by J B Black
Idris hummed, wrapping his arms around the warlock’s waist and resting his chin upon Fannar’s shoulder. “I’m starting to formulate why you called these people residents and not your friends. I don’t suppose you just forgot she mated a demon?”
“Shut up.”
After two druids and a less than friendly werewolf, Fannar regretted his methods, but no amount of spells seemed to help. Idris happily followed along, chit-chatting about absolutely nothing. Though the prince’s voice was pleasant to listen to, he served as a constant reminder of Fannar’s failure. His list dwindled, and despite the repeated rejections, Idris never grew discouraged.
“Why don’t we stop for lunch?” Idris suggested, wrapping an arm around Fannar’s waist.
The warlock stilled. “I think there’s a naiad -”
“My fated mate isn’t a woman.”
Rolling his eyes, Fannar huffed, “Why? Because some seer said that?”
“Sure. Now, you’re dismissive of seers,” Idris grumbled, letting his arm drop from Fannar’s waist as he stepped away. Shaking his head, the prince pushed, “My fated mate is male.”
“Most males - even magical creatures - can’t have children. Do you really want your line to end?” Fannar questioned, hoping the prince would give up and allow the contract to be voided. His head throbbed.
Idris crossed his arms over his chest. “Children can be adopted. As much as I would like a large family, it would be something I had to discuss with my fated mate. Born by his body or otherwise.”
“What if your fated mate isn’t content being fucked?” Fannar asked. When the prince blinked, he continued, “Are you prepared for a mate who wants to fuck you?”
Idris’s eyes narrowed. His lips moved as if trying to process the concept. Honestly, after his quick responses and stubborn assertions that his mate would be perfect for him, the stunned silence was a welcome relief. Fate rarely connected two people who innately matched in such a clean manner. True love didn’t exist. Those who appeared to have a grasp upon it fought hard and endured much to maintain their relationship. Fate had nothing to do with it.
“If you can’t accept that a man could expect -”
“Don’t treat me like an idiot,” Idris cut in sharply. “I know who I want.”
Fannar rolled his eyes. “Which isn’t the same as who fate provides. You would be better off -”
Idris once more pressed into Fannar’s space, forcing the warlock to back up as he growled, “Fate gave me exactly what I needed. My mate is stubborn and relentless and can be unfathomably cruel, but he is mine. If he wants to fuck me,” Fannar stumbled back into a tree, but before he could move, a hand slammed against the trunk beside his head, “I would be more than happy to let him.”
Fighting to keep his expression calm when heat rose to his face, Fannar forced himself to meet the other’s impassioned gaze. “Have you ever even slept with another man?”
“Are you offering?” the prince leered.
Opening a portal behind him, the black-haired warlock retreated, racing toward the cottage before him. In all the world, he only had one person he could call a friend, and his heart raced. Panic threatened to overtake him. His fears manifested. A prince without reason pinned him down, expecting things of him which he had never been able to give to anybody. Idris invaded his world. Cut holes to make room for himself, and until Fannar fulfilled the contract, the prince would keep pressing, worming his way into a heart which the warlock never wanted in the first place.
The man who needed no one desperately yearned for his friend to shut down the very possibility of Idris being anything other than another customer. Flushed, he stormed into the shop. His hope crashed. Ronan’s affair with his now human familiar had grown far more serious than Fannar recalled - a ring around the other warlock’s finger might have been bad enough, but the pronounced gravid belly proved that Ronan - at least - was certain Ciar was his fated mate - his one true love.
“Oh - brilliant - that ruins that idea,” Fannar grumbled, gesturing at Ronan’s stomach.
A human who Fannar could only guess was Ciar stood. “What idea?”
“Did you need help with a spell?” Ronan asked with a bright smile. “Well then, how can I help you?”
Of course, Ronan always jumped at an opportunity to be useful. Before he could explain the situation, Idris flung himself at Fannar’s back, clinging to him as if he could escape.
“There you are!” the prince cheered, nuzzling into Fannar’s dark hair.
Shoving the prince off him, the dark-haired warlock spat, “Keep your hands to yourself!”
