The brothel was known as the best one in the city. A fine establishment with the sauciest women, the prettiest boys with everything in between.
And Prince Luca, second in line to the throne, barely seventeen and too curious and eager beyond his years, realized far too late he was in over his head.
He had snuck out after dark, deftly avoiding the dozing guard at his door – naught but a gentle sleep spell to hurry along his slumbering hours – a dark hood over his curls and a glow of magic around his neck as he ducked through the darkened hallways of the castle. He had paid the youngest stable boy a hefty three gold pieces to have his horse Sheba waiting for him at the edge of the castle gardens tucked away beyond the east gate and he had ridden into town alone, high on the triumph of successfully slipping into the life of a common man and not a prince and feeling as though he was invincible.
But in the smoky, debauched depths of the whore house, pawed at for his gold coin, slim hands and pretty skin, the prince was suddenly aware there was little protection to be had… and the castle and his life as a prince of the realm, felt very far away.
“Eoin,” the woman’s vibrant red hair bounced around her head as she swayed into the back room. The curtains hanging in the doorway did little to block out the music, laughter and low moans of slick, pulsating bodies littered through the brothel’s halls. Eoin Rian didn’t care overly much, well used to the sounds but he looked up as his brothel’s madam and co-owner leaned over his desk. “We have a problem.”
“What now?” he asked wearily, sinking back in his chair and lifting a goblet of heavy ale to his lips. “Are the twins fighting again?”
The woman tossed her head. “If only it was something so simple,” she mocked gently but her humour faded away into a serious expression. Eoin sat up slowly, sensing he wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him next.
She hesitated. “You’re in with the folk up in the palace, are you not? Being a knight and all?”
“I’m not a knight right now,” he said tightly. He’d never asked for it but years ago he had carried the tiny prince back to his mother after days missing in the woods and the Queen had knighted him for it. It wasn’t ideal but there were worst things than to be given land and a title and the undying gratitude of the monarchy.
But when he wasn’t out wielding his blade, here was where he felt most comfortable.
“It’s the prince,” she said solemnly. “He’s here.”
Luca tried to swallow down his panic as the rough, heavy hands grabbed his arms and he was pinned solidly against the deep blood red painted walls. The air was smoky and the air was hot with the press of so many bodies but he didn’t dare remove his cloak. It had been a mistake, causing him to attract too much attention in a place where there was more bare skin he had ever seen outside of the royal baths.
The hood fell from his head as he struggled, hissing and spitting like a feral cat as he struggled in his assailants firm grip. “Unhand me!”
“Easy now, princeling,” a familiar voice said and Luca finally looked up from under his thick curls into the face of the man in front of him. Blue eyes under a shock of a single grey streaked hair looked down at him, and one brow arched high. “Ye’re a bit far from home here, and not so much a prince.”
“Ser Eoin?” Luca sagged slightly at the knight’s familiar brogue. The relief that washed over him was palpable.
“Aye, princeling. It’s me.” Eoin studied him closely and Luca was all too aware of his hands still curled around Luca’s biceps and his broad shoulders looming over him. Luca lifted his nose, caught the tendril of sandalwood and leather and tried not to show how much he liked that scent on his face. He’d always thought Sir Eoin was one of the more attractive knights in his Uncle Mason’s guard but aside from a gentle mocking when Luca had been shoved in front of him to learn how to wield a sword, he wasn’t sure the knight thought of him much at all.
Eoin’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Ah, princeling, did you really think your little glamor giving yourself eyes so like your sister would hide your identity?”
“Everyone knows the prince has brown eyes,” Luca said stubbornly. If his cheeks got hot, he refused to acknowledge it. “So it couldn’t be me.”
Eoin shook his head. “Ye just look even more like an Aleron now, boy. What are ye doing here anyway? Where is ye shit for brains guard? I’m going to have to have a word with your uncle. We can’t have the prince sneaking about unaccompanied like this.”
Luca clamped his mouth shut, but that only seemed to amuse Ser Eoin even more. “Well? What say ye, boy?”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” Luca glared at the knight, half disappointed when he released Luca’s arms and stepped back. The hallway was empty for now, but the sounds of sex were unmistakable. Luca swallowed, trying not to acknowledge the way his body responded and grateful for the cloak around his shoulders even though the warm air inside the brothel made it stifling. “I’m here to fuck.”
He’d hoped to shock the knight enough to step back, maybe show him he knew what he was about enough that he would leave Luca well enough alone with his own shame – at least enough so that Luca could find an exit and escape and put this whole sorry excuse of an evening behind him.
But he didn’t expect the way the knight threw his head back and laughed, a great bellowing sound that should have made Luca pull the dagger from his boot in humiliation, but instead made something deep inside him twist painfully because he fucking liked that sound.
