|You Talk Big
Author: sweetsweetrevenge PM
"Watch your mouth, Gavin," Jane hissed, jumping out of the coach as I followed after him, hugging my stomach and still smirking. "You keep that up and someone's gonna make you eat your words." MxM ONESHOTRated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Words: 8,627 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 1 - Published: 04-26-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3017136
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
(A/N): Okay, first off, I'd just like to say that I am absolute shit at writing sex scenes. So, be warned friends. Also, this story was HEAVILY influenced by Cattailsand her story The Other Side of Hate. So if there are similarities, it's only because that's the story it was influenced by and where the idea came from. So there's no type of plagiarism going on here, promise, kiddies. If she wants me to take it down because of it, then I won't mind it all.
Offending her is not the goal here.
With that being said:
Fucking enjoy it, betch.
Upon my arrival in Harpeth, the great city of garish colors, thick, heady wines, innocent and deviant fun, I was enthralled. The city was amazing, especially to a warrior such as myself who has only seen the harsh desert climate of Frell for the last two years. This city was about as much of a godsend as the war actually being over.
Those two years were the longest I've come to know in life; filled with death and hurt, tears and blood, ransacked villages and homes. All in the pursuit of a better world, but painful either way.
I walked the cobbled streets with a companion of mine, Jane, taking in every sight on display. Shop windows, bakeries with fresh bread and cakes sitting out on windowsills, airing, the smiling faces of the children, and the tempting bodies of the women. I swallowed thickly, ignoring Jane's none too subtle smirk at my side as we stepped into a small restaurant at the end of a street. He'd been home before this trip, and home he had a wife and kids. Home he'd gotten a little…reacquainted with his wife over the week we'd resided there. But I'd been recuperating and with family the whole time, not a single second was spared for the finer things in life.
Jane led us to a table on the far side of the bar, away from the excitement and chatter so we'd be able to chat on our own.
"Two bowls of chowder, elf beer and a water." Jane said to the young, blonde haired waitress come to take our orders.
She smiled down at us in a way I hadn't seen in a while. It was a welcoming sort of smile, one that invited us to play if we wanted. Oh and how I wanted.
"Will that be all?" she asked, all coquettish, fluttering her eyelashes down at me.
I sent her a dashing smile of my own. "For now, sweetheart." I reply.
She simpers as she walks away, swinging her hips in a clear invitation. I'd find her later on if that was how we were playing. Jane laughed beside me, startling me out of my stupor
"Ready to take over and break hearts again?" he joked.
"I don't break hearts." I grin.
He snorts. "Right. And I'm sober this weekend."
We both had a raucous laugh over that one.
"Well," I say, swiping at tears clinging to my eyelashes. "Try not to get too smashed, we have that thing with the prince tomorrow. Wouldn't want you puking all over his drapes."
"Shut up." He smacked me over the back of my head. He watched the people walking around the restaurant, a pensive look on his face as he took in each and every one.
Jane is older than me by only a few years, but he's into his thirties and seems to think that at twenty-three I need to find someone. Not settle down, per se, but get involved with someone…reliable. Get into a relationship that I think is going somewhere. Get with someone I really enjoy spending time with. He thinks my life's running out on me, or something of the sort. I don't like to think too far ahead into the future, but during the war, when I was drafted to fight for the Eastern World, the future was something was constantly on my mind.
I wondered if I'd ever have kids, not to say I really wanted kids at all. I'd seen how my sister handles them, how Farla handles them, and they're a mess all around. But then there were those sweet moments when they brought you mud pies or sat in your lap, head tilted into the crook of your neck, little stomachs full of food and sleep on the horizon that they didn't seem all that bad. Or a waste of time. But then I thought about what would happen if I got drafted into another war; would my wife and children be alright while I was away? That was what got me. I couldn't waste time in battle thinking about home and worrying over what was happening there. I was supposed to be fighting here, now, killing the enemy, not wandering if the wife and kids got to bed alright on their own.
It's a whole other world that didn't seem to be right for me at the present time. Now, though, after all is said and done, I'm thinking…Jane might be right for once. What else was I going to do for the rest of my life? Drift from city to city, drinking and sleeping with women all my life? There wasn't any reward in that for so long.
"If you go home with that waitress tonight," Jane says out of the blue after the blonde waitress has returned, our chowder steaming in front of us. "Promise me that you'll get serious about someone soon."
I glance down at the chowder, over at the waitress flirting with the men at the other table, then back down to the chowder. A small frown settled on my lips. "I don't think I'll be going home with her at all."
Waking up at the crack of dawn to meet some prince was more than anyone could ask of two soldiers who'd been out all night.
