Fiction~~Ice Wind's Bride~~Ch. 2
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Chapter 2 - Princess
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Bey watched Silva’s ass as it walked ahead of him. The tip of a long silver braid flirted with the man’s buns in a fascinating pattern. Sway right, sway left, and one small bob, right in the middle of his bottom as though daring someone to try and touch him there. What did Silva do when he walked to make it move like that? It had been the same ever since Bey had known him, and it never ceased to fascinate him. He’d even played with the idea of trying to get up close and personal with him, just because of that damn come-hither braid. Until he’d gotten to know him. Good friends were a hell of a lot harder to find than a good roll in the hay.
Still, it was kinda pathetic that he’d had a chance to finally take that creamy ass and ended up on the bottom. Although he imagined he’d gotten some good groping in.
Hmmm, had to check on that. Was he dead yet? No? Then he’d groped that luscious ass, no question. Damn. He’d bottomed…that was gonna take a while to come to terms with.
Silva had been inside his ass. They’d gotten naked and sweaty and he’d taken a pounding. He’d been fucked by the city’s pretty boy.
Bey snorted. Okay, he was over it.
That really HAD taken a few seconds longer than normal.
He jogged to catch up as Silva waited for him by the melon vendor.
“Are you all right?” Silva’s voice was quiet as he began walking again. He barely looked at Bey. The man was such a girl sometimes. He might be funny as hell when Bey was beginning to get pissed off, but when Silva thought something was seriously wrong, he always pulled his quiet, worried act. Reminded Bey of an old girlfriend of his, except not as annoying.
Maybe it was because, between the two of them, Silva had the better ass.
“Bey? Are you listening?”
“I’m hanging on your every word, Princess.”
Silva’s eyes narrowed. “Swineherd.”
“Ice Queen.” Bey smiled and waited.
“And proud of it.” Silva shook his head as Bey began to whistle. It tickled him that Silva couldn’t seem to stop himself from that one insult, every time. As though Bey gave a damn about what people thought, unless he was trying to get into their pants or under their skirt. It was his time, his dick, his business.
And his pleasure to keep an eye on his partner’s ass. He dropped back, pretending to look at a small fruit stand, and watched Silva walk ahead. Time to watch the braid some more. The thing was such a cock tease. If it could just sway back and forth, it wouldn’t be a problem, but that little tap against Silva’s ass always had him aroused. He swore he’d had better fucks since he’d met Silva than any time before the man had popped up in town. Perpetual arousal made for fantastic sex. He should thank him for it someday.
He whistled for a while more, enjoying the view as they finally drew up to the gate. The current shift, Gora and Ton, were laughing like the dumb asses they were, no surprise there. Always talking some poor idiot into drunken idiocy or spreading the latest gossip. Or giving him shit.
“Woooo, it’s the love birds! Congratulations, Silva, Bey’s finally made a man out of you!”
“Are you sure you can still walk, Silva? Not feeling too sore today, are you?”
Bey didn’t bother to get over his surprise. He simply walked up and bitch slapped the both of them while Silva stiffened up like a quarterstaff. Bey knew the man’s cheeks would be bright red; he really was the most uptight prude about shit like this. Poor guy. Two years, and Bey still couldn’t get him to lighten up. Although if these two idiots knew about his little playtime under the sheets, then it was a given that everyone knew about it. Maybe that would be enough to finally have Silva calm his ass down. There was only so long one could be perpetually embarrassed before realizing that it was a complete waste of time and energy. This could be good for Silva.
Come to think of it, this could be good for Bey, too. How many of these assholes had been trying to get into Silva’s pants since he’d come to town? And Bey was the one who’d done it. Well, had it done to him, but hell, first time for everything, right? How many women and men were going to be coming up to him for a ‘what was it like’ talk now? Since he couldn’t remember a damn thing, it wasn’t like he’d be betraying any confidences to make up something. Describing what it had been like to get a piece of Silva’s ass was a good way to get a little more ass of his own, if he added enough salacious details to get the listeners properly hot and horny.
