by Shea Balik
Wylie recoiled from the words and Fritjof couldn’t blame him one bit. That was just… sick.
“Stop it,” Eirik told Fen with a tone that spoke of the power his friend had developed over the past millennium. “Is it even possible to open up the Veil to get Wylie and Fritjof into the Fae realm?”
But it wasn’t Fen who answered. “Yes,” Dermot said confidently. Then he turned to Fen with a challenging look of his own. “But it will take a Fae on the other side to make it happen.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Fen told them emphatically. “It’s bad enough I’ve been helping you all these years. But if I open that Veil so you can come across, I’ll be executed.”
“At least you’ll finally have done something worthwhile.” Arne had stood up, facing the Fae. “Maybe you’d finally be able to make up for what you did to Ceit.”
But Fen was already shaking his head. “Even if I agreed to this asinine plan, we have no way of knowing where the girl was taken.” He glanced back at Wylie. “Do you even know who fathered her?”
“She’s still a druid,” Fritjof said. “Get me across that Veil and I’ll be able to find her.”
Fen’s shoulders dropped in defeat. In one last attempt to save himself, he said the one thing that might stop the entire plan, “You still would have to become immortal first.” His steely gaze was fixed on Wylie. “Are you prepared to do that?”
The resolve in Wylie’s eyes caused Fritjof’s stomach to drop even as his dick plumped. The thought of being buried in that tight ass was enough to have his blood pumping south. Too bad the rest of Fritjof felt sick to his stomach at basically forcing this sweet man to do what he clearly didn’t want.
“You don’t have to do this,” Fritjof said the moment they entered his room. “I can go and find Tess. I swear, I’ll bring her back to you.”
But Wylie was already stripping his clothes off. “I think we both know this is something that is going to require both of us.”
“But you don’t want this,” Fritjof tried again. “I don’t think you understand. We’ll be tied together for all eternity. No death, no ending.”
Wylie’s hands stopped as he popped the button on his pants and for a moment, Fritjof thought he might have gotten through to him. It killed him to say anything that might turn Wylie away from him when he was so damn close to binding them together. But Fritjof also knew his wants, his dream of a love that would span for that eternity he was destined to live, didn’t matter if it meant forcing something upon Wylie that he didn’t want.
As hard as his prick was as the top half of Wylie was revealed to him, he wasn’t sure it would be enough to do what needed to be done to bind them if Wylie was against it. Verbal consent or not, he damn well knew this was the last thing Wylie would agree to if his niece’s life wasn’t on the line.
The rasp of the zipper was Fritjof’s only warning before Wylie shoved his pants down and stepped out them, revealing the rest of his too tempting body. Tanned skin from all the time he’d spent outdoors in those skimpy outfits outlined the pale smoothness of his ass, showing it off perfectly.
Ashamed, Fritjof found his mouth watering to taste any and all of Wylie. If only Wylie’s cock were anything but completely limp, Fritjof might have found the tiniest bit of hope. But that wasn’t to be.
“Wylie, I can’t claim you like this,” the sound of his voice was hoarse to his own ears as Fritjof fought back the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “You obviously don’t want me. How can I…”
But he wasn’t allowed to finish as Wylie jabbed a finger against Fritjof’s chest. “Look. You let them take her. You tricked me into telling you all my secrets. You owe me this.”
With each sentence, Wylie pushed Fritjof back until the back of his knees hit the bed. “Like it or not, we’re going to be stuck together, because I. Am. Going. To. Save. Tess.” Each word was emphasized as Wylie shoved Fritjof onto the bed and started pulling off his clothes.
Helpless to stop him, Fritjof lay there, wishing for something, anything to be different. “Please, don’t do this,” he finally whispered when Wylie had him naked, the proof of his arousal clearly there for Wylie to see, even though he had zero in return.