After the restaurant—I had to decline the offer from Cindy, her name apparently. She'd been a bit jaded, it seemed, acting stand-offish after I'd shot her down, but then I was glad. I'd dodged a bullet it seemed with that one. Sometimes the women I slept with were crazier than the night of getting off was worth. Half the time I find myself unable to perform…which is getting me a bit testy—Jane and I had decided to stay out a bit longer, drinking till the morning. We ended up crashing into bed at our inn near two in the morning only having to get back up, get freshly shaven, and ready to present ourselves at the feet of the prince at six-thirty.
It was madness trying to get into the showers that morning.
Jane was half asleep, half sober. He was tripping over his large feet and nearly killed me in his attempt to be playful while I was shaving the beard that had somehow grown attached to my face in the night. Then we were dressed and heading off in a coach to the castle.
The castle was up winding, paved roads, through thick, lustrous forests, and past small farms and cottages. By the time we got there it was nearing noon and Jane was looking a bit antsy for no reason at all. He was nervous about meeting the prince. After stabbing men in the heart, having their blood spatter over your face and hands, you'd think we were immune to feeling nervous at all anymore. That was what the war taught you; hesitance was the key to death.
I was over petty first time jitters. When I'd received the news that we were invited to see the prince I was confused. Were all the men invited too? Why were we getting special treatment? It seemed that my father had somehow become friends with the king during my stay in the deserts, having helped the king out of a rough patch down in the slums—what my father and the king of Harpeth were doing wandering the slums beats the hell out of me. Actually, what my father was doing in Harpeth is really the kicker. What business did he have here?
Anyway, my father and the kind became good old friends and whatnot and decided it'd be a grand ol' time for everyone if the sons got together and had a lunch. Talked about their lives with each other. They had the insane idea that Prince Silas and I were going to be the best of friends.
The invitation to visit the castle and Silas was originally just for me, but I decided I was a little iffy about meeting the prince of Harpeth on my own and asked if I was allowed a plus one. Jane was that plus one.
He was jittery beside me now, fingers tapping out little beats against the light colored trousers he wore. I let out a laugh at the man's obvious unease.
"What?" he asked sharply, glaring with dark eyes. His brown hair was looking a bit long these days.
I shrug, smirk settled comfortably on my lips. I've never seen anyone wear a smirk better than I can.
"Oh, nothing, Jane. Go about your nervous tapping. Sorry to bother you."
This jibe earned me a punch in the gut I'd probably be feeling for a while later.
"Watch your mouth, Gavin," Jane hissed, jumping out of the coach as I followed after him, hugging my stomach and still smirking. "You keep that up and someone's gonna make you eat your words."
I stuck my tongue out at him, still feeling jubilant for no known reason. "Oh, yeah? I'd like to see them try."
The castle was huge and ornate. Everything was gold and vivid, vibrant colors. Women wandered the corridors wearing hardly anything but silken robes. A few caught my eye and smiled graciously before continuing on with whatever women dressed so scantily do with their time.
Two guards led us to a large dining room where a long, dark wooded table sat in the very center. It was decked in silver plates, flowers spilling out and over the table in a carefully controlled mess. It was brilliant the way it all came together. And at the very epicenter of it all was Prince Silas.
He sat at the head of the table, long, silken red hair the color of fresh bloomed roses spilling over his shoulders, the top half pulled back into a hold rope that kept it at bay. Long, golden fingers were folded neatly atop the table, the color of his bronze skin startling against the white table cloth. He stood when we entered, dressed almost exactly like the women roaming the halls, except his rob was a dark, royal purple, green, gold, and bright pink designs swirling up from the bottom to the top, tied closed with a thin knot that looked like it would fall open at any second.
I swallowed thickly.
"Have a seat," came his smooth voice, settling us into a calm. "Let's eat. Talk."
He smiled warmly at us. Jane took the bait and fell into a chair easily, all nervous gone from his shoulders and posture, seemingly replaced inside my now rigid body. The prince glanced at me with eyes the color of molten honey, a thin smile on his lips as he regarded me. Then, as if there weren't five guards and Jane in the room besides us, he let his eyes drop to my scuffed, knee-high boots, to my dark trousers that I'd shoved into the top of the boots, to my shirt left open two buttons at the top because of the weather and back to my face.
"Have a seat." He repeated, though it seemed much more like he was telling me instead of letting me have the choice like before.
Something about being told didn't sit right with me. But I sat anyway, not wanting to embarrass my father in front of the king's son.
"This castle is huge." Jane commented like the idiot he was sometimes.
Prince Silas smiled. "Thank you. I helped work on it myself when I was younger."
"You?" I snorted before I could stop myself. I didn't heed Jane's sharp glance. "You're telling me that you helped build this." I threw my arms out in a wide gesture, indicating the castle.
