Coffee & Composition Part 1 Read online

  The tiniest of things can ruin even the best of plans.

  Musician George Tavlakis and his Rovani partner and slave, Yeraki, are getting ready to launch a summer concert tour of Europe. George’s wife, Elefteria, called Ellie by everyone who knows her, is also going out of town—on an archeological dig in Egypt. Home life is not as peaceful as George could have wished, particularly given the recent friction between Ellie and Yeri.

  Two tiny mistakes compound into a life-threatening emergency that could ruin not only their plans for summer but also all their plans for the future.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Coffee & Composition Part 1

  Copyright © 2018 A.C. Ellas

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-1494-8

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

  Coffee & Composition Part 1

  Rovani Chronicles, Book 5

  By

  A.C. Ellas

  Chapter One

  Devlin paused at the window even though he had a lot of work to do. The Rovani was outside, sitting on the grass with his back against a tree trunk. He had his bouzouki in his arms, so he was probably pretending to work, but what had caused Devlin to stop and take a second look was the simple beauty of the scene. Yeraki was a physically gorgeous creature, there was no denying that, even if he was an abomination created by genetic engineering instead of by God.

  Spots of sunlight, sifting through the leaves above, fell in dappled patterns over the cat’s silver tabby coat. He both blended into shadows, particularly against the grey-brown of the tree’s bark, and stood out as the sunlight caused his fur to glow. His mane and tail especially stood out, for they were black, but the tip of each hair was silver and refracted the sunlight like a prism, splashing rainbows everywhere. It was more than just the fur that made the Rovani beautiful. Devlin could see the beast’s impressive physique from there. George took Yeri to the gym three times a week to maintain that muscular grace. The creature was also poised and sexy, so overtly sensual that Devlin half-agreed with the idea that Satan had created the Rovania specifically to tempt men into sin.

  Snorting in disgust at his own interest in bedding the beast, Devlin resolutely turned away from the window. Rovania were created animals. They had no souls and were an affront to God—men had usurped His divine powers and disaster, the Great Collapse and the Second Dark Age, had been the result. It was a pity that the Lineages had not only survived the dark age but flourished.

  George was his employer now, so he did his best to keep his mouth shut on the matter, but it was difficult. The slave had strangely bewitched George. Devlin had heard the band’s music, and it was very good, but he didn’t believe for a moment that the Rovani had written it. It was as unlikely as an animal earning a degree in physics. He was sure trickery had been involved there, too. Unfortunately, everyone else was besotted with the animal, even his sensible Ellie, and so, what few complaints he dared make fell on deaf ears.

  Devlin reached the kitchen where Marra was already hard at work preparing dinner for the family. Marra, like himself, was an ex-slave who’d earned her freedom after years of hard work. She’d been turned out of her home, however, unlike himself, and had found herself penniless, homeless, and possessed only of homely skills that most people delegated to slaves like she had been. Her owner had done her no favors by freeing her, really. The Greek church had stepped in and saved her, eventually hooking her up with George, who had been in desperate need of a housekeeper. Marra was a kindly old soul and a great cook, but if she had one fault, it was that she, like everyone else, thought Yeri was special.

  She glanced at him as he entered, her warm brown eyes sparkling, so he asked, “How is everything going in here? Do you need any help?”

  “No, thank you. Doing just fine.” Marra grinned at him and waved her wooden spoon. “Won’t be too much longer. Making the avgolemono soup and a nice ham.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need me.” Devlin moved on, checking on his domain—the house was his to manage now and had been since the wedding. He kept the place clean, a task made more difficult by the Rovani’s presence—it shed. He wished he could convince George to keep the animal outside, or at least downstairs in its kennel. But no, not only did the cat have free rein in the house during the day, George and Ellie let the animal sleep in their bedroom. He didn’t even want to think of what else they might be doing. Surely, his sweet, innocent Ellie wasn’t doing those things.

  He was cleaning in the music room when the Rovani came in, bouzouki slung over his shoulder. The cat stopped just inside the entry and stared at him, his expression impassive. His wrap and wrist-scarf were emerald green today, matching his eyes. George dressed him, of course, since the Rovani was functionally colorblind. The bulge under the wrap was obscenely large. Devlin had heard that male Rovania had over-sized genitals, in mockery of the human form, but he’d yet to see this one naked, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to.

  Devlin met the animal’s direct stare fully, challengingly. He was free, and human as well, and the Rovani needed to remember that. The cat looked away at once, lowering his gaze in a pleasing display of submission. They were alone in the music room, and he was tired of the abomination’s attitude. “Slave.”

  “Master?” The Rovani’s gaze remained on the floor, his reply was prompt and proper.

  Devlin noticed the thin neck of the bouzouki again. “Put the instrument away.” It wouldn’t do to damage the expensive instrument. George wouldn’t like that.

  Yeri padded forward, took the bouzouki from his shoulder and gently set it on the instrument rack. He then half turned toward Devlin. “Did you want anything else from me, master?”