Ronan’s eyebrows rose. If anyone would notice the slight blush, it would be him. He couldn’t hide the strange way his body responded to Idris - how his heart raced, and his skin tingled wherever the man touched. Taking a deep breath, the black-haired warlock fixed his hair, pointedly avoiding the curious stare of his friend.
Idris, of course, just kept on talking. “A baby! Congratulations! Oh, I can’t wait until my husband is all soft and round with our child!”
He inched closer to Fannar as if he wouldn’t notice the way he loomed. With a glare, he pulled his cloak around himself. “If you want to live to see that, keep your hands to yourself,” he said, slapping away the hands reaching out to touch him again. His eyes met Ronan’s wide-eyed gaze, and his own words caught up, so he quickly added, “None of my locator spells seem to work for this idiot. He needs help finding his...soulmate.”
“Finding?” Ronan whispered.
“I am destined for a warlock, but as you know, my darling has been giving me the runaround,” Idris told them.
Magic shifted in the air around them. Another headache itched at the back of Fannar’s skull. “I took the contract, and now I can’t be rid of him.”
“I see…” Ronan murmured, glancing between the two.
“Then where are the locator charms?” Fannar demanded. Then, with a sigh, he said, “Hell - take the contract from me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” Ronan gaped, likely recognizing a mess when he saw one, but before Fannar could push, Idris squeezed his ass, causing the warlock to leap away, cursing. “Don’t do that!”
Idris laughed, smiling brightly, but there was an edge to his grin which was anything but playful. “Then don’t try to pawn me off on another warlock. Look at him! He’s ready to pop.”
“Hopefully not for another few weeks,” Ronan said, smiling as he cradled his large belly.
Gritting his teeth, Fannar grumbled, “Congratulations. I know this is what you’ve always wanted.”
“It is,” Ronan agreed with a dreamy smile. The goo-goo eyes between the brown-haired warlock and the once-familiar was sickeningly sweet.
It might have been heart-warming had Idris not wrapped his arms about Fannar’s chest and tugged him back to rock the hard length of his cock against the black-haired warlock’s ass. “You’d look radiant pregnant. Round and glowing like that.”
Elbowing the prince in the gut, Fannar kicked him in the knee as he stormed back out the door. “I hope your fated is a goddamn inhuman monster. Something with tentacles and an eye for putting its ovipositor up your useless ass.”
“Oh, Fannar, don’t be so crude!”
As if the brat had a sense of propriety. Throwing up a portal back to his cabin, Fannar nearly slammed the door in Idris’s face, but some sense of pride allowed the man to enter once more as the warlock paced the length of his front parlor.
“I can do this. I have destroyed entire civilizations in a fortnight. I can find your stupid, fucking mate!” the warlock raged. While he hardly expected Idris to keep quiet, Fannar hadn’t expected to be thrown down onto the leather couch or pinned by the prince.
Blond hair in disarray, the prince glared down at him. “How dare you.”
“Get off me,” Fannar hissed, struggling to upend the other, but he remained firmly in place as he held the warlock’s wrists over his head.
“How dare you try to pawn me off like some unwant
ed trinket. You have no right - no right to sell my contract to another warlock like I’m some - some inconvenience!” Idris leaned down until their noses brushed. “The contract is off.”
Fannar’s eyes narrowed. “Perfect. Consider it canceled. Get off and get out.”
“Why should I? You’re supposed to be some sort of powerful warlock - terrifying to behold, but you’re just a half-starved shut-in trapped in your own idiotic pride! You couldn’t get free without magic,” Idris taunted, chuckling until he found them flipped with Fannar straddling his hips as he broke the hold.
As they struggled, the warlock’s ass rubbed against the hard bulge of the prince’s thick cock. “What the hell!? Why do you have an erection?”
“How could I not!? I have a gorgeous man on top of me who isn’t shy in the least about giving me his opinion. If I wasn’t half-mad wanting you, I’d question my own sanity,” Idris yelled. His hands stilled, letting Fannar pin them in place. “I have no equal back home. That’s all I want. It’s why I’m chasing my fated man. I want someone who can rule beside me. Someone capable of loving me, fighting beside me. I don’t want an insipid moron capable of only bowing to my every whim.”