"Yes," he murmured, picking a plump, green grape from a bunch and pushing it into his mouth in one slow, languid movement.
I stared in disgust at the man before me, if you could even call him that. He was supposed be the ruling king over Harpeth and a few city-states outside of it and the Altair Oceans when his father passed on. Was that supposed to be one big, grand joke? He was thin, delicate, and feminine. He looked more like he belonged sitting on a rock out in the ocean, singing some sirens song, and letting his long hair blow about in the wind, not ruling over people. How could my father think I'd ever want to be friends with someone like this?
I can't be friends with someone I don't even respect.
My stony silence throughout the rest of lunch must've come off as some sort of insult to Silas, because he would shoot me sharp glances whenever the chance and let out little digs at me like I was too stupid to understand the vague, roundabout way that he insults me.
When it came time to leave I was more than happy to stand and say my goodbyes. Too bad Silas caught me on our way out the grand, double doors.
"Gavin," he murmured close to my ear. I could feel his breath warm and hot against my skin, tickling the black hair that hung to my ears. "We're supposed to be getting along."
I stepped back from him to put some head-clearing space between us. I couldn't think right if he was going to be breathing down my neck.
I swiped at my ear to rid it of the warmth that remained. "I thought we got along just fine."
"Did you?" his eyes were locked directly onto mine and I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Why was he so damned confrontational? "You hardly said a word to me at all. Did I upset you?"
"Not at all, Your Highness." I grit between my clenched teeth. I gave him a vicious smile.
He narrowed his eyes. "You know, I could take this attitude of yours as a personal insult. I could have you imprisoned for your insolence."
"Yeah, but I don't think you will." I smirk, crossing my arms.
He raises his eyebrows, mouth set in a frown. "And why is that?"
"You don't have the guts." I answer simply. I take a step forward, crowding him against the wall until my face is in his, noses near touching. "You're not man enough."
I watched as the Prince set his jaw rigid, eyes tense and angry, hands balled into fists. The exact look of a woman offended.
I scoffed and backed up, heading towards the door lazily when his voice rang out through the dining room.
"Guards, arrest that man."
His voice had been clear and cutting, smug and soft all at once. I whirled around, green eyes wide as I stared at him in shock. He merely shrugged as I was grasped under the arms by two separate, burly guards that dragged me away from the dining room and away from a confused and slightly hysterical Jane.
It was hell staying in the dungeon of Silas's castle.
The guards were rude on order from Silas, the bastard, and it was above a hundred degrees down here. I got little solace from the bucket of lukewarm water they'd brought me to bathe in for the entire week. I was pissing in a bucket and eating bread and cheese for all of my meals. It was hell.
I got a note from Jane, though, because I wasn't allowed visitors. The only one who could visit me was Silas and he hadn't come down here at all.
Listen up, Idiot, the note so fondly began.
I'm gonna try my hardest getting you out, but I swear to God, if you do anything to upset Prince Silas again I will personally rip your tongue out and feed it to those cannibals that live in the Shinter Forests. Mark my words, you insufferable jackass. And after you get out of this, there's a girl named Marie Farlowe that would love to have a bit of your attention. She's a good girl, Gavin. And she's ready to settle down. It's not a choice anymore.
I crumpled the note up after having read it for the millionth time when the sound of swords slapping against armored thighs rang throughout the dungeons. There was light spilling from a torch as a guard approached—his name was Sterling, he was of the nicer guards I'd gotten to chatting with.
"Hey, Sterling," I greeted, grinning.
Sterling let a warm smile slip across his face before he remembered he was supposed to be a stony-faced guard dealing with a criminal. I snickered to myself. Sterling's hardly got a mean bone in his body, he's just built like a damned tree, and frightening. But if you get to talking to with him you'd figure it out for yourself in a matter of seconds he can't even kill a regular old garden snake.
"Inmate." He said in a hard voice. Guards are supposed to disassociate themselves from criminals and those held captive. I would know. It still didn't stop my grin from widening.
"Oh, Sterling. You're not trying to be the Big Bad Guard today, are you?" I wrinkle up my nose. "It doesn't suit you, dearest."
"Mock me all you want," he sniffs, opening the cage I'd been confined to for a week. "But I'm the free man here."
"That's what you think." I grunt when he grabs me up by the arm none too gently and leans me up against the wall.
It was weird. A week after being here, only bread and cheese to eat, getting thrown around by handsy guards, and being made to clean the cells had really worn me out. But I'd been through things much worse than this, with less food, for longer periods of time. I was equipped to deal with these situations. But for some odd reason, my body wasn't handling it very well. I about collapsed when Sterling righted me and started walking.
