The Fae King's Fated Mate: M/M Gay Paranormal Romance

by J B Black

  “Fannar...you looked so cute,” Idris cooed, stifling the giggle as he recalled the man’s stunned expression. “No one has ever spoiled you, have they, Fannar? I will. I would give you the world. Fannar...such a strange name, but it suits...Fannar.”

  When he managed to calm his heart, Idris returned, smiling to see the plate empty on the Fannar’s desk as the warlock flipped through a stack of books he had pulled from the depths of his study. Tomes covered in dust. He had buried away everything about soulmates, hiding fated love. If he thought that would stop Idris from finding him, the warlock underestimated how loved he was.

  Picking up the plate, Idris brought it to the kitchen to clean. As he scrubbed, his mind turned his mate’s name over and over in his head. He would engrain it into his heart. Carve it into his soul.

  “Damn it!” the warlock cursed.

  Idris smiled, chuckling. After decades suffering from the set-backs of Fannar’s spellwork, he found the other’s unknowing frustration with the same to be cathartic.

  As night fell in full, Idris remade the bed and washed, enjoying the heated water. His still damp hair clung to his neck. The warlock paced in his workroom. He chewed at the tip of his thumb, muttering to himself as he twiddled a seer’s eye amulet in his hand. Every few laps, he paused and lifted the stone to his eye. Whatever he saw displeased him. If it were anything like what Idris found when looking, it was a black void which flashed with an empty room.

  “Fannar?” Idris called.

  The warlock spun, glaring at him. “What?”

  “Why don’t we go to bed? You can always try again in the morning,” the fae offered, and the sour glower sent his way sent a shiver of delight through him. “Please? I’m exhausted.”

  “Take the bed,” Fannar grumbled, turning away to stare through the eye once more. “I’ll sleep at my desk.”

  Crossing the room, the blond wrapped his arms around the other’s waist. The warlock flinched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, the warlock sighed. His arms dropped, and he set the amulet down on the desk.

  “Let’s go to bed,” Idris murmured into the other’s shoulder, and when Fannar nodded, obviously drained, the fae smiled.

  In a single day, the warlock had attempted more divinations than anyone Idris had hired did in their entire tenure with him. Only one of those hired psychics had proven useful, and that had been more an off-handed remark than anything else. Even dulled, strings of fate remained, and it had taken three dozen of his most powerful wizards alongside his own magic to make the red string visible to his eyes. It curled about the little finger of his left hand, and though the end always stretched out of reach, he could see the other end upon Fannar’s own finger. The middle blurred. As long as the other had his spellwork sealed against fate, they weren’t tethered. Not the way others were. But unseen or not, the string remained.

  “Let go of me. I need to get washed up,” Fannar grumbled.

  Smiling, Idris stepped back. “I’ve never seen someone do so many spells in a single day without rest.”

  Before the black-haired warlock could answer, he stumbled. Idris lunged forward to catch him, but Fannar held out a hand, righting himself. “I drained myself a bit more than intended.”

  “Maybe you should wait and bathe in the...” Idris sighed, trailing off as Fannar ignored him. “It’ll be a wonder if you don’t drown yourself.”

  Though he considered eavesdropping outside the bathroom door to be certain Fannar didn’t fall asleep and harm himself, Idris crawled into the freshly made bed. His magic gathered around him. Radiating warmth from his core, he dried his hair and used his body to heat the bed to a pleasant temperature, luxuriating in the knowledge that this bed was where his fated mate slept until Fannar stepped into the room. Dressed in only boxers, the man was temptation incarnate. A smooth, straight back led to a tight round ass. His chest had no hair upon it, but his slender figure gave way to defined abs.

  “I’ll cook breakfast in the morning,” Idris announced.

  Fannar grumbled something unintelligible and tugged back the blankets to crawl into bed. A small shield erected around him as he sunk into sleep before Idris could say another word.

  With a sigh, the blond rolled onto his side, gazing longingly at the perfect slope of the other’s nose and his lips which parted slightly as if begging to be kissed.

