The Ice Prince

by J. C. Owens

  Aidan stared, both disgusted and fascinated in equal measure.

  Surely something like that could not possibly taste good.

  But Torin seemed to like it. He went back for seconds, and Aidan watched the repeat performance of long tongue sweeping over that finger with a faint whimper escaping his lips.

  The power of his first true orgasm was slowly fading, leaving him limp and pliant. He stared up at Torin through half closed eyes, unable to feel the slightest bit of worry or fear of what was to come.

  If he could feel something magical like that again, he would quite willingly put up with almost anything.

  His passivity lasted even when he felt the first probe of a finger at his entrance, slick with his own come. It did not seem worthwhile to protest the intimate touches, though the lassitude faded somewhat as the finger slid within.

  It was strange—not unpleasant, but faintly uncomfortable, perhaps the thought was worse than the actual sensation. He watched Torin with fascination, caught by the heat in the general’s eyes, the way the other man watched his own finger with fascination, as though what he was seeing drove him to greater lust.

  The stretch of a second finger was not quite so pleasant, and Aidan tensed a little, his mind beginning to come back from its fugue and become more aware of what he was undergoing.

  Torin laid his other hand in Aidan’s hair, stroking softly, making soothing sounds, distracting him from what was happening further below. Those dark eyes switched from watching the invading finger to viewing Aidan’s reactions. Aidan felt pinned by that gaze, by the heat in those eyes.

  His hips began to rise and fall, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the rhythm of those fingers. The stretch began to fade, the discomfort dwindle, and he made a sound in his throat of pure undiluted pleasure as those fingers did something that created pure sensation.

  He made a mewling sound, something he could not believe had come from his own throat, but embarrassment seemed miles away. There was only heat and sensation and Torin.

  A painful third finger was accepted swiftly, after a brush over that magic spot diverted his attention, and soon he was riding all three fingers with need twisting his features, panting breath echoing in the large room.

  In some corner of his mind, he saw Torin’s eyes dilate fully and knew the time was now. He felt the press of something much larger than Torin’s fingers. He felt the blunt, plum shaped head at his entrance but was too naive to tense—until it slid forward, popping past his body’s defenses, to lodge just inside.

  Aidan gasped, arching, fingers clutching at Torin’s shoulder as the older man loomed over him, his breath coming in sharp, gusting pants, giving Aidan time to adjust.

  Aidan drew a deep, shuddering breath, then swallowed hard, eyes fixed upon Torin’s strained expression, true fear beginning to find a foothold in his thoughts. It hurt, a lot. He could not imagine that movement, thrusting, could possibly be pleasant.

  Torin leaned closer, kissed him, shifted slightly to whisper softly in his ear. “Breathe. When you can, push out, your body can do this. Once I am in fully, the pain will ease. It is your body fighting me that is hurting.”

  Aidan took a deep breath, trying to obey. This man knew so much more about things than him. Surely he could trust him in this as well?

  Soft kisses along his neck helped distract him enough that he could try to relax a bit, push as Torin had asked. The thick cock slid deeper, and Aidan fought to keep his body’s reaction under control as it desperately attempted to push the invader out.

  Torin groaned above him, perhaps at the tightness, his head thrown back, teeth gritted. His hips flexed, driving him deeper, and Aidan began to pant, struggling to follow his lover’s instructions.

  Torin let out a deep snarl and thrust, hard.

  Aidan yelped, then whimpered as Torin continued to push in, obviously now unable to control his need. He only breathed again once he felt the warm, gentle sway of Torin’s balls against his, and realized that his lover was completely seated at last.

  Torin stared down at him, eyes dark with lust, breath short and fast with need and want.

  Aidan shivered at the heat of that look, directed at him. Only him. He essayed a tentative smile, then reached out for his lover, drawing him down into a kiss he initiated with inexperienced fervor.

  The worst was over now, right?

  Torin growled under his breath, a deep, vibrating sound that Aidan felt as much as heard. He snapped his hips forward and impaled Aidan deeply, setting a driving rhythm that had little of mercy in it.

