time. Honestly Conrart was happy Gwilherm had never used his Heat to 'legally' rape him when the man was in Rut.

Although he was fairly certain he'd been spared that unpleasantness only because by order of his lady mother his esteemed ex-boyfriend had never been allowed near him while he was in Rut. She'd been worried that the increase of hormones would have led to them being married before he was ready for it.

He'd never been more thankful for his mother. Putting up with the man while he was in Heat was bad enough.

Truthfully he was very glad he'd never gone into a true Heat, the process was potentially dangerous not to mention life altering for the submissive male.

To make matters worse everyone had always thought he would be a dominant male. The fact that he was actually a submissive scared the hell out of him.

Being in Heat made him vulnerable

Painfully vulnerable

He would never willingly be as vulnerable as he had been with Gwilherm again.

Yet once a decade for 6 months, he was completely vulnerable.

Conrart sighed his uncle had used his lack of an obvious Rut to justify having his virginity checked by a healer when he was younger "to ensure that he hadn't disgraced himself while he was in Heat. Or so that they could have him safely wedded to the man he'd disgraced himself with to protect his mother's family's honor."

Conrart hated him for it, and for a while he'd even been furious at his mother for not trusting him to keep his own honor. But then he'd realized Stoffel probably hadn't asked her permission to have him checked, just like he'd never asked permission to do anything else.

After the war he decided that it would be safer for him if he just faked going through Rut.

Conrart had been glad daemons didn't have a set 'breeding season' and that coming 'into season' happened on an individual's own fertility cycle. He didn't think he could handle having to pretend to go through Rut when all he really wanted to do, was be held in the safety of his best friend's arms.

The whole process of faking a Rut had been taxing, and time consuming. He's started by covertly watching other men while they went through the various stages of their Ruts. Mostly he'd watched Gwendal, Günter, Stoffel and Yozak. He'd noted the way the quiet shoving and pushing matches had started a full 4 months before their actual Rut. It was called pre-Rut, a time when the body geared up for the true aggression of Rut. Over those 4 months friendly sparing matches, devolved into pushing and shoving matches that relieved stressed before eventually devolving into all out aggression and fights. The Rut itself was the hardest part to fake. Males in Rut tended to have little to no impulse control. They were also aggressive as all hell. They had to be, women and submissive males where extremely vulnerable when they were in Heat, so once they found a mate they had to be ready to protect them.

The worst part of faking a Rut was the simple fact that sometimes he couldn't avoid taking the medicinal tea's dominant Mazoku males had to drink in order to function in society. They made him sick to his stomach, tired, and generally moody.

Thankfully now that he was away from Stoffel and everyone else, he could drop the pretense of going through Rut.

His only concern was about how Yozak would react. He was fairly certain his friend would tease him mercilessly for a few weeks in retaliation for his ongoing deception. However he knew his friend would protect him, and guard his secret.

"Hello Young One," The Kester'chern's voice dragged him out of his thoughts and he squeaked in an undignified manner, when he realized just how close the man was standing to him.

Conrart got control of himself quickly, but he couldn't help the flush spreading across his cheeks at his own undignified behavior. He was about to apologize for how he'd acted a week ago, when the Kestra'chern beat him to it.

"I'm sorry I scared you." The man said softly.

Conrart sighed. "No, I'm sorry I overreacted." He replied mildly. "Did I hurt you when I threw you into that wall?"

The Kestra'chern chuckled mildly, "my back is a bit bruised, but I deserve it for forgetting the cardinal rule of my profession."

"What might that be?" Conrart replied mildly before adding, "And what is your name, it's probably very rude of me to keep mentally referring to you as 'the scary Kestra'chern'?"

"Scary really, I don't think anyone's ever told me I'm scary before. My name is Ambermoon by the way." The man replied mildly.

Conrart snorted in amusement at the physically older man's tone of voice. "What did you expect?" he asked calmly, "I ran away from you, all but screaming."

Ambermoon smiled gently at him in a way that made him feel very much like a little boy. "Admittedly that was my fault, though I can see your point young one. I am truly sorry I scared you. As to the cardinal rule of the Kestra'chern… well our purpose is to bring peace and comfort to the mind, body and soul. How can I bring you peace if I'm pushing you so far out of your comfort zone that I made a fully trained Herald lose control of his gifts?"

Conrart sighed and shifted on his rock, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I still over reacted, it's hardly the first time I've had a massage. I knew what to expect, hell if Yozak had done what you did, I wouldn't have reacted nearly as badly."

"May I sit down?" Ambermoon asked quietly, before adding. "Who is Yozak?"

"My rock is your rock," Conrart replied softly, "Yozak is my best friend. We grew up together."

Ambermoon sat down a few feet away from Conrart, perching himself on the edge of the rock. "Tell me about him."

Conrart couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips at the thought of his best friend. After a second he began to speak, his eyes closed as he remembered the good times of his childhood when he'd played with Yozak. Before either of them had reached puberty, and before he'd truly discovered the dangers inherent in relationships.

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AN. Okay here you go, Finals are coming up so up dates will slow down. Conrart and Yozak will be back together in about 3 more chapters. Also this is a warning to all our readers, this fic will be switching over to the M section in the next 10 chapters (assuming we don't get long winded).