The Prince Bride.

A/N: Adult content in this chapter. Slash and 3plus, Solo M (Minor2), oral, anal

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It was his eighteenth birthday.

He smiled, slipping out of bed and looking in the mirror. He’d grown tall and williowy, with his loose brown curls framing his face and his green eyes gleaming. Today was the day he would meet his fiancé.

But first he would need to bathe.

He slid out into the hallways, headed straight for the hot springs.  Geneva passed him on the way, a baby on each arm, and she smiled at him knowingly.

He was alone in the springs, but he preferred it, slipping into the water in nothing more than his own skin. He started to wash himself immediately, feeling his childhood wash off him.

That’s when he felt the soft touches to his legs. He looked down, surprised to see two glowing yellow eyes staring up at him through the water. The face was obscured by the long silver hair and shadows, but he could see a long golden tail and a huge, muscular torso.

Before he could speak, the mer had already started to kiss up his thighs. He swallowed softly, hands going down to try and pull him up, but his arms were grabbed and kept at his sides as another strong body pressed up behind him. He could feel the other nuzzle his neck, keeping him still.

The mer finally started to kiss up his length, the touches light and teasing. Monroe moaned his name, but he didn’t react, instead just continuing to tease him. The tiger behind him was nibbling on his neck, leaving love bites and the Prince could barely breathe. “More…” He whispered.

“Don’t worry, your highness.” He felt the man breathe into his ear. “We’re here to make you a man.”

Something long and hard was pressing against his leg and he was bent over so that his head was barely out of the water. The mouth on his cock finally took him all in, making him gasp. It felt so good. It felt too good.

His arms were suddenly tied behind his back, the Prince barely noticing as he felt his orgasm coming. He could feel a long, fat cock pressing against his hole. “You’re ours now.” He heard a growl behind him, two huge hands gripping his hips. He groaned, trying to rock back and feel him inside him, but the warm mouth was too perfect to leave. “Do you want my cock inside you, little Prince?”

“Yes.” He gasped. “Please.”

The man grunted, pressing against the prince.  It slid in easily, making the pleasure build even faster. It was like he was being stabbed with pure pleasure and he couldn’t help but give in….





And then he awoke with a gasp, his still sixteen year old body wet and sticky from the dream.

Monroe cursed, sliding out of the bed to go to the basin and wash the sweat off his face, exasperated by his own body and dreams. It had been two months since he’d gone to pick herbs for Geneva, two months since he’d met Rowan and the man was still haunting his dreams.

He sort of understood dreaming about Zale, he’d been in love with him from when he was 6 to when he’d realized Zale would never come, (deep down, he knew that he probably still loved him) but Rowan had just said two lines to him. Worst yet, he rarely dreamed of just one of them anymore, he always dreamed of them sharing him. He kept dreaming of them both using him like he was a whore in an army tent.

He cursed his hormones and shed his dirty nightgown, glad that it was nearly sunrise, so he could just stay awake. He brushed out his long brown curls until they were loose and charming and he dressed in one of his finer tunics. It wasn’t his eighteenth birthday, it was the Queen’s, and he wanted her to have the best day possible. He slipped out of the castle, going to the florist to get a bouquet for his beloved sister-in-law.

He returned to find Henri by the entrance and he frowned, holding up the bouquet, “I just went to get these for Geneva. I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t worry, I know.” His brother nodded, “I need to talk to you about something. Follow me.”

He followed him a little nervously but smiled as they went to a private balcony with a full meal of sausages, eggs, and ham in front of them, with a side of fruit. “This looks great… But shouldn’t you be eating this with your Queen. It’s her birthday.”

Henri just looked tired. “The baby won’t let her eat this early in the day. She’ll join us when the food is gone.”

Monroe smiled; he was proud of his sister in law. “So she is pregnant? The herbs worked.”

The king nodded, giving him a rare smile. When he smiled it was easier to remember that the man was just 20. “Thank you for that. I wanted to discuss something else with you though.” He looked at his younger brother carefully. “You’ll be turning 18 in just 15 months. Have you put any thought into who you want to marry.”

“I don’t know.” He stiffened, not liking the topic. He still wasn’t happy that his brother hadn’t reversed his father’s orders. “It’s not like I know any lords my own age.”

“I know.” Henri sighed, “But do you have a type? It’s not like you’ve never seen a man before. I’ve seen you watch the guards train, and Geneva said that you liked one of the new cooks.”

“Yes. But none of them will talk to me.” He frowned, trying not to pout. “Father was very through in ensuring I stay alone until I’m 18. Men are afraid to talk to me.”

“Just answer the questions, Monroe. What do you want in a man?” His brother took a long sip of coffee. “I need to make arrangements so that you can have suitors lined up on your birthday.”

He snorted. “Well, the only man I ever courted hasn’t spoken to me in a decade and is probably a father by now. And none of the other lords know me to say whether or not they’d want me.”

