Chapter Eleven
Used to his ablutions alone and in private, Caspian was bathed by two of Bran’s servants—young men with gleaming eyes and handsome faces. They drew the bath and saw him into it.
“The prince’s consort,” one of the servants mused. He scrubbed Caspian’s palms with a coarse sea sponge. “It’s hard to believe.”
“Are you ill?” the other consort asked with concern. He messaged a fragrant oil into Caspian’s hair. “Your hair is colorless.”
“It’s black, right?” Caspian asked, wondering if a change of dimension changed his appearance in some way.
“Well, yes, but… where are your colors?” The servant brushed Caspian’s hair to the side with his fingers. “All I see is black. Only the old and the sick are so dreary.”
Caspian’s whole face grew hot. “I’m not sick. I’m human.”
“Oh. Human. That's right.” The servant bit down on his lip. He smoothed Caspian’s hair back into place and worked the oil in.
“Not one of our kind,” the other person muttered. If he thought anything of that, he kept it to himself.
“I’m glad of your good health, then. It disheartened me to think the prince’s heart might be tied to a creature not fit for this world much longer.”
“Do you want color?” the other servant asked. “There are dyes. You would look stunning in greens and purples.”
“Iridescent dyes?” Caspian asked. He looked between the two of them. “So my hair would look like yours?”
“Exactly. Since you fit in so well apart from your hair, it might be in your best interest.” The sea sponge left his palms. The servant placed it on the shelf by the tub. “I think the prince would find it charming.”
“It’s just a dye job, right?” Caspian clarified. “It’s not going to hurt or anything?”
“Of course not. The paste will sit for a half hour, and when it’s washed away, your hair will shift in the light like our own. There’s no pain.”
“Then… okay.” Caspian took a deep breath and committed himself. He was in a world he didn’t know, about to attend a ceremony in his honor. The least he could do was look presentable. “I trust your judgment.”
Servants bathed and pampered Caspian, for hours. It felt relaxing and pleasant, and it gave him a little insight into the life of royalty here, as well as the opportunity to spend time with others like Bran. They brought him food to eat and refreshing beverages the like of which he'd never tasted before.
They were friendly enough as they talked to him and he listened as they occasionally spoke among themselves. They seemed guarded about revealing too much information about their kingdom.
From what he could gather, piecing snippets together, the raven civilization had a vital role in some conflict that currently took place in another realm, possibly another dimension. Caspian wasn't sure of the details and was met with refusal every time he asked. It wasn't their place, they'd state politely, to explain such matters to him.
Caspian would have liked Bran to have been with him, but stepping up to manage affairs in the King's absence and prepare for the welcoming ceremony apparently required Bran's physical self in some other place.
When night fell, the ceremony was set to begin.
Gorgeous, ethereal men and women filled the main hall in the central hub. Thousands of candles and hanging glass orbs brightly lit the room, along with moving spheres of white light that reminded Caspian of dandelion heads. There was no furniture in the room—instead, large pillows were stacked around the perimeter, barely visible behind those gathered.
There had to be a hundred people, if not more.
Feeling completely underdressed, because he was nude, just like everyone else, Caspian had never felt so terrified in his life.
Raven people guided Caspian to the center of the hall to stand before a mattress-sized, circular pillow. Behind it, hands tucked behind his back, looking tall and proud, Bran waited. From the opposite side of the pillow, Caspian faced him. Bran said nothing but looked with awe in his eyes.
In the candlelight, scrubbed clean and body perfumed, Caspian hated to be overly proud of himself, but he was sure he looked amazing. The new iridescent color in his hair shimmered. The color suited him better than his flat black hair ever had.
Bran stepped onto the pillow. Caspian, following his lead, did the same.
“Relax, hatchling,” Bran whispered to him as they stood together. “I know you feel embarrassed, but this is normal. It is expected. They will love you.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Caspian whispered back.
“You don’t need to,” Bran said. “All you need to do is act on how you feel.”
Then, without further explanation, Bran closed the distance between them and kissed Caspian on the mouth.
Caspian hummed in surprise. For a second his body begged him to draw back—he was naked in front of strangers! This wasn’t time to kiss—but he stayed the course. Slowly, his body warmed. He kissed Bran back.
Bran did not back down from the kiss. The passion deepened. He slipped his arms around Caspian’s waist and drew him closer, and when he did, Caspian felt the stirrings of Bran’s erection.
Here, in front of so many sets of eyes?
