My King

Talk about a depressing first entry for AFF.net. This story is not for the faint of heart, so please be advised. It involves nonconsensual sex between brothers (princes, actually). Their relationship is much more developed in the novel I am writing, but this was an off-scene self fanfiction that wrote about them a year ago. It was a lot of fun comparing my new work with older pieces like this. Their story is definitely not my best work, because the content is difficult to write. :) I hope any who do read it enjoy it.

Reviews would be adored, although I’m fairly certain I’ve limited my viewers based on the content. If I get enough feedback, I may just write a wonderful WAFF, consensual fiction regarding two other male characters from the same novel.

All ye who venture forth, I salute you!

---

“Where are you going, Mattias?”

Mattias’ head swiveled in the direction of the voice, a soft gasp of surprise escaping his lips. Nikita was leaning against the wall, stabbing eyes pressing into the young prince.

“Shouldn’t you be with father this evening?” said Mattias, regaining his sense of self.

“That question also applies to you, thirdborn. Feeling a little rebellious, are we?”

Mattias chewed on the inside of his cheek, choosing not to respond to him. Nikita approached him, his brother tensing out of instinct. He had his hand raised, as if he was going to strike him or touch his face; Mattias wasn't sure which. He did neither, instead curling his hand into a fist, which he lowered. "Are you well?" he asked, concern spreading across his face as he furrowed his brow. "You look ill." He pressed his thin hand against Mattias’ forehead, taking the initiative to ease up against him.

"I'm well enough, Nikita. You don't have to assume the position of my healer," he said acridly, moving aside.

"I was just expressing my concern for my little brother," he said, sounding almost as if he was hurt; Nikita followed Mattias’ side step like they were reciting dance steps. Nikita intensified the pressure he was issuing upon Mattias’ body against the wall. "You don't have to act so hostile," he said, his voice a near purr as he leaned in closer to Mattias’ face and pressing his hands against Mattias’ arms. The young prince struggled to release himself from his elder brother’s grasp, hardly a match for his strength.

"Stop! I'm not jesting Nikita, Stop!" Mattias snapped his eyes shut as if he could become invisible and escape. But he could still feel Nikita's searing fingernails pressing into his flesh, the pain coming in waves. He was still there before him, real as ever.

"I was never jesting, Mattias. Three years I've watched you mature into a beautiful man. Three years I've waited for you. I will not wait any longer."

Mattias opened his eyes, swallowing with fear that his heart was going to leap from his throat and leave him lifeless. Nikita didn't just say... Yes, his brother had just said that.

"Wh-what?"

Nikita released his grip on Mattias’ arm nearest the door to his room and twisted the door knob, pressing it open with his forefinger. “There’s only so much I can take before I’ll go completely mad with desire for you,” he breathed, peeling Mattias from the wall and dragging him into the room. There were no candles lit or a fire burning in the fireplace to light the room, but rather, the dull moonlight that beamed through the thick window. It was enough to barely make the outline of Mattias’ bed, which Nikita pushed him onto. The back of the young prince’s knees touched the foot of the bed and forced him to be seated. Nikita wrapped his slender hands around his brother’s arms and shoved him onto his back. Mattias propped himself up on his hands and kicked at Nikita, swiftly pivoting onto his side in order to make an escape. His older brother caught his flailing foot with a hand and hauled him towards the edge of the bed, Mattias still twisting onto his side.

“Stop it! Stop!” yelled Mattias. He could feel tears forming beneath his eyes as his screams fell silent against the stone walls. Nikita reached his other hand for Mattias’ free leg, clutching the young man’s ankle and then wrenching both of his legs upward, rendering him helpless. Mattias floundered about on the bed, swinging his arms wildly in an attempt to free his restrained legs. Nikita looked down at him and smiled, twisting one of his ankles in a slow, smooth motion.

“You truly are vulnerable, Mattias,” he said, as if binding his ankles were of no exertion at all.