  “Kneel.” Devlin pointed to the floor at his feet. He managed not to smirk when the Rovani knelt on the indicated spot. The animal knelt with his knees to the floor and widely spread in the manner of a sex slave. His hands came to rest on his knees, the long, prehensile tail came to rest curled around the left knee. And, of course, the back was straight and the head properly bowed.

  It was a nice start, but it wasn’t enough to make his point. “Abase yourself,” Devlin commanded in a hard voice. It was perfectly safe since he was wearing shoes. Dusty shoes in need of a polish, which had factored into his plan. The slave’s ass came off his heels as he bent forward. Planting his forearms on the floor, the animal first kissed his shoes then started to lick the leather. Now, that is a beautiful thing, he thought as he watched the slave work.

  He tried to ignore the ache in his crotch. He wasn’t going to risk his soul by falling for the creature’s tricks. But, it would be ver
y nice to feel that tongue licking my privates. And oral service isn’t a sin; it isn’t really sex. It’s discipline, he told himself. He continued to enjoy the sight of the slave licking his shoes while he unfastened his pants to give himself more space. He eased his hand into pants and stroked himself until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

  * * * *

  Yeri didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of cured, polished leather. Or the dust and dirt that had coated the shoes before he’d started licking them. But he could smell the man above him and knew that his abasement was very pleasing to Devlin. Licking human feet was something he’d had a lot of practice at. It didn’t shame him as much as humans seemed to think it would. Even George had him do this, although George was usually barefoot when he gave that particular command.

  He also knew that the man was horny and that watching him was making that condition worse, not better. He was mildly surprised when Devlin ordered him to stop. Devlin then ordered him to heel, so Yeri stood and followed the man into the library. Devlin sat on a comfortable, overstuffed armchair, kicked off his shoes, and ordered Yeri to resume his position at the man’s feet. The socks followed the shoes, and once more, he ordered Yeri to abase himself, but this time, the feet were bare.

  At this point, Yeri hesitated. As a free man, Devlin had every right to command him, a slave—up to a point. George had not ever told Yeri that Devlin had permission to use him. But he does have permission to touch me, and he is under my master’s employ, so I don’t know that he isn’t allowed. Besides, if I please him, he might like me better.

  Yeri bent down and pressed his lips to Devlin’s bare foot. He kissed both feet before licking them. The man’s taste and smell exploded through his senses, overwhelming him with desire for this sublimely human male. Pleasing Devlin was all he wanted. His skin felt too tight, his heart was racing, and each taste of the man’s foot sent another jolt of sweet desire through him. He licked the feet as sensually as he knew how; he sucked on the toes and massaged the balls and heels with his fingers as well as his lips. He did everything short of rubbing his cock on them to show the man how much he desired his use.

  At long last, after he’d licked every molecule of human flavor from the man’s feet, Devlin rewarded him. “I want full oral service, slave.”

  Yeri came up off the feet gratefully, fixing his gaze on the prize—Devlin’s genitals. The uncut cock, nine thick, curved inches, was already fully erect. The balls were large and dangled in a generous scrotum. The man was nothing special as far as appearances went, but Yeri appreciated the beauty of the man’s package. My present. He rested his hands on the man’s knees, turned his head a little to the left and gently kissed the dangling nuts.

  He could feel Devlin’s eyes boring into him as he started working the scrotum into his mouth. It tasted so good he could barely contain his pleasure as he lapped up more and more of the loose flesh, drawing the balls into his mouth so he could suck them. He started with this because he had been told, more than once, that being tea-bagged was supposed to be humiliating. He enjoyed it immensely, of course, but he knew Devlin wanted to see him humiliate himself, and so, he did his best to please that way, too.

  The man’s entire sac filled his mouth nearly to the choking point. Yeri massaged the nuts with his tongue as he sucked, his lips sealed around the base of the man’s sac, his nose pressed against the cock so firmly that its glorious, musky scent nearly overwhelmed him. Devlin’s soft sighs and grunts were rewards for his ears. Devlin unbent enough to stroke his head, the hot, human hands felt good as they slid over his mane.

  Yeri switched to the man’s cock when he sensed the man’s interest in what he was doing just starting to wane. His tongue and lips danced over the instrument, causing Devlin to gasp anew. The penis tasted even better than it smelled, and he luxuriated in gustatory delight as he licked every square millimeter of it. In due course, he left off licking in order to swallow it down.

  “Oh, my god,” Devlin gasped and both his hands tangled in Yeri’s mane, gripping it painfully.

  Wondering if Devlin’s exclamation should count as a victory or not, Yeri worked the shaft in his mouth, sucking it, massaging it with his tongue and palate, bobbing up and down in a strong rhythm. His goal now was to bring Devlin off quickly but not so quickly that the man felt cheated or rushed. Devlin’s continued noises of enjoyment aided him in gauging his speed.