“It’s a matter of who you want.” He said. “I don’t know where you got it into your head that you had to be a blushing bride, but you do realize that you could pick yourself out a younger husband. You could be the one wooing instead of sitting back and waiting.”

He honestly hadn’t thought about it. He flushed, surprised by how appealing the idea was. “But I’m smaller than most lords.”

“Monroe, you’re nearly 5’10, and you’re still growing.” The king laughed, always amazed at what his brother came up with sometimes. “You’ll be the same height as most lords. You’re not small anymore.”

“Lord Rowan is much larger than me.”

Henri fell silent and it took Monroe a minute to remember that he wasn’t supposed to know the tiger. He tensed, biting his lip, but was saved as Geneva slipped out, wearing a long golden dress and gripping her stomach. She kissed her king’s cheek then sat beside him.

“Do you want to marry Lord Rowan?” She smiled, rubbing Henri’s arm to calm him down.

Monroe hesitated, “I don’t know…” He decided to at least be honest. “I ran into him and Priestess Emily when I was getting your herbs. She recognized me.”

“Did you get a chance to speak with him?” Henri tried to calm down, obviously uncomfortable with the tiger speaking to his brother. He’d heard about Rowan’s prowess in seducing young men.

He shook his head. “Not really, but he did say that he would be after my hand when I turn 18.”

Henri looked like he’d swallowed a bug and Geneva smiled. “Well, that could be a good thing. If other lords hear that Rowan is willing to give up bachelorhood for your pretty face, there will be more suitors for your to chose from.”

Monroe flushed, then went to get her flowers from his bag, passing them to her softly. “Here, happy birthday. I think I need to go think somewhere.”

She giggled at his perplexed face, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, brother.”

He wandered aimlessly up and down a staircase, wanting to exhaust himself rather than think.

Zale wasn’t after his hand. He’d known it already so he wouldn’t let himself get upset over the fact that Henri all but confirmed it with that conversation. If Zale had wanted him, then Henri would have just said ‘Hey, kid, you’ll be marrying your original suitor’, but instead his brother had just avoided the subject. So his only options were to chose a complete stranger or marry that pervert, Rowan.

Or he could find a little petite lord and seduce the crap out of him.

He tried to imagine that, wandering back towards the gardens. He picked a secluded area, free of guards or onlookers and looked around in paranoia. There was no one around, no one could see him, and there was no one out near the pond his little hiding spot faced.  He waited a minute for his paranoia to die down then finally let himself flush as an entirely new daydream rose up in his mind.

Monroe could go travel the day he turned 18. He’d go to Acinum, where the men were naturally shorter, and find a pretty little fairy with long hair. He’d find the smallest, most beautiful man and seduce the hell out of him until the boy was helplessly in love. Then he would marry him, and on their wedding night he would pound into a warm, round ass as the fae twitched and gasped under him, begging for more.

His hand slid unbidden into his pants and Monroe bit his lip as he started to pump himself, trying to picture what his little husband would look like as he sucked his prince off. He’d have long hair and full lips, with big eyes that would stare up with him in glazed shock as the prince stretched him out, his breathy moans filling the air.

He didn’t notice a pair of golden eyes watching him from beneath the waters of the pond.

That night, there was a feast for the Queen, and Geneva happily greeted everyone who’d came. She was starting to blossom a little with her pregnancy, her hair turning soft and silky from the hormones. Every married lord, and every lady came, even the married lords that were close to his age. It annoyed him how many of them were his own age, or even younger. He didn’t know whether or not to frown when he didn’t see silvery hair or golden eyes in the crowds from Cetarius.

Before he could muse much about it though, there came a scream from down the hallway.

He rushed out, going with the crowds to see what had happened. There was yelling in the gardens and he slipped out, his heart dropping down to the pit of his stomach as he saw the former king up on the highest balcony, standing on the ledge.

“Father!” He was startled by how young Henri had sounded, but then realized he’d been the one to scream it. Henri was up on the balcony, too, now that he looked, the King trying to talk to the drunken man and get him back inside.

He was vaguely aware of seeing the man let go of the rails, but he was forced to turn away by a guard, the man covering the Prince’s eyes and whispering to him in a familiar voice “Don’t look, Monroe.”

He could hear the impact of the body hitting the ground and he was reduced to tears. He was aware that the guard was leading him back inside. He was brought to a sitting room, and a maid brought a blanket to wrap around the numbed prince while the strange guard kept watching him. A sense of Déjà vu was coming over him but he was too numbed and hurt to pay attention to it.

Instead, he curled up on a daybed, not wanting to be awake anymore. A sleeping draught was brought to him and he drank it gratefully, sagging onto the cushions. As his eyes started to flutter closed he realized his guard had eyes like sunlight, and he struggled to stay awake. “Zale?”

“I’ll come for you soon my Prince.” He heard whispered into his ear before a kiss was placed on his forehead. A sense of relief washed over him as he sank into dreams.