by J B Black
But the wizard wrapped his long legs around the prince’s hips all the tighter, drawing him down closer. “Deeper - oh gods, please, Artair - deeper!”
Pressing deeper, the blond wrapped his calloused hands around the wizard’s dripping manhood. Over and over, he moaned, “Myrddin,” begging the other to draw to the close beside him.
When Artair came, his seed flooding the other’s body, his teeth clamped down, sinking into pale flesh. Spurting between them, Myrddin followed. His fingers clawed, holding fast to the prince, and his body undulated, milking every drop from Artair’s cock.
“Mine,” the prince crooned, rubbing his nose against the soft skin beneath Myrddin’s ear. “So good for me, Myrddin.”
Shivering, the wizard tugged him down, blanketing his lithe body with the blond’s broader, more muscular form. “I...I need…”
“Anything,” Artair promised.
His tongue dragged over the indentations his teeth had left behind, and Myrddin clung to him. Chest heaving, the black-haired man trembled. From the dark curl of his lashes to his kiss red lips, he was a painting of perfection.
“Stay.”
And all at once, Artair’s mind froze. “Stay?”
“If you pull out, there will be a mess on my bedroll,” the wizard murmured, his lips twisted into a pout. “I want you to stay inside me.”
Myrddin could easily magic his bedroll clean. Even if that fell under magic which he had to ask permission to perform - which it didn’t, Artair would have readily agreed. The way Myrddin held him ensured Artair remained silent. Whatever excuse, he wanted to stay too. His desire came from less practical sources. He yearned to keep his seed in the other man. Ached to plug him tight - even if it were only with his softening cock.
“I didn’t bring the talisman,” Artair informed the wizard. He kept quiet that he had kept to himself since being caught with the stableboy.
Myrddin huffed. “I’m a wizard, not a warlock.”
“Can’t some wizards conceive?”
Violet eyes rolled, but the black-haired man didn’t push him away. “Warlocks and witches can sire and conceive, shifting their bodies at will or when they meet their fated match.”
“But can’t some wizards conceive?” Artair pushed, shifting his hips to grind inside the other man’s sensitive body.
“With the right circumstances in the perfect situation, a small percentage could,” Myrddin confirmed, but with a glare, he clenched, torturing Artair right back. “We’d have to be fated mates, and you’d have to have some magical blood. One of my parents would have had to have been a warlock or witch. Even then, it would be extremely unlikely for me to conceive.”
Pride welled alongside the feral heat of Artair’s magical inheritance. “One out of three then.”
“And we’ll never know about the other two.”
Brows furrowing, the prince frowned. “We’d know if we were fated mates.”
“Not by your father’s contract.”
Shaking his head, Artair laughed. “You wouldn’t recognize your fated mate, but if we were destined, I would have recognized you. It isn’t one-sided. Didn’t you learn that?”
“It isn’t something the academy teaches,” Myrddin retorted. “Considering your father’s hatred of magic users and humanoids, I’m not sure I trust anything you think you know about them.”
“And who is your source?”
“Tamlin.”
Already struggling at the mention of his father, Artair pulled away, separating himself even as grieved as he was that Myrddin released his desperate grip. Splayed on the bedroll, the pale wizard clenched, but the prince’s creamy release slipped out regardless. Just the sight called him back. Artair almost dove back upon him, pushing inside once more. His wants and his mind fought. They kept him pinned on his knees. He stared, hungry and desperate at the marks his mouth and fingers left on the other man’s body.
“You’re right. Fate had nothing to do with this,” Artair said with a sigh. “This is nothing like love. I want you still. Cruelly and completely. I hate the contract. The more I’ve learned, the worse I think of my father and his laws. When I rule, I’ll abolish the lot. Dismantle the entire mess, but...I’m a selfish, hypocritical man. I want to free the magic users, but I want to keep you.”
