by Shawn Lane
“I am sure you are surprised to see me conscious.”
“A bit. I thought you far too young and isolated to find true love.”
“Then you underestimated me.”
Veronious smiled. “We shall see.” He had not moved from his place by the door yet and Roland had to wonder why. He flicked a hand toward the sword in Roland’s hands. “I see you have obtained Montcrief’s sword.”
Roland nodded.
“Do you know what the prophecy says, your highness?”
“It says that I am to destroy you with the sword.”
“Oh, no.” Veronious did take a few steps closer than. “It says that you will try, that we will have an epic battle, but in the end, poor Prince Roland will die.”
He shook his head. “Nay, I know the prophecy.”
“You have seen it with your own eyes?” Veronious asked.
He hesitated, for it was true he had not. Still he knew Magnus spoke the truth. He trusted Magnus with his life.
“If you put down the sword and come with me peacefully, I will see that your family does not suffer a cruel death. I will spare them, as I have before. You will be my slave, but I will treat you well, give you privileges. If you insist on fighting me, you will still lose, I will kill your family in front of you, one by one, and then you will live out your days on your knees serving as my slave, slaking my every desire.”
“I must decline both options.”
Veronious tilted his head and raised his arm, a bright orange glow appearing from the palm of his hand. “Very well. On your knees.”
Searing pain shot through Roland, a pain as though his limbs were being torn asunder. He gasped and dropped to his knees. “Ahh.”
“A mere warning, Roland. You are no match for me, even with that sword.”
Veronious took a few more steps closer and Roland raised the sword in front of him. A bolt of lightning shot out from the sword and at the sorcerer, sending him across the room and against the wall with a thud.
Roland stared in awe at Montcrief’s sword. He’d certainly seen his fair share of strange and wondrous things since Magnus took him from Amir, but a truly magical sword was among the most wondrous.
Veronious growled, shook himself off, and straightened from the wall. “You will pay for that.”
Roland rose to his feet. “I do not fear you, evil one.”
Veronious raised his arm again, but Roland was ready this time and he blocked the magic, crossing the sword in front of him.
The sorcerer frowned, doubt showing on his face, the ferocious light in his eyes dimming a little.
“I see your fear, your doubt, Veronious,” Roland said. “And you should be afraid, for you are about to die.”
“No,” he spat angrily. Veronious shook his head, standing taller. “You cannot beat me.” Veronious rushed at him, both arms raised, shooting fireballs from his palms at him.
Roland backed up, shocked at the magic of the sorcerer. Magnus had told him Veronious had many powers, but he had never imagined such power. He tried to block the balls of fire with his sword but they came too fast and one hit his left upper arm, scorching his flesh. The sword clanged to the floor as Roland grabbed his arm.
Veronious pounced on him, knocking him to the floor, and landing on him. Roland’s head came within inches of hitting the hard floor. Strong hands wrapped around Roland’s throat and Veronious’s fingers began to squeeze.
Roland felt a heaviness in his chest as his lungs seized. This couldn’t be the way it would end. He couldn’t be a failure. Let down the kingdom, his family.
Magnus.
He brought his knees to his waist and pushed with all his might, dislodging Veronious’s grip. He kneed Veronious in the groin, and then rolled away from him as the sorcerer screeched in agony.
Rising to his feet, he ran for the Sword of Montcrief, barely dodging a fireball Veronious managed to send his way. His hands closed around the hilt of the sword and once more he felt the power of the sword flow through him.
He had a brief moment where he wondered once more why he had been chosen for this task. Why the prophecy was about him. Or the royal prince, which was him, apparently. He had no time to wonder at his fate, though.
Roland flipped around to hold the sword to block yet another fireball the sorcerer sent toward him. The pain in his left arm burned, became nearly unbearable, but he ignored the pain and forced himself to concentrate on taking down Veronious.
Standing, he ran at Veronious, as the sorcerer, too, got to his feet. Both hands gripping the hilt, Roland swung the sword in an arc, the blade aimed toward Veronious’s waist. The sharp blade, glowing with a bright white light, sliced through the doublet, and then through flesh, cutting Veronious in half, blood spurting out and spraying over Roland’s own doublet.