It was humiliating. And if it was just about him, Fritjof would fall on his sword, so to speak. But this wasn’t just about him. Wylie would forever hate him for what was about to happen. It was something he wouldn’t be able to take back, ever.
Then Wylie climbed up onto the bed next to Fritjof. “Now man up and fuck me already,” Wylie told him in no uncertain terms. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can go save my niece.”
He got on all fours and presented his ass to Fritjof. Tears ran down his face as Fritjof’s heart broke. There was no way to make this better. No way to make amends. He would basically be having sex with an unwilling partner. Forcing him to accept his claim.
“Please, Wylie,” he tried once more, but Wylie refused to listen.
“We don’t have time to discuss this. Tess’s life is hanging in the balance.” If there had been an ounce of softness in Wylie’s voice, Fritjof might have believed there was some sort of chance for them. But there wasn’t.
If anything it was almost robotic in its tone. Distant and cold.
Hating himself, Fritjof reached for the bedside table and pulled out the drawer. He grabbed the lube and prayed that he could at least give Wylie some sort of pleasure, but he seriously doubted it.
Settling behind Wylie, he stroked a hand along his flank, but that only cause Wylie to jerk. “Don’t. We both know what this is, so don’t pretend to make it something more.”
The harshness in Wylie’s voice had a fresh batch of tears leaking from Fritjof’s eyes. How was he supposed to take pleasure in this act? His cock twitched along his thigh, reminding Fritjof that at least part of him was more than excited at the prospect of being inside of Wylie.
But that only made it worse. He wanted this. Not like it was happening, but the fact was, Fritjof did want to be joined with Wylie for all eternity. Which made no sense. He’d seen what love had done to his mother, and now here… with Wylie…
Letting out a long breath to steady himself Fritjof did his best to find the strength to get through this. Pouring lube onto his fingers, he placed them at Wylie’s entrance. He tried being gentle, but Wylie wouldn’t even allow for that.
“Would you get on with it?” Wylie said, refusing to even glance over his shoulder at Fritjof. “Every minute you waste, is another moment Tess has to remain in that hell.”
Closing his eyes, unable to watch the end of any chance that he would ever have the kind of life he’d given up on once before. It shouldn’t be that hard to go back to the unfeeling man he’d been for the past thousand years. Right?
Liar.
That damn voice rang out in his head as he slid a finger into Wylie. He had to grit his teeth as the muscles clamped down in a tight grip around his digit. His dick throbbed as he imagined all that heat surrounding it.
How he could still get even harder with all that was going on, Fritjof didn’t know. More importantly, he was ashamed for the desire to still be with this man, when Wylie clearly hated every minute. He was a monster.
But even as that last thought filtered through his mind, Fritjof added another finger and started to work Wylie’s entrance open. He took his time, hoping to give Wylie some sort of pleasure, but not too much time or he’d only piss the man off again.
Curling the tips of his fingers, he brushed across Wylie’s sweet spot, but instead of a moan, or even a shiver of yearning, Wylie spat out, “Good enough. Now fuck me already. It’s time to get this over with.”
Fritjof couldn’t help the small whimper of pain that escaped from his lips at the sound of so much hate being spewed from the man he was about to make his. His heart was beyond broken at this point. If he had a soul, which Fritjof didn’t think he could if he was willing to go through with this, it had shattered into a million pieces.
But Wylie was right. He was the reason Tess hadn’t been safe. And if this is what it took to fix it and get her back, then that’s what he’d do.
Tugging his fingers free, Fritjof placed the head of his dick at Wylie’s entrance. He tried so hard not to look at the perfection of his soon-to-be lover’s ass, or the way his prick looked poised to enter him. But it was impossible not to.
This was the moment when Fritjof would be joined with Wylie for the first time. The way it was happening sucked, but Fritjof was getting that wish he’d made when he was ten. To find the person he could love until the end of time. For him, that was Wylie. Little had he known back then that he should have added he wanted that person to love him in return.