  Aidan bit his lip, trying to let his body give in, to not resist, but it was difficult in a way he had not expected. Each thrust in seemed to go a tiny bit deeper, each withdrawal felt painful, like he was being split, like his body was unable to contain the force of the man above him.

  He slid along the sheets, trying to grasp them, feeling himself inch up the bed until his head struck the wooden headboard, and he had to put his arms up to shield himself as he was repeatedly pushed into the unforgiving object.

  Torin looked less than human at the moment, his teeth gritted, his lip drawn back in a snarl, eyes dark and almost maddened.

  Aidan could not speak, could not attempt to soften the mating with words or touch. He could only protect himself, and try to endure.

  Torin knelt back, grasping Aidan’s thighs and hauling him up onto his lap, pushing his legs up and back as his tempo increased.

  Aidan arched, a choked scream escaping his throat as the angle changed and that wonderful, amazing spot was touched once more.

  The pain fled, and his cock wept with need, the ache deep within rising to steal his breath. He gasped helplessly, eyes wide and fixed on his lover, body twisting and straining toward something.

  The world went white.

  Spasms racked his frame, pleasure bordering on the edge of torment, and he scarcely felt Torin’s completion, the hot rush of seed deep within his body, the sound of the older man’s cry of bliss.

  The hot pulses within his fluttering channel added to the sensations, and Aidan could only lie there, unable to form a thought, or move his body in the slightest.

  Torin collapsed on top of him, wringing a grunt from his taxed lungs, then there was only the sound of their ragged breathing.

  The weight was almost comforting, and Aidan slowly managed to move his arms, wrapping them around Torin’s heaving shoulders.

  He felt so close, so warm and almost…

  “Amadan. Dear gods I have missed you.” The fervent whisper, the hot press of lips against his…

  Aidan felt his heart spasm. He swallowed with difficulty and raised a hand to stroke Torin’s lean cheek.

  For just a moment, let Torin believe.

  Let him believe he was with the man he truly loved. If the drug gave no more gift than this, it would be enough.

  Aidan had no right to feel a stab of pain. Torin had never been his, would never be his. This was all they would ever have between them, and somehow, Aidan had to convince his heart that this was enough.

  He drew Torin closer, felt as he slumped into sleep, the drug, the sex, having worn him into exhaustion.

  He watched over him as the candles guttered and the room faded into darkness.

  * * *

  Torin woke slowly, the aches in his body coming to his attention before anything else. He stopped trying to move, getting his tired and muzzy brain to function enough to rationalize where the pain was coming from and why.

  His thoughts seemed dim and hard to come by, and it seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to come up with any memories at all.

  There was heat and scent and sweet surrender. Soft cries and a writhing body. Sharp pleasure and gentle stroking upon his skin.

  Amadan…

  He forced his eyes open upon the realization that his arms were wrapped tightly around another form. The surge of joy was tamped down then as his senses grew. The body he held was too slight, too fragile to be his Amadan.


  Amadan could not be here. He was dead.

  The pain burst upon his mind with a whirlwind of images, memories, and he sucked in a breath of agony.

  He needed to get control. Where was he? Who was this?

  He fought up to one elbow, staring down at the naked man he beheld in confusion, and then horror.

  And finally, things began to crystallize into rationality.

  Taken from his own pavilion, betrayed, drugged, an image of the young man, Aidan, nude and vulnerable beside the bed. Aidan telling him…what? They had spoken, Aidan had made an offer, something Torin had wanted to refuse, to fight against. A slim, long fingered hand reaching out to touch Torin’s face.

  A noble offer, more than Torin should accept… Heat and want and sweet, sweet release.

  Dear gods.

  He drew back harshly, yanking his arm from under the slender form, flinching when his bed partner stirred, and then slowly turned to face him, sleepy green eyes meeting his with nothing in their depths of the horror he must feel.

  Torin sat up against the headboard, trembling. He had been drugged. Randice. A powerful and dangerous aphrodisiac. He and Amadan had tried it once, and only once, in their youth. It was too addictive to play with, but when they were young they had felt invincible and foolish with it.

