The Prince's Suitor ManxMan

Chapter 3

Again, sorry for the head hopping :P Going through editing I have realised how much I do this even though I originally wanted to stick with one perspective!

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Chapter Three

Jaicous's firm torso felt great beneath the Prince's hand that held his Suitor in place. A small part of the Prince's mind vaguely wondered how it would feel flesh to flesh, pondered how Jaicous would react if he ordered him to remove his clothing. But one look at his fuming Suitor and he ceased from doing so. He could feel Jaicous's heart beating viciously behind his chest, the quickening tempo a steady beat to his ears. No one had rebelled against him in years, no one had dared to. It was invigorating and refreshing for someone to oppose him. He had picked a fine Suitor, a rare jewel amongst the common. The Prince knew he would fit in well at court; finally he had someone who would not take no for an answer from anyone. If only he could find a way for Jaicous to behave himself he would be perfect to rule by his side. Only the growling beast before him seemed more animal than man. If the south lines saw his Suitor like this, no doubt they would have a war on their hands from their own people.

The Prince tightened his hand on Jaicous's chest. He gripped at the fabric and pushed Jaicous backwards. Jaicous stumbled but did not fall down. The pure anger on Jaicous's face was not directed at the Prince though, and as he was shoved back his eyes never lingered from his true prey. Docetre's eyes widened and he too stepped back, creating a bigger distance between them in case Jaicous charged which was exactly what Jaicous would have done had the Prince not been obstructing his way.

"Move," Jaicous growled out and shoved against the Prince but the Prince stood firm. Jaicous hissed out a breath in irritation at the taller man. His strength was far greater than Jaicous had expected.

"Calm down. Or do you always get riled up by skinny harmless servants?" The Prince felt a smirk creeping upon his face. Jaicous's fuming eyes shot to the Prince just as the he had wanted. It appeared that insults were the only way to get his riled up Suitor's attention. The sadistic side of him briefly considered releasing Jaicous onto his servant to see just exactly what his strange wood stocker could do but the Prince didn't treat his servants with disrespect...well, some of them.

"Shut up!" Jaicous sneered and clenched his fists ready to attack the Prince. The Prince knew Jaicous was capable of attacking him, he knew even with the Royal Guards stationed outside the room ready to kill anything that harmed him would not put Jaicous off attacking.  

"Be still, gatherer," the Prince murmured and pushed closer towards Jaicous with the palm of his hand. They were but a width apart, close enough to kiss the Prince thought with amusement. Jaicous's heard sped up the closer the Prince got and the Prince's rational thoughts almost fell away to lust. How delicious would Jaicous taste on the tip of his tongue? How he yearned to find out, to find what secrets Jaicous held within him, how experience was he with love? His glimmering green eyes, no matter sparked with anger were still a sight to behold. And he, the Prince, beheld them as his own. He owned them. He owned Jaicous.

It almost made him giddy, this rare new captive of his. For Jaicous was all he would think about for nights to come. If a war was to beak out among his people tomorrow, despite all the chaos he knew his mind would be on his gatherer, his new asset, his new deal. He held far too much interest in what he could and would make the gatherer sumbit too.  

Now he had chosen a Suitor everything would plan out. His land would no longer be in fear that he would not have a man by his side. He would fool everybody into believing Jaicous had been born from a Queen of a long forgotten land and not a woman of no importance, a commoner. He had many loyal contacts; he could make anything believable.