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Lord Cregan Stark dismisses the men of the Night's Watch who surround them, and waits for the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon to finish taking in the sights beyond the Wall. When they've finished, he leads the prince to a warming shed—one with a view of the realm, but with a fire where he can heat his thin, southron skin.
"It's beautiful," the boy says, standing beside the fire as he looks back out over the snowswept forest beyond as though it's the greatest sight he's ever taken in. There is awe-struck laughter etched into his youthful face, and his eyes are glimmering with excitement when he glances back at Cregan. "I would not mind seeing this each morrow."
Cregan understands the sentiment, but he cannot help himself. "Were you to offer your fate for trade with any of the doomed men of the Night's Watch, I am certain none would deny you the favor."
"I did not mean to offend," Jacaerys says quickly; his plush lips parting just enough that the lord can see his pink tongue peeking out. The color matches the rose flushing up beneath the pretty freckles on his cheeks, and the pink of Cregan's balls, which have been aching for quite some time, seeing as he's been made to follow the boy up through the North. "I only meant to praise."
"Is that how southron princes are rewarded for their sacrifices? With praise?" Cregan wonders aloud, his voice low and husky. He does not bother to raise it, never does, but it's not usually so titillating to watch another strain to hear him speak.
The prince has no verbal response. He bites his thick lower lip and shakes his head, but the Lord of Winterfell can see the denial for the lie that it is, and his cock twitches at the easy submission from the prince of the realm.
Jacaerys is as innocent as a green colt, or a nubile maiden in her first bedding with an experienced lord. He knows nothing of what it means to sweat and bleed for the realm he is entitled to—nothing of what it means to fight for his titles. And because of it, Cregan's view of the boy is split; the part of him that is a lord is irritated to have been pulled away from preparing for the oncoming winter to entertain a spoiled prince. The part of him that is a man cannot stifle the attraction he feels for the Targaryen heir as the boy bounces around with delight at each new discovery.
The snow is still falling from overhead, each little flake glistening in the prince's dark curls when it sweeps in from the side of the lookout, but with the fire raging beside them and the roof overhead, the dragon prince does not seem at all bothered by the chill—only his failure to secure the number of men he had wished for upon arrival.
After a moment, Jacaerys lifts his gaze again. "Two thousand men?"
"Aye," Cregan responds. "Greybeards." He would not suffer wasting his best men on a southron war between willful kin fighting over a steel chair.
"Old men?" Jacaerys laughs, shaking his head. "Is that all you can spare?" He drags his pink tongue over his lower lip and flutters his eyelashes, looking up at Cregan from beneath them. "Is there no way I could change your mind, my lord?"
The lord narrows his gaze—could it be true that the prince of the realm is offering what Cregan thinks he is offering? Certainly he is far too innocent to have thought of such a thing. Still, if there's even a chance…Cregan would not allow the opportunity to fuck his pretty lips pass. He is an honorable man—he never said he was a chaste one.
"What is it you're offering?" Cregan's chest rumbles as he asks, the direwolf of his ancestors taking form in his veins to purr like a predator when prey is dangled within reach.
"I would have more than two thousand greybeards," Jacaerys says, moving down to one knee. Then dropping his second—settling with his back against the railing, his hands in his lap, and his chin tilted up. The fire flickers beside him, casting a pretty glow on his pale skin, and the vision is one that Cregan knows will be seared in his mind forevermore, because the beautiful, flushed skin of a proper prince has just been presented for the rugged lord to soak in something crude.
Cregan takes a step forward, and then another.
It is his prize, after all. Must be, for none other are present.
Jacaerys' eyes lock onto Cregan's groin. He twists his fingers in his lap, licks his lips again, and shivers—but the lord does not believe his reaction is from the chilly atmosphere, for his eyes are dancing with something other than innocence…with mischief.
"Are you offering to suck my cock to win your mother more men?"