“Roland!” Magnus called from the doorway.
His heart thundering rapidly, Roland stumbled to his knees, panting. His gaze dropped to Veronious, and then the bloody sword he held still in his hands. The blade no longer glowed, the magical power seeming dormant now that it had served its purpose. He flung it away.
Magnus was suddenly kneeling next to him, his arm wrapped around Roland. His gaze went to Roland’s arm. “You’re injured.”
He nodded, unable to find his voice. Magnus embraced him and he rested his head against Magnus’s chest. Magnus was alive. And appeared uninjured himself. Roland could breathe again.
“You did it, my prince. He’s dead.”
Roland smiled. “Thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“I could not have done this without you, Magnus.”
“You amaze me, you truly are legendary,” Magnus whispered. “Come, let us attend to your injury.”
* * * *
Roland opened the door of the bedchamber, “Magnus?”
There was no immediate answer. He shut the door and slid the bolt across it.
A slight chill in the room had him frowning and his gaze went to the dying fire in the hearth. He stepped over to it and poked at the fire with a stick that rested against the wall.
“Magnus?”
“Here.” Magnus’s voice came from a little open alcove that faced the courtyard.
As he approached the alcove, he smelled the dampness of rain. Roland found Magnus looking out, watching the rain fall. It had begun to pour a few hours earlier. “Are you well?”
Magnus smiled. “Aye. I expected you to be with your family a little longer.”
He shook his head. “I think we are all still getting used to each other. The only mother I have known was my mother in Amir.”
“Give it some time.”
Roland rested his hand on top of Magnus’s, who leaned against the window ledge. “It is strange to be here in the palace. I have not known such comforts.”
“I imagine they will be easy to be accustomed to.” Magnus gazed at him seriously. “Eventually they will expect you to choose a wife.”
He snorted. “Then they may as well get used to disappointment.”
“Roland.”
“Do not scold me, Magnus.”
The warrior laughed. “I see that you are indeed getting used to being a prince.”
Roland grinned. “What I am trying to say is I have already had this discussion with them. I have a bevy of sisters. They can have all the children to carry on the royal line.”
Magnus raised an eyebrow. “And they were accepting of this?”
He shrugged. “They must be, for I will not be denied my true love.” Roland was pulled into Magnus’s arms. “I love you, Magnus.”
“I love you, my prince.”
“Then perhaps you might consider showing me just how much.”
“Your arm, it does not pain you?”
“Only slightly. A minor nuisance only.”
Magnus grinned wickedly. “Ah, that would indeed be my pleasure. Shall we seek out the comforts of the bed?”
Roland pretended to consider it. “We can, next. For now, perhaps you’d like to f
uck me right here?”
“You are not afraid of being seen?”
He laughed. “Who would be looking up here? And if they do, they deserve to be shocked.”
His love shook his head. “You have certainly changed since I first came upon the shy young man in Amir.”
Roland wrapped his arms around Magnus’s neck and offered him his lips. Magnus took them in a searing, deep kiss as his hands slipped down to cup Roland’s ass.
“Mmm, I do not suppose you thought to have oil upon your person?” Magnus asked against Roland’s lips. He rubbed their erections together, pulling a gasp out of Roland.
“I do indeed.” Roland slipped a hand into a small pocket of his breeches and withdrew the vial. “Actually, I carry this with me at all times now.”
“Oh?”
“One never knows when the opportunity may arise.”
Magnus’s fingers squeezed Roland’s cheeks. “As long as those opportunities arise only when I am with you.”
“Only you.” Roland turned in his arms and pushed his ass against the hard ridge in Magnus’s breeches. “Please.”
“I love a begging prince.” Magnus growled low, and latched his mouth onto the cord of muscle on Roland’s neck. He pushed his hand inside Roland’s breeches and yanked them down to Roland’s knees. A hand slapped one cheek hard.
Shocked, Roland looked over his shoulder at him.
“Just wanted to see if you were paying attention,” Magnus said with a grin. “Perhaps we’ll have to see how much of that you can tolerate later.”
He tried out a saucy wink, though he wasn’t sure exactly how successful he was when Magnus laughed.