  It had been a wild night, both of them crazed and lust driven, and they had awoken with headaches, bruises and cuts, and soreness within. They had never done it again, though they did not count the experience unpleasant at all. They both enjoyed a rough tumble, a battle for supremacy.

  But now… No, he had committed a great sin. He had taken this boy for his own, with no true care in his thoughts, with Amadan’s love still possessing his heart. He had betrayed his lover, betrayed him with the very imposter his people fought against.

  He brought his knees up, curling around himself with a sense of self-hatred that seemed to flay his very soul.

  A touch upon his hand drew him out of tortured realizations, and he looked up to meet the impos—no, Aidan’s—sympathetic eyes.

  The understanding there tore at him. He did not deserve sympathy, could not countenance forgiveness. He was…

  “Stop.” The young man’s tone was firm, surprising Torin out of his desperate musings. “You did nothing I did not want. Remember? We spoke of this before the drug took you down. This was by my own choice. We took the power away from them. I did this for us, so we could not torture ourselves the morning after, would not fall into their trap of control. Don’t you understand? If you make this filthy and degenerate, they will win. They will have their victory.”

  Fingers wrapped around Torin’s, warm comfort in the midst of cold realization. “Do not make what we did become tainted. It might have been forced upon us, but we turned it into something else. Please, don’t let them win.”

  Torin sucked in a deep breath at the honesty in those eyes, the truth in the soft words. This young man utterly believed what he spoke of. But…

  The fingers tightened upon his. “Please. I know this was not by your will, but I wanted your touch.” Heat tinted stark cheekbones. “You are very handsome, my lord Torin. It was no hardship to lie in your arms.”

  The honest admission let Torin breathe again, and he stared at the younger man with utter amazement. The depths of this person, the humble strength, was truly astonishing.

  “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” The question forced its way from his lips, his body tense in expectation. As far as he knew, Aidan had been innocent, and under the effects of randice, he would not have been gentle.

  Aidan’s pale face flushed more deeply, his eyes falling to the rumpled sheets. “It hurt. Of course it hurt. But you took care with me, in the beginning, before the drug took over, made sure I was ready. It was overwhelming, my lord and somewhat uncomfortable, but you gave me great pleasure and we found the end together.”

  Torin stared at him, awed. Where had this person come from, to be so strong, so honest? To Torin, raised at court, where honesty was rare and posturing and angling second nature, this was alien and tantalizing in its simplicity.

  Torin reached out, laid gentle fingers upon a soft cheek, tipping the younger man’s face up so their eyes met.

  “You are a wonder, Aidan. They tried so hard to twist you, to make you into their image, and yet somehow, you are more. So very strong.”

  Aidan’s lips thinned at some potent memory that seemed to pain him. “I do not know my lineage, my lord, but something tells me that my parents were strong, of good intent. I can only hold to that hope, that I am of a bloodline that would have reviled my guardians. I made up stories as a child, tried to pretend I really was a prince and could be noble and strong. Perhaps that grew on me, made me into something more. I do not know.”

  Torin forced a smile. “Wherever you have come from, my boy, you are everything royalty should be, and often is not.”

  Aidan’s whole body straightened, surprised pleasure flashing in his expression.

  “Thank you, my lord general. Those kind words mean a great deal to me. I will hold to them.”

  “I am sorry for what happened last night.” Torin held up a commanding hand when Aidan would have protested. “Whatever our intent, it was not a proper way for you to be introduced to sexual experiences. I wish it had been gentler.”

  Aidan shrugged uncomfortably. “I just wanted you to be free of guilt, free of the pain they wanted you to experience this morning. You are vital to this country, sir. I cannot let you be compromised, whatever the cost.”

  Torin felt a tired amusement filter to the surface.

  “We have shared our bodies, Aidan. I think you can stop calling me sir.”

  A small smile tilted the younger man’s lips, a rueful acknowledgement of the veracity of his words. “I do not feel comfortable not using your title, si…I mean general.”

