The Crown Prince's Fated Mate: M/M Gay Paranormal Romance

by J B Black

  Somewhere out in the darkness, he had a half-sister who could use the druid in her blood. Someone capable of spellcrafting. A person who had more in common with Myrddin. If she had not been of Ulric’s blood, her destiny would have involved a contract and the academy, but as it were, she likely ended up smuggled out of the country.

  “Do you think it was the same man who smuggled you out?” Artair asked. “Father always cursed him. Temlean or Timlean…”

  “Tamlin.”

  “Yes, him. You’re about my age. Do you think she was one of those children he tried to steal?” Altair urged, but the heavy drew heavy as Myrddin rolled and put his back to the prince. “Myrddin?”

  “Sleep. Tomorrow will be long, sire.”

  By the contract, he could have forced him to speak. The magic woven between them allowed him to drag truths from the wizard’s tongue, but his heart ached at the sight of the other’s back. Darkness swallowed his vision as the magic in him calmed. Something stretched between them. Cold yet ready to burst into heat. Their relationship simmered, dying and striving to live just like those embers. Bright and hot and dimming faster and faster.

  When Artair woke the next day, Myrddin already had breakfast prepared. The wizard barely ate. He avoided even looking at the prince. All the blond wanted to do was grab him and force their eyes to meet. In the end, he didn’t dare. If he touched the other man, the prince could not be certain what he’d do. Loyalty remained in Myrddin for Tamlin, and though any sensible person might have suspected it, he found himself yearning to be the source of that loyalty. Wishing he could prove he was someone deserving of the oaths forced by the contract.

  “When I sleep, you have full permission to use whatever magic you deem necessary to protect the people of Aelion,” Artair informed the wizard as he mounted his stead. “If it would best serve them to find villages empty and no magic users to add to the academy, then you will do what you must.”

  Violet eyes stared. “That would be treason.”

  “Treason would be to betray the king. The king would want his people safe from threats even he might not foresee,” the prince retorted, and glancing up, he forced a small smile when their eyes met.

  Myrddin gave no response, but the furrow to his brow suggested his words provided at least food for thought. Good. The other man should always think about him. One day, Ulric would die. If all moved well, the contracts would fall to Artair, and he would undo the enslavement and slowly untangle the cruel laws which shackled Myrddin and his people.

  Shame flooded the prince. Ducking his head, he hoped the wizard wouldn’t notice the flush to his cheeks. No matter how much he did - none of that meant he deserved Myrddin. Undoing the oppressive and degrading laws served the greater good. Myrddin wasn’t his reward. He would never thank Artair for his freedom by riding the prince’s cock, and to even imagine it suggested only how deep his own corruption lay.

  They rode much the same as the day before. Bursts and then rests while Myrddin tethered the shield. When they made camp, Artair slept, wondering if he had left his own throat open to be cut, but he woke just the same for another day of the same.

  “You’re quiet,” Myrddin stated when they made camp on the third night. Artair prepped a fire, pointedly saying nothing, but the wizard muttered his spell, lighting the fire before he repeated, “You’re quiet.”

  “I would have thought you’d prefer me this way,” the prince offered ruefully.

  Sitting down across from him, the violet-eyed man frowned. “Are you disappointed I didn’t kill you?”

  “Did it cross your mind?”

  Myrddin’s brow furrowed. “You are inconvenient, rude, and mercurial, but I can’t say it did.”

  At the other’s blunt assessment, Artair laughed derisively. “Truly, I am a god among men. Rude? No more than you have been. Inconvenient? Undoubtedly. Not all of us can be as powerful as the High Wizard. Mercurial? That - now that, I find confounding?”

  “Do you want a definition?”

  Artair’s jaw dropped. “I’ve had better tutors than you.”

  “Doesn’t mean you learned anything,” Myrddin retorted.

  Gritting his teeth, Artair bit back the poison on his tongue. “How am I mercurial? My approach to you is as it ever was.”

  “You say your men shouldn’t sleep with me because they are betrothed, but you will be married off in the same way, yet you sleep with a maid, a warlock, two different scribes, that nun, the cook’s daughter, and the stableboy,” Myrddin counted them out on his hand, and though he didn’t point out that this was only during his tenure, the fact remained clear.