Life for Little Bey was gonna be damn good for a while.
Preparing to gloat about it all, he made the mistake of looking to Silva again. The man’s pale skin was a miserable pink, his hands still and frozen by his sides. His entire body trembled with tension, if you knew what to look for. If you didn’t, he just had on his ‘snotty bitch’ face and looked like he was about to let you have it, ever so politely, of course.
Bey sighed. If it was this bad now, Silva was going to go into a coma if everyone thought Bey had taken him in the ass ‘til he begged for it again. Damn. That would have made such a great fuck story, too. Silva was going to owe him big for not lying his ass off.
“Silva can walk just fine, you morons. Me? I’m feelin’ a little sore. You’d be surprised what my little ice princess has hidden in those pants.”
Gora and Ton, having regained their feet, stopped laughing.
“You’re gonna catch some flies that way if you’re not careful.” Bey noted, snorting to himself when both their mouths closed with audible snaps. Silva’s face turned a shade of red that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a whore’s lips as the two guards focused on his crotch. Entertainment value, he really shouldn’t have discounted it. This was definitely more fun than claiming he’d topped his little Silva.
Gora was the first one to start shaking his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s always the shy ones that are surprise you,” Bey said, shrugging. “Besides, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want a piece of my ass? Have you looked at it lately?”
He turned to let them have a gander, smacking it with one hand. “Firm as hell and tight as a vise. Ask Silva. He knows all about it by now.”
Guards eyeing him skeptically, Bey gestured over to Silva. Poor guy was sputtering incoherently, his eyes stuck to Bey’s backside before he tore them away and stared at his fellow guards. He started shaking, just enough for Bey to notice, and Bey grinned broadly. Maybe Silva remembered more from last night than Bey did.
As Silva continued to stutter, Bey considered it. If it had been good enough to rattle him that noticeably, then maybe they should try it again. Bey covertly ran his eyes down Silva’s body while Gora and Ton stared at it as well. No one could deny that the man was sexy. A little taller and a bit leaner than Bey, Silva was extremely easy on the eyes. Easy on the ass too, probably, considering how little discomfort Bey had.
Licking his lips, Bey thought about it seriously. They’d already done it once, so that horse was already out of the barn. Would one more fuck really ruin their friendship? One more time, and he’d have a chance to grab onto that damn braid as he took his friend’s virgin ass. And if Silva didn’t have a virgin ass, Bey would eat his damn sword. The man wasn’t called the Ice Princess for nothing. He didn’t even agree to sex with women until his hand was practically incapacitated from overuse; he’d never fucking done it with a man.
Huh, that might make Silva Bey’s first, real virgin….who was STILL a virgin. Bey closed his eyes and wondered what the hell it had actually been like, being taken. Had they done it on hands and knees? That didn’t seem like Silva’s style – facing each other, that was more likely. He probably held onto Silva’s hair as they did it, too. The stuff was like freaking silk, and he’d have to be drunker than was physically possible not to have touched that when they screwed. When he’d been screwed. Odd, he’d never thought having someone fuck him that way held any appeal, but an image of looking up into Silva’s face and being penetrated by the prissy princess was actually… kind of hot.
“So you two really did it?” Ton asked tentatively, looking at Silva.
“Hey, I just said so, didn’t I?” It was sad how little faith his fellow guards had in his veracity. Truly sad.
“Well, yeah, but…” Gora paused, looking at both their faces. “Shit, you really did do it, didn’t you? I never thought you’d go through with it, Bey.”
Bey got the sudden uncomfortable feeling that they weren’t talking about sex anymore. There was no way that Gora was doubting that Bey would have sex, especially with someone attractive like Silva. It would be like wondering if there was enough air in the sky today.
“Okay, what the hell are we talking about now?”
“You and Silva…” Gora paused again, looking at their faces as he fiddled with the scabbard of his sword.
“Me and Silva what?”
