Snow: An Enchanted Story

by Deborah M. Brown

  “I have no intention of…” She made herself meet his eyes. “No. But if I am to play the game, then I must know enough of the rules to survive.”

  Ander gazed at her thoughtfully before running his hand over the dark stubble on his head. “Will you let us think upon this a while, Princess? Decide how best we might accomplish it?”

  “Don’t look to Kaliko to show you, Princess.” Hiram sniggered again. He waggled his fingers in front of Kaliko. “This is the only way he knows to pleasure a man, that man being himself.”

  “Whereas all Hiram knows is how to pleasure a bitch in heat,” Kaliko hissed. “Dog fucker.”

  “Enough,” barked Ander. “You forget yourselves.”

  Kaliko stared at the table, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

  Snow White rose to her feet. She met Ander’s eye, and he nodded. She tried to catch Kaliko’s eyes, but he wouldn’t lift his head. With a sigh and a nervous flutter in her stomach, she left them to their discussion and returned to her sleeping quarters.

  It was several hours later when a rap came at her door. She opened it to find Ander standing there, an oval mirror clasped in his hands. He entered on her invitation and stood before her a moment, a frown creasing the smooth, golden skin of his brow. Then with a sigh he handed her the mirror. The frame was chased silver. Heavily embellished, it felt warm against her fingertips.

  “Look into the mirror, Princess. In one hour’s time. I trust you will learn something…” His voice dropped. “But remember, this is not a sideshow. Everything that is done is done with love. And you must not speak of it, to any of them, especially not to Gault. We will do this for you because you are our princess and, as you say, you need every weapon you can possess. But do not demean what he offers you by questions. Look. Learn. And keep silent. Can you do that? Will you do that?”

  “Yes,” Snow White whispered, her fingers tightening about the mirror.

  She placed it on a chair before her bed after Ander had left, curling up against the pillows to stare into its cloudy surface. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, and her palms were damp.

  Despite her nervous anticipation, she had begun to doze off when a soft, sweet chime sounded, startling her awake. The mirror’s surface began to clear, and she found herself gazing into a room. Ander’s room. She recognised the painting, one of Shyla’s, hanging over the bed. The room was lit by candlelight, enough for her to see clearly. And she could hear too. Heard the bedroom door open and saw Ander enter, followed by Gault. Ander turned and she saw one quick warm smile light his face as he looked towards her. Gault’s mouth was set in a grim line. The look he sent her way was full of resentment.

  “What do you imagine she will learn from watching us?” Gault asked. “Watching two men rut like she’d watch some goddamned animal?” His voice shook.

  “Sshh,” murmured Ander. “How a man pleasures a man is not much different to how a woman does.” He lifted the heavy black braid that hung over Gault’s shoulder and softly kissed his nape.

  “As if you’d know,” Gault said.

  Snow White saw the shiver that ran through him. He lifted his head, arching his neck, and Ander kissed the pulse that pounded in the hollow of his throat. With gentle fingers, Ander untied the thong that bound Gault’s braid, threading his fingers through Gault’s hair until it hung in curls around his shoulders.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ander drew Gault to stand between his legs and, reaching up, began to unbutton the loose white shirt he wore. When Gault’s shirt hung open, Ander stood and slowly pushed it from his shoulders, exposing Gault’s lithe, muscled torso and smooth, golden skin. Ander ran his hands down Gault’s arms, kneeling before him to remove his boots. Placing his fingers on the placket of Gault’s breeches, Ander undid those buttons too, peeling the breeches over Gault’s lean hips and down his legs so that he stood naked before him.

  Snow White realised she had been holding her breath and let it out on a gasp. The tallest of the dwarves, almost of a height with her, Gault’s body was chiseled perfection. Taut with muscle, golden skin shining in the candlelight. The hair between his thighs was dark bronze, and his phallus curved upwards towards his navel, moisture gleaming at its tip.

  Ander closed his hand around its length, and Snow White’s own fingers tightened in reflex. And she could feel it too. Velvet-clad iron. Furnace hot.

