Page 131 of A Sword of Ice
He had trained for things like this. But he had not been prepared for how different the magical whip the king had conjured would be in comparison to what his father had used. It was raw power flaying through his skin.
He had not cried out, though, and perhaps his father could be proud of him for that much at least.
Had his father not been fucking dead.
He realized his thoughts were taking a dark turn for someone who was currently getting his cock sucked.
The skin of his back stuck to his tunic and jacket. Blood seeped through the material; that, combined with the fact that he was pressed up tightly against a stone wall had him gritting his teeth tightly. It had nothing to do with the Unseelie male who was currently on his knees before him, worshiping his cock like it was some holy gift from Mana.
The sucking slurps that echoed through the stone room irritated Uric more than they turned him on. Still, his cock was hard, and he needed that friction of release.
So he pushed past the pain and gripped the long black hair of the Fae man in his hands, pushing it aside enough to see the tips of his pointed ears, but not enough to see the features of his face.
The face he did not care about. Because if he looked at it, he would know it was not the male he truly wanted.
Tonight, he did not want to feel any more pathetic than necessary.
He gripped the male’s hair tightly in his fist and began pumping into his mouth until his dick hollowed into the back of the Fae’s throat. He set a punishing, unrelenting pace, his anger bubbling over in this moment as he pictured imparting this cruelly onto someone else.
Onto the fucking Seelie Prince.
“Bastard,” Uric groaned, dropping his head back against the wall, his hips never stopping their punishing force. He did not particularly care that he was all but choking the other Fae or enjoying the moans of pleasure that came from his throat. He ignored that. He ignored everything but his own fury and humiliation as he took it upon himself to give those useless emotions to someone else.
Here he did not worry about his back hurting. Here he could block away the pain in favor of something else.
His fingers caressed the silk strands of dark hair, pulling in a demanding tight-fisted grip and began shoving his cock down the man’s throat, faster and faster until he felt himself reach his release.
Uric groaned and shoved the Unseelie away, turning so he did not have to watch him clean Uric’s cum from his mouth or smile at him as if what they just did was going anywhere else. Or, Mana forbid, he thought Uric would reciprocate pleasure.
A selfish lover, Uric had always been. He did not particularly care that it made him look cruel or like a bastard. He relished in the image. Let them all think what they wanted.
He was familiar enough with the courts and observing people to know they did it anyway.
Once the Fae stood to his feet, he made the mistake of reaching for Uric. Uric dodged his hold, a blade appearing in his fingers and pressing to the man’s throat before he could even blink. It had become instinct now. To threaten others with the edge of a weapon.
“Get out,” Uric ordered. “And do not ever presume to touch me without my permission again, lest you lose your hand.”
The Unseelie blinked, then smirked a wicked smile. Uric ignored it and began undressing, toeing off his boots. All the while, he was alert, gaze watching the Unseelie slowly walk towards the door. When he left, Uric felt his body sag with relief, though a bit of tension remained as he took off the rest of his clothes.
Taking off his tunic felt like he was ripping the skin at his back all over again. He bore through it, clenching his teeth until it was done, and then doing it again as he slipped on fresh clothing and bent to lace up his boots.
It was an easy thing, to compartmentalize the pain and suffering. Even easier not to ask Ryker for help like Valerio had all but ordered him to do. He was smarter than that. To give his bare back to someone he did not entirely trust.
Yes, Ryker was a trustworthy Fae, but Uric did not trust anyone. That was one thing he had learned from the High Lord of the Obsidian Court, at least. To never trust.
Yet Uric trusted Valerio.
More the fool, him.
He stood to his full height and began stretching. He would heal within a few days, and he would have no need for the healer to look him over. He could care for his own wounds well enough. He did not need the prince looking after him. He did not need him to pretend like he cared.
He certainly did not need him telling Uric all the ways they could never be, because he was awaiting a mate that might never show up for decades yet.
If he wanted to spend the rest of his days pining after someone who might not even exist, then he had every right to do so. Royals always did whatever the fuck they wanted anyway, without regards to who or what destruction they left in their wake.
His back was proof enough of that.
So was the ache in his chest that Uric refused to acknowledge.