  “Fannar,” Idris whispered, delighting in the sight and in the feel of the name on his tongue before he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Fannar never shared a bed. He hated when people invaded his space, but exhaustion did wonders. However, when he woke up half on top of the prince, he almost tossed the man out of the bed. Taking a deep breath, the warlock moved back to the other side, tugging the blankets up around them.

  The next time he woke, something heavy weighed around his waist, and heat radiated like a furnace against his back. Blinking, he groaned in frustration. His shield hadn’t dropped, but Idris curled up against it with one arm thrown over the area above Fannar’s waist.

  A flick of magic sent the prince to the far side of the bed, but when Fannar adjusted the covers and waved a hand to erect a shield wall between them, his eyes caught on the tussled blankets and the clear shape of Idris’s hardened manhood.

  “Horny bastard,” Fannar grumbled, tossing up the wall and facing away once more.

  It should have been a sign how exhausted his magic was when he woke up to feel himself pinned underneath the prince’s firm, muscular body, but the hard length pressed against his thigh and the soft snoring against his neck froze him in place more than the leg tossed over his own or the arm wrapped possessively around him. Idris rubbed his cheek sleepily against the warlock’s chest. His nose wrinkled.

  “If you don’t get off me right now, I will cut off your dick,” Fannar announced. His voice snapped the prince awake.

  Idris sat up, peering sleepily around with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “But it’s a nice dick.” He pushed back the covers. His cock stood hard and proud in the loose sleeping pants he wore. With ease, he pushed them down his hips to reveal the flushed length. Wrapping one hand around his hard member, Idris groaned, rocking his hips up into the circle of his fingers. “Isn’t it nice?”

  Sputtering in disbelief, Fannar stared at the throbbing cock in the prince’s hands. He hadn’t seen many, but from the details Ronan shared regarding his boyfriends, Fannar could tell it was - by Ronan’s standards - more than simply nice. Thick enough to be a mouthful but not too thick that it would be impossible to swallow down to the hair at its base. Almost perfectly symmetrical balls, and the length would take two hands to cover in full. As it hardened before him, two hands would have even left a bit of the tip exposed. Uncut, it leaked pre-cum all over the recently washed sheets.

  Despite the mess of Idris’s hand sliding up and down the hard length, Fannar couldn’t protest. His mouth went dry. Every sentence sputtered out the moment it came into his mind, and his own cock twitched in interest he wasn’t prepared to confront.

  “Have you ever seen another man’s dick?” Idris asked, and the way his mouth formed the word made it sound obscene.

  “Ronan...he…”

  “Ronan, hm? You’ve seen his cock?” the prince asked. His eyes seemed all the more purple in the dark room.

  Shaking his head, Fannar swallowed. “He told me - ”

  “Living vicariously, then? So this is the first time you’ve seen something like this then?” Idris as, and when Fannar dumbly nodded, the blond groaned, pumping his hips into the channel of his fingers. “Good. Keep your eyes on me, Fannar. Only look at me.”

  Back and forth, his hand slid. The other sprawled out - large and long fingered on the bed behind him. Up and down, his hips pumped. The muscles of his stomach tensed, showing off how muscular he was. In the dark bedroom, starlight made his skin seem paler than it had beneath the sun’s warm glow. He glistened like carved marble. Eyes violet and unyielding as they burned into
Fannar even half-lidded as they were. Biting his lip, Idris moaned, and the sound traveled through the warlock’s body, collecting in the oddest places.

  In his youth, he had taken himself in hand once or twice, but the gesture felt meaningless. A waste of energy and time that could be spent gaining knowledge - accumulating power. Now, it seemed his body came alive. Idris sparked a fire inside him. It raged. Burning so bright the prince had to see it. To see the desire reddening Fannar’s cheeks, heating his whole face as his own cock hardened, tenting his boxers. That alone would have been bad enough, but the warmth coiled in his core. Hot - tight and hot and desperate, the flames swelled. They threatened to swallow him.

  “You look so good,” Idris moaned. “So pretty and sweet, aren’t you? Mnn - yeah, nnnn - don’t look away, Fannar. Keep your eyes on me.”

