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Princes' Island



The sea was unusually choppy and rough. Over it, the sky loomed ominously, dark and grey. Everything appeared to be a prelude to the life that stretches bleakly ahead of young Prince Takkik. For a moment, fear gripped his heart, like starving hands to a bread roll; and he thought it was perhaps more humane if he were born a generation earlier. A generation earlier, upon his father's death, he would have been strangled to death with a silk chord, in the name of family tradition; instead of being imprisoned for life on a faraway island. But in the beginning of the 17th century, when his ancestor, Sultan Ahmed I ascended the throne, he abolished the long-honoured ritualised fratricide. Male heirs were, however, exiled to a remote island. Their only hope of escape was if their sultan brother managed to die within their lifetime and they were next in line for succession. They would then be released from the island and trotted back to Dolmabahce Palace as a replacement. Takkik couldn't decide which treatment was crueler.



His sentiments were shared by his peers on the ship. Seated opposite him was brooding Prince Tsubasak, the next in line for succession, and his elder brother by a few months. Although their ages were the closest, they were far from close. Their mothers being fierce rivals had poisoned their minds against each other. Takkik's mother was French and Tsubasak's was Japanese. Both women of singular beauty and exquisite talents had been offered as tokens of goodwill by their respective homelands. Through relentless scheming, they succeeded in charming the Queen Mother into bestowing them the sultan's company on numerous occasions. But since their sons were not the eldest one, the same fate befell on them both. They were doomed like their beautiful young sons to live a life of endless longing and deprivation, amidst opulence and luxury.



Life on the island was thankfully fairly comfortable. Takkik, who had once doubted stories of elderly princes going mad and throwing gold, silver and precious stones of turquoise, amber and onyx into the sea to feed the fishes, now believed them to be true. There was enough of such luxury on the island to compensate for the freedom lost, and more than enough of madness and desperation. Determined to remain sane, Prince Takkik, deprived of his former playmates, knew he had to make new friends and quickly too.



The pickings were slim. Aside from Tsubasak, who was also 13, his other brothers were at least a few years younger. Prince Jind and Prince Kamed were not only younger, they seemed happy to be in a world of their own and Takkik didn't want to intrude. Prince Kokid was too attentive, Prince Marud too irritating, Prince Junnod too giggly and Prince Uedad, who claimed he could see fairies, was too dangerous.



After searching high and low, far and wide, Takkik eventually found his would-be new friend sulking under a young fig tree. Apparently, his kite was caught in the tree. Gleefully, Takkik seized the opportunity to impress his prey with his deft climbing skills. His elder sibling was sufficiently awed and gratefully invited Takkik to fly the kite with him. Together they sent it soaring into the blue expanse overhead.



'I didn't know you like flying kites.'



'I didn't, until I came here. I didn't feel like I needed freedom then.'



'I know what you mean.'



Silently they watched the kite as it sailed the sky. Takkik didn't stop Tsubasak when he finally let it loose. He understood, he shared his pain. If they couldn't be free, at least their kite could.



As days crept by, Takkik and Tsubasak learned to find comfort and support in each other's company. Time soon rendered them inseparable. They studied, ate, played and prayed together. If ever Tsubasak was not around, Takkik knew he would be under that favourite fig tree of his.



'I think the tree hates you.'



'Why do you say that?'



'It's either robbing you or skinning you,' Takkik replied as he inspected Tsubasak's slightly bleeding fingers. He had skinned them trying to free a cat from atop the tree.



'Please leave the rescuing business to me, My Princess. You just sit here, look pretty and wow.' With that, Takkik flew onto the tree and freed the cat, which seemed fairly pleased at being rescued by a handsome prince. It circled itself around Takkik's legs a few times then happily skipped away.



Not content with simply soothing ruffled fur, Takkik moved onto skinned fingers. First he sucked the blood away then coated them with his personal brand of antiseptic saliva. All this while, Tsubasak was looking down, afraid that the flush on his cheeks might betray the stirrings he was feeling. He hoped for camouflage in the wind and rustling leaves that were making flashes of light dance on his face. But the crimson glow was unmistakable.



'Are you all right? You look flushed.' Takkik asked as he closed the distance between them and placed his palm on Tsubasak's forehead.



'I'm fine.' Tsubasak answered, looking away, still avoiding his eyes.



Takkik didn't know why but he lifted Tsubasak's chin. Maybe because he liked the way Tsubasak's fingers kissed his lips, the way his tongue savoured them as if they were honey; he wanted to taste Tsubasak's lips too. He wanted to know what they tasted liked.



'Like apricot.'



'What?'



'I said your lips taste like apricot. Or did you have some earlier?'



Tsubasak was too embarrassed to answer and quickly fled the scene.



The next afternoon, thanks to a downpour, Tsubasak was able to skip playtime and seek refuge in the confines of his room. Rain had a tendency to make him drowsy and he was looking forward to napping a little to make up for the lack of sleep last night. It seemed his mind, exhausted from the replaying of the kissing scene, was finally ready to give it a rest. Just as his eyelids were heavy and about to close, he heard the familiar, 'I'm bored. Play with me.'



Contrary to formalities, Takkik had unceremoniously allowed himself into the room and contentedly plunged himself next to Tsubasak on the bed.



'I remember on rainy days like this, my mother would lie in bed next to me. She would run her fingers through my hair, stroke me and kiss me. I missed that.'