  Artair sighed. “Wouldn’t you say that’s more hypocritical than mercurial?”

  “Your morals change on a whim. I can’t say the two aren’t related,” Myrddin replied, tugging his fingers through his black curls.

  Now. He had to speak now. Something opened between them. A softness painted the other’s features, and if there was ever to be a change in the roughness between them, Artair could not rely on another time save this.

  “It’s hypocritical,” the prince asserted. Standing, he moved to sit beside the wizard. “I bed whoever I want, but I expect you to remain untouched. It’s cruel. I am a selfish man, wanting you all to myself but not returning the favor.”

  Violet eyes narrowed. “And once you had me, would I then be free of your interest.”

  Possibility thrummed between them. If he lied, Artair believed he would be able to kiss the man. To take him apart and thrust within his tight heat again and again until the world around them faded into nothingness. All he needed to do was pretend that would be enough. That he would be done. That his obsession wouldn’t remain just as strong. A beast alive in the heat of his blood.

  “No,” Artair whispered. “I fear I’ll become even more monstrous if I tasted you.”

  Myrddin’s long dark lashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked, glancing down at the way Artair worried the bed of one thumb nail as he struggled to keep his hands to himself. He ached to touch. Yearned to tangle his fingers in raven locks as their lips met and tongues entwined. Would Myrddin taste like magic? The air around them always crackled with it. Lightning and too thin air. Intoxicating and terrifying.

  Unable to resist, Artair lifted his hand. Myrddin remained still. His violet eyes watched, but he made no move to dodge when the prince’s fingers brushed against the pale skin of his face. Barely breathing, Artair cradled the black-haired man’s cheek, and when those vibrant eyes closed, he swallowed at the fanning of each delicate black lash against too sharp cheekbones. His heart ached. Warmth and the strange wanting mixed into something horrible in his chest when the wizard leaned into his touch, nuzzling his hand and sleepily opening those brilliant eyes once more. If he could stop time, he would hold it to this moment. Their hearts thundering in their chests. Desperation growing taut between them.

  Beside them, the fire crackled. The nights many sounds faded to nothing. Artair found no words. His tongue tied itself to silence, leaving him flushed as he had been the first time he ever kissed another. However, the rush then paled to now. He stole kisses for the affection they offered and the red excitement he left in his wake, but this time - for more than what might follow - he simply wanted to kiss Myrddin. Nothing lewd. Only the gentlest brush of their lips against one another, yet as he pulled back from the chaste meeting, his heart rushed, thundering like a stampede.

  “And?” Myrddin whispered.

  Inhaling a shuddering breath, Artair returned, “And what?”

  “Do you still want more?”

  Tears came to his eyes as he struggled to swallow the rush of emotion welling up inside of him. He dared not. Every ounce of his control suffered in the face of the other. All his training melted. Only want remained. An aching hollowness opened up inside him, and every instinct in his body assured him that Myrddin would fit the hole so nicely. He could patch them together. Bend their broken pieces into a whole worthy of the destinies before them
. He wanted - but this obsession threatened them both.

  “Yes.” Despite his best, the word escaped him, and he could not swallow it back once it had fled his lips. “I want more.”

  Tilting his head in consideration, the wizard leaned back. His cloak fell from his shoulders, and as his clever fingers undid the clasps of his black tunic, Myrddin cocked a single brow. “Well? Then take it.”

  All sense left him. Artair’s hands reached out, grabbing onto Myrddin and pulling him. Their lips met in a forceful kiss. Teeth clashed, but they smoothed themselves well enough. Tongues entwined. No wine ever tasted as sweet. They tore at each other’s clothes. Patience had no place here. Roughly, the pair tumbled down onto their makeshift beds. Their sleeping rolls offered little better than the ground, but they were as near a bed as the two had in the wilderness along the northern border.

  With every inch of raven fabric removed, Artair revealed smooth, pale skin. His fingers and tongue chased each. From the delicate grace of the wizard’s wrists to the hollow of his collar. He bit his mark into his neck. Sucked upon one dusky nipple before pinching and tweaking at the other. Rolling them between his fingers, he pinned the man on his back and sought his lips in another kiss.