  Gault hissed, throwing back his head as Ander’s fingers opened and closed about his shaft. Taking Ander’s head between his hands Gault lowered his mouth and kissed him. There was nothing of the rough hunger she had seen her stepmother and the huntsman exchange. It was achingly tender. A lover’s kiss, it was also the kiss of someone who loved.

  Gault divested Ander of his clothing, all the while exchanging slow, gentle kisses. Shorter than Gault and stockier, Ander’s body was no less beautiful. Their kisses became deeper, more urgent. Ander pushed Gault towards the bed, and Snow White caught sight of his back. Dozens of ropey white scars marred his golden skin, the legacy of a lashing that must have come close to killing him. Snow White made a sound of distress, and Gault stiffened as if he had heard her.

  “Sshh,” murmured Ander as he climbed onto the bed to kneel behind Gault. He ran his hand over the other man’s back, and Snow White saw Gault’s flesh shiver under his gentle touch. Putting his mouth on one of the scars, Ander laid a trail of kisses along it, following its length where it curved over Gault’s shoulder and down to the base of his spine. He drew Gault down so that he lay on his back looking up at Ander who kneeled beside him.

  Bending down, Ander placed his mouth against Gault’s throat and then proceeded to make his way down his body with his mouth and his tongue. With his fingers. Gault’s eyes closed, his hands fisted by his sides. Snow White watched as Ander’s tongue circled one flat brown nipple, feeling her own nipples tighten as Gault’s did. Feeling her own belly quiver as the flesh of Gault’s belly quivered under Ander’s mouth and hands. She could hear the rasp of Gault’s breath as Ander paused where his phallus jutted against his belly.

  Her gaze fixed to the mirror, Snow White watched as Ander stroked and suckled, seeing from the way Gault’s hips flexed restlessly against the bed and his hands tightened convulsively upon the sheets how it pleasured him. Learning that if you touched a man just there or if you ran the tip of your tongue across the flesh there, or there, it was enough to make him arch from the bed with a hoarse cry.

  “Ander!” Gault’s hands grasped Ander’s head, holding him still from the exquisite torture he had been inflicting. Ander smiled. He knelt between Gault’s legs, running a hand over his firm muscled thighs. Snow White’s abdomen drew tight with anticipation as he lowered his head and gently licked the base of Gault’s shaft. Gault’s flesh pulsed beneath his questing tongue. He drew it upwards slowly, and Snow White felt satisfaction flood her at Gault’s sharp hiss of pleasure. One hand wrapped itself around Gault’s shaft; the other cupped the smooth flesh of his balls. Ander’s mouth opened wide as he took in Gault’s thick length. He suckled the satin skin, his tongue swirling around the tip. Gault’s hands tightened around his head once more.

  “Harder,” he ground out. Ander bobbed his head as his mouth slid up and down Gault’s burning length. Gault pushed against his mouth, his hips flexing. “Harder,” he groaned. Ander’s teeth grazed Gault’s taut flesh. With a stifled moan, Gault’s hips rose as he surged into Ander’s mouth. He thrust madly against him before uttering a ragged cry, his hands falling to his sides, sweat gleaming on his heaving chest. As Gault climaxed, Snow White felt his pleasure surge from his belly and balls into his shaft. She cried out, gasping for breath as the most intense feelings she had ever experienced swept through her.

  Gault drew Ander up to lay beside him. Wrapping his arms around him, he buried his head against Ander’s neck. He ran his hands over Ander’s body as his breathing slowed.

  “I love you,” Snow White heard him murmur as the mirror before her grew dark once more.

  T
he Prince

  Charming by name, if not by nature, Prince Charming surveyed his intended with a practiced eye whilst offering her a practiced smile. Like most of these southern women, she was pale as moon-fall, silver hair and silver eyes that offered him no hint as to what she was thinking. Still, her fingers leapt in his when he took her hand and kissed it, so perhaps there was more than ice water flowing in her veins. He released her hand and turned to offer his respects to the stepmother, feeling a little spark of interest in his groin as he ran his gaze over her darker golden bounty. Hmmm. Perhaps he could ride both the mare and the filly? He offered her a smile too and was pleased to see her eyes widen before they sought out the dark huntsman who lounged so insolently against the far wall.