My arms felt heavy behind my back, chained together with thick, metal cuffs that were biting into the flesh of my wrists. "Gods," I hissed, lurching forward.
Sterling laughed. "What's wrong, warrior?"
"Nothing," I grit out. This only made him laugh harder. "Where are we going anyway?" I asked as I was led through the halls of the castle, into unknown territory.
We passed through a dark door at the end of a long, narrow hallway and I had a sick, sinking feeling that they were going to be moving me to a more confined, controlled space. My stomach clenched and growled. I was hungry still. I'd been hungry all week.
"The Prince has requested your presence in his bedchambers." He answered stiffly, suddenly all professional again.
My eyes widened as we stopped outside of another door. "What—" but I was cut off by the door opening.
Prince Silas stood in another garish robe, this one a navy blue, still made of silk, but much simpler than the first one he'd wore. This robe was left open, showing off his bronze, flat stomach and chest, and he wore a thin pair of white, linen shorts that stopped at mid-thigh and were tied at the waist with a thick, brown cord. He was barefoot.
"Sterling," he smiled at the guard.
Sterling looked weak-kneed. "Your Highness." He responded, reverence in his voice.
"Bring him into the bathroom and then you may take your leave." Silas practically glided back into his room.
Sterling jerked me into action, jostling my arm that was beginning to prickle from lack of blood flow. I sent him a dark look but said nothing. I could feel the weight of Jane's letter in my pocket. Sterling left me slumped against the wall, cuffs digging into my skin painfully now but I felt so sedated there wasn't anything I would've done. Sterling left moments later.
Silas stood across the large room from, kneeling beside a large, porcelain tub, golden feet curling at the bottom. He was running his long fingers over the water's surface.
"Are you about to take a bath," I asked spitefully, eyeing the water a bit enviously a little disgusted. "In front of me?"
Silas let out a low chuckle, getting to his feet, and approaching me to kneel before me. He reached a hand up to pull it through my dark locks, gazing into my eyes.
"No," he murmurs into my face, breath smelling of bananas and some other fruit. He must've just eaten lunch. My stomach growled at the thought. His smirked. "You are."
I eyed him warily. "I'd need to be free of restraint to do that."
He grabbed me up under the arms and pulled me into a semi-erect position, leaning my weight against his thin body. He was stronger than he looked if he could keep me up. I'm not exactly small.
"You smell like a pig." He informed me.
I scowled against his neck where my head had lolled. "It's your fault, Your Highness." I spat the last bit disdainfully. "If you hadn't locked me up, I'd be at the inn, with Jane, taking a bath the way I should."
"You two share baths?" he asked quietly. "You're very close."
"What?" I snapped. "We don't share baths, you pervert. We take them separately, something I'd like to do right now." I lifted my head and gestured towards the door. "So if you don't mind…" I trailed off suggestively.
His cold hand snaked into my shirt, splayed out across my abdomen. I hissed at the feeling and tried to get him off of me, but of course that went absolutely nowhere.
Silas pulled his hand out only to drop it at the top and rip it down the front, buttons popping off and bouncing onto the cold, tiled floor.
"What are you doing?" I growled.
"You have to get undressed."
"I can do it myself."
His hands lingered around the band of my pants before they slipped around my waist and down towards my ass. He squeezed, a cheek in each hand, nails digging through the cloth of my trousers.
"Get your hands off of me."
This was about the last straw. I was ready to strangle him, wring his blood out of his body over the tub. I wanted to murder him. Slowly and torturously.
Silas purred against my chest. "Don't be upset, Gavin. I'm only trying to help."
"Then let me go. Let me go home."
He made a small noise in the back of his throat. "I can't do that. You were rude, Gavin. What kind of king-to-be would I be if I let you get away with such disrespect?"
Silas tore the remains of my shirt off of my body in one swipe, attacking my pants next. The button was popped and soon they were pooling at the top of my boots.
"Step out of your boots," he ordered.
With my jaw tight, I slipped them off of my feet, stepping out of my trousers as I went. Silas made an appreciative noise. I was completely naked before him. It was so much more different than being naked with the men in my camp when we would rush to take a shower and get dressed. It was different because I knew they weren't looking, they weren't interested in getting in a peek of some other man's cock. It was the complete opposite with Silas. He was getting a look in and he was getting it in slow.
Was he some sort of sadist? Did he enjoy others discomfort? He was getting off on it, I could tell from the way his honey eyes seemed to lose all color as they were consumed by dark pupils, dilated to the size of one of his tea saucers.
He moved me towards the bath. I stepped in, standing in the middle while Silas grabbed at a small, red bottle sitting on a chair at the end of the tub. A pink tinged liquid poured from the bottle as he poured it onto a rag. The scent filled my nostrils as soon as he'd popped the cork on the bottle; it smelled of flowers.