Bran’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and Caspian lost all his inhibitions. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed Bran’s touch until then, but god, did he miss it. It didn’t matter how many people were watching—Caspian needed him. And when Bran’s cock nudged against Caspian’s own, he felt only a little embarrassment.
Embarrassment, of course, he felt it.
But he was with the prince, who seemed entirely at ease, as if this situation was natural. Even expected.
He couldn't help it, even though he tried to stop it. His own cock started to harden, rising to meet Bran’s.
Caspian was completely not expecting a passionate kiss, tender touches, and erections in front of others, but he didn't resist as long as he was in Bran's arms and the prince seemed at ease with the turn of events.
“Hatchling,” Bran whispered against Caspian’s lips. “You are stunning. You look fit for a prince.”
“I’d hope so,” Caspian whispered back. He attempted to shut out all others, imagining they were alone. “I never want to give you up.”
Bran’s lips were back on his again, his hands slipping down to Caspian’s ass and squeezing.
Caspian kissed him eagerly. He couldn’t help the moaned pleasure that escaped his lips. Aware they weren’t alone, though, he felt embarrassed as soon as he heard it.
He opened his eyes, and in his peripheral vision, he saw those gathered had moved together and were also touching. Some continued to watch Bran and Caspian; others paid more attention to each other.
Their audience had started to kiss and touch, too.
Bodies met bodies.
Soon, Caspian wasn’t the only one moaning. He felt more at ease knowing that he and Bran weren’t the only ones aroused and weren’t being watched by a stoic audience.
“This is a ceremony?” Caspian whispered between breaks in their kiss.
“Of Life and Death.”
“I don’t—”
“You don’t need to.” Bran silenced him by intensifying their kiss.
Before Caspian knew it, he lay on the pillow he’d previously stood on. Bran’s body on top of his, their hard cocks rubbed together as the kiss continued, everything hotter than he’d ever known before.
Bran’s body moved against Caspian’s, and soon enough, Bran’s hand found its way between them to grip both their lengths at once. It confirmed they were doing this, in front of others.
Caspian stole a glance around the room. There were still a few people watching them. Others in the audience had tumbled to the floor in each other’s arms, making use of the pillows.
When Bran started to move his hips, gliding their shafts together, Caspian tangled fingers in Bran’s hair, and Bran nipped at his lip playfully, then resumed the kiss in full. The sound of passion surrounded them, desperate gasps and the meeting of lips. Caspian didn’t think anyone in attendance was having sex yet, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be all that much longer.
Bran and Caspian were at the center of an orgy, their love inspiring countless other bodies to seek out pleasure.
Something in Caspian's mind kept wondering about the ceremony, but there were more pressing issues for his attention, and he could ask questions later.
He'd missed Bran.
Reuniting in this way was beyond amazing. Something Caspian had never done before.
Caspian threw his head back and moaned with pleasure. Bran ran hot kisses from Caspian’s jaw all the way down his neck, then nipped at the spot where Caspian’s neck met his shoulder. Caspian howled in delight.
“I want to make love to you.” Bran's full, silken shaft brushed against Caspian’s and plunged Caspian into unparalleled bliss. “I want to show you off to every single person in this room. I want them to know what you mean to me.”
“What do I mean to you?” Caspian intended it to sound flirtatious, but he also wanted to hear it. The answer in words.
“You mean everything. You are my eternal soulmate. And they all must know it.”
“Make love to me,” Caspian begged. He wanted Bran to show him and everyone exactly what he'd just said. Caspian felt so proud and loved at that moment.
His cheeks heated, and he knew he should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The crowds around him kissed and groped and—every now and then—turned their heads to watch the prince mate with the man he’d brought home. It was hot as hell to know people were watching and getting aroused while doing so.
With his regal lover, he was bringing a whole room of people to their knees—his pleasure meant their pleasure.
Caspian wanted to put on a show as much as Bran wanted to give it.
Bran parted Caspian’s legs. When he did, Caspian felt the familiar, strange slickness between his legs that had always been there during his dreams. Magic? It had to be. He couldn’t get wet on his own.
Bran’s hand released their lengths. He repositioned himself between Caspian’s legs, and with a decisive thrust, he took Caspian in front of the crowd.
Caspian cried out in surprise and pleasure, and he ground his hips down as Bran worked deeper into him and stretched Caspian’s body to his width. On the outskirts of the room, Caspian heard the first slap of skin against skin.
Sex began in earnest.
Bran didn’t take it slow, and Caspian didn’t want him to. This wasn’t love—right now, it was lust—but it was everything they needed.