“Bey…” Silva reached out and put a hand on his shoulder and Bey slapped it away.
“Quiet, Princess, I’m dealing with big people stuff now.” Silva scowled darkly and Bey looked at the delicate sword drawn so precisely on his cheek. “You’re talking about the tattoos? That it?”
“I just never thought you’d actually get married. Silva maybe, but you?” Gora finished, shaking his head. “You’d be the last person I would have thought who’d do it.”
His ears were still drunk. Had to be.
“I didn’t get married.” Bey’s voice was flat and definitive. There were some rumors that just weren’t funny.
“You’ve got the tattoos, though.” Ton put in. His voice was quite a bit more irritating than usual, today, wasn’t it? Maybe if Bey kicked him in the throat it would fix that.
“Tattoos, yes. Married? I don’t know who was smoking what when they told you that, but…”
“I wasn’t smoking a damn thing.” Gora said. “You told me yourself.”
Bey’s blank stare was all the couple needed to start grinning again. “You don’t remember, do you?” Ton said.
Yes, a good kick to the throat; definitely called for.
“Of course I remember. I was just shitting you. Obviously.”
“I don’t think so.” Gora smirked as he watched Silva’s barely noticeable flinch. “We were on High Street and you two came stumbling right by. Said the Princess had agreed to get his beard shaved, but he wouldn’t do it unless you got a wedding tattoo with him first.”
Bey fingered the skin under his eye, itching it slightly. “Wedding tattoo? You mean like some of the fucking tribes do?”
Ton and Gora shrugged together. “I guess. What the hell do I know? You were drunk off your ass, the both of you. It wasn’t exactly a good time to ask complicated questions.”
“Well obviously you misunderstood, because there’s no way I’d get some primitive wedding tattoo just to get rid of a pox-ridden beard.”
“My beard was fine.” Silva finally recovered enough to say, his voice almost grim.
Gora shook his head at Bey, ignoring Silva. “We’ve all heard you spout off about that beard at least once a week, Bey. I think you’d try to ass rape a cat to get rid of it, if you were puking drunk.”
Bey nodded. They had a point. In fact, he thought he vaguely remembered these two weasels daring him to ass rape a panther the last time they’d gotten sloshed together. Thank God he’d passed out before that fiasco went anywhere.
“Cat rape, maybe, but that’s a whole different thing from getting married.”
“Silva shaved his beard,” Gora pointed out.
“And you both have matching tattoos,” Ton finished.
“So? I’m missing the point where that somehow makes us married. Or any sort of reason why Silva would ask for something like that in the first place.”
“He said he needed the beard to stay single,” Gora said, shrugging at Bey’s blank stare. “I told you; you were fucked up.”
“We’re not married, assholes.”
Ton and Gora made disbelieving noises, but he could tell they weren’t entirely convinced he was wrong. They might be titillated by the idea, but no one would take a ridiculous rumor like that seriously, not for long. They’d give him seven flavors of shit over it, yeah, but actually believing it? Unlikely. Married…what idiots. Silva and he had obviously gotten roaring drunk, done some stupid shit, and then gone back to their bunks and fucked like ferrets.
“Get back to your beds and get some sleep so you can start using your brains again.”
Ton and Gora smirked at them and finally left after a few more taunts.
Bey turned to Silva as they took positions by one side of the Gate. Silva shifted slightly and Bey sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Your pristine reputation as Miss Priss isn’t in danger.”
Silence, and then…
“They’re wedding tattoos.”
Bey didn’t even look at him. “Fuck no, they aren’t. Those types of things are always on the hands and feet, anyway.”
“Not in some of the northern tribes.”
Bey snorted. “The only tribes up north that might have some lame ass wedding tattoo on the cheek are those elemental fuckers with the…silver hair.”
Bey slowly turned and looked at him. “Tell me you’re not one of the elemental fuckers, Silva. You really need to say that. Right now.”
“I’d be lying,” Silva said quietly, glancing around first.
“Oh, you are fucking SHITTING me!”