I scoffed. "No wonder you smell like a woman."
Silas didn't respond to my dig, he merely dunked the rag into the water and set about wiping me down. He was careful and attentive, wiping every inch of my body, adding more and more of the flowery perfume to the rag when it seemed to run out. At one point he ran the rag between my ass cheeks, emitting a gasp from me but nothing more as I refused to rise to his bait. What was I even dealing with here? What was Silas?
A sick, perverted bastard is what.
Silas brought me into his bedroom after I'd been thoroughly (thoroughly as in his hands dropped and touched places no man should be touching on another man's body) dried with a fluffy, white towel. He pulled a spare robe from his wardrobe and held it out so I could view its entirety.
It wasn't a dark color like all of Silas's that I'd seen so far; it was a bright, vivid pink color. The color sent chills down my spine and settled something in the pit of my stomach that felt like my bread and cheese was going to end up spilling out of my mouth at any moment. He was smirking again and I was beginning to think he had about as much of a knack for it as I do. But that would be admitting to something I wasn't going to admit to. I'd be standing my ground in this whole nightmare until it ended and I was released.
"I will not put that thing on." I told him outright.
My knees were weak beneath me now and all I wanted was to lie down somewhere. And eat. Eating was one of my top priorities.
Silas shrugged. "You may remain bare, then," he shot me a dark look as he sauntered over to me, pushing me backwards until I fell onto the bed. "It won't really matter to me in a few moments."
I scuttled up to the top of the bed, trying to get as far away from him as physically possible in the small space. He leered at me, coming forth to crawl onto the bed, settling himself between my legs.
"What are you running from?" he whispered into my ear. "I'm not going to hurt you, Gavin."
"How do I know that?" I kept the quiver from my voice. As masculine and strong as I am, I'm at a disadvantage right now and it scares me. This isn't fair.
Silas draws a finger down my chest, stopping to circle around my navel. "You know, you'd look amazing in pink."
I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes. His face, the look in his eyes, his hand trailing lower and lower…it was all ruining me. It was ruining me in the worst possible way.
"Just darling," he murmured into the crook of my neck.
There was the sound of a cork popping out of a bottle that caught my attention. I popped an eye open to gaze at Silas in horror when I saw what he was doing.
A jar of what looked to be…olive oil?
When I realized what was going to happen as he stroked himself with the glistening oil, my stomach seized and I panicked. My heart felt like it would pop out of my chest.
"Y—" I stopped, swallowing thickly as I attempted regaining myself. "You can't do that!"
He set himself against my entrance, pushing the smallest bit. I felt the pressure of it, my face and neck heating up in embarrassment.
"Do what?" he purred.
My train of thought was garbled as I tried my hand at coherent words. "That! That!" I shouted. "That's not what olive oil is used for!"
He pushed in all of the way, letting a drawn out groan as he set his hands down on my chest to balance himself. His head was thrown back, exposing the bronzed skin of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. My legs were quivering and I clamped my thighs around his waist to hold him still. It hurt; it was uncomfortable, and weird. But there was something else, something painfully erotic about the way I could feel him inside of me.
Despite clutching him in place, he began to move, slowly in and out until my breath was hitching in my throat, my heart was beating like a woodpecker pecking at a tree, my lower stomach warm and pooling in my groin that had suddenly become painfully erect.
Silas leaned down to breathe hotly in my face. "Do you like it?"
I was breathing erratically. "No—" my response was cut short when he shoved in harder.
Another thrust. He was killing me here. I was sweating and panting and wanting more and hating myself because of it. What was this?
"You love it," he hissed and then he was pounding continuously, over and over, until I couldn't even blink right anymore.
When I spilled between us I felt embarrassed, humiliated, like a damn woman. Silas sped up after I came, causing me to groan loudly as I was hypersensitive to any and all feeling, and then he was spilling inside of me. It was warm and I could feel it sliding out of me onto the sheets after he'd pulled out.
"I hate you." I growled eyelids heavy, sleep on the horizon.
Silas dropped down beside me and tangled a hand in my hair, jerking my face to his, crushing our lips together. I bit and pulled as much as I could, making the kiss as violent as possible. This wasn't going to be some cutesy, after-sex cuddle/kiss session. We weren't girls and I wanted him dead.
"Go to sleep." He whispered when he released me.
I heard him get up and out of the bed before I was drowned in unconsciousness.
Silas had drugged me. In the water I was given during my stay in the dungeon. It explained the way I'd been so sedated during our time together, otherwise I would have never let him take me like that. It was undignified and ridiculous. What was he even doing thinking about another man that way? What was he thinking doing that to me?