“Nikita! I’m your brother! I’m your brother!” Mattias repeated the words over and over in a frantic dread until they all ran together and sounded foreign in his mouth, the agony of his ankle twisting causing him to arch his back and scream. He didn’t know how long it had been since he had started screaming, or when he had exactly stopped. But somewhere along the way his words were at a loss, his struggling rendered Mattias breathless and weaker than before. It put him at a severe disadvantage.
Nikita’s face was calm now, bordering determination and carnality. Mattias averted his eyes, unable to look into them. He couldn’t feel his foot.

“Are you willing to cooperate with me, Mattias?”
Mattias’ eyes widened for a moment, realizing that his brother’s guard had fallen. He kicked his uninjured leg at Nikita in a final attempt, loosing himself from his hold. He rolled onto the floor and stumbled as he attempted to scramble to his feet, his ankle giving out with any weight put on it. Nikita bolted in front of him and dragged his brother back down the floor just as he was rising, pressing his entire weight onto him. Mattias threw his head back. He choked on a soft sob and Nikita could feel the prince’s entire body tremble beneath him. The heir reveled in the feeling, of the absolute power he held over Mattias. It was inexplicable.

He’s beautiful, thought Nikita, freeing one of his hands to stroke Mattias’ chest and take pleasure in the boy’s responses. He fondled his nipples through his tunic, which were involuntarily becoming erect with every sweep of the hand. Mattias trembled with every touch, his body betraying him.

Nikita smirked, not hesitating to draw his hands further down than his chest, caressing his thighs and hips as they fluttered over his fragile body. “It’s obvious that you want this too, Mattias. Look at you, your body is pleading with me to bring you to touch you.” Mattias clenched his teeth, swaying his head back and forth in a failed attempt to keep the tears from falling down his face. “Please don’t cry, Mattias. I don’t like to see you like this,” said Nikita, sounding more irritated than upset. His own grin deceived his words and Mattias shut his eyes, never wanting to look into them again. He could feel every inch of Nikita on him, weighing him down. He couldn’t help if his body was ready to give in to his natural urges. This was Nikita, the brother he had known his entire life. The brother that was the firstborn and heir to the kingdom. It just couldn’t be.

Mattias pried open his eyes. Nikita had slid down his prey’s body, kissing him while he managed to hold his hands in an inescapable grip above his head. Mattias couldn’t move his legs with Nikita pressing his weight so firmly against them. Words formed in Mattias’ mind and somehow, he managed to utter them through the block that had obstructed his throat.

“F-father is expecting us, Nikita. We—,”

“I’ve already informed him that we wouldn’t be present, Mattias. In fact, he thinks we’re mingling with the Caeli nobles in the accompanying main room. He’ll never know we were missing. Do you think I’m so brash that I would deliberately invoke the wrath of father?”
So he had planned this all along. Mattias tried to rid himself of Nikita by bucking him off with his knee, but it was in vain. His attempts were getting weaker and weaker; his body ached, and he knew that he had lost. There was no sense in trying to escape. Nikita would have his way, just as he always did, ever since he was a young child.

“It’s alright, brother, it’s alright,” said Nikita, trying his best to calm the emotionally distraught prince. “Mattias,” he whispered gently, clearing damp bangs from his eyes and from his face. Mattias wouldn’t look at Nikita, his eyes alternating between downcast and averted. “Mattias!” Nikita grabbed Mattias by the collar and pulled him closer to him. Sorrow tugged at the corners of his lips and the wrinkles between his eyebrows. He wasn’t strong enough.

“Just do it,” said Mattias, his voice almost a breath rather than words. His body began to shake again uncontrollably, knowing what he had just consented to. Nikita combed Mattias’ hair with his fingers, kissing him over and over again on the forehead.

“Don’t weep, Mattias. Please don’t weep. I’m sorry.” Nikita buried his face in the nook between Mattias’ neck and chest. “I’m just, I’m sorry Mattias. I love you. I love you so much.”