  There had to be an enchantment in his voice. The way his vowels curved. His tone lilted, making his phrases all the smoother. Curling about him, Idris’s words dug into Fannar’s skin. They beckoned him forward, and his exhaustion weighed all the heavier on him as he spread his legs. Hidden from sight, his hole clenched.

  Idris purred. The low sound vibrated in his chiseled chest. “Fannar. Say my name. Please, Fannar, say my name.”

  In a whisper soft as a breath, Fannar did. “Idris.”

  With a cry, the prince came. Seed spurted from his cock, spraying onto his abdomen and then onto the bed as he fell forward, crawling closer to Fannar. His brilliant eyes held Fannar firmly in place. Like a wild animal, he approached, his cock dripped between his legs and that slick hand reached out toward the warlock.

  “Please - please, Fannar, let me touch you -”

  And then he was gone. Falling into his pillow, the warlock groaned, and when he rolled over he cursed as his hand found the sticky evidence proving none of that was a dream.

  Glaring toward the mess, Fannar growled, “Enjoy the cold, you bastard.”

  Chapter Seven

  From the warm sanctuary of Fannar’s bed, the warlock’s magic flung Idris deep into the forest. His sleeping pants tangled about his thighs as he splashed into a freezing pond. Fish and frogs scattered in frustration at his sudden entrance, but none of them were more frustrated than the fae himself.

  “Okay - okay,” he muttered, fighting his way to the surface. “I was too quick. Too much, too fast. Fuck.”

  He dragged himself out of the cold waters, drying himself with his magic. A shiver passed through him regardless. Shirtless, Idris collapsed into the hollow of a nearby tree. It shook its branches, covering him. Though both his magic and the tree attempted to keep him warm, the sudden shift in fortunes depressed the fae. Sagging against the trunk, he sighed.

  “Pro - he was turned on. Con - he didn’t want me to touch him. Pro..” Idris hummed softly. “Pro - we already made the contract. He has to come find me again.” Immediately, he couldn’t help but note: “Con - there is no timeline on the contract. Shit.”

  Two steps forward, two steps back. Fannar always managed to keep the distance between them, and even with his magic pushed to the brink, he still sent Idris away with ease. After what had happened, the warlock likely would not allow the fae back into his bed, and if he did, he would undoubtedly ensure he hadn’t drained himself first. Fannar’s shields were formidable. Breaking through them took time. If Idris wanted to not be obvious in doing so, the strain gave him a headache. Even now, one throbbed in the back of his head, but the feel of the lithe body of his fated mate in his arms well outweighed the pain.

  Idris never intended to pleasure himself in front of the black-haired man. He ached to hold him. Just hold him while they slept, but every time he drew near, the warlock pushed him away. Not out of hatred. Annoyance, yes, but the little Idris found on his fated love suggested Fannar considered almost everyone troublesome.

  Deep in the woods beneath the stars, Idris slept. Tomorrow, he would stumble and cry and beg for Fannar to come find him. Tonight, he dreamed of the soft smile when the warlock tasted the food he had prepared for him. The slide of a pink tongue across full lips taunted him as much as the serene calm of the warlock’s sleeping expression.

  He awoke as the sun rose. Its golden light flickered on the horizon as trees shifted here and there, moving themselves as they willed about the forest. Dryads laughed in their trees.

  Stretching, Idris turned his back to the sun. “Fannar?” he called, marching on bare feet through the forest. Around him, the trees shifted. “Fannar? I can’t make you breakfast if I can’t find your house!”

  “I don’t need your food,” the warlock grumbled when he appeared before the fae.

  Racing forward with his arms open, Idris cried, “Fannar! You were so cruel to me! I was so cold!” Though the fae expected to run into a shield, he found his arms around the warlock’s neck with ease. Hugging him tightly, Idris sighed in relief. “But you came back, so I forgive you.”

  “Brilliant. Now, get off me,” Fannar grumbled, shoving the blond back. “I’ve got good news - I’ve found your soulmate.”