  The man maintained his grip in Yeri’s mane throughout, and when he got close, he used the leverage to press Yeri down against himself with great urgency. He cried out softly as he came, filling Yeri’s mouth with thick, sweet ropes of cum. Devlin’s orgasm caused Yeri’s climax in turn, which fed right back into the human through empathic sharing, and Yeri sensed Devlin’s deep surprise at this.

  The hands in his mane finally loosened, and Yeri pulled back until the man let go of him. Once he was free of the cock, he murmured, “Thank you, master.” He settled back on his heels silently, keeping his gaze downcast, but he couldn’t stop himself from licking his lips to catch any stray droplets of the man’s juice.

  “You may go, slave.”

  Yeri pressed his forehead to the floor before he got up and backed away. It wasn’t until he was in the next room that he permitted himself to relax. Briefly, he sagged against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried to bring his roiling emotions to heel. In that short time between finishing the man and leaving the room, Yeri had realized that his efforts had been in vain. If anything, the man had less respect for him now. He will never accept me.

  Taking a deep breath, Yeri straightened his back and returned to the music room. He still had work to do. But, as he sat down at the keyboard, he realized that the melody he’d been trying to catch all afternoon was simply gone as if it had never tormented him. He stared at the black and white keys and tried not to worry, but the thought of George’s disappointment was almost unbearable. He had the best master in the world, his duties were ones he loved to perform... and yet, he was failing at those duties this very moment. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Chapter Two

  George was sprawled comfortably on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The soft warmth of his wife, Ellie, was pressed against his torso in a most pleasing manner. He absently stroked her back as he relaxed post-coitus. He hadn’t planned to take her, it had just sort of happened. Ellie hadn’t objected.

  After a suitable length of time, she stirred. “Doctor Kenellis selected me for his dig.”

  “Is that the one in Knossos?” George tried to recall what she’d said about the proposed dig. Unfortunately, several teams were being assembled for various digs, and Ellie had described all of them.

  “No, that’s Doctor Loukos. Kenellis is heading the Egypt dig.”

  “Oh. Are you going to accept?”

  “I would like to if you’re still willing to watch the baby.”

  George smiled down at her. “Then do so, koukla. Lee will be fine; you know how Yeri dotes on him.”

  Ellie sat up and met his gaze. She smiled warmly and stroked the line of his jaw. “What will you do while I’m gone?”

  “Tour. Our agent wants to send us on a European tour.” The man was insistent about it, in fact, claiming that their music had fans in far more places than just Greece. “He’s got almost all the details worked out.” George reached up and cupped one of Ellie’s breasts. “I suppose we should get up now.” His thumb brushed over her sensitive nipple, and she shivered, her lips curving upward in the mischievous smile he loved so well.

  She threw her leg over him and shifted position so that she was straddling him. “What’s the rush? Marra will hold dinner for us.” She ground down against him, and he could feel his member responding.

  He brought his other hand up to play with both her breasts. He gently pinched both nipples and rolled them between his fingers. Ellie arched her back, which had the effect of pushing her bust more firmly into his hands. George rolled his hips, bumping up against her
in an insistent manner.

  Ellie raised herself up and sank back down upon him, moaning softly as his hard tool entered her, pushing her hot, velvety tissues aside. She threw herself into her work, moving in ways that pleased George greatly.

  “That’s perfect, koukla,” he murmured and pinched her nipples again to show his approval.

  “Oh,” she replied, her hands coming to rest atop his. For a moment, he thought she’d pull his hands away from her breasts, but she didn’t. She stroked his hands then down to his forearms. All the while, she continued her gentle roll and grind. “What would you do differently if I were a pleasure slave?”

  George chuckled. “You’re no slave, you’re my wife. And if you were a slave, I’d just free you.”

  “I know, but what if? You could make me do anything.” She shook her hips like a belly dancer.

  George gasped in pleasure. He hadn’t known she knew how to do that. He thrust himself with greater urgency into her sopping wet hole. “Dance on me again.”

  Laughing in delight, she did so. George groaned as he orgasmed but kept pumping until she cried out, too. She came to rest atop him again, their limbs in a comfortable tangle.

  He kissed her. “I love you, koukla.”

  “I love you, too.” Ellie stretched languidly then sat up. “Time for dinner.” She slipped out of bed and walked into the bathroom.

  George watched her go, admiring her shapely ass. He wondered what had brought her thoughts of slavery on. Although he greatly enjoyed making love to her, he accepted that she wasn’t submissive. For example, she had yet to suck him, and he considered oral sex to be a daily necessity of life. Of course, Yeri was always happy to serve him in any way he could desire. With that thought, he got up and followed Ellie into the bathroom. She was standing before the vanity, fixing her hair. As he passed by, he dropped a kiss on her neck but didn’t stop moving.

  He took care of his business quickly, dressed, and left the bedroom. He went downstairs looking for Yeri. The Rovani was in the music room, curled about his bouzouki. The melody he was playing was an old one—a familiar, comforting melody that soothed the soul.