“For God’s sake, keep your voice down, Bey!”
“You’re a freaking mmmnnnbm.” Bey glared at Silva over the hand that had clamped on top of his mouth, and with a warning snarl of his eyes, he bit him. Silva yelped and yanked his hand back. “Don’t fucking do that again, Silva.”
Bey looked at him, watching the twitch of his eyelashes and the slight thinning of his lips. Fucking son of a bitch, the man was serious. He itched at his cheek again. These were some sort of wedding marking? Silva had fucking talked him into marriage. Bey swung out at him and Silva leapt back with a short hop.
“Bey, this isn’t the way to – umph.” Silva bent over, gagging, as Bey’s leg pulled back from his stomach. Bey leaned down to look into Silva’s pale face.
“You wanted to say something, Princess?”
“You’re an infantile little wretch,” Silva gasped out, and Bey smiled.
“This wretch is gonna kick your ass, sweetheart.” He suddenly found himself flat on his back in the dirt, Silva’s hand loosely around his throat.
“I was inebriated and so were you, Bey.” His voice was still a bit choked. “You’re just as much to blame for this as I am!”
Bey squinted up at him. “Oh yeah? Just how drunk were you last night?”
“I didn’t even know how it had happened until those two imbeciles told us about it. Is that drunk enough for us to avoid fighting about this any further?” Silva asked stiffly.
“Yeah, yeah. Let me up, already.” Silva stepped back and Bey got to his feet, dusting himself off. “Damn, I think I’m gonna puke. And you always get the dust all the hell over me.”
He watched Silva rub his stomach and he smirked. Just a little. “So Princess, we get the damn things off, and I’ll be fine. Shit, these tattoos can’t possibly be legal here, anyway…”
“They are,” Silva informed him, turning away to stare menacingly at a couple of teenage punks who’d been gawking. The two cringed and hurried through the gate. “It was part of the codes in that addendum 15 years ago. If you’d ever bothered to read your own country’s laws every once in a while, you’d know that.”
Bey angrily kicked the four-foot thick gate with his foot and yelped. Ow! “Fuck me!”
“I think I already did, remember?”
The cautiously dry tone had him chuckling. “Ass…and don’t make a comment about asses. So. We’re married. Just gotta go get the damn things spelled off again after shift, right?”
It wouldn’t be that bad. Come to think of it, the tattoos HAD gotten that damn beard off. Worth it just to keep Silva’s face all prettied up.
“I…yes. I’m sure we’ll be able to rid ourselves of them soon. I’m sure.” Silva had that little pucker between his eyebrows that meant he was fretting about something, but if he hadn’t said what it was, Bey wouldn’t be able to get it out of him without a hell of a lot more trouble than he felt like going through when he was still this hung over.
“Good. Then it’s just like the fucking; don’t remember it, didn’t happen.”
“I hope so,” Silva muttered quietly, and Bey shook his head.
He itched under his eye again; maybe he was getting hives. Not that it mattered, if they got them off right after shift’s end. At least with tattoos, it was easy to take care of. Would have been a hell of a lot worse if they’d found a justice to do them up right. Those damn things took forever to cancel.
Tattoo, they’d be in and out of a hut in no time flat and be done with it.
He itched again. Hives, he just knew it. Maybe Silva could give him a quickie afterwards to make up for it.
“I am never getting drunk with you again, Princess.”
“I have told myself the same thing more than once.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got more will power than you do.”
Bey slammed open the door to their room and Silva caught it before it snipped closed on his face. Very slowly, Silva opened it back up and closed it with a soft, controlled click. He turned to find Bey pacing back and forth across the room.
“Don’t fucking talk to me right now.” Bey continued storming around the room, his eyes avoiding the spot Silva stood on as though it burned him.
“We have to figure out –“ Silva rocked back and smoothly slapped aside the kick Bey aimed at his head. “Bey, this won’t help the situation!”
“I told you to keep it shut!”
“We need to –“ Silva grunted as Bey leapt at him and had a forearm over his throat, pinning him to the wall.