With one hand holding Wylie’s hip, Fritjof thrust forward. He’d expected resistance, especially because of the circumstances, but instead Wylie’s body opened right up for him, like it was welcoming him home.
Fritjof squeezed his eyes closed as that sensation washed over him. He would do anything if only that could be true. Fate had given him Wylie to be his home, but Fritjof had fucked it up by not realizing just how damn lucky he was to be given such a gift.
Now he was paying the price.
Surging forward until he was balls deep, Fritjof blanketed his body over Wylie’s back. There was no way he was going to last long, and he was sure Wylie wouldn’t appreciate that anyway. He might be a sick fuck for being able to get off on this, but Fritjof’s body was reacting like this was the greatest thing to ever happen to him.
And it should have been. Fritjof wanted it to be. Too bad Wylie didn’t.
He set up a steady rhythm, knowing it was better to just get this over with. As he’d thought, it had only taken a dozen or so thrusts for that telltale tingling to start in the base of his spine as his balls ached to release their load.
More tears dripped down his face as he stared at Wylie’s neck. His canines, which normally he didn’t have even in animal form, extended as his mouth watered. It was time to make Wylie his, ending any chance Wylie might have for a normal life.
A war went on within him, but his body took over as his orgasm washed over him. Thrusting once more, he emptied himself into Wylie’s channel. “I’m sorry for tying you to me like this,” he whispered, unsure if Wylie even heard him.
Then Fritjof sank his teeth deep. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through him as he rejoiced in the knowledge that he would forever be joined with this amazing man.
But the moment that joy abated, despair sank deep into his bones. Anger at what he’d done surged through him as he gently as possible pulled from Wylie’s body and stormed into his bathroom.
Slamming the door, he let out his rage as the weight of all he’d done settled over him. He would never have the love he’d always dreamed of having. Oh, he’d feel it, for he was already in love with Wylie, but it would never be returned. How could it?
Wylie may have asked for what Fritjof had done, but he hadn’t wanted it. Their life together was doomed before it had even started and Fritjof had no one to blame but himself.
CHAPTER 18
The moment Wylie felt tears drip onto his shoulder just before Fritjof whispered he was sorry, he’d known, deep in his gut, that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. Not because he was tying himself to Fritjof, but because of the way he’d gone about it.
Wylie had let his petty pride get in the way, ruining everything. He had no idea what had come over him. How could he have acted like Fritjof claiming him was some horrible thing? Hadn’t that been what he’d been hoping would happen for quite some time?
It had been the one secret he hadn’t even told Buttercup. Maybe if he had, Fritjof would have finally revealed himself. They both played a part in their inability to talk. Wylie had kept himself as removed from Fritjof as possible.
Even when Fritjof would try to speak to him, Wylie often found excuses to leave. Could he really blame the man for not telling him he was Buttercup when it was the only time Wylie opened up?
But the moment he’d realized his mistake and was scrambling his brain for something, anything, he could say or do that would change their cold exchange of sex into what it should be, an aligning of their bodies, hearts, and maybe their souls, Fritjof had sunk his teeth into Wylie’s neck and all thought fled his feeble mind.
Instead, his dick that he’d been forcing to stay as limp as possible, not only went hard as steel, but erupted with his release. The sheer force with which his orgasm had been ripped from him, catapulted him into the stratosphere as euphoria washed through him.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, every cell in his body felt as if they were riding waves of bliss, leaving him floating and unable to do anything but drift. He hadn’t even wanted to come down from the pleasure that kept lifting him higher and higher.
That was until he heard a desperate howl of rage right before glass shattered in a horrific crash. Sitting upright, he realized two things. Fritjof had already left the bed and it had been Fritjof who had made that horrible sound that had Wylie’s soul crying out for him.
Scrambling over to the edge of the bed, he was ready to go to the man he’d someone managed to fall in love with without even realizing it. Before he was able to get to his feet, the door to the bathroom opened. There, dressed for battle in clothes that made him look every inch the Viking warrior he was, Fritjof stood.