"I will not suffer lewd insults for my generosity," Jacaerys says primly, reaching for the belt holding Cregan's second sword at his hip. He unbuckles it with trembling hands, and the shiver in his voice betrays his false confidence, but the lord is feeling generous. He does not call the prince on his lie. Particularly not when his own balls have been tight for the duration of the time they've spent together; his own palm itching to take ahold of the boy's jaw and hold it in place while he uses the prince's mouth.
Relief, it seems, is finally near.
Cregan is quiet as he watches the prince carefully release his cock from the leather and wool confines, but when Jace finally exposes the length to the cold winter air, the lord grins. "Who would have known? The prince of the realm…a dirty sword swallower."
Jacaerys bites his lip. "I am not a sword swallower," he mutters, taking the length in his fist and holding the base as he looks at it studiously. He blinks, glancing up at Cregan. "But I understand my duty as much as your men understand theirs." With that, he kisses the tip.
Cregan shivers. "That's a good lad," he praises quietly, tracing the side of the boy's face and cupping his jaw. "Go ahead and lick my cock. Give it a another kiss before I fuck your pretty mouth. If you're going to earn my men, best we get started."
Jace inhales deeply, his lips grazing the wet tip. "Okay," he says, the bravery and confidence from denying the title Cregan bestowed upon him moments prior completely gone—the innocence back in full force. It's clear at once that the prince is not a skilled lover. He licks at Cregan's shaft like a kitten does milk; lapping at the side, chuckling nervously as he suckles on the tip before pulling back, not even noticing the string of pre that keeps his mouth linked to the lord's meat. "You taste good, my lord."
"I taste like cock," Cregan grunts, gazing at the mesmerizing sight of a boy prince on his knees for a lord. "Are you telling me you love the taste of cock?" He presses two of his fingers to the boy's lower lip. "Let me see your tongue."
Jacaerys unhinges his jaw—startles when Cregan shoves both digits back along his tongue, making him gag almost immediately. He keeps his fingers there. Lets the boy choke for air around them as he watches the prince's throat work. After all, there's no complaint—only a fierce sort of determination in the prince's bronze gaze.
"I think you'll do nicely," Cregan murmurs. "Might be worth at least a thousand men more if you please me. Mayhaps more." The lord works his fingers in and out a few times, testing the prince's gag reflex, and decides that although he gags with each thrust…Jacaerys' throat can certainly take a beating.
"Did you suck cock down in White Harbor?" Cregan asks, pressing down so that Jace can't answer the question. "What about back home on Dragonstone? You ever sneak down to the quarters where the household guard sleep and suck a little cock for fun?"
Jacaerys shakes his head, but he curls his tongue around Cregan's fingers and squeezes the length in his hand. He's at least thought of it.
Cregan shoves his fingers further into the prince's throat just to watch his body convulse, and then removes them—wipes the spit off on his boy's jaw. "Suck me down, now."
Jacaerys' face pales, but he nods. "Yes, my lord."
"That's nice—a prince with manners." Cregan grins, taking his own cock from the boy's palm and sets his tip on Jace's lower lip. "Open."
"Oka—" Jace's words are cut off by a wet gag as Cregan shoves himself in, buries his cock in the prince's throat; the tip of it finding the warm velvet lining at the back right away, making the boy gag—making him clench Cregan's length, whether he means to or not.
"Fuck," Cregan hisses, gripping the railing for balance as the chilly wind outside the warming hut fights with the heat of the fire beside them…and that which burns in his veins. "Such a pretty cocksucker, such a good prince—throat tight around my meat, just how it should be."
Jacaerys shivers violently beneath Cregan, squirming as he looks upwards…but he does not push Cregan away. In fact, he moans as he chokes, and it doesn't take long for him to start breathing through his nose and working his tongue against the underside of the lord's prick. It's nothing skilled, and his teeth certainly drag against the sensitive skin enough that it might hurt a man who doesn't enjoy pain…but the efforts and the whimpers confirm what Cregan had been thinking. There's a part of the prince, be it small or large, that enjoys a little degradation. Enjoys being pushed down so that he can be praised for such efforts.
