ceciliatan (ceciliatan) wrote,
ceciliatan
ceciliatan

The Prince’s Boy, Part 30

Yes, it’s that time of the week again…!

Title: The Prince’s Boy, pt. 30
Author: yours truly
Rating: NC-17
Genre: high fantasy, original fic
Summary: Prince Kenet has lived a sheltered life in his father’s castle–while outside invaders from foreign shores, pestilence, and crop failure plague the land–with his constant companion Jorin, his whipping boy. Jorin and Kenet have been discovering the pleasures of the flesh with each other in secret, but will the ambitions of the king and the schemes of his top advisor, the Lord High Mage Seroi, come between the prince and his boy? And what of Sergetten, the prince’s missing tutor?
Warnings: Male/male sex, dubious consent, corporal punishment, situations of sexual jeopardy.

Part 30: Jorin

When I came to, I was still bound, but this time my hands were in front of me and I was not blindfolded. I was lying on a blanket that smelled of horse and I appeared to be in a small tent.

My head felt like metalsmiths with hammers were shaping it from the inside and my mouth was as dry as if they had gagged me with cloth. I winced as someone pulled aside the flap of the tent and the brightness felt like needles in my eyes.

“Ah, poor thing. Here you go.”

Kan. He knelt by my head and I heard the sound of a flask being unscrewed. He tipped my mouth upward and poured a mouthful of something intensely bitter onto my tongue, but I swallowed it. He let go and already the pain had eased slightly. “I told you you’d feel like this. The tingle-tingle bush in full bloom? I’m not sure if you were lucky or unlucky there, my friend.”

“Kan,” I tried to say but it just came out a croak.

“One thing at a time,” he said, putting a finger to my lips to quiet me. He gave me water next, then went back out of the tent. I did not hear his footsteps, but when he came back in, I had the impression he had circled the tent. “All right. Quietly now. I say lucky because if you’d been awake like the other soldiers you probably would have ended with an arrow in your back. And if you hadn’t been hallucinating and talking aloud, I wouldn’t have realized who you were before I slit your throat, either, Jorin Weltskin.”

He knew who I was!
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Mirrored from blog.ceciliatan.com.

Tags: fiction
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