A mask of cold indifference covered any and all emotions, leaving Wylie with the stark reality of what he’d done to this man. “I will be downstairs waiting for you to go get Tess.”
As Fritjof left the room, Wylie shivered. For his voice had been so damn remote, it almost sounded robotic. He’d done that. Wylie. “I’m such an ass.”
“I would like to disagree, but if you did what I think you did, you’re right,” Oluf said standing at the now open bedroom door. “You are an ass.”
That stupid pride that had gotten him into this mess to begin with, surged up. “He tricked me, for weeks,” Wylie said as if that was some kind of defense.
But Oluf didn’t seem to think much of his words. “And Fritjof, who swore to never allow himself to love again, not only fell in love with you, but willingly ruined any chance for happiness between the two of you, for you,” Oluf told him.
“It took him twelve hundred years…” Oluf shook his head. “No. It took finding you for him to get over his mother disowning him for allowing his father, the love of her life, to die in that raid. He’d sworn that if love could destroy someone like it had his mother, it wasn’t worth having.”
Wylie’s heart plummeted into his stomach.
“Even knowing he would basically be destroying both of you, he did what you asked because he does love you.” Oluf’s steady gaze wouldn’t let Wylie look away like he desperately wanted to. “Unless you find a way to fix it, I fear he will become a shell of what his mother’s words had turned him into, which let me tell you, he was an unfeeling ass. I hate to think what you just made him do, will do to him.”
Oluf left, without giving Wylie a chance to defend himself. Then again, he was pretty sure there was no defense for his behavior.
They’d had to travel past the lands that Dermot had protected that surrounded their property, so the Fae would be unable to open the Veil on top of them. Why Dermot had bothered, Wylie wasn’t entirely sure.
For them, on horseback over the mountains, it took just over a half hour. The Fae had only taken a few minutes from the moment they’d walked through the Veil to travel to the Viking’s land and steal Tess. He wasn’t sure the difference of a few minutes mattered when they weren’t prepared to deal with the Fae.
Nor was he sure any amount of practice, or working together, would help in the slightest. The Fae were just too powerful. The others might have been right. Instead of worrying about their abilities, they needed to worry more about performing the ritual. It was the only way to keep the Fae from coming through that Veil.
Not having learned to ride a horse,
Wylie sat before Fritjof. No less than a hundred times, Wylie had opened his mouth to apologize, but try as he might, he just couldn’t find the words. In the end, they’d ridden in silence with Eirik, Ryley, Bjorn, Kegan, Arne, and Dermot riding with them.
They stopped in front of a waiting Fen. “You sure about this?” Fen asked. “The Fae realm is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”
Wylie slid down from the saddle and stood in front of Fen. “I’m sure. Open the Veil.”
Fen nodded, then he was gone. Presumably to his world where he’d be able to create an opening.
Long minutes later, a line of light appeared not more than a few feet from where Wylie stood with Fritjof at his back. His steady presence a comfort even if he they weren’t touching. Wylie couldn’t blame Fritjof for keeping a distance between them. If they lived through this, which presumably since they were immortal, they should, he’d find a way to make it up to Fritjof.
The line grew brighter before separating to show a world that was similar, yet completely unlike theirs. By the time Fen appeared in the opening, Wylie had trouble breathing, as fear seeped into his veins.
A hand pressed along his lower back, pushing the panic that was threatening to make him immobile from his body. Grateful for Fritjof agreeing to go with him, he leaned back into the touch. Long, thick fingers, stroked his spine, giving Wylie the courage required to take the three steps he needed to get to the edge of the opening.
“I won’t leave your side,” Fritjof whispered reassuringly, despite what Wylie had put him through. Then Fritjof’s hand gently pushed Wylie into taking the step that would send him into a world that… ”Holy fuck,” he whispered unable to complete his own thoughts as he was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him.