I didn't go back to the dungeons the way I thought I'd be. Silas kept me in his room, cuffed to various furniture. He fed me, gave me water, and bathed me. There was absolutely no modesty between us as he touched my body. He never took me again, though, which was the only up part of the entire situation. The food was better than what I'd been given in the dungeons, too. Meats, fruits, potatoes and other vegetables. All freshly cooked and brought to his chambers as soon as they were ready to be eaten.
I never said a word to him, but he spoke to me. He talked all the time, about his mother and how he envied how beautiful she was, about his father and all of his power, about when he learned he liked men more than women. When he said that I raised an eyebrow and dryly asked about all of the half-naked women walking around the castle.
His answer to that was a smile and a quiet, "They're beautiful creatures."
That was the only time I'd spoken to him.
My head was swimming when I was still in Silas's castle two weeks later, the incident still fresh on my mind.
What the hell was I still doing here? I'd insulted him, I'd spent a week in the dungeons, wasn't that payment enough? And then he'd gone and had sex with me. Wasn't that retribution enough? He'd stripped me of my masculinity, forcing me into brightly colored robes, brushing my hair out until it was silky smooth and shining, feeding me as if I weren't capable.
I was going to explode sooner or later.
Not only that, but the thoughts. Gods, they were sickening. I couldn't get the image of him out of my mind. The way he looked, smelled, breathing, moved. It was so incredibly overwhelming that sometimes I find myself erect beneath the vibrant robes he dresses me in. I can feel of the ghost of him inside of me. It's slowly driving me insane.
And when he sits close enough to touch I find myself wanting to touch him. To be near. To be as close as we'd been before.
I think he can tell I'm crumbling.
I was lounging on Silas's bed, much like I do all the time now, it seems, when Silas entered the room in a flurry of dark green robes and fluttering, bright red hair. A thick, cream colored envelope was dropped onto my lap as Silas paced the space in front of the bed.
I sat up slowly, grabbing the envelope because currently only my feet were bound to the bedpost and I found this slightly better than my hands being cuffed behind me. I have more freedom when it's just my feet. The envelope was addressed to me, clearly with the way my name was written in Jane's hurried scrawl.
Gavin, it began.
I've tried and tried and finally I've come through for you, my friend. I contacted your father a week ago and have now just heard back from him. He's gotten in touch with the King and rightfully so. You are to be released this coming weekend. A free man again, eh? Marie is awaiting you with bated breath…
I wrote that because Marie was standing over my shoulder. What I really meant to say was that I'm giving you a night of fun when you're out walking amongst the people again. Don't screw it up by impregnating anyone, though a baby would probably slow you down some.
Don't worry, I'm only kidding.
I'll see you soon.
This was the best news I'd had in a while. I was free! I glanced up excitedly at Silas, whom was still strutting the length of the room like an idiot.
"Well," I smirked. "It's been fun."
"Don't be so smug, Gavin." He hissed. "Things could turn in my favor at any point."
I leaned back against the fluffed pillows, hands clasped behind my head, smirk still very much evident. Self-satisfied. I haven't shown that emotion in a while.
"But for now, I think I'll enjoy the tables as is."
He turns to me, honeyed eyes burning. "I could ruin you. All I'd have to do is mention a few choice words, whisper them into the ears of all the right people. You won't have work, no respectable woman would ever lay a hand on you. You'd be no better than a common street rat."
"Do it." I shrug. "Ruin me, I don't give a damn. I'm just letting you know here and now that I'll get my revenge before this whole thing is over."
The prince pauses. He waits, and I watch as the thoughts churn in his mind. Slowly he says, "What do you plan on doing? Killing me?"
I wave him off with a snort. "Nothing that dramatic, Silas. Please."
"Then what?" he demands, coming to crawl onto the bed on all fours, staring at me in earnest.
I lean forward, just enough that I know he'll be able to hear me when I whisper, "Wait and see."
"Getting a bit attached?" I asked Silas, roaming the garden.
It was exactly three days in counting until I was to be released from this castle under the kings' orders. Long live the king, I say. And for some odd reason, Silas was allowing me free access to the castle. Not just the inside, but the outside too. I wasn't sure what had gotten into him but I wasn't going to knock it. I was damn tired of being restrained every waking moment. I felt no better than the hounds they kept in the barn chasing after sheep.
Silas, along with the extra freedom, hadn't given me a moment to myself. He follows me wherever I go. He doesn't talk very much and when he does it's normally quick, biting remarks about my idiocy or my smugness or just bad character traits that I happen to have. He's been sour since the note from Jane and I've been itching to find out why. Thus, my question. There was no need playing and beating around the bush. Grown men should talk these things out and be done with them.
There was a pregnant pause before Silas spoke for the first time today.