  Torin shook his head, feeling the dreadful tightness in his chest ease some small amount.

  The sheer scope of what they both faced was becoming evident as the situation became clear, yet he could not help being glad that he was with Aidan. How quickly things could change. Once enemies, they now had a chance to work against the invaders. Captured they might be, prisoners, but perhaps, just perhaps, hope was not completely lost.

  Torin tugged Aidan close and gave him a hug.

  * * *

  By the time food was brought for them, Aidan had dressed and Torin had wrapped himself in a sheet.

  Torin viewed the repast laid on the table with suspicion, watching as the guards retreated, several lewd comments floating in their wake as they exited the room and closed the thick door behind them.

  He picked up the water and smelt it. No evidence of randice, but the wine was suspect, so he poured it into a crack in the floor. He tested each morsel of food before proportioning it to Aidan’s plate or his own. Having experimented with randice before, he knew the smell, the taste upon his tongue. It was vital here and now, as they sought to avoid its influence.

  It seemed only the wine had been treated, and Torin blessed his past deeds for enabling him to keep Aidan and himself free of taint.

  It was doubtful it could continue. Nairat and Heratis would not let him free of it for long, and each dose would linger a tiny bit more, take longer to leave his system. He had heard it was addictive, but had never met anyone foolish enough to get to that point. Now, he may not have the choice.

  He glanced at Aidan. The boy was amazingly forgiving, but if this continued, if he worsened, became more feral under the drug’s influence, then sooner or later, the younger man would be hurt, both mentally and physically by this ordeal.

  He gritted his teeth. There had to be a way out of this. Escape. Or rescue. He could not imagine that Paulsten would have taken his disappearance as anything less than an attack on their forces. He hoped, with all his might, that it would be discovered who exactly had perpetrated the act. When the day came he could face his betrayers himself, there would be no mercy on his par
t. And find them he would.

  Paulsten was too intelligent not to come to the proper conclusion. He would know where Torin had been taken, and he would work until the end of time to free him. The army itself was loyal to the point of fanaticism, and he could only pray that Paulsten and his other officers could keep the men in line. If they threw themselves heedlessly against the force of the invaders, they could well be destroyed.

  He shivered, drew a shuddering breath that made Aidan look up, concern in his expression.

  “Just worrying about my men. What they will do when they realize what has happened to me.”

  Aidan nodded solemnly. “You are much loved, my lord.” He glanced toward the door and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “We will find a way to set you free. And then—then I hope you can finish this, once and for all, set your people free. I have seen the invader’s cruelty first hand. Know their scheming. Anything I can do to aid you in this, I will.” He sat back then, reaching for a piece of bread, his face a picture of serenity, as though nothing of import had occurred.

  Torin stared, feeling wrong footed. Who was this young man? Where had the enemy found him, a doppelganger for the dead prince? And to have no memory of his childhood… How had they managed to erase that? His strength, his manner, it mirrored the royal family so well. Their plan had been seamless—the only weak link had been Aidan himself. Too intelligent, too strong to accept their teachings, their cruelty only serving to heighten his quiet inner resistance.

  When this was over—Gods willing with victory on their side—he vowed to search for the young man’s past, to try to find his rightful family. Aidan deserved nothing less for the selfless acts he was so readily gifting.

  “You are very calm,” he could not help commenting, wondering what the truth was of the way the boy was feeling.

  Aidan flashed him a small, bitter smile. “I have been watched all my life, my lord. Every moment. Every expression, word, every tear, has been used against me. I learned, very swiftly as a child, to master my body, my mind and my will. To show no emotion, to ensure that my body posture does not reflect my thoughts.” He fiddled with a piece of cut apple, his lips drawn tight. “I have allowed myself to panic, to let them see inside me and that cannot continue. I know better.” He brushed a lock of hair behind one ear with easy grace. “Now that you are here, it is easier. I have someone to protect, a purpose. They will not catch me unguarded again. I will be stronger now.”