Mattias wasn’t listening to him anymore. He was crushed. It was as if his entrails had been torn asunder from his stomach and fed to wild dogs. He could feel his head beginning to throb as his eyes tried to summon tears, but there was nothing left. He bit down on his bottom lip and stared lifelessly past Nikita, who looked at his brother with a frantic and concerned face.

Mattias blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. Nikita could feel the boy’s breath against his lips and he leaned in closer, silently brushing his lips against Mattias’. He didn’t reject him from the advance, and Nikita repeated the action, harder more desperate. Mattias emitted a low moan while Nikita wrapped his arms around him, pressing their mouths together vigorously. He entered Mattias’ mouth, their tongues touching, then trailed down to his neck and licked him in the center of the collarbone. Mattias gasped, his hands clenching and unclenching on the floor. Nikita’s grip on his brother’s torso tightened and he slowly pulled Mattias up onto the bed, their bodies still held against each other and Nikita positioned between Mattias’ legs. His hands went to Mattias’ trousers, tugging at the laces and wrenching them halfway down Mattias’ thighs. The prince’s breath was quickening, but he wasn’t resisting. His body was tight and tense and fragile, lying unintentionally seductive before the heir. The firstborn had never exercised self control in his life and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Mattias,” said Nikita, drawing his attention back to his brother’s upper body. “You will cooperate for me?” He seemed surprised.

What else was Mattias to do? Fight it and make it more painful in the end? It was obvious that Nikita had the upper hand. He held him completely in his control; Mattias was his brother’s no matter how much he opposed him. He nodded slowly, every raise and lower of the head serving as its own personal torture. Every nod stood for the power lost to his brother, the heir, the firstborn, and there was nothing to do but to yield.

Nikita kissed Mattias’ neck as a token of his appreciation for ceding to him. Nikita hastily picked at the buttons on Mattias’ jerkin, stripping him of the layer, and then hoisting his fingers under his shirt, nearly ripping the thin fabric from his body as he brought it over his head. It was incredible that Nikita had never seen him, or any of his brothers, for that matter, naked. While it was common for family members to dress and undress in another’s presence, it wasn’t so common among princes, or the royal family for that matter. This was a first for Nikita, and he couldn’t help but suck in a deep breath as he took in the beauty that was Mattias. He was smooth and yet refined, spread out before him, pleading with him to be ravished.

“Good God,” whispered Nikita, thoroughly pleased with his choice, his desire ascending far before what it had ever been. He quickly discarded his own trousers along with Mattias’ and pressed their naked bodies together, feeling pleasure ignite with every shift. Mattias was moaning quietly to himself now, lost in his own mind. Mayhap he was imagining it with someone else; mayhap he wasn’t imagining anything at all. Nikita spread Mattias’ legs apart and situated himself between them, still in awe of his brother’s stunning form. His hair was strewn prettily across the pillows, caressing every inch of his face. He still wouldn’t open his eyes, though, as much as he wanted to see them and meet them. He hadn’t opened them since Nikita had moved his lovemaking to the bed.

Mattias writhed when Nikita pushed into him with a saliva-covered finger, the intrusion almost too much to bear. He gritted his teeth, but didn’t whimper. His pride stung more than anything. A second and third finger were accepted far more readily than the first and when Nikita began to stroke his fingers within him, the pain was beginning to subside. Sokols were always a resilient people. All that remained was an unusual feeling, one that Mattias would never admit to saying it felt pleasurable. Never by this man could he consider something pleasure. But his body told differently, sending swells of bliss throughout his body, finally escaping out his fingers and toes, which curled in response after each surge. Nikita removed his fingers and positioned himself before Mattias without hesitation.