Bran stroked him as he moved, and Caspian did his best to meet Bran’s thrusts and tighten around his cock. Caspian knew hungry eyes devoured him. He felt their gaze and their greed. He knew that his body and all the things Bran was doing to it was making those on the outskirts hard.
He knew that he was inspiring a room full of strangers to have sex.
Wanton and debauched. Like something from his most private of fantasies.
Caspian loved it.
He bucked his hips and gasped as Bran stroked his prostate in passing, exaggerating his pleasure the tiniest bit in order to please those who watched. There was power in doing this—there was power in being desired. And so long as no one touched him, Caspian loved the attention. He loved to know that he would live in the perverted fantasies of the kingdom’s subjects.
The prince’s consort. The man, the prince, had claimed as his own before those gathered in the palace. A treasure to look upon, but never to touch.
Caspian felt adored as he’d never been before.
Bran pulled out.
Caspian gasped and snapped back to reality. He missed the satisfying fullness, but Bran had other plans. He laid beside Caspian on the pillow. Caspian scrambled on top of him.
Clammy and out of breath, Caspian grasped the base of Bran’s dick and guided himself down onto it. He sank onto Brian's cock and bounced, driven entirely by his lust.
From his new position, he could clearly see other bodies locked in pleasure. Some partnered as duets, others locked in groups, switching and sharing, coming together.
He wanted them to see.
He wanted all of them to see Bran and him.
To see him take his pleasure in this way with their prince and heir to their throne.
At that moment, he felt powerful as Bran's chosen lover.
And no other role would ever be as important.
One of Bran’s hands moved up Caspian’s chest and tweaked his nipple. The other grasped Caspian and pumped him, encouraging him to come. Caspian didn’t want to. Not yet. In the flickering candlelight, surrounded by strangers who were all fucking.
Fucking because of him.
He’d found something extraordinary, something that might never happen again. Caspian wanted it to last.
“Bran,” Caspian moaned. He looked away from those around him and down at Bran instead. Bran’s eyelids drooped, and his lips parted in a dreamy, utterly seduced way that made Caspian’s heart leap into his throat. Bran looked gorgeous. “Oh god, Bran…”
“You feel so good,” Bran praised. “You’re doing so well. Lead them, hatchling. Lead them into pleasure. They adore you. I adore you.”
Caspian blinked back tears. This was his doing—he was the purpose behind the ceremony and the driving force behind each and every orgasm about to happen.
Him.
Taking a shuddering breath, Caspian rocked himself on Bran's cock, letting it nudge again and again against his prostate. He knew if he pushed himself any further he’d black out. He was already shaking from pleasure and the thrill of the exhibition.
“Come inside me,” Caspian urged. “Please, please Bran.”
“Not yet.” The look on Bran’s face told that he was close. Why was he holding back? “Not yet. A little longer.”
“Please.”
No matter where Caspian looked, what he saw was erotic. Two dark-haired men shared the same partner, stretching him to his limits as he wept with joy. A woman moved freely between a group of lovers, never settling on one for long. But it was the look on Bran’s face that made Caspian want to come most of all.
“Not yet.” Bran’s words were strained. He barely held himself back from the orgasm. “Not yet, hatchling. Just a little more…”
Caspian slumped forward with a desperate sob. He quivered and lurched on Bran's cock, desperate to feel him—to know he was desired and marked by the prince in front of those who visited the palace.
As he gave into defeat, that was when Bran acted.
Suddenly, Bran rolled him over on the pillow, altering their position so Bran was on top and they were chest to chest. He entered Caspian again, pulled out almost all of the way, and thrust in again.
Caspian groaned as his body stretched to accommodate the intrusion.
Bran silenced him with a hot kiss.
What had once been senseless fucking, sweetened. The kiss simmered down, and soon Caspian was kissing Bran while tears streamed down the sides of his face. It was too sweet. It was too innocent, even as they bred in the center of depravity. With each careful thrust, Caspian knew what Bran felt for him.
Fated souls.
Caspian was more than an easy lay or an obligation. They weren’t only soulmates—the stuff that bound them was tied to their hearts, too. United in spirit and united in love, as Bran moved, Caspian understood.
They were designed for each other on all levels—physical, emotional, and spiritual—and Bran pledged his devotion there in front of countless onlookers.
Heat flooded Caspian’s body. Bran lurched forward and grunted.
Caspian let go.
The rest of the night was lost to pleasure. Caspian wouldn’t have had it any other way.