Bey’s face was tight. “Don’t fucking push me right now, Silva. Not now. Just back the hell off.”
“You’re…the one…pinning me,” Silva managed, and Bey shoved off of him and continued to pace. He didn’t laugh. Silva stood very still and didn’t move from the wall. He couldn’t think of anything he could do to make this better.
His own drunken thoughts on marriage and the beard, those he could comprehend in a twisted sort of way. If he didn’t have a beard, it was harder to stay hidden. If he didn’t stay hidden, then his father would most definitely find him and marry him off to StormFrost, after an epic-worthy beating. Stubborn goat. If father would have managed to put the smallest amount of flexibility in his thinking, everyone could have been happy with the results. Now, the two who should actually be together had been kept apart for two entire years, all for the stubborn pride of someone who couldn’t accept change even if it sat on his own beard.
Silva’s eyes moved with Bey, watching his black hair flow down his back in a long tail that fanned out and snared his arms every time he turned. When Bey glared at him with one icy sweep of his eyes, Silva turned his face away. What could he say? He knew they were both drunk last night, and stupid enough to do anything at that point, but he still felt as though it were his fault. He was the one who had decided to put his own concerns over Bey’s and suggest a wedding. He was the one who’d kept track of everyone from home that he should hide from or avoid.
Which meant that he was the one who’d known exactly where to go for a knowledgeable tattooist when they’d decided to wed, He’d been hoping they’d simply gone to the nearest hut and had it done. A quick examination from a reputable tattooist had shown that to be the vain pipe dream it actually was. Their artist had known what he was doing. There was no way to rid themselves of the tattoos. The design had no flaws, the needles had been magicked, and the bonding spell afterwards had sealed it to their skin. It would be invulnerable to needles, spells, or injury. Silva could scrape half the skin off his face, and when it scarred over, the mark would still be dark and visible.
Bey had almost attacked the tattooist when he’d wished them congratulations, but Silva knew he’d eventually calm down. He still didn’t have a good grasp of why some things kept Bey angry for days, and why others lasted mere seconds, but he knew that Bey eventually recovered from practically everything. He’d never seen him hold a grudge.
Bey had never been married, though, and he’d been very vocal with his opinion on that particular institution. Something designed to keep a person in one bed, with only one other? Hell on earth for someone of Bey’s proclivities. Silva didn’t know how long it would take Bey to recover from being suddenly put into such a position, even if Silva wouldn’t dream of trying to enforce Bey’s monogamy. Looking at the sage colored pants, tight against his round, muscular bottom, Silva felt a small twinge. He couldn’t remember the act, but it had been on his mind all day.
Sex with Bey.
Something he’d probably never experience again, now that they were tied together like this. He’d not experience it again with anyone else, now, either. Whether he was drunk or not, he’d known what the consequences would be if he married with this particular bond. He’d made a vow, and he’d keep it. He wouldn’t sleep with anyone but Bey. There was no way Bey had understood what had been happening, though. Silva couldn’t ask him to give everything, and everyone, up for him.
It was going to be bad enough when he had to ask Bey to leave with him. The bonding spell, the last step of the wedding, always forced both partners to reveal their real names at the moment it completed. The tattooist was, as Bey would put it, one of ‘those elemental fuckers.’ He’d know the gold being offered for knowledge of Silva’s whereabouts. Silva was quite certain information about himself, and his new bride, were already on their way to father. It would take at least two weeks to make it up to the edge of the territories and back, if not longer, but that wasn’t nearly long enough when it came to hiding from father’s men. He knew; he’d needed months to plan it properly the first time.
Silva focused on Bey’s legs, strong and compact, pushing him forward as he walked in strides that were more like controlled leaps. He always looked like he was on the edge of dancing, even when he was furious. At any bar or tavern, he almost always WAS dancing with his newest lover. Silva swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t want this forced on his friend, but thinking of Bey with his usual lovers was bringing up a hurt that he just hoped he could hide successfully. The Bond of the Sword was sacred, used only in cases where the couple had sworn complete fidelity and loyalty to one another. His own wedding to a neighboring prince would have been less restrictive, most likely the Bond of the Dagger.