  Against the other wall stood seven dwarves, their black eyes expressionless as they looked on. Except for the youngest, who kept casting scowling looks in Charming’s direction. Charming gave him a cold look in return and was pleased to note that the insolent creature had the grace to drop his head and stare at his feet. Charming loathed dwarves. They would be amongst the first things to go once he and Snow White were wed. After his wife’s virginity of course. He stifled a private chuckle.

  His intended took his arm as he led her outside to present his bride gift, exclaiming with delight when she saw the sleek grey palfrey waiting there. She stroked its neck with one pale hand.

  “Does it please you?” Charming murmured. “He is not an easy beast, but I assumed you would be a wonderful rider. You do like to ride, don’t you, my lady?”

  Faint colour washed across her cheeks.

  Charming allowed himself another smile. She knew what he meant. Virgins were well enough, but ignorant virgins were tedious. A theoretical knowledge, at least, of what went on in the marriage bed would ensure she didn’t run screaming the minute he dropped his drawers.

  After an interminable time spent exchanging platitudes with his betrothed and her stepmother, Charming was shown to his suite, where a steaming hot hip bath waited before the fire. Dismissing his valet, he stripped and clambered into the bath, emitting a sigh of pleasure as he sank into the water and closed his eyes. Yes, he thought contentedly as his hand idly sought between his legs and stroked his cock. This was all going to turn out very well indeed. He had been led to believe that his intended was all ice, but he had reason to believe that there were hidden fires there just waiting to be stoked. And the stepmother was an added bonus. He would have the use of both of them. For as long as he found them useful.

  He released himself, his fingers scrabbling along the bottom of the tub.

  “Are you looking for the soap?” came a voice at his ear, and he jumped, sloshing water over the side of the bath.

  “Rui,” said Charming, his voice gone suddenly husky and his cock instantly hard. “I’ve missed you.” He took hold of the other man’s shirt and drew him close. Rui’s mouth opened under his, and he thrust his tongue inside ruthlessly. Rui groaned against his mouth, his hands gripping Charming’s shoulders. They broke apart, panting. “Join me,” said Charming. “You know I hate to be naked alone.”

  Rui smiled, that slow hungry smile that made Charming even more impossibly hard. “The bath’s not big enough. Get out and let me…dry you.”

  Charming let Rui draw him up and out of the bath. “There are towels over there,” he said hoarsely.

  Rui smiled again. “I thought I’d use my tongue.”

  The muscles in Charming’s belly clenched. He wrapped his fingers in Rui’s long hair and pulled him hard against his wet body. “That would be delightful. But first, tell me a little of my lovely fiancée. And her oh-so-delightful stepmother. I hear the two of you are very, very close?” His fingers tightened in Rui’s hair until the other man winced.

  “Close enough that she will do anything I ask of her,” he said, letting his fingers trail down Charming’s damp back to rest on his buttock. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Her eating out of my hand? I could have had the girl too…”

  Charming gave his head a sharp tug, smiling at Rui’s hiss of pain. “That’s my field to plough, and don’t you forget it.”

  Rui’s fingers dug into Charming’s buttocks, pulling him even closer. His breath was warm against his cheek. “Will you think of me when you fuck her?” he whispered. “Because I thought of you. Every time.”

  “Liar,” said Charming, but there was no heat in his voice. He let go of Rui’s hair, dropping his hands to his shoulders, pushing the other man to his knees. “Now put that whore’s mouth of yours to good use for once.”

  Later in bed, with his body and his cock both throbbing in a pleasurable counterpoint, Charming studied Rui as he sprawled asleep beside him. He bent down, tracing the shape of the scar on Rui’s chin with gentle fingers. Remembering the time two years ago when Charming’s father had found him and Rui together in the stables. His father had yanked Rui to his feet whilst Charming had lain there gaping up at him with his breeches about his ankles. He had backhanded Rui in the face, the ring he wore splitting open his chin. Rui had been sent packing, and Charming was betrothed to the southern princess Snow White before he even had time to comprehend what had happened.