Tilting his head, the wizard considered him. His piercing violet gaze seemed to burn right through Artair, and with the monstrous obsession laid bare between them, he could only wait for Myrddin’s reply. If the other wished to have nothing more to do with him, Artair would struggle, but he would find a way to push down the beast inside him. Myrddin deserved freedom. Artair refused to allow his lust to chain the black-haired man.
With a sigh, Myrddin opened his arms, beckoning the prince back, and desperate, Artair threw himself into the other man’s warm embrace. “We have a long road ahead. Until it’s end, I wouldn’t mind being yours.”
Chapter Six
After a night curled around the wizard, Artair awoke craving him just as much as he had the night before. He nuzzled into black curls. Sandalwood and the sweet scent of wildflowers surrounded them. If only he ever had to leave, he swore he would be happy here. Kissing the nape of Myrddin’s neck, Artair purred contentedly.
With a soft sigh, the wizard shifted, canting his hips back. “Put it in.”
“Hm?” Artair hummed softly.
“Put your cock inside me,” Myrddin commanded. “I’ll have to heal before riding regardless.”
Heat fell like a solid weight in Artair’s core. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized his cock stood hard and insistent against the wizard’s round backside. Pulling Myrddin tighter to his chest, the prince rocked his hips forward. He slid his cock between the other man’s thighs, letting his cock press up against Myrddin’s from behind as he slid his hand down to fondle the wizard’s engorged manhood.
“Why not just like this?” the blond murmured, sucking more red marks into the black-haired man’s pale skin.
Thigh clenching, Myrddin groaned. “Fuck, don’t tease me.”
Artair brushed his thumb over the plush head, toying with the sensitive skin of Myrddin’s uncut cock. Back and forth, his lover shifted, rocking to bring the prince’s cock gliding to slide before drawing forward to thrust into the ring of the blond’s fingers. Forward and back again, the small motions weren’t enough. Wanting grew inside. Heat coiling in Artair’s stomach, but he held it back.
“With all that power, you could magic yourself up a cock, could you?” Artair teased.
Myrddin clenched his thighs, pressing them tighter around Artair’s cock. “Is that what I should do? Throw you aside for some magical cock?”
“You’ve had both, haven’t you? I’m asking for a comparison,” Artair returned, but when the wizard stilled, he frowned. “Myrddin?”
Pushing back, the black-haired man turned in Artair’s arms. His violet eyes pinned the prince in place, and throwing a leg over, the wizard straddled him, gazing down with such a regal expression that any onlooker might think he was the prince.
With no hesitation, Myrddin took Artair’s cock in hand and aligned it with his hole, sitting upon it. Still slick and wet from last night, he took the cock all the way in, settling with a groan as he squeezed, immediately grinding down.
“Only you,” the wizard confessed.
He rested one hand upon the prince’s muscular chest. Pressing the other against his flat stomach, Myrddin groaned as if he could touch the cock and how deep it pressed inside him.
Swallowing, Artair settled his hands upon the black-haired man’s hips, struggling to stay still as the wizard rode him. “Only me?”
Violet eyes met blue. “Only you.”
While the words suggested exactly what some part of him had desired, Artair mourned a bit that Myrddin had never had anyone to touch him with such affection and love. His first time - his kisses and night - all of it came in the name of lust, and wasn’t that just cruel? Didn’t he deserve more? Deserve to be
cherished. Worshiped and adored, Myrddin ought to have so much more, and longing to give him whatever Artair could and more, he felt wanting in the face of the love he believed the other should have and the lust which covetously demanded more without offering anything in return.
As softly as it started, Artair came too soon, and with a hand, he dragged Myrddin over the edge beside him. He ached for more. Wanted more, but this would have to do.
Riding alongside meant something new now. When they let the horses rest, Artair pulled Myrddin into his arms after the pillar settled. They danced together. Artair wrapped the wizard in his arms, spinning him and drawing him close only to chase him when he ran away.
“Tonight,” Myrddin promised against his lips.
Groping and caressing and clinging, Artair rubbed the bruises Myrddin allowed to remain on his pale skin. Every single one existed as a choice. However long would they remain? Would Myrddin keep some beneath his raven wardrobe when they returned to the capital? In the palace, would the curves of his teeth hide beneath high collars and black cloaks?