Sputtering, Fannar tried to find fault with what the other had said, but the impassioned face before him grabbed hold of him. His heart thundered in his chest. He wanted to kiss him. Wanted to know the way the prince’s lips felt against his. Would they be as soft as they looked? If the warlock did, and the prince returned the kiss - acting upon the sexual tension brewing between them, wouldn’t that devalue his fated mate?
Fannar released the prince’s wrists, cradling his face in his hands instead. Ducking down, he kissed him. Slow and sweet, their lips pressed against each other. A chaste gentleness which opposed the fierceness of their prior struggle, but Idris accepted it all the same.
Long fingers tangled in Fannar’s dark hair. When a tongue brushed across his lip, he opened his mouth, meeting it with his own. None of this made sense, but he wanted the blond. Wanted to snap the madness of searching for his fated mate. Destiny served only disappointment. The sooner Idris realized that, the happier he would end up being.
Hands unclasped the warlock’s cloak, tossing it aside as fingers slipped beneath his shirt to caress his bare skin. They slid down into his trousers, groping his firm ass as Idris rocked his hips up.
“Bed?” the blond moaned against his lips.
Together, they stumbled, leaving a trail of clothes behind as they came together - lips and teeth and hands. Violent in the way they pulled against each other before bounding apart to strip themselves. Though Fannar stood taller, he was the thinner of the two, but he retained enough muscle that he gasped in shock when Idris lifted him over his shoulder, tossing his bare body onto the neatly made bed.
“I’m going to spoil you,” Idris informed the warlock, climbing between his legs. “You’re too thin. I can count your ribs.”
Fannar scoffed, tugging at the blond curls. “You talk too much.”
“The great warlock wouldn’t mind if all I said were compliments,” Idris teased. He kisses his way up the warlock’s body, nipping at his sharp jawline. “Beautiful - you taste like power.”
Arching, Fannar rocked the hard lines of their cocks together. “Shut up.”
“Don’t get shy on me now.”
Fannar rolled his eyes, flipping them to straddle the prince once more. He pinched the man’s nipples, sucking a mark onto the man’s neck as fingers spread his asscheeks to rub against his tight hole. If the man wanted to fuck him, he would have to earn it.
Shoving Idris down, Fannar rose, crawling up the other’s body. “If you want my ass, you can suck my cock or lick me open first. Pick.”
“Nhhh - fuck. Can I lick you open then suck you while I finger you?” Idris asked, licking his lips.
Fannar nodded, and when he shifted forward, two firm hands rubbed up and down Fannar’s thighs. The first burst of air against his tight hole sent a shiver through him. Magic prepared him well enough, but the hot, wet caress of a tongue lapping at his entrance made the warlock keen. His hands clung to the headboard, and when Idris stabbed his tongue inside him, Fannar’s cock pulsed, throbbing at the feel of being spread open.
Idris kissed and licked the tight furl as if he had dreamed of doing so his entire life. When he slid the first finger inside with his tongue, Fannar whimpered, rocking back into the touch before he could stop himself. His body thrummed, but Idris never relented. Fingers and tongue, he spread the warlock wide, stretching him until his arousal couldn’t stand the hunger in the prince’s touches.
“Fuck, stop,” Fannar demanded.
Immediately, Idris pulled away. “What-what did I do?”
“Nothing,” the warlock grumbled as he slid back to straddle the blond’s chest. Sliding one hand along the length of his cock, he leaned back and rested the other on the muscles of Idris’s stomach. His hole clenched, wet from his magic and the slick saliva from Idris’s tongue. “You promised to suck my cock.”
“Now? And will you come and leave me painfully hard like the sadist you are?” Idris asked, caressing the other man’s thighs once more.
“No faith,” the warlock said, clucking his tongue.
Idris smiled, bright and as blindly hopeful as he had the day they met. “Let me fuck you even if I swallow your load?”
“Can I fuck your throat?” the warlock returned, and when the prince nodded, licking his lips in anticipation, Fannar sighed. “Then sure. If you can make me come, I’ll suffer through you getting me hard again to fuck.”
“Hard deal, but I’ll take it.”