  “I want you,” he professed - his breath hot against the other man’s lips. “God, Myrddin, I want you.”

  Chuckling, the wizard likely had a quick retort upon his tongue. A witty remark ready to render the prince a fool, but nipping at his jaw, Artair rolled their hips together, purring at the gasp as clever fingers anchored the man beneath him upon his shoulders. Violet eyes darkened. Lust swallowed them, and when their bare cocks slid against one another, Artair moaned, rumbling his pleasure deep in his chest.

  Myrddin panted, “You’re awfully pleased with yourself.”

  HIs wizard looked so flushed. Red blotches which spread down his pale chest. Every inch of him begged to be tasted. Taking hold of the hard length of the black-haired man’s cock, Artair grinned.

  “You’re pleased with me too.”

  “I’ve never had sex before,” Myrddin grunted, rocking his hips up into the prince’s loose grip. “What’s your excuse?”

  Toying with the uncut tip, Artair licked his lips. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

  “You look like you want to eat me.”

  His eyes leapt to meet Myrddin’s gaze. If there were hunger in his stare, it came from a place lower than his stomach. He craved. His very body ached with the need to join them. To press into the tight heat. Consuming meant something new.

  Though Myrddin’s words might have seemed taunting, they came out breathless, and already at war with the need for more, Artair lost control. He ducked down, licking the head of Myrddin’s cock. Bittersweet drew him down. The plush softness begged to be kissed, and swallowing the head, he rested it upon his tongue, carefully keeping his teeth away. His mind raced. How had that stableboy done it? Artair wanted Myrddin writhing in ecstasy.

  Unsure what to do, he kissed and licked, taking the head into his mouth to suck before lavishing the rest of the cock with his attention. Nuzzling against the throbbing manhood, he kissed one delicate ball and then the other, toying with the other man’s scrotum as he sucked and kissed his way back up the shaft.

  “Artair,” the wizard cried. His fingers knotted in golden hair. “I’m going to come!”

  “Then come.”

  Swallowing around the head, the prince glanced up. His blue eyes met violet, and with a sobbing gasp, Myrddin came. His seed spurted, flooding Artair’s mouth in such a way that it spilled back out, but he did his best, swallowing what he could and licking up the rest. But it wasn’t enough. He chased the spillage into the hair at the base, lapping it clean before he lifted pale thighs and licked at the smooth skin behind the wizard’s balls.

  “You don’t have much hair,” the blond murmured as his eyes caught on the tight furl of the other man’s ass. “Myrddin...I want…” Shyly, he brushed his tongue over the other’s entrance.

  Gasping, the wizard tugged at the prince’s locks. “Wait! I can use a spell!”

  “But I want to taste you,” the prince huffed, blowing air just to watch the violet-eyed man’s hole twitch. “Please, Myrddin. Let me do it this way.”

  As long fingers loosened in his hair, the prince took that as the wizard’s go ahead when he failed to speak either way. Lurching forward, Artair kissed the tight furl, slicking it with his tongue. His hands held the other’s thighs up, keeping him firmly on display as he licked his way inside. He had never done this for any of his male partners - and never the back hole for his female ones, but the musky taste called to him. Hot and desperate in his blood, the monster inside him wanted this. Wanted to use his spit to smooth the way. Play with tongue and fingers until Myrddin’s body bent to his ministrations.

  When he speared the wizard with his tongue, Myrddin shivered, keening so beautifully. His voice pitched. Low moans and high desperate cries. Never had anything called more to the beast buried in the prince’s core.

  “At least - ah! Fuck, Artair, please,” Myrddin begged, and he tapped a cold glass bottle against the prince’s hand. “Oil will make it easier. P-please?”

  Though he wanted to refuse, Artair pressed back the magic in his blood. Myrddin deserved to find pleasure in their union too. He wanted Myrddin to want to come back to his bed. To seek release only from him. Oil would help. He could still slowly open him up with his mouth and fingers with the oil. Taking the bottle, the prince poured some upon his fingers, sniffing. It was less pleasant than Myrddin’s scent. Almost tasteless, the oil offered slickness and little else as he pushed a single finger into the wizard’s tight heat.

