by J. C. Owens
The door flew open behind him, but he did not turn, only tensed as he heard all too familiar footsteps behind him.
Fingers slid into his hair and swept the long silver stands aside. Aidan gritted his teeth. Lips pressed upon his nape and hot breath fanned across his skin, making him shudder in revulsion.
A low laugh stirred the soft hairs on the back of his neck. Aidan stared blindly out the window and clenched the stone frame with whitened fingers.
“I have a gift for you, my little prince. Come.” Nairat turned Aidan to face him and leaned down to breathe softly into his ear.
Aidan leaned away and shivered. He raised a hand to rub the feeling away, grimacing with distaste.
Nairat only grinned. He grasped Aidan’s right hand and raised it to his lips to kiss the back in mock reverence. Then his tongue darted out and licked Aidan’s knuckles.
Aidan snatched his hand away, scowling in outrage and disgust, and wiped the moisture away on his breeches.
Nairat laughed wholeheartedly. He reached out and linked his arm through Aidan’s and pulled him close. and headed for the door.
“So cold, my prince. So silent. An Ice Prince.” He drew Aiden toward the door. “I shall have to see if I can melt that frozen state and bring out your passion.”
Aidan ground his teeth, maintaining that vaunted silence only by dint of great will. To respond would only give the bastard satisfaction.
Nairat chuckled, leading him briskly down the shadowed hallway to the opposite side of the vast tower complex.
“The gift” Nairat promised could be nothing pleasant, nothing good, and Aidan held back. He stumbled as Nairat forced him along with pure brute strength.
The sight of two guards outside one of the ornate doors did nothing to ease his trepidation, and his heart began to pound as Nairat steered him into the unknown room.
For a moment, all Aidan saw was Heratis standing by the window, the bright light streaming through making Aidan squint. Then the general’s triumphant gaze slid to the massive bed that dominated the chamber.
Torin…
Aidan’s breath caught and his legs weakened. The rebel general lay silent and still, skin pale, eyes closed, clearly unconscious.
Heratis crossed to the bed, reaching to the small table beside it and lifting a syringe, his sharp, malicious gaze fixed upon Aidan’s.
Aidan found strength he barely knew he possessed. He shoved Nairat, startling the man so that he staggered, and then leapt at Heratis, trying desperately to snatch the syringe from his hand.
Heratis dodged as though he had been expecting Aidan’s furious reaction and darted around the end of the bed. His cold eyes gleamed as he grasped Torin’s bare arm, sliding the needle in with practiced precision and depressing the plunger.
Aidan found himself on the bed, snarling, but it was far too late. Heratis backed away, holding up the empty cylinder with triumph.
Aidan turned his attention to Torin and framed his face with his hands in a desperate entreaty.
“Sir…General, please. Wake up.”
Nairat recovered and seemed more amused than irritated at Aidan’s actions. “I don’t think you will be so eager for him to awaken. You know the effects of randice. He will be feral, mindless, sexually stimulated beyond control. You are going to get fucked, little prince, often and brutally, until the drug wears off. How lovely then, the reactions of you both, as he realizes what he has done, how his high moral stance is nothing more than words. How he is no better than those he reviles. And you, will you still revere your hero when your blood stains the bed? I think not.”
Heratis strolled to the door, triumph in every inch of his posture. “You will remain together for the rest of your days. How fitting. You will not be able to bear the sight of each other. But do not worry, you will not be lonely. Nairat will take you in hand. Too bad you will not be faithful to your new consort, but that is the way of political alliances, is it not?”
Nairat nodded, anticipation in his expression. “I wanted your virginity, little prince, but this is so much better, so delicious. Who knows, perhaps you will find me a gentler lover than Torin. Perhaps after this, you will welcome my touch.”
“Not in this life or any other,” Aidan vowed grimly, crouched protectively over Torin’s form.
The generals laughed, leaving without a backward glance. The doors swung shut in their wake. The metal bar slid home, and his fate was sealed.