  His father had watched him like a hawk from that time on. “Marry and get yourself an heir,” he had sneered. “Then you can fuck the pig boy for all I care.”

  Charming had no desire to fuck the pig boy. It had always been Rui. No matter that neither of them was faithful to the other. The rest were nothing more than a means to relieve an itch. An itch that even now Charming wanted to scratch again. He let his fingers trail lower on Rui’s body.

  Two years since Rui’s father arranged for him to come here to the court of his old friend as huntsman. Two years when they had had no contact except through the letters smuggled to Charming and out again by an infatuated chambermaid who fancied herself in a fairy tale with Charming the prince who would rescue her from a life of drudgery and make her his queen.

  Charming’s lip curled in a sneer. The fat cow had had her uses, but she had been disabused of any notion she had that Charming loved her. Charming loved no one but himself. And the man beside him.

  Two years whilst they had laid their plans. Charming would marry the little snow queen and get her with child. He had no doubt as to the potency of his seed. There were bastards enough at home to attest to it. Then, if she unfortunately survived child birth, which so many noble ladies didn’t, she would meet with an accident some other way. It was Rui’s idea that they make it appear as though Snow White had died at her stepmother’s hand. With the old queen put to death and the new one dead, Charming would be left as regent for the child. It mattered not whether the brat was male or female. He would be king here with Rui beside him. Then, when his father died, he would return to claim his own kingdom. The brat could stay here.

  He would have everything he desired, this man most of all.

  His hands had drifted lower again, closing over warm firm flesh that quivered against his questing fingers. Rui’s blue eyes drifted open, hazy with sleep.

  Everything he desired…

  The Queen

  Anais studied her stepdaughter’s betrothed as he sat beside Snow White, feeding her titbits from his plate. A perfect opportunity to poison the girl and lay blame at Charming’s door… Her hands fisted with frustration, and she sought out Rui where he sat at one of the lower tables.

  His eyes met hers. Patience.

  They were to bide their time. Let the wedding take place. Let Charming plant a child in Snow White’s belly first, before they made their move. With her new husband accused of her murder and naught but a puling babe left to sit the throne, who else to take control as regent but Snow White’s grieving stepmother?

  “It’s a far better plan,” Rui had murmured to her as they lay entwined in her bed. “Twenty-one years before the child is old enough to rule, assuming it even lives that long. A babe is easier to get rid of than a woman grown. There will be far fewer questions asked.”

&nb
sp; “But to have to wait another year? Or longer?”

  “No more than a year, I promise you. Charming has bastards scattered from one end of his father’s kingdom to the other. He’ll have her with child before the spring thaw.”

  “Not so Charming, then?” said Anais.

  Rui laughed as he moved to cover her body. She stared up into his mirror eyes. He entered her slowly. “You don’t find him charming?” he asked as he began to move inside her.

  She gasped, arching up to meet his thrusts. “There is something about him. He smiles a lot, but the smile never seems to find his eyes.”

  Rui’s long hair fell across his face, hiding it. Hiding his eyes. “Obviously his charm lies elsewhere than in his eyes.” His hands gripped her arms, hard enough to bruise as he began to thrust with a fiercer rhythm. “He wants to fuck you. You should encourage him.”

  “What?” Anais wrapped her legs about his hips, trying to slow him down. “I would never… There is only you.” She whimpered as he pushed deeper inside her. “Would you want me to…to lie with another? Do you…do you fuck other women?” The obscenity felt strange upon her tongue. Her heart stuttered in an uneven beat. Sweat slicked Rui’s chest and belly. He tossed back his damp hair, baring his teeth as he ground his pelvis against hers.

  “No. I don’t fuck other women. Only you. Only you.” His head dropped against her neck as a shudder ran through him. Then another.

  Only you.

  Anais let her hands play across the smooth, wet skin of his back whilst his breath sawed in her ear.

  “Encourage him,” Rui whispered to her. “We need him to trust you, and if that means you must lie with him… Sometimes sacrifices need to be made for the greater good.” He withdrew from her body, rolling onto his back to look up at the crimson canopy above them.

  Sacrifices.

  Anais couldn’t shake the feeling that the only one making a sacrifice would be she.