"Don't insult me."
I smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it. That's what got me into this mess in the first place, isn't it?"
Silas shrugged, picking up a banana. I watched him peel the yellow skin back slowly and precise, taking his sweet time when he lifted it to his mouth. A mouth, I'd been noticing lately, was sensuously plumped, red and soft. He watched me watch him take the banana into his mouth, then slowly pull it out, a line of saliva connecting his mouth to the tip. I shuddered and turned away.
"Can't you ever eat normally?" I distracted myself with one of the swords hanging near the shed where the guards keep them to be polished. "There's no need to play with your food."
"Do you miss it?" he asked softly, completely disregarding my own inquisition.
I turned to him, sword a comfortable, familiar weight in my hand. "Miss what?"
"Of course not." I furrow my brows, pointing the sword out at an angle sharply. I imagined a foe standing there, pierced through the stomach with the blade. "What do you take me for, a deviant?"
He bites into his banana, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "Not at all. I wasn't trying to insinuate anything."
"Then don't talk because everything you say is up to interpretation." I scowled, thrusting the sword out again and again until my arm grew tired of the exercise and I moved on to lunging along with it. Twisting my body in practiced ways that I'd forgotten. It was exhilarating.
Silas narrowed his eyes, sitting up in his chair instead lounging languidly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Another thrust, step my foot out, twist.
"It means I can't ever get a straight answer from you. You dodge everything."
Lean and lunge.
"That's ridiculous. I've told you all about my life. I wanted you to know."
Two steps back, twist, thrust.
"And that's another thing; what is with you and telling me your life's story? What makes you think I want to know anything about you? I despise you, Silas."
Silas stood up, hands balled into fists at his sides. I stopped with my lung, stuck the sword into the ground and regarded him with a level stare.
"You do not despise me. Don't lie." He hissed.
I gave him a grin. "Lie? I would never. I have never. I don't lie, Silas, because there is nothing to hide."
I moved back towards the shed, hanging up the sword when he slams me into the stone wall of the side of the castle, breathing hotly into my ear. His voice tinged in anger, and edge to it I've not heard before and some sort of desperation.
"Why are you so hard to get to, Gavin, hm?" he whispers harshly, hands bruising my wrists above my head. My face is pressed into the cold stone. "Why do you deny that you think about me, that you want me? You want me all to yourself and you can't admit it."
That is it. I won't stand being pushed around by some flappy, robe wearing, feminine prince that thinks he can do whatever the hell he likes to me and get away with it. Why do I care if he's a prince? I don't and now I'm about to show him. I jerk, startling him enough to get in and switch the positions. It's him, now, with his face pressed into the wall, hands above his head, and me leering at his neck.
"We're going to go back to your chambers," I say, slipping a dagger that I'd stolen from his personal things while he'd been out doing whatever it was he was doing earlier. "And you're not going to say a word to any of the guards, do you understand?"
He nods as best he can and we're off. Moving through the gardens, past the kitchen, through the dining room, into the second floor. Down the narrow hallway and finally into his bedroom, where I latch the lock on the door and shove him roughly onto the bed. He's gazing at me from under his thick red hair that's pooled over his shoulders, spilling onto the sheets and over his hands. His back is arched in, his ass out, legs spread. He's got a hazy sort of look in his eyes.
"What are you gonna do?" he murmurs lowly. The pitch resonates in my groin.
I stalk over to him, climb onto the bed and grabbing a fistful of that silken hair between my fingers, bringing his face to mine.
"None of your goddamn business." I whisper harshly into his neck, then take the flesh between my teeth, sucking and rolling it until it's purple and red and bruised.
Silas makes a keening sound in the back of his throat, hand clenching the sheets as he lets me defile his neck without a fight. I let go, sending him falling onto the bed in a shivering heap. He turns over onto his back, spreading his legs wide, eyes inviting me closer. I take to him, shoving his robes away roughly, pulling at the string of the cord keeping his shorts up, pulling them down to his feet until he's kicked them off onto the floor somewhere. Without hesitation I undo my own trousers, cock springing forth fully erect.
Silas reaches for his own, stroking himself in slow, strained strokes, watching me. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. I knock his hand away abruptly, hooking my hands under his knees to pull him closer until his ass is rubbing against my cock. His breath hitches when he feels me pushing in and I can't say I'm much better.
There's no olive oil this time because I want him to know, to feel my anger. To feel how pissed I am at him, at what he did to me that night, at the feelings that run through me every time he's near, at the doubt, and at how much I want him right now. I want him so badly I'm not even sure this revenge anymore. It…it feels too satisfying, too right to be revenge. I've had revenge before and the outcome of it, the euphoria has never lasted this long.