* * *
Aidan took a deep breath, eyes fixed upon Torin’s features, one hand wistfully stroking that lean face. If only he had been able to protect him…
His hand froze in place and he stared blankly for long moments, an idea beginning to form.
He was only helpless if he gave in, if he followed their plan. They thought him weak, frightened.
Aidan’s lips thinned with determination. He could be more than that. He may not be of the blood they claimed, but surely there was some good in his ancestors, whoever they might be. Some inner nobility that would allow him to rise to this, to save Torin, if not himself.
Torin was Ceratas’s hope.
Worth any sacrifice.
Aidan sat back, feeling a surge of emotion as he looked at Torin’s still face. Would it truly be a sacrifice?
There was a jug of water next to a basin on a nearby table. Aidan stripped, swiftly and without pausing, mind made up. He would save Torin from himself, from his reactions to what was to come.
He washed, slowly and methodically. It felt almost ceremonial, as though he cleansed himself for Torin’s touch, removed any hint of Nairat from this encounter. After drying himself, he approached the great bed, nerves making him tremble despite his resolve. With shaking fingers, he slowly drew aside the thin sheet that covered Torin, his breath catching as he viewed what he had only ever imagined.
Naked beneath the covering, the rebel general was a study in beauty. He was tall, fine, and lean, but broad shouldered. His skin was darker than Aidan’s, a natural golden hue that begged to be touched. Long legs, with a rider’s muscled thighs and calves. Fine-boned, long, thin feet. Aidan reached out to touch, his fingers trailing over the toes. He had never been attracted to feet before, but now…
Reluctantly, a flush rising on his cheeks, Aidan turned his attention to Torin’s shaft, long and thick even in repose, laying quiescent among sable curls. Aidan swallowed, hard. He knew little of sex, only what he had gleaned from various texts, and nothing of how he should proceed. This was his first glimpse of another man’s cock, and he was both fascinated and terrified. Somehow, this member would penetrate him.
Aidan shivered, wrapped arms around himself in a futile search for comfort. He felt very young and foolish, his only hope that once Torin awakened he would be able to take over, to show Aidan what to do.
His gaze flew up to Torin’s face, searching for a hint of mercy in those stern, cold features. The general’s face was sharply defined, with high cheekbones and a long thin jaw. Those piercing brown eyes, closed now, were slightly slanted and his features combined to create an intimidating air.
His long, black hair had been pulled back into a braid, and tentatively, feeling as though he did not have the right, Aidan reached out and ran a single finger down the length, smiling wistfully at the sensation of silky smoothness.
So beautiful. With gentle fingers, he undid the clasp at the end and slowly began to unbraid the locks.
He wanted it loose, wanted to pretend that Torin was his lover, and that what the general was about to do was completely, doubly consensual. It could be the only time Aidan would ever touch in need and want.
Certainly his future would hold nothing in the way of a loving touch, either on his side or any other.
Certainly Torin would never wish to touch him again…unless they continued to dose him with randice.
Surely, once they had achieved their plan…
Aidan drew a shaking breath, facing reality. If not randice, there would be something else. They would never b
e able to control Torin otherwise. He would never play the part they planned, not under his own will.
Aidan slowly climbed onto the bed and lay beside Torin, pulling the sheet up to their waists. He laid a hand upon a lean cheek, stroking the skin softly, wishing…
Torin’s eyes fluttered, his fingers twitched ever so slightly. Aidan snatched his hand back guiltily. There was no going back from this, not if he wanted to succeed in diverting Nairat and Heratis’s plan. He steadied himself and resumed his touch.
“General. Torin. Please wake up. I need to speak to you, before the drug takes over. You need to understand…” His whisper was urgent.
Torin’s hand shot out, caught Aidan’s wrist painfully, drew it away from Torin’s face. Deep brown eyes opened at last, confusion in their depths as he stared at Aidan, and then he frowned and turned his head to view his surroundings.