Enjoys being turned into a hole for bigger, badder men.
He fucks the prince deep, rocking his hips in and out with a steady rhythm as he opens the boy's throat up—really makes him relax into the throatjob, shoving far enough back as he gets going, that his balls slap the prince's chin and the hair at the root of his prick tickles his nose and makes it twitch.
"Such a pretty lad," Cregan growls, setting his other hand on the railing so he can lean into each thrust. "You like it, don't you? You like being a tight, wet hole."
Jacaerys' eyes flutter and he nods—by all the gods, he nods.
"Others take you." Cregan jerks himself out of the boy's throat so quick, he catches a tooth along the shaft. But the bite of pain only adds to the titillation, the agonizing arousal. He doesn't want this to end in the blink of an eye, but Jace's admission is making his cock jerk and spasm—making his balls ache so much, he can't help it. He needs a moment.
He lays his wet cock on the boy's face as he inhales deep. "A prince sucking cock for men," Cregan laughs to himself. "I would have never believed it."
But the lord doesn't get much time to recover, because a heartbeat later, Jacaerys sucks one of Cregan's balls into his mouth, tucking his lips over his teeth and slurping. He moans as he massages the sac with his tongue, laving it back and forth as he worships the Stark family jewels with his pretty pink mouth. It makes Cregan want to blow his load. Drench the prince in pearl as he suckles at the man's balls.
"You like that taste, too?" Cregan murmurs, dragging his gloved hands through the boy's curls.
Jacaerys nods again, dragging his wet tongue over the sensitive, hairy skin. "Yes," he breathes between kisses and suckles. "Yes, my lord."
"Good," Cregan grunts, taking his shaft in his hand and holding the base of it tight. He picks his balls up, too, and tugs them out of the way so that he can see Jace's mouth. "Go lower."
Jace's gaze is steady—eyes on his lord—but he slips down a little further…mouths at the place between Cregan's balls and his hole. He licks like an animal; wet, filthy strokes of his pink tongue over the sensitive skin, makes the lord feel like a million golden dragons as he nurses eagerly, following instruction so godsdamned well.
"Gods, you're good at that," Cregan grunts. "Don't move." He takes a step back, rids himself of his extra layers in the warming hut, and then approaches the prince again with his hand on his cock. "Strip," he instructs. "I would see you naked and bare before me."
Jacaerys casts around, looking at the snow falling beyond the railing, but he does not argue. He unwraps his body, removing each piece of clothing with care, folding it all like a proper prince before returning to kneel beside the fire. His pretty pink cock is small, nearly hairless, and it juts up betwen his thighs—but drools where it stands.
"You're going to kiss my hole," Cregan tells the boy, tugging his boots back on. "Show me some appreciation—and then I'm going to fuck your throat."
Jace reaches for his cock but Cregan uses his boot to stop him.
"No."
"Apologies, my lord," Jacaerys whispers, his throat wrecked from before. His mouth is swollen and wet, but he's wiped the drool away, and so the only part of his body that truly glistens is the very tip of his prick where it leaks arousal.
"If you want to come, it won't be with your own hand."
Jace nods. "Understood."
"That's a good lad," Cregan murmurs. He positions himself over Jacaerys with a leg thrown over the boy's shoulder, securing his foot on the railing, and then tugs his cock and balls out of the way again as the prince resumes licking and sucking the soft skin between Cregan's legs.
Jacaerys makes an eager, greedy sound as he finds the place Cregan wanted him to find—as he presses his tongue to the tight furl of the lord's ass and starts lapping at that the same way he lapped at the man's cock.
"So fucking good," Cregan growls, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. "Your mouth could stop this war, were you to leave it open for every lord in the realm to have a go."