Artair resided himself to kisses. To the desperate ache of settling. Holding fell quickly. None of them were enough. Time moved too quickly, and even when night came, Myrddin held him at arm’s length.
“We didn’t move quickly enough. There are spirits in these forests. Gods and creatures who could see us,” Myrddin warned, but his words failed to cool the fires of Artair’s desire.
Pressing Myrddin onto his bedroll on his stomach, Artair trailed kisses down his pale spine. “Good.”
“Artair!” the wizard hissed.
“Let them see. Let everyone see,” Artair whispered as he rocked down, rutting his cock against the wizard’s backside and forcing the other man’s manhood to rub against the bedroll below him. “They can sing it - spread word on the wind. High Wizard Myrddin belongs to Prince Artair.”
Shifting, the black-haired man growled and reaching back, he aligned Artair’s cock with his slick hole, gasping when a single thrust drove them together to the hilt. “Gods, Artair, we shouldn’t -”
“I don’t care who sees,” the blond proclaimed, driving his cock into the wizard again and again. Each soft gasp and cry fed the fire growing inside him. “In the woods or fields or before the whole court, I’d have you like this if you’d let me. Bury himself so deep inside you’d feel me for days.”
Myrddin moaned, rocking back onto each thrust. “Artair - don’t - fuck, you bastard! Don’t tease me.”
The prince quickly obliged. He drove faster and deeper into the wizard’s body, tugging the man’s hips higher. Myrddin’s back arched beautifully. Hungry blue eyes drank in the pale curve of his spine. From the round plush ass to his dark curls, the wizard was the picture of debauched. Mouth agape. His lips slick as he panted, shivering and moaning as Artair drove into him again and again. Beneath the dark curls, violet eyes stared back, meeting the hunger with a thirst of their own.
“Myrddin,” Artair called, and grabbing the man’s upper arms, he pulled him up, driving his cock deeper.
The wizard cried out, keening as he rocked back to meet each thrust. “A-Artair, oh gods, so close.”
“Not yet. Together, this time. Please, Myrddin,” the prince begged, holding the other flush against him as he reached down to stroke the other’s dripping arousal. On the edge of orgasm, he drove deep, commanded, “Come.”
In unison, they came. Myrddin clenched around Artair’s cock, spurting his release over his stomach and bedroll as hot cum flooded his body. Still, Artair held him tight. Their lips met over Myrddin’s shoulder in slow, sensual kisses. Tongues entwined. Their bodies calming until they parted to shift positions. They spent the night curled around each other. Hair damp from the river they had used to wash themselves clean.
After over a week of time spent dancing in fields and kissing beneath the stars, Artair woke on the final day of their mission with a sudden realization. Warmth settled in his chest. Love. From his irritation when the wizard corrected him to the agony of the other’s attention on anyone else, every negative which drew his condemnation in the beginning found some frustrating fondness tied to it. Before the wanting, it had been there - a snake in his chest which he couldn’t until after it had struck.
Brushing a dark curl off his lover’s face, the prince smiled. If this was love, he wanted nothing else. His anxious buzzing frustration faded. Love left no room for it in his chest. Peace took residency. Gentler emotions for a man who was not a prince.
In the pale dawn, the answer seemed simple. Running away together would never work, but some day, Artair would inherit the contracts, and he could free Myrddin. They could be together. Perhaps in secret until Ulric died, but they would undo the oppression made legal and fix the mess Ulric made of the Aelion.
Blinking, violet eyes opened slowly as if resisting the oncoming day. One eye and a childish frown only brightened Artair’s grin.
“What made you so happy this early?” Myrddin grumbled.
“You.”
The wizard rolled his eyes. As the days before, they danced in the fields, kissing and chasing each other like children. Talking about nothing and everything before continuing on. When they set the last pillar, Myrddin stretched, testing the magic.
“I don’t understand why its just this side,” Artair murmured, following the pulse of magic from the wizard’s side.