Sliding into the wet heat of Idris’s mouth, Fannar met the man’s blue-violet eyes. Fondness and adoration - pure and warm and all too close stared straight back at him. If his heart skipped a beat, nobody had to know. Rutting his hip into the prince’s throat, watching the way his eyes watered even as he flushed, Fannar groaned. Two fingers pumped inside him, curling and stretching until they rubbed against something which sent sparks through his body. As taut as a bow, he trembled.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured into the crux of his arm as he fell forward, shoving deeper into Idris’s throat. He could feel it convulse around him, but when Fannar pulled back, the prince dragged him forward. A third finger joined the two. “Fuck! Nhnn - I-Idris, we have a contract for me to find your - ahh!”
The prince rubbed, tapping that place again and again as his burning gaze pierced the warlock to the core. His soul seemed prepped to be pulled out of him through his cock, but the prince gave no quarter. He dragged an orgasm from Fannar, swallowing his release without hesitation. Though Idris allowed Fannar space to pull back, his fingers remained inside.
“Don’t you fucking run away on me,” the prince growled - his voice low and hoarse. His lust dark eyes shimmered a watery violet.
Grinding back onto the stretch of those fingers, Fannar huffed. “Don’t blame me if your fated mate is less than pleased about this.”
“And what about you?” Idris asked, smirking as he drove those fingers deeper. “Are you pleased with me?”
Fannar ran his thumb over those slick lips. “I didn’t mind how quiet you were.”
“You’ll drive your fated love up a wall with want, won’t you?” Again with that same ridiculous fondness. He had no right to make Fannar’s heart beat so quickly or ache so terribly.
Reaching back, Fannar grabbed the prince’s wrist, guiding the fingers out. “If they want to long for what they’ll never have, that’s hardly my problem.”
A flash of hurt crossed the other’s face. Too close. They were all too close to confessions of realities Fannar refused to even consider. Idris could not be his fated mate. The warlock succeeded. His string fell to tatters. Nothing fixed messes like the one he made, and if somehow the man beneath him was the one destined to take everything away from him, Fannar remained determined to never allow fate to overtake him. He wasn’t some powerful man’s whor
e. Nobody owned him.
“Don’t look so pitiful,” Fannar scolded as he aligned the prince’s cock with his slick, hot hole. “Isn’t it all the better if this was something only the two of us decided?”
His cock was so much bigger than even the three fingers. The head spread Fannar wide, stretching him as he sunk down upon it inch by inch. Hands squeezed his hips, and the dark violet of the prince’s covetous gaze deepened as he panted. His lips were slick and swollen pink when they parted in a moan. He laid before the warlock a mess. Wrecked and desperate. Idris’s tanned face flushed red with desire.
“F-Fannar - ohh, fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed. His body trembled, and when his hips jumped, shoving more of his thick cock inside the tight heat, he cried out. “Ahh! Shit - shit, I’m sorry. I’ll keep still. Did that hurt you?”
Shaking his head, the warlock, dropped down, settling his body against the prince as the full length settled inside him. “Why are you hung like a bloody horse?”
“Is it too much?”
Fannar scoffed. “You can’t shrink your cock. Give me a second to get used to it.” Shifting his hips, he keened, “Mnnn - you’re bloody massive.”
“Oh god, I can - I can see it,” Idris whispered. His fingers slid to trace the shadow of a bulge on the black-haired man’s stomach. “You’re too thin. I shouldn’t be able to see it.”
With a slight groan, Fannar clenched, squeezing the hot, hard shaft inside him. Idris wailed. He tossed back his head, crying out as he pressed the palm of one hand against his own cock through the warlock’s body. Even though his insides were being rearranged, Fannar’s whole body tingled. Arousal coursed through him. Desire blazed, hot and unyielding as his own fingers entwined with the blond’s, grinding their hands against the manhood buried inside him.
“Please,” the prince whispered. “Tell me I’m not hurting you.”
Chuckling, Fannar met the other man’s imploring stare. “My cock’s still hard, idiot. I’m fine.”
“But -”
Lifting himself half up the length of the hard shaft with trembling thighs, Fannar sunk back down. Something feral in him stirred. Those desperate eyes - those lips parted to pant and to moan, they belonged to him. Idris melted beneath him. Each drag of his body up and down the massive manhood drove the prince wild. This felt like power.