  Heart racing in his chest, Idris forced a smile. “Really?”

  “Whoever they are, they are within this forest. Explains why you ended up here and why none of my spells have worked,” the warlock explained. For a beat, Idris waited for the other shoe to drop, but he wasn’t tossed from the forest. “I’ve mapped out the bulk of the residents, so if we go in order of likelihood to mate outside their species, we should find your soulmate quickly.”

  Swallowing, Idris nodded. “Of course...but may I get dressed and washed first?”

  Fannar adjusted his cloak. His lips pressed together in a thin line as he glanced toward the fae’s bare chest and then away. Despite his cold expression, his cheeks flushed a pretty pale pink.

  He had to be suspicious. Surely the warlock realized he was the soulmate the fae sought. Idris readily displayed his affection. Fucking his fist, pleading for the other to not look away, clinging and begging in a way utterly unbecoming of his position. Fannar wasn’t an idiot. If he didn’t recognize the connection between them, his own pride and fear bound him.

  Biting his lip, Fannar sighed. “Fine.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Galenos is a bit of an unusual case for a satyr,” Fannar explained as they waited on the edge of the settlement.

  Kids ran about, pointing and laughing at the two men. Younger ones gazed from behind their mothers’ legs. Bright eyed and adorable as they were, the sight of them irked the warlock. His foot tapped. Galenos hadn’t been his first pick, but he had no intention of leaving before the two met just in case his instincts were wrong.

  Idris seemed happy. He stood straight and tall with that same dreamy expression as he gazed out adoringly onto the village as if the sight of children and the sound of their laughter delighted him. Leaning close to the warlock, the prince smiled.

  “I never considered a satyr.”

  Fannar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fate doesn’t give a fuck what you considered.”

  Humming softly in a tone which almost seemed to indicate agreement, the prince brushed off his clothes. “I’m simply saying...I don’t think Galenos will be the one for me. Perhaps someone...less furry.”

  “Meet him first.”

  “Why? How will we even tell if he’s the one?” Idris pushed.

  “If he’s the one, the contract will complete itself once I introduce you. Simple as that,” Fannar informed the prince, and when the brown curls of the satyr in question came into view, the warlock released a sigh of relief. “You’re late.”

  Setting his hands upon his hips, Galenos cocked a brow. “And you’re wasting my time. Isn’t it obvious how incompatible the two of us would be?” With a floppy twitch of his wrist, he gestured between himself and the prince. A firm pout in place, Galenos sidled up to Fannar. “You’re much more my type.”

  “Galenos - Idris. Idris - Galenos. You are - introduced,” Fannar announced, stepping away from the amorous brown-haired mal
e.

  Idris glowered. “He is not my mate.”

  “Thank the gods,” Galenos retorted, and with a simpering smile and a little wave of his fingers at Fannar, he walked away.

  Fannar lifted his hand to open another portal, but his cloak tugged, drawing his eyes down to where the prince’s fingers clenched around the black fabric. He followed the line of the man’s arm to his face with the same blank expression he had given Galenos, but Idris smiled, flashing his perfect whtie teeth.

  “Where next?”

  “There’s a witch who lives on the farside. We’ll hit up her house - ”

  Stepping closer, the prince frowned as he invaded Fannar’s personal space. Their lips almost brushed as he hissed, “I told you. My soulmate is a man.”

  “How do you know?” the warlock demanded.

  “A seer told me.”

  Looking away, Fannar inhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts before he exhaled. Cursing out the prince helped no one. “The seer could have been wrong.”

  “Wouldn’t it be safer just to trust the words of a seer? Why should I doubt them?” Idris bounced as he walked, clinging to the warlock like a child as the pair stepped through the portal.

  On the edge of the woods covered in vines, a small cottage stood. Wild flowers grew in the garden, and herbs sprouted on the roof. However, two boys with wings flew about the garden, screaming at each other to go faster while a little girl with pigtails and a demon’s tail chased after them. Fireballs sprouted in her small hands, and from the scorch marks on her dress, she wasn’t the only one capable of pyromancy.