He seemed to like a lot of things about this knight. This knight who didn’t use his title, who called him boy and laughed in his face as though Luca didn’t have the absolute power to order him into the dungeons with a nary flick of his wrist.
“Oh, my boy, I would bet all my entire, worldly goods in this life and the next that this is ye very first time to an establishment like this.” Eoin’s eyes grew dark. “Let alone fuck.”
It was on the tip of his tongue for Luca to deny it, to cite some imaginary romp in the hay with a stable boy or a pretty maiden in the fields – it was expected of him as the prince after all – but he met Eoin’s gaze and said nothing.
Eoin stepped closer, barely a breath away from Luca’s body, so close Luca could trace every inch of his lined face with his eyes and wonder at the life this knight must have lived, the adventures he’d had… and why he was here in the brothel himself.
“Why are you here?” Luca challenged. “Couldn’t find one of the ladies in waiting in the castle to yank on your dick, Ser Eoin?”
Eoin laughed again, and this time Luca caught the blue of his eyes and candlelight skimmed over his beard. Luca suddenly wondered what it would be like to be kissed by a man such as this knight. Or to just be kissed at all.
“You’re a brave one, I’ll give you that, boy. But if ye’re here to fuck-“ Eoin said it mockingly enough that Luca flushed again. “Then I’ll be the one to help ye.”
Of all the things Luca expected him to say, that was by far the least of them. Luca replayed it in his mind but it still didn’t make sense. “What?”
Eoin leaned in, cheek to cheek. His breath was hot on Luca’s ear and under the sandalwood, Luca caught the trace of sweat. It made his dick instantly hard. “So what’ll it be, princeling? What are you here for? Girls? Boys? A little of both?”
Luca licked his lips and his voice trembled. “Uh. Boys.”
Eoin leaned back and Luca caught the flash of something hot in his eyes, and something that might even have been approval.
“Ah, good lad,” he murmured, then Eoin’s hand was curling around the back of his neck, heavy and warm and for a moment, Luca thought he was going to kiss him only for his stomach to fall heavily in disappointment when he didn’t. “But put away your magic. It’s your pretty brown eyes I wish to see, sweetheart.”
The knight took Luca’s hand and led him to a room towards the back of the house. They walked through winding corridors, passing room after room filled with any number of sex acts. Some of them had Luca desperately wanting to crane his head to look back, others had him averting his eyes in a shocked, but still morbidly curious kind of horror.
Eoin’s calloused thumb stroked his hand as they passed one room where just one glance had Luca stumbling. The man inside it was tied. Bound in intricate, delicate ropes that created art against his skin… and suspended from the ceiling with nothing but ropes and a silk tie around his eyes. Luca didn’t know what it was about the image that made him want to look back and study it closer, or maybe even try to imagine himself there.
“See something ye like, princeling?”
“No,” Luca lied. He lifted his chin and dug deep to find his most haughty, princely glare. “Where are you taking me, Ser Eoin? I should return to the castle. It’s getting late and, uh-“
Luca’s words trailed off when he felt Eoin’s amused gaze on him. “No so fast,” Eoin said and he tugged on Luca’s hand to lead him into a room that held a wide bed in the centre, adored with luxurious gold threaded pillows and draping sheets of soft material. Half a meter away from the bed was a low couch and Eoin tugged him there just as two, beautiful and artfully adorned boys looked up from their slow, lazy kisses and watched them as Eoin undid the clasp of Luca’s coat at his throat and tossed it to the side before tugging Luca down beside him on the low cushions.
Luca sat primly, somewhat confused. “What are we doing?”
“Nothing, right now, princeling.” Eoin pulled him back and Luca landed against his chest with a slight grunt. He glanced at the two on the bed, hoping they didn’t hear the way Eoin referred to him, but they were already kissing deeply, grinding against each other with long, slim golden limbs and hard cocks.
“Oh,” he whispered, lost in the way the two boys moved against each other. Their kisses were slow but their hands moved eagerly, roaming over each other’s skin and Luca watched in fascination as the glistening finger of one of the boys delved deep into the crease of the other. They both moaned as the finger moved in and out of the second one’s hole.
Luca watched greedily, tempted to bite his hand to muffle the sounds of his own arousal. He was already instantly hard, so primed he would barely need a few strokes to finish himself off.
Fuck. This was going to be torture. It already was.
Eoin’s chuckle was low and dark but it was his hand drifting up Luca’s thigh that made him jump. “For now we just watch, my prince. Just watch, and you can tell me what you like.”
Luca’s breath was suddenly stuck in his throat.
Eoin smiled, his blue eyes knowing. And Luca was lost.