The Prince in Dark Furs [boyXboy]

The Prince in Dark Furs

Copyright © 2012 Samantha Rouse

All rights reserved.

A.N. I'm just going to go ahead and give the standard warning: boyxboy, slash, call it what you like, this is Man Lust. If it's not your thing DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU. It's also [R] RATED so expect it to get very naughty, very quickly. That is all - I hope you enjoy, my dirty lovelies :)

The furs he wore were bland things, caribou mostly, and brown. He was a prince on these frozen wastes; he should have been decked in white polar bear, fox, and gold. I was used to seeing him in bear, fox, and gold.

It was something quite different to see him in caribou, seal, and blood.

"What are you doing here, Jens?" I asked, more than a little hesitantly.

The axe in his hand was a beast of a thing; scarred and bloody and huge. He hefted it like it was nothing but it made my tiny wooden bow look so feeble. I clutched at the thing lovingly. My bow, just like his axe, had been passed from father to son for hundreds of years. The only difference was that this meant his axe had also been passed down between kings when my bow came from nothing more than tribal peasantry.

"Jens?" His lip twitched mockingly with his words, and I was grateful only that the bite of the wind meant my cheeks were already so reddened that it hid the blush. I should have used his title. "Isn't that a little forward... Lukas?"

He knew my name.

No. He savoured my name.

"All men are equal on the ice," I snipped, not ready for his scorn or the cruelty of his tone. I hadn't expected to see anyone, not out hunting. I'd gone out specially to avoid the whole of civilisation, even myself.

I'd gone because of him, because I'd needed to avoid a royal visit to my tiny little village, I still needed to purge the things he did to my head.

And now here he was, propping himself up on that great axe of his and laughing.

"Not so, little Lukas," he grinned. " All footing is equal on the ice, but some men will always have a taller stature than others."

I shuddered beneath the weight of his hand as it slammed down on my shoulder, proving the truth of his words. He was as he should have been; over six foot and built like an ox. Beneath those furs, if I had not been out here to disallow myself from imagining it, I'd have known he was rippling with power and muscle and perfect strength.

But me? To have called me lithe would have been a flattery. I was small.

I was strong, though. I was wiry and strong, and somehow 'little Lukas' had always known just how to come out of each winter alive.

"I'm hunting," he said when I made no move to reply.

"Hunting?" I wrinkled my nose disparagingly, "What can you catch with a battleaxe?"

He laughed again. It was a great bellow of a laugh; suited him perfectly, made me smile.

"A grand sight more than you can with that tiny twig, little Lukas."

I clutched my bow lovingly and glared. It only made him laugh all the harder.

"Relax, min skat, I see the brace of geese at your back."