The prince was long gone now, his head thrown back at the headboard of his bed, his body a mere plaything, a puppet. Nikita thrust forward, and Mattias was ripped from his delusions and safety behind the blankness of his eyelids. He screamed, his body naturally contracting in rejection of the pressure at his entrance. Nikita stroked his brother’s thigh, urging him to relax. The muscles in Mattias’ thighs twitched. Seeing no other way to relieve him of the pain, Mattias lifted himself up and twisted his arms around Nikita’s back, seating and thus impaling himself upon his lap. Both of them cried out at the sensation and tears seeped from the corners of the prince’s eyes anew. Nikita pulled him closer now, his heaving chest rubbing against Mattias’ with every breath. He lifted him by the small of his back and brought him back down, driving himself into the innermost parts of his brother.

Mattias’ taut entrance put pressure upon the heir’s erection; Nikita could sense that his own release was soon approaching. Mattias was erect, but the shock must have disabled him from reaching any kind of intense pleasure. He was panting though, his head buried in Nikita’s shoulder, emitting a puff with every thrust. Nikita couldn’t tell if the moistness on his arm was sweat, tears, or saliva, or possibly all three mingled into thin streams down his arm. Mattias had wrapped his legs around Nikita’s back, crossed at the ankles. Their hard bodies grappled against each other with each push inside Mattias until Nikita could hold back no longer. His entire body clenched and he jerked upward suddenly, releasing himself inside his brother.

Nikita held Mattias tightly in his trembling arms as his climax began to lessen in intensity. His eyes were closed now too, feeling Mattias’ heart beat and body heave against his own. Mattias was making a guttural, whining sound low and deep in his throat, but his eyes were clenched tighter than ever, wrinkles etched in the outer corners. Nikita took Mattias gently under his arms and lifted him, pulling them apart and laying him back onto the bed. Mattias huddled up on his side, embracing his knees and pulling his legs in close to his chest. Vulnerable indeed. He cried anew with whatever strength he had left.

Nikita felt his stomach twist as he watched him. A spark of anger flickered at the ends of his fingers, unable to stand his brother’s agony any longer. He wrenched Mattias from the bed and held him up, face-to-face.

“Open your eyes! Mattias, look at me. Look at me now!” Mattias did so haltingly. They were littered with red veins creeping across the white, his eyes dull and dark and sad.
“Mattias?” Nikita stroked his brother’s unresponsive face. “Say something to me, Mattias. Please, just say something to me! Anything!” His words bordered on desperation, an unexplained panic that was building inside of him. Mattias opened his mouth again like he had before it all had happened, but it just hung open, no words forming. He closed his mouth and sucked in the saliva that had nestled its way into the crevices of his mouth. He opened his mouth a second time, clearing his throat abruptly.

“My King,” said Mattias between his voice cracking. “I hate you." Nikita’s eyes widened and his patience shattered. He closed his fist and punched Mattias on the side of his head, knocking him back to the bed. He didn’t move; he didn’t even try to get back up. He just lay there. Nikita grabbed him a second time and cuffed him again, his fist connecting with the bridge of his nose. Mattias cried out and clasped his hands around his face. It was a response, it was something. Nikita grabbed the sheets in his fists, watching the blood run from Mattias’ nose onto his arm and pool dark red onto the sheets. He stared at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Mattias, I’m sorry,” he said, lowering himself carefully alongside his brother, petting his head. “Will you forgive me? I’m so sorry.” Mattias didn’t move. Nikita wrapped his arm around his brother, nuzzling against his shoulder blades. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said again, wishing Mattias would speak to him; he would even welcome those hateful words again. Anything. This wasn’t the man he had fallen in love with three years ago, this lifeless vessel. His mind fluttered about in confusion, reviewing what he had done.

He had spoiled everything. He had ruined that noble, blithe prince he had spied upon with desire when he was younger. Nikita’s rage boiled and he swung his arm across the bedside table, sending an unlit candle across the floor and the candleholder shattering on impact. He stood up and gathered his clothing and dressed. He looked back at Mattias; his face was still planted against the sheets in his own blood. He took a few steps forward, wanting to help him. Instead he shrunk back and sulked away, his heart heavy and distraught.

There was no going back now.