He couldn’t believe he’d asked for the sword. He had to have known Bey would rather die than be tied into this type of relationship. Silva couldn’t justify holding him to this type of standard, but the consequences would be extremely painful. The meaning of the Sword was too ingrained for him to dismiss it for himself; even the thought of breaking it made him feel queasy. Thinking of trying to enforce the bond for Bey, however, made him feel even worse. The bond was not one of Bey’s beliefs. He shouldn’t have to conform to it simply because Silva couldn’t control himself when he was drunk. Especially as Bey had not only acquired a spouse, he’d lost his current position, and his home.
Father would be after him as well, now. They would both have to disappear.
He winced as Bey started cursing too low to make out the words. He should leave and let Bey vent a bit more before they talked about this. It was going to get much uglier before it was done. He stepped away from the wall and avoided looking at Bey as he headed to the door.
“I’ll return later.”
He’d just touched the latch when a hand slammed into the door on either side of him. With a quick prayer for strength, Silva took a breath turned to confront Bey. The man’s eyes were narrow in his broad face, and he leaned close until Silva could smell the berry leaf he always chewed scenting the air around their heads. They were almost eye to eye; would have been if Bey were just a bit taller. Still, he was angry enough to have Silva feeling that he needed to be very careful at the moment.
“And where the hell do you think you’re going, Princess?”
“Bey… You’re upset. We both know it. We should talk about this when we’ve calmed down.”
Bey stared at him intently until he shifted. He wasn’t going to push at Bey for the moment. It would most definitely provoke a reaction, and likely not a good one. Still…what was he doing? Bey was staring at Silva’s face, still leaning close, and Silva was mortified to realize that it was turning him on.
“You didn’t answer the question. Where do you think you’re going?” Warm air from Bey’s mouth brushed across Silva’s face far too gently for such a rough tone, and he ignored the way his body tightened up over it.
“Yeah? Out where, princess? The Queen’s Tavern? The Maiden’s Whorehouse?” He practically snarled the words.
“It’s none of your concern, Bey. Just step back and I’ll leave.”
Bey smiled oddly as he continued snarling. “I thought we were married, Ice Princess. Seems to me it’s all my business now, isn’t it? Isn’t every damn waking moment of our lives each other’s business? Every meal, every time we get horny and wanna get laid, every time we wanna do so much as scratch our damn noses. Isn’t that right?”
Silva sighed. “It’s obvious you need some time alone before we can discuss this…”
“What I ‘need’ is a good fuck.” Bey growled, and his hands pulled Silva’s head down to kiss him harshly. Silva blinked at him, uncertain what to do. It was good. Bey’s lips and tongue were sucking and penetrating his mouth, stealing the breath from his lungs. It was slick and hot and hard - and he liked it. Bey’s tongue swirled over his own and he was surprised to hear a moan coming from his throat. He’d always heard Bey was a fantastic kisser, but he’d never thought…
Bey released his mouth, but not his head, and stared at him. “I need a good fuck, and it’s gonna be you.”
“Bey.” Silva took a moment to catch his breath, not fighting Bey’s hold on his head. Bey always grew more aroused after a little skirmish. “You know you don’t want to do this. You’re just angry about what’s happened and –“
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m furious about what’s happened, but even if I was happy as a little girl with a lollipop, “ he pulled Silva’s head down closer, “I’d still want your pale white ass. I need a good, hard, sweaty, mind-blowing fuck, and it’s gonna be you. You got a problem with that, you better talk real fast, Princess.”
Silva stared at him. Sex, with Bey.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
Bey smiled, his face harsh, and his hands tightened in Silva’s hair. Silva wondered what he’d just gotten into. Sex with Bey might be a lot more frightening a prospect than marriage with him could ever be.
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