“Face forward, brat prince, and brace yourself on the wall.”
Roland eagerly did as he was told, handing the small vial to Magnus as he did so. He spread his legs as much as he could with the impediment of his breeches at his knees and waited.
“You are so beautiful,” Magnus said, splaying his large hand across Roland’s ass. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”
“Then take me.”
Magnus lowered his own breeches, freeing his large, thick cock. Roland watched him over his shoulder as he poured oil over his stiff shaft, coating it generously. Then Magnus grabbed his hips, sliding his cock along Roland’s crease.
“Oh, God, please.” Roland moaned, closing his eyes and thrusting back.
An oiled finger penetrated him, pushing in deep. Barely a few breaths later, a second finger joined the first, spreading him, preparing him. The anticipation of having Magnus imbedded in him was killing him. The fingers withdrew and Roland blew out a breath.
Magnus’s callused hands parted his cheeks and he felt the press of the tip of Magnus’s cock at his entrance. His lover seemed to be moving with aching slowness and Roland nearly cried out with impatience.
Shoving back, he impaled himself on Magnus’s cock, taking him deep until the man’s groin was against his ass. He was stuffed full of cock and still it was not enough.
“Magnus, fuck me. Hard.”
Growling low, Magnus’s hips snapped as he pulled out, then plunged in, over and over. His hands reached to cover Roland’s against the wall as he drove inside, each thrust deeper and more powerful than the one before.
Roland’s cock bobbed between his legs, leaking, demanding to be touched, but Roland resisted, wanting to prolong the sweet agony of needing to climax. He pushed back against each rough thrust, riding Magnus as hard as he gave. His ass would be sore later, Roland had no doubt, but he cared not at all.
The damp air felt cool against his sweat-soaked skin, and the body plastered, sticking to him, pounding into him…burning hot.
“Roland. Roland. Roland.” Magnus’s hoarse voice saying his name like a litany, a prayer, and had his whole body trembling with need.
And then Magnus tensed and shouted something unintelligible as his hips snapped forward one last time and he shot inside Roland.
Magnus pulled out, dropped to his knees, and spun Roland to face him. Before Roland could catch his breath, Magnus’s hot mouth engulfed Roland’s cock, swallowing him down to the root.
His legs wobbled as he fucked Magnus’s mouth, his finger’s yanking Magnus’s hair, trying to get him closer still. His stomach tightened and fluttered, every nerve in his body tingling and seeming to flow to his cock. His lover’s hand came up to roll his balls and he was lost, pouring into the hot mouth sucking him dry.
* * * *
His eyes fluttered open as lips covered his. Roland stared into Magnus’s dark gaze, his love, truer than anyone he had ever known.
“Is it morning?” he asked, smiling at the well-loved face looming above his.
Magnus nodded. “Indeed it is. But the rain has grown heavier overnight. It promises to be a soggy day.”
“I should like to spend the day in bed then.”
“I’m sure that you would, and I would be most delighted to join you.” Magnus brushed his thumb over Roland’s lips. “Alas, I fear your parents will be pounding on the door, demanding their son appear before them.”
“Perhaps we should get our own castle.”
“There is the small matter of the cost.”
Roland pouted. “You always point out the dark side of things.”
“You can sleep a little longer if you so desire. It is still early. I doubt the king and queen have risen themselves.”
He yawned. “You did wear me out last night.”
“You begged me to.”
Roland grinned. “Aye, I did.”
Magnus’s lips twitched. “My brat prince.”
“Will you stay with me? I find I don’t like to sleep alone.”
“I’ll be by your side, Roland. As long as you will have me.”
“I would have you forever.”
“Then it shall be.” Magnus kissed him. “Sleep. I will always be here to wake the prince with a kiss.”
THE END
ABOUT SHAWN LANE
Shawn Lane is a multi-published author of gay romances and believes love and passion know no boundaries. Happily Ever After is for everyone.
She has been published by Loose Id, Ellora's Cave, Amber Quill Press, Dreamspinner Press, and Evernight Publishing.
Shawn lives in California and holds down a boring day job in a legal department of a giant corporation dreaming of the nights and weekends when she can create new stories.
For more information, visit smlgr8.blogspot.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
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