“Where in the seven hells am I?” He seemed remarkably lucid, though his eyes were already dilating.
Aidan felt a spike of anxiety. He had not imagined that the drug would act so quickly. So little time to explain.
“We are at the palace. Somehow, Nairat and Heratis captured you.”
Torin swore and attempted to sit up, but lay back with a groan, his iron grip on Aidan’s wrist never relenting.
“How…” The grip tightened until Aidan could not suppress a whimper at the pain. Torin released him then, flinging his arm away as though it tainted him.
“My guards. Wilhilm and Graith. It could only be them, no others were present.” The pain of betrayal rang in his voice and Aidan badly wanted to comfort him but could only kneel there, cradling his throbbing wrist.
Torin’s gaze shot to him once more. “Why are you here?” Suspicion rang in the tone.
Aidan flushed, looking away. “They gave you randice, sir. Then they shut me in here with you.”
Torin drew a sharp breath, understanding dawning on his face. One hand reached up to touch the sweat that had begun beading upon his brow.
“Shit,” he said succinctly, and Aidan could not help but give a choked laugh. It was not how he had expected the highly educated general to respond.
Torin glared at him for a moment, then the frown changed into something that looked perilously like concern.
“They think I will rape you.” The blunt words rang in the room, and Aidan flinched, daring to look back into Torin’s eyes.
“Yes. But I am going to change that, take that away from them.” His voice shook a little, but he took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “I am going to offer myself, now, before it takes over. That way, it can never be rape. You cannot blame yourself afterwards.”
Torin stared at him blankly, and Aidan wondered rather sadly if he was so unattractive that the general could not even imagine touching him.
“You are virgin,” it was a statement rather than a question. Was it that obvious? He thought he might implode from embarrassment then. Of course it would be obvious to someone as mature and experienced as the general.
Aidan put his hands up to cover his ears, which felt like they were on fire, a sure sign of his mortification. He could only nod.
For a moment, something flared in the depths of Torin’s eyes, something hot and feral, but it blinked out too swiftly for Aidan to be able to decipher what it truly was.
Torin let his eyes roam over Aidan’s bare body, though his one bent leg hid his groin from view. Still Aidan felt utterly exposed. He might admire this man, even find him sexually desirable, but he really did not know him at all. The thought of letting those long fingers touch him, of laying beneath that powerful body, was utterly intimidating.
And it would hurt. He had heard enough giggling conversations from the two companions he had grown up with to understand that much. But still, there must be something pleasurable in the act, or why would people want to do it more than once?
His lean body seemed too immature next to Torin’s male beauty, and he felt completely unworthy. Certainly, if this situation had not come up, the general would never have looked at him twice.
“I am sorry,” he whispered, meeting those chill brown eyes with true remorse.
Torin’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, much more gently this time, and tugged Aidan toward him, pulling him down until they pressed against each other.
“You have not the faintest idea what you are offering, do you?” Torin looked ruefully at the red marks upon the limb he held, rubbing his thumb almost apologetically over the forming bruises.
“I know that I do not want them to shame us, to force us. This was all I could think of.”
Torin gave a grimace. “You are so selfless, so unaware of yourself, that it is almost frightening. You should be finding someone who can care for you, make a first time wonderful.” His gaze rose, captured Aidan’s. “Under randice, I am not sure that I can be gentle.”
Aidan nodded. “I know. That’s why I wanted to start now, when you are lucid. Perhaps it will allay the need a little, make things a little less violent.”
Torin shivered, closing his eyes for a long moment. “It’s starting already,” he whispered. “The heat…”
Aidan leaned forward, laying a tentative hand on the general’s muscled shoulder. “We don’t have much time then. Please…”
Torin opened his eyes once more, staring at Aidan for a long moment, before dragging the young man closer, laying his lips over his.
Aidan froze for a long moment, then melted into the embrace, the taste of Torin’s mouth, the sensation of a tongue sweeping into his.