I'm fully in, every inch of me inside of him. I lean forward to get a better angle, the dagger still clutched in my hand. Silas's hands come up to grip my biceps as he holds on. His eyes are screwed shut, his breathing labored, his long legs hooked around my waist, feet crossed at the ankles. God, he wants this as much as I do.
Soon I'm thrusting into him, dripping sweat onto his skin, watching as it mixes and mingles with his own. Silas is moaning, groaning loudly every time I slam into him. He meets my every thrust like some whore but so much better. It's tight heat all around me and I don't think I've ever felt anything better. It's too good, Silas is too much, it's all…too much…
"Ah!" I grit out from between clenched teeth.
I release inside of him and soon after Silas is letting his release out, spurting onto my chest and his. We're breathing heavily for a moment, not a word exchanged between us when finally, I look into his eyes. They're half-lidded, burning and molten honey blending, pupils wide and blown out. His skin is flushed; his hair is bright and spread out around us like a fan.
Sated is what he is. He's got the look of a satisfied lion after a good meal.
He trails his hand down my arm and I give in, collapsing on top of him. He buries his face into my neck, licking at the junction between neck and shoulder before groaning in satisfaction.
"Mmm," the sound rumbles in his chest beneath me.
I hide a smirk into the mattress. "I can't stand you."
He runs his fingers down my spine, resting his palm flat on the small of my back. "What did I say about lying?"
"I just willingly had sex with another man." There's a beat. "I just willingly had sex with you."
Silas laughs. "And it was amazing."
Damn me. "Yes, it was."
"You don't hate me so much anymore, do you?"
I sigh. "Not really. No."
"So you're not leaving, then?" he runs a hand through my hair, sounding hopeful.
I lift myself back up, dropping the dagger to the floor beside the bed and pull out of him. He moans, throwing his head back at the feeling, while I merely clench my teeth. I fall beside him, glancing idly down at the semen on my chest and stomach. His semen. It doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would.
"No," I say. "I'm still leaving."
Silas sits up so fast you'd think an alarm went off somewhere. He's glaring at me with the full force of his eyes, making me wince back a bit.
"What are you going to do?" he sneers. "Go back to those women—if they even deserve to be called women? Or back to Jane and drool over him."
I furrow my brows. "Calm down. And I do not drool over Jane. I don't like men." He shoots me a dirty look and I sigh. "You're a special case. It's not that I don't want to be with you but Jane expects me to get out there, get a wife, have children and I can't say I disagree with him. I want a family, Silas."
"You could have one here." He responds, crawling atop my waist to straddle me. He peers down into my face earnestly, forehead wrinkled with worry.
"How?" I ask, genuinely curious because I really don't see it.
He seems delighted I've hooked on to the idea. "We could adopt one of the orphans, or a newborn. There's always some unfit mother out there who doesn't want what others do."
The idea strikes me as brilliant. I…I never even considered adoption as a factor before. I always figured find a wife, get her pregnant, have the kids. But that was before I'd met Silas, and before these emotions started playing out. Not once in my life had I ever thought I'd be so physically attracted to a guy. It's never happened before and I'm sure it won't happen for anyone else besides Silas. I look up at the red-haired man and wonder idly how he did it. How he made me fall in love with him.
He's a sneaky, sick, perverted bastard is how.
I'm standing in the foyer, looking into a mirror, awaiting Jane's arrival while Silas glares at me from the bottom step he's taken to lounging on, arms crossed angrily across his chest.
"I don't see why you have to go out." He says for the millionth time.
I smile over at him. "Because I haven't seen Jane in about a month. We're going to the bar to have fun. It's not a big deal. He's going home soon, you know."
He shoots me a sharp glance at the mention of 'fun'. "I swear on the gods above, Gavin," he says slowly, standing to glide towards me. "If by fun you mean to go home with some tart, I will find you and end your days as a free man. The dungeons of this castle will be your new home until the day you choke on your own vomit and die."
"You're very jealous." I smirk.
He growls in my face. "I'm very possessive of things that are mine."
"Hey, now," I say mildly, scowl on my face. "I'm not a thing and I'm not yours."
Silas grabs me roughly, pushing me against the wall, tongue in my mouth, hand down my pants, stroking me. I groan into his mouth when he pulls away enough to leave a mark on my neck, plain as day for everyone to see and too far up to hide with my collar or hair.
"You," he says into my face. "Are mine."
"Uh huh," I breathe, grinding against his hand.
"And I am yours," he says sweetly, taking his hand from my trouser. He backs away at the same time a guard comes into the room to announce Jane's arrival. "Take care," he glances at my erection, evident smirk on his face. "And have fun."
Jane was right. I talk too big and now I'm paying for it.