𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖆

He reveled in the prince’s willingness to bare himself to him. He watched as Jacaerys tilted his head back, exposing the pale line of his throat. The moon was bright, peeking through the thick fluff of the clouds. When the moonlight filtered in through the frost-crusted window just right, the light illuminated the room enough for Cregan to see properly. The prince slid his arms around his neck, his chilled flesh a shock against his warmth, and his eyes flitted up towards his face, little of it that he could see from such an angle. The apples of his cheeks were read, his eyes big and soft, but Cregan knew better than to fall victim to such innocence. He saw the smirk that curled up on his pretty lips, and he could do nothing but feel the incessant press of Jacaerys’s hips against his groin. The dull pain of Jacaerys digging his nails into his shoulders was worth the soft, almost girlish noise that escaped his lips, and he found himself wondering what other noises he could force his prince to make.

He leaned back enough to observe the mark he had left on his throat, marring his near perfect skin, but what was love if not an everlasting mark? Marks mattered little to Cregan, he would give and bear them with pride, but Jacaerys did not seem as willing as he was. He complained of his mother seeing the mark upon his throat, which already appeared to be swelling and reddening. If Cregan simply kept Jacaerys in the north for a week or so longer, then there would be no mark to bear witness to, but he decided that the moody prince would not like to hear such words. Jacaerys spoke with a teasing lilt to his voice, but Cregan was not a man who jested often, and certainly not when he was at his most vulnerable state. “Her Grace will be pleased with the men I send to make up for my marring of her perfect son.” He replied dryly, though his actions were not quite so bland. When Jacaerys held his arms above his head, Cregan was eager to get the prince out of his garb. So eager that something in the finely made fabric sounded as if it had torn, but Cregan cared little for the prince’s clothing. He wouldn’t be needing them for a while, anyhow.

Jacaerys exposed his torso to him, all pale and freckled flesh, unmarked and unclaimed, all for him. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a creature, but he knew better than to question whatever destiny had led Jacaerys to willingly fall into his bed. Jacaerys pressed their lips together again, and Cregan did not bar the prince from a kiss, but instead embraced him. His palm slid across his jaw, keeping his head steady as he moved his body away from him,  parting their lips as he stood atop their bed. Despite himself, he let out a noise that could have been a whine. A displeased one, but a whine nonetheless. His jaw grew taut, frustration simmering beneath his flesh at the command, but Jacaerys had him leashed tightly. A good hound never strayed from its leash. “Aye.” He grumbled, miserably, with his arousal burning through his flesh like fire. 

He watched, starving and desperate, as his prince tormented him with his slow actions. Sliding his trousers down the lean muscle of his legs, enticing him even more with the delicate white stockings that decorated them. He didn’t tear his eyes from Jacaerys for a moment, taking him in entirely. He would grieve any second his eyes did not spend looking at him. The animal in him scratched at the insides, howling to disobey and simply take, but Cregan was no such man. A brute, perhaps, but he was not barbaric. Not entirely. Cregan did not need to be commanded twice, sitting there for those few minutes had felt like years, and with the crown prince’s permission, he would take what was offered so readily to him without even a thought of complaint.

His arm wrapped tightly across the prince’s back, pulling at him till he settled back onto his knees. Cregan found himself giving silent thanks to his ancestors, for gracing him with the sturdiness of his frame, as it was quite easy for him to bully the prince about, palm spreading flat across his belly as he forced him to lay flat on his back. His palm cradled the back of his thigh, bringing it up to settle on his shoulder, and he tilted his head to press his lips against the fabric that shielded the flesh of his thigh from him. Well, that certainly would not do. Cregan snagged the fabric, white lace catching on his canines as he tore his head backwards, fabric tearing and shredding between his teeth. “Little minx. These,” he spat out the fabric that he had torn, lace sticking to his tongue before falling against the furs in scraps, “were purposeful. No?” He did not need to truly ask, he already knew the answer.

Traps of meat had been set upon the ground, luring Cregan in little by little. The Wolf had thought himself impervious to affection, especially after the loss of his former wife. Childbirth had claimed her, leaving Cregan alone in an unforgiving world with a pup of his own to care for. Jacaerys had been utterly delighted with Rickon who treated him as if he were one of his own younger brothers. Slowly the ice around Cregan's heart began to thaw out, lit ablaze by the dragonfire of this pretty southern boy. Jacaerys had determined early on that he thought Cregan attractive. It was downright puzzling to be surrounded by so much snow and still become uncomfortably warm whenever the man allowed those grey eyes to linger upon him. Jace had hoped he was catching something, at first. Anything to rationalize his betrayal of his own betrothed in favor of a man twice his size. It had been foolish of Jace to deny his feelings for Cregan. He knew now that nobody in all of the realm would be able to make him feel like this.

There would never be another whom looked at him with eyes so hungry that it nearly frightened him. There was a feral nature to Cregan in the present that had been lacking before. Jace could feel the man's carnality, and if he had been crueler he would have continued to tease and deny the wolf until he could stand it no longer. But he wasn't cruel. Jace wanted to offer his own body to Cregan so he might satisfy both of their appetites. Instantly the wolf took charge, forcing Jace onto his back with a giggle. "If I had known that was all that was required I would have offered myself to you weeks ago." His curls spill around his head like a halo, framing his blushing and bewildered face. His smooth thighs settle upon sturdy shoulders while his own hardness throbs and leaks across his toned stomach. He cannot reach Cregan to lovingly brush his hair out of his face, so instead he grips the bedding beneath him.

His fingers twitch nervously while Cregan places a kiss to his thighs. His stubble tickles through the soft cotton shielding his flesh from the man's hungry mouth. "Perhaps.." Jacaerys had planned the entire evening knowing that Cregan would be unable to deny him. Being interrupted by Alton earlier had been unaccounted for, but it had only left them wanting more. "Cregan!" Jace lets out a plaintive whine as the sound of tearing fabric fills the cool air. Fuck. He had rather hoped to wear those stockings again for Cregan. Unprotected from the wolf the soft flesh of his milky thighs were free to be suckled and bitten while their owner mewed and panted like the needy little thing he was.

Jacaerys nods, biting down on his lower lip while Cregan's warm breath flushes out over his bare flesh. "I've thought of little else since returning from The Wall." He admits in between the soft noises that slip past his mouth. "If I had been so bold I would have claimed you in your tent. But it'd be unbecoming of a prince to take his host into his mouth during his sleep." Jace says with a bashful smile, giving Cregan some insight into the fantasies that had bewitched him during his stay in Winterfell. "Oh," Jace whimpers, "That feels heavenly.." His virgin hole yields to the man while Jace spreads his thighs, allowing Cregan unrestricted access to him. He watches as the man climbs over him with bated breath. Jace leans up for a kiss, but is denied when Cregan passes his face so he might take an earlobe between his sharp teeth. "A-Ah!" His hands move to brace themselves upon the man's back where his nails dig into the fabric of his shirt. "More. Don't tease me, damn you. Give me more."