It was heat and moisture and strangeness, and it stirred Aidan’s soul in a way he could not understand. Perhaps it was touch alone that brought such feelings. He could not remember ever being touched by someone he trusted, someone he wanted. It had been a cold and lonely childhood amongst his stern guardians, and he opened to this feast like a starving man.
Torin groaned, deepening the kiss, his tongue chasing Aidan’s, inviting it to play with delicate strokes. Aidan obeyed hesitantly, shy pleasure suffusing him as the older man made a sound in his throat, one arm pulling Aidan closer, their bodies now pressed tightly against each other.
The feel of the hard muscled body against his, the force and dominance that made him feel safe, wanted… Aidan was in heaven. Whatever was to come, he would hold to this moment. For now, this was Torin, not the drug, at least not all of it. Perhaps he was not so undesirable as he thought.
The thought was buoying, warm, and he daringly raised a hand to stroke Torin’s face, cupping the lean cheek, feeling stubble rasp beneath his fingers. He could think of no one else that he would rather have take his innocence. He just wished it could be under better circumstances, that Torin had not been forced into this.
He cast that thought aside. He would take what he could from this, and come out the other side whole. So would Torin, and that was most important of all. He might not be able to be a true prince, but he could save one of royal blood, one who, in the end, could bring Ceratas and its people leadership and peace.
Perhaps, even under the enemy’s thumb, they could work together, find a way out and past this horror of captivity.
His plans scattered into incoherency as Torin’s hand stroked down his chest, began plucking a nipple with skilled dexterity.
The general’s head lowered and his lips closed around the peak. When the hot, wet suction began, Aidan thought his mind might explode with the riot of sensation that overtook him.
How could such a useless part of his body be so amazingly sensitive? So intricately connected to his cock. One minute he was semihard, the next he was so rigid it hurt.
He heard a whimper and barely registered that the sound was his, his fingers scrabbling mindlessly on Torin’s shoulders, his back arching as though to prolong the touch.
To a young man deprived of sensation, it was utterly overwhelming. For something that was supposed to be a sacrifice, this felt remarkably wonderful.
A gasp escaped his th
roat as long, strong fingers curled around his shaft, the sensation almost painful against his engorged member.
Torin whispered softly to him, calming him, as he began a gentle rhythm that made the pain disappear, but the ache deep within gain force.
Aidan’s hips began to flex unconsciously, an uneven, jerky motion that made him feel foolish on some level, but the sensations ruled everything, even his muddled mind. He let his fingers slide into Torin’s thick hair, silky strands flowing over his skin.
It was difficult to believe that this man, who he had so admired from a distance, was touching him, making him feel this riot of pleasure. In some corner of his thoughts, he could only be thankful that Torin would be his first. He doubted anyone at all could have made him feel like this. Like he could fly, given half a chance.
Torin raised his head, shaking it to loosen Aidan’s grip upon his hair, and then leaned forward and nipped his way up Aidan’s chest and neck. When he reached Aidan’s lips, he resumed the deep-throated kiss, his face flushed with need and the coming of the drug’s response.
“I want you to come for me, my boy. I will use your seed to ease my way inside you.”
The image of that, the mere thought of that, made Aidan shudder with want. The tightness in his balls, the heavy ache that made him so restless and eager for something his mind could not comprehend, finally culminated, and he came with an eerie keening wail, head thrown back, long fragile throat exposed.
Torin took advantage and closed his teeth on that unmarked expanse, a growl winding its way from his throat as he laid claim in the most primitive of ways.
Aidan’s fingers dug into the muscle of Torin’s back as wave after wave of frighteningly intense pleasure washed over him. The bite seemed to only accentuate the sensations.
The hot pulses of seed across his stomach and chest rapidly cooled, bringing Aidan back from the edges of the abyss into confusing reality.
Torin finally released his bite. He trailed a finger through the cooling mass, then raised it to his lips and licked off the seed with a faint hum of appreciation.