  “Oh! Artair, fuck - oh gods!”

  The black-haired man clenched about his finger. Pumping it in and out, Artair nipped at pale thighs, sucking red marks into sensitive skin as he crooked his finger to watch the wanton display. Gasping and arching, Myrddin rocked into every touch, offering such a tempting feast.

  “You’re taking me so well,” Artair purred. When Myrddin bit back his cries and covered his mouth with one hand, Artair clucked his tongue. “Don’t - don’t hold anything back. There’s just us here.”

  Adding a second finger, Artair watched Myrddin tremble. More. He needed to see more. Stretching the tight heat to take him was a practice in patience. Yearning to bury himself inside the other man battled against his desperate need to prove himself. Several nights lay ahead of them. Perhaps Myrddin believed this would be enough, but Artair loathed the idea of ever letting the other man go.

  Two turned too slowly and all too fast into three, and when Myrddin’s cock once more leaked onto his flat stomach, the prince could not resist. Slicking his cock, he removed his fingers and pressed the head of his cock inside.

  Immediately Myrddin’s hold tightened. “Oh gods! Artair, that’s...I can’t - oh fuck, you’re too big.”

  “You can take it,” Artair assured.

  He angled himself carefully, and as his cock brushed against the most sensitive and sensual places inside the wizard, Myrddin keened. His features flushed. Clawing at the prince’s back, the black-haired man panted, moaning low.

  “Artair,” Myrddin gasped, and had his name ever sounded so sweet? How could the prince resist kissing the taste of his name from the wizard’s tongue?

  When he settled fully inside, Artair shivered. “There. See? You’re taking me so beautifully.”

  Letting out a shuddering breath, Myrddin licked his lips, struggling to find words to respond, but he only whimpered. Pink and red painted him. Red of his kiss swollen lips - they called to be kissed again, and Artair refused to deny them.

  Balancing over the black-haired man, Artair forced himself to stay still. The tight heat of the wizard’s body squeezed around him, and digging his nails into the prince’s shoulder, Myrddin whined. Low and desperate, the sound echoed in Artair’s mind, digging its way into his soul. He needed to hear it again. Ached to memorize every expression, ev
ery gasp and moan he could wring from the pale form beneath him.

  “Should I move?” Artair whispered, raining kisses down on the other man’s smooth chest. Slow and steady, he pulled back, dragging his cock from the tight heat. In short, shallow thrusts, he moved in and out, grinding himself deeper and deeper. “You’re so good for me. So sweet.”

  Myrddin groaned, rocking back to meet each thrust. “Gods, shut up, you ass and fuck me!”

  And how could Artair resist? So easily, the beast came forth. As the violet-eyed man clung to him, digging his blunt nails into the prince’s shoulders, Artair rutted faster and faster. He slipped almost completely free before burying himself to the hilt again and again. By the time they were done, Myrddin’s body would remember his shape. Would clench around nothing, desperately trying to recall how full he had felt with Artair inside him.

  “Is this what you wanted?” the blond demanded, nipping at one of the wizard’s delicate earlobes.

  “Yes! Ah! Nhnn, more! Fuck, Artair, I need - oh gods, I need it deeper,” Myrddin wailed.

  He no longer seemed to care to muffle himself. His voice rang out into the night. The passion of their joining grew hotter and hotter as they clung to one another, moving together to chase the high of their mutual release. Back and forth, Artair drew out and rutted back in, desperately drinking in every moan. Every drag of Myrddin’s nails left a sting. With any luck, they would scar. Artair ached for proof. If he would have no more after tonight, he yearned to bare the marks upon his body until he died.

  “So good for me,” he purred in a lust-drunk rumble. Ducking his head, the prince nuzzled close, laying kisses upon the underside of the wizard’s jaw. “Feel so good. Taking me so well.”

  Myrddin shivered with each whisper of praise. Did he do the same when others complimented him? If another murmured adoration in the dead of night, would Myrddin clench around them as tightly? Jealousy welled up. It threatened to consume him, and all Artair could think of was how to shelter the man beneath. How to hide him away from the rest of the world.