Tsubasak knew that pain. He was very close to his mother and sister too. Now all he had was Takkik. Anxious to ease his brother’s yearning, Tsubasak soon found himself pensively running his fingers through the younger boy's silky mane, carressing his baby-smooth face and taking in those luscious cherry lips. He was just getting comfortable feeling Takki's tongue in his mouth when the latter suddenly pulled away.



'Sometimes my mother would run her fingers along my arms and legs too. Will you do that too?'



When Tsubasak nodded, Takkik broke into a bright smile and hurriedly tore off his silk trousers and kaftan of Italian velvet. Stark naked, he crawled close and whispered into Tsubasak's ear, 'I want to stroke you too.'



Relishing the sight of bare-bodied and fair-skinned Takkik, Tsubasak thought he reflected light. Pale and milky white, the only other colours on him were his glacial blue eyes, rosy bee-stung lips and lustrous blond hair. He looked so different from his olive-skinned and raven-black-haired self. But if Tsubasak ever felt inferior about his appearance, it was quickly forgotten as Takkik eagerly pulled him into his arms and littered butterfly kisses all over his equally exposed body.



Although it was Takkik who requested for the stroking session, he was the one doing majority of the work. And he concentrated his efforts on a particular member of Tsubasak. Stroking it soon gave way to sucking, licking, blowing and pumping it. Tsubasak was quick to show his appreciation too, and promptly came all over Takkik's skillful hand.



It being his first time, Tsubasak eyed his semen suspiciously and pondered aloud, 'I wonder if it tastes like apricots too.'



Takkik answered by dipping his middle finger into the cum then feeding it to Tsubasak. The scrunch on the latter's face instantly removed any association between apricots and cum.



'Maybe figs,' Tsubasak concluded, and the two boys laughed.



For the first time, Tsubasak was glad that he was on the island.



Days flew by and Tsubasak soon found himself welcoming his 16th birthday. On his birthday, he knew, without fail, that he would receive a lengthy letter from his mother. This year's letter was surprisingly short, but it promised that they would meet soon. Tsubasak shivered at that thought. Although he still dearly missed his mother and sister, death was too much of a price to pay for a reunion. Before dark thoughts could cloud his mind, excited eunuchs ushered the birthday prince to the main hall where a celebration ceremony was awaiting him.



In the great hall, the other princes had already gathered. Out of respect, they each took turns to come forward to him, bow deeply and kiss the hem of his kaftan. After that they would declare their well-wishes and present a gift or two. The gifts were often very elaborate: bejewelled swords, bow and arrow encrusted with precious stones, silk carpets, ornate accessories, etc. Takkik's gift was a ceremonial kaftan woven with gold and silver threads, cuffed with European lace and embroidered with diamonds. Tsubasak knew that this gift was only an official one. The real one would only be presented later in his private chamber, after Takkik had ripped off this official gift from his waiting body.



Retiring to his room after the birthday banquet in his honour, Tsubasak found another banquet awaiting him. It was a feast of Turkish aphrodisiacs. Carefully laid out on priceless chinaware were dried fruits and nuts of all kinds: figs, apricots, dates, walnuts, pistachios and jugs of honey. Carrying in a tray of yet more fruits, Takkik asked, 'Are you ready for the 16 times tonight, My Imperial Highness?'



Inexperienced and eager to please, Tsubasak didn't know better and agreed on his 14th birthday to the pact that on their birthdays, they were to make love the same number of times as their age. On hindsight, he wondered if they could sustain such a feat when they reached adulthood. But at least for now, his proficient and prolific lover seemed very confident of accomplishing the deed.



The chilled fruits on the tray soon found their way onto Tsubasak's member as Takkik sensuously smeared them all over. It didn't take long for the tingling sensation to arouse the birthday boy and render him speechlessness. He closed his eyes and panted lightly through parted lips. It was a look of breathless arousal, a look that reduced Takkik to an urgent and crazed desire to capture those scarlet lips into his own. Tonight, he had intended to declare to the older boy that he loved him. They had made love every night but he never once uttered those words. They were always lost in the airlessness of love that seemed to surround Tsubasak. It was in this vacuum that he lost all coherence and succumbed to a frenzy to once again claim him as his. Tonight, the words were again lost in fervent love-making.



After the 15th time that night, Takkik removed Tsubasak's ankles from his shoulders and collapsed next to him, drained but delirious with ecstasy. Tsubasak wanted to tell Takkik that they didn't have to do it 16 times; as long as he was by his side, it was more than enough. Despite being a prince, he was a boy of simple pleasures. Being able to go to sleep and wake up entangled in Takkik was already enough to send him over the moon. And the occasional kiss and hurried squeeze of the hand during the day, when no one was watching, was enough to plaster a goofy, not-so-subtle grin across his face for the entire day. But words of tenderness failed him too, as brisk knocking on his door unexpectedly echoed through the stillness of the room.



Being mild-tempered, Tsubasak was slow to anger. Nevertheless, time with Takkik was sacred and he hated to be interrupted. Grudgingly, he peeled himself off the bed, dressed carelessly and sauntered with an air of misgiving into the outer quarter of his chamber.



When he returned, he looked like how Napoleon would after Waterloo, defeated, devoid of colour and plainly shaken.



'What's wrong, my sweet apricot? Takkik asked as he rushed over to put his protective arms round him.



'I have to leave for Istanbul immediately. Our brother, the sultan had died.'



To be continued... More stories at http://avery-averette.livejournal.com/tag/fanfictions. Enjoy!