“King Henry would have to invade or treaty with North Umbria to enter, which would justify claiming collusion between the two countries,” Myrddin explained.
With a sigh, Artair shook his head. “Father is clever in his underhandedness.”
“You’ll have to remember to speak less freely,” the wizard scolded, and chuckling fondly, Artair reached to embrace him, but the other man slipped away toward his horse.
“Stay still,” Artair demanded. “I’m trying to kiss you.”
Myrddin smiled. A small and sad little expression which made the purple of his eyes seem almost as dark as the night’s velvet sky. “You’ve had your taste, sire. This was the end.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Artair pushed, but when he reached out, Myrddin dodged his touches again. “Myrddin…”
“I have a contract with your father. My existence continues only by his grace. Would your father allow me to continue living if he believed me a distraction to you?” the wizard asked, and as Artair rushed to protest, he lifted a hand to silence the prince. “You have a contract of your own too.”
“What are you saying?”
Those dark eyes pierced Artair to the core. Myrddin gave no quarter. “Undoubtedly, you will be betrothed. If the north continues resisting, you may find your bride to be Princess Isolde to settle peace. King Henry has an army almost equal to your father’s. It would save lives to end the war there with marriage when King Ulric has battles on all fronts.”
“The old man’s determined to rule the entire continent. He imagines himself some great emperor or warlord like Athanasius,” the prince grumbled. Myrddin cocked a brow as if to say this merely proved his point, so Artair rushed on, “But that doesn’t mean we have to stop, not for him and his whims.”
Tilting his head, Myrddin asked, “What sane man would give up a noble lady for a wizard?”
Artair blanched, slapped by his own words thrown back at him. Coldness clenched his heart. A spark of unfamiliar emotion welled up inside him. As readily as he had awoken knowing he loved Myrddin, he found this new sentiment harder to place. His confusion gave the wizard space enough to mount his horse.
“Myrddin…”
“Chin up, sire. I hear Isolde is a beauty,” the wizard replied and he opened a portal before them, riding through.
Frozen in that moment, the sight of Myrddin vanishing from his view shook him free. He leapt upon his stead, following suit. A feast and festival waited for him. His father greeted him, but his words fell on deaf ears. By the time, he escaped and found himself outside Myrddin’s door, it was deep into the night.
&n
bsp; “Myrddin,” Artair called, knocking on the door. “Please, Myrddin!”
But the door remained closed.
Chapter Seven
As strange and wondrous as the days had been with Artair outside the capital, their return quickly reminded Myrddin of every reason he had to keep his distance. Ulric feasted while famine plagued the villages his soldiers burned. Before dawn, the king summoned Myrddin, putting him to work building up the shields around the capital and teleporting between encampments. The freedom of Artair’s supervision keenly accentuated his true imprisonment under Ulric’s iron rule.
“I have no intention of suing for peace,” the king growled when one of the fat advisor’s suggested Aelion could not afford war on all its borders.
Lord Walder trembled. “If we put up shields to the north, why not sustain them around all our borders.”
“The shields aren’t there to do the duty of soldiers and vassals,” Uric growled. “The High Wizard’s time is better spent guarding the capital and communicating between fronts. Or would you prefer I return you to your keep on the southern border to lead your men?”
Pale and sweating, the lord shook his head. “Apologies, sire. I spoke - ”
“You need not add to that sentence to recognize your error,” the king drawled, glaring down the lot. “Leave my sight. I have much to consider, including whether the lot of you would be better positioned at your garrisons or on the front alongside the troops.”
Rushing from the room, the advisors hissed at Walder. They would ensure he felt their wrath. No further words would come from him.
Once the doors closed behind them, Ulric sat upon his throne, and with a sigh, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I would rather have just you at my side, Myrddin. You’re worth a hundred of them.”
“Thank you, sire, but I do not come with land or men,” the wizard reminded his warden.
Blue eyes - cold and yet strangely soft focused upon him. “No. I don’t suppose you do.”