Jacaerys whimpers, shuddering with his tongue pressed to Cregan's hole, but he doesn't protest. Slick, wet sounds join the howl of the wind and the crackle of the fire as he licks at Cregan's ass—as he sends little curls of pleasure through the lord's veins by fully submitting; his hands on Cregan's thighs, his mouth on the lord's ass. His eyes in a stupor as he drags his tongue back and forth with pretty little sounds.
"Gods, look at you—we could get you down to Mole's Town. Put you up in a brothel. You'd make the madame there a fine bit of coin," he growls.
And it's a mesmerizing sight, but enough is enough.
Cregan pulls back, jerking himself lazily as Jacaerys pants; his pretty chest glowing in the light of the fire. "I'm going to fuck your throat, now."
"My throat?" Jace's voice is a rasp already.
"Tip your head back," Cregan demands, cradling the base of his prince's skull so that Jacaerys has something soft to lean against. He is, after all, a kind lover…even as he guides the tip of his prick back to the prince's swollen lips. "Open up if you want those men."
Jacaerys is panting, his lips slick with pre and with spit, and his eyes have the same glossy look to them that the ice on the Wall does as it weeps…but he nods. "Yes, m'lord."
Cregan rocks forward, groaning. "I've reduced you to a common whore," he groans, fucking into Jace's throat, pulling back when the boy gags. "Not even 'my lord,' is it? Now it's 'm'lord,' even more like a maiden down in Mole's Town giving herself over to a dirty, doomed brother of the Watch than I realized." His balls pull tight as he speaks, threatening to burst at the confirmation that he's reduced the prince of the realm to nothing more than a wet hole. "I was right—you'd do a good service for any madam."
The boy doesn't even try to deny it. He wraps his hands around Cregan's thighs and holds tight as the lord fucks forward, keeping his throat open as his eyes fill with tears and he gags on the thick meat Cregan is shoving down it.
"But you aren't giving yourself to another. You're my pretty whore, aren't you?" Cregan pets the prince's curls as he praises him, picking up his pace. He thrusts without mercy, seeking the pleasure that sparks in his groin with each slap of his balls against the prince's chin—with each brush of his cockhead against the velvet choke of the boy's throat. It's an ethereal feeling, an incredible sensation, and he's in no mood to stop it.
Jacaerys' drool slips down his chin as desperate little whimpers escaping his lips. His throat makes a gorgeous sound with each stroke; the wet slick of skin-on-skin, like when a man sucks meat from the leg of a crab—a juicy, wet noise of submission.
"Balls," Cregan growls, not slowing the pace of his thrusting. "Cradle them."
A little sound of assent ripples up between them, and soft, southron fingers cradle his sensitive sac with care; massaging the stones, squeezing them. Rolling them back and forth across smooth palms that have nary a callous on them.
"Gods be damned," Cregan growls, unable to think. The pleasure is too intense—and it's more than usual, for it's coming from a willful prince who thinks he can simply demand anything he desires from the lords of the realm. Cregan stops his thrusting, gripping the rail for balance as he forces the prince to take his meat to the hilt—burying himself inside of the boy's throat, shoving his prince into the deepest realm of submission as he clenches his teeth together to fight back an orgasm.
A dutiful boy, Jacaerys continues massaging Cregan's sack with his soft, untried palm—massages the lord's cock, too, but does that with his throat as he gags around it while tears trickle down his flushed cheeks.
"Look at you," Cregan breathes, cock twitching in the prince's throat. "Does the queen know her son is willing to choke on a man's sword to earn her fealty?" He pets Jace's wet jaw. "Such a good lad, such a pretty prince, too. Bet she'd be proud of you dropping to your knees like this, bet she'd make you do it more oft if she knew how effective it was."
Jacaerys' gagging gets more desperate, saliva flooding his mouth and wrapping Cregan's cock in the most delicious of sensations as he chokes on a real man's meat—struggles to breathe…but the boy doesn't stop working the stones in the lord's sac.
