Hi, everybody!

Another week gone, and time for some Seductive Studs! We are having a visit with Radiq, my swords and sorcery menage story. To catch up with prior clips, click here. We rejoin Radiq, sitting in the stable, drinking alongside his horse.

Despite the increasingly bitter taste, Radiq swigged again from the flagon, toasting silently to Jessel, who gazed at him with liquid brown eyes. “I know, I know,” he mumbled. “I should be celebrating too. End of hostilities, beginning of a great dynasty, such a good match.” He burped. “All that fucking happiness!” Another long pull at the red wine. “But, what about my gods damned happiness?”

Jessel nodded knowingly and snagged another mouthful of fodder.

Radiq drank from the flask and gestured widely. “Does not my loyalty, my devotion, entitle me to some consideration?” He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but only here, beside this mountain of horseflesh, could he let his guard relax even slightly. “You, Jessel, are a good friend.” He leaned forward to stroke the stallion’s neck. “Never do your eyes promise what cannot be.”

Thanks for reading!

‘Til next time!

Welcome, everyone!

The weekend has arrived, which means it’s time for some Seductive Studs. I am continuing with a clip from my swords and sorcery work in progress, Radiq. To read some preceding clips, click here.

By the third flask the wine had begun to sour, or maybe it was simply his mood.

Even to the stables the sounds of the celebration carried, bright and joyful; cymbals and tambourines clamored with flutes, accompanied by the deep, moaning tones of a bazuuna. Radiq had fled the engagement party with the wine, a dark and acerbic red from somewhere to the south, to find some relief from all the cheerfulness. Drinking and feasting he could manage, but the speeches and smiles and handshakes—and all those Corusqi—set his teeth on edge. Flight was his only option.

The First Sword had considered not stopping. Saddling Jessel, riding out across the fields, and going someplace—any place—other than here. Away from Thal Thessaly, the Swords, the court politics—away from Vadim. But that would be an admission—and he wasn’t going to do that.

Housed in a narrow stall, Jessel had stamped a greeting, munching straw, while Radiq had settled on a hay bale. As far as he was concerned, horses made the best drinking companions. They never dominated the conversation, never left you with the bar bill, and, no matter how much one drank, they never pointed out how drunk you were.

Thanks for reading!

Check out the rest of this week’s Seductive Studs and Sirens:

‘Til next time!