"You're such a pretty heir," Cregan praises, pulling back enough to allow his boy to breathe. "Willing to debase yourself for the realm. Mayhaps your queen mother will allow you to continue this throughout her lands—she could send you on a sojourn throughout the land. Allow every lord to fuck your throat in exchange for men."
Jacaerys gasps for air, though he cannot do it very well, for the very tip of Cregan's wet cock still occupies his mouth. His shaft is covered in spit, the thick sort of spit that comes from gagging on something—the saliva that builds up in a man's belly for when he vomits…or fucks the throat of a prince seeking fealty.
Cregan strokes his prince's dark, damp curls. "You do look beautiful like this," he praises, pulling out entirely so that he can drag his wet cock over the boy's pretty features. The gloss of saliva that he's spreading is quite a sight. "Mayhaps this is how your mother should win the realm. You could open your arse as well, my prince. A load of seed per soldier fetched."
"No," Jacaerys gasps. "That's not— I am—"
"Don't deny it," Cregan growls, pushing himself back into the prince's mouth. "It'd be a worthy cause, and we both know you'd enjoy it." He brushes the prince's curls out of the way. "I'm gonna cum soon," he murmurs, pulling out and pushing in. "Gonna paint your face with my load—and then we can talk about my men. That sound good, sweetling?"
Jacaerys nods, relaxing his jaw. He gives himself over completely, letting his head fall back into the cradle of Cregan's palm once more as the lord curls over the top of him and uses his throat like he uses the cunts of women. The prince's eyes fall half-shut as he drinks down the lord's cock, taking it deep and keeping his mouth open as Cregan chases pleasure without abandon.
"So fucking good," he growls. "The boy prince sucking me down—letting me wreck his throat for the good of the realm. Such an honorable little prince, doing his duty so well." Cregan groans into the pleasure as he fucks Jace's face; losing himself in the fire that sears through his body with each little clench of Jace's throat around the head of his cock.
He doesn't stop—not when Jacaerys starts to whimper again, not when the tears come harder, not when the sloppy sounds of throatfucking turn to gurgling gags. He keeps fucking hard enough to bruise, and when he feels his balls pull up and threaten release, he buries himself in the boy's mouth—shoves past the choke of his throat and moans into the night as the tightest, most exquisite pleasure ripples through his body.
"Fuck," Cregan shouts as he comes, filling the prince's throat—pulling out to flood his mouth, to drench his face. He works himself with a fist, jerking his cock over the top of Jacaerys' perfect mouth, his pale face, his flushed cheeks.
He comes all over the boy's face, until it's nothing but freckles and flush and seed from the man he's been sent north to beg fealty from. Then he bends down and captures a kiss—one hand tight around the prince's throat as he licks into the wet mess inside of the boy's mouth.
Cregan puts force into the kiss, not caring if he bruises the lips that are already swollen with their act—not caring if he leaves marks on his boy prince. He reaches down and wraps his calloused palm around the delicate cock of the realm's heir, and with only three hard strokes, gives the lad relief, jerking him all the way through the cries of pleasure that fall from Jacaerys' lips between kisses.
When he finally pulls away, spit links their mouths like it did the boy's lips to the man's cock earlier in the eve, and Cregan brushes it away with his thumb.
"Mayhaps I'll keep you," he murmurs.
"Keep me?" Jacaerys' voice is ragged.
"Your mother might soon need more men," Cregan murmurs, tugging the prince up to his feet and stealing another kiss. "And my cock might soon need more sucking." Cregan slides his hands down the boy's slender hips and takes a cheek into each of his palms to squeeze—slips one finger between them to find the next hole he seeks. "It won't be your mouth I take next."
Impossibly, Jacaerys flushes a deeper red—his hole clenching around the very tip of Cregan's digit as the lord presses for entry. "I would do my duty," Jace whispers, voice hoarse.
"As a good lad should."