They reached the private wing of the fortress, and the guards fell back, leaving Malekith and Aric alone. The door to Malekith’s chambers swung open, and a wave of dark, spicy air washed over Aric, enveloping him in Malekith’s scent. Malekith gestured for Aric to enter, and with a trembling hand, Aric did as he was bid.
“Aric.” Malekith’s voice was a low rumble, and Aric shivered, feeling the intensity of those eyes on him. “Look at me.”
Aric took a deep breath and turned to face Malekith, trying to steady himself. Malekith was standing only a few paces away, his pale skin glowing in the dim light of the chamber, his eyes dark and unreadable. He was a clever spider, Aric knew, and Aric was his prey, caught in his web.
“You have something to say.” It wasn’t a question. Malekith’s gaze was a challenge, a dare, and Aric knew he had no choice but to meet it.
“Yes, my prince.” Aric’s tone shook, but he forced the words out. “I would ask you a question.”
“Then ask.”
Aric’s throat felt dry, his words a whisper. “Is this necessary? The full-on invasion of the human realm. I know we had to reveal the wards to Zaxos, but is there no other way?”
Malekith’s expression didn’t change, but the air in the chamber shifted, charged with a dangerous current. Aric held his breath, waiting, but Malekith said nothing.
“I know what you said to the council, but there must be another path.” Aric’s words tumbled out in a rush. “Some way to avert this bloodshed. I cannot stand by and watch my people die, nor can I be the one to bring death to yours.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and cloying. Malekith’s eyes bored into him, searching, weighing, and Aric fought to hold them, to not flinch away. He had laid his cards on the table, and now all he could do was wait.
Malekith looked away, wounded. “You know the answer to that.”
And he did. Aric had known from the moment he set foot in the demon realm, but he had tried to ignore it, to convince himself that there was another way. He had given everything he had to give, and it still hadn’t been enough.
“Our peoples’ fates hang in the balance,” Malekith said, his tone a seductive caress. “And you are the key to it all.”
Aric closed his eyes, trying not to feel like his lungs were crushing in. “I only wish I knew what that meant.”
Malekith’s hand was warm on his cheek, and Aric started, his eyes flying open. He had been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even heard the demon prince move. Malekith’s thumb brushed over Aric’s skin, a gentle, coaxing touch, and Aric couldn’t help but lean into it, despite himself.
“Trust me, little mage,” Malekith said. “I will not let any harm come to you. You have my word.”
Aric searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit, but Malekith’s expression was a mask. He was a master of deception, Aric knew, able to bend the truth to his will. But Aric wanted to believe him, with a desperation that frightened him. He needed to believe that there was some other way, that he didn’t have to be the instrument of so much death and destruction. He’d exposed hints of it, here and there, that he was playing a longer game than even Aric could imagine—a delicate web of strategy to bring about the end of the war, and allow humans and demons to live side by side. It was a beautiful dream, and one Aric wanted to share with him. One Aric hoped might actually bear fruit.
But he was afraid to hope.
Malekith’s stare was like fire on his skin, and despite the warning bells that were going off in the back of his mind, Aric found himself stepping closer, unable to look away. Malekith’s heat drew him in, and before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching out, his fingers brushing against the soft, cool skin of Malekith’s throat.
Malekith’s pulse fluttered beneath his touch, and Aric’s own heart leapt in response. They’d been separated for too long after Darioth’s death and the resulting maelstrom of questioning, but he was tired of holding back, of denying the pull he felt towards Malekith, even in the face of everything he’d done.
Malekith’s eyes fell shut, and he let out a slow, shuddering breath. “Aric,” he whispered, and the sound of his name on Malekith’s lips was a caress in itself, a spark that set his skin ablaze.
Aric’s hand moved of its own volition, trailing up Malekith’s jaw, his thumb brushing over the soft curve of Malekith’s lower lip. Malekith’s eyes flew open, and the look in them sent a jolt of raw heat straight to Aric’s core. It was a hunger, a need, and despite everything, Aric found himself aching to satisfy it.
He leaned in, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Malekith’s scent surrounded him, heady, intoxicating, and he was falling into it, losing himself in the dark, seductive tangle of it. Their lips were so close now, and Aric’s pulse was a deafening roar in his ears. He should stop, he knew, but the thought was distant, muffled, drowned out by the rush of his own blood.
And then their lips met, and it was like a bolt of lightning, searing and white-hot. Malekith’s mouth was a dark, velvety promise, and Aric melted into it, unable to resist. He tasted of shadows and spice, a flavor that was uniquely, intoxicatingly Malekith, and Aric never wanted it to end.
His hands dipped into that dark, silken hair, and he tugged Malekith closer, wanting to erase the space between them. Malekith’s body was hard, unyielding, and he moved with a predator’s grace even as he kissed Aric with a desperate, searing hunger.
Malekith’s hands were everywhere, sliding under Aric’s tunic to caress his skin, tangle in his hair, and Aric’s breath caught in his throat. He was a man possessed, caught in Malekith’s dark, seductive web, and he never wanted to find his way out.
They stumbled towards the bed, Malekith’s long fingers working at the lacings of Aric’s tunic, and the cool silk of the bedding enveloped them as they fell. Malekith’s body was a heavy, searing weight on top of him, and Aric arched up into it, aching for more. Malekith’s kisses were a heady poison, and Aric drank deeply, unable to stop himself.
“Aric,” Malekith whispered, his voice a dark, velvety caress against Aric’s ear. “Are you sure?”
The question cut through the fog of lust that had clouded Aric’s mind, and he forced himself to focus, to remember why he was here. He was a pawn, he reminded himself, a means to an end. But for now, he could pretend that things were different, that he was more than that. He could lose himself in Malekith, if only for a little while.
Malekith had pledged to protect him not so long ago. Nothing had changed that. Nothing could change the ache he felt for this man, demon or not. Aric craved him, needed him, and with Malekith, they could find a better way.
He kissed Malekith again, his answer a silent promise, and Malekith’s answering smile was a dangerous, wicked thing. The rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of them in the darkness, and Aric let himself be consumed.
Aric’s breath hitched as Malekith’s mouth descended, a scorching brand on his fevered skin. Down the firm swell of Aric’s chest, the hard tiles of his abs, then lower, into the golden hairs that trailed almost from his navel to the root of his cock. Malekith’s lips, so full and soft, closed around the head of his shaft, already stirring to hardness, and Aric’s hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. Malekith’s hands rested on his hips, holding him still as he swirled his tongue, tasting, teasing. A low groan escaped Aric’s throat, and he threaded his fingers into that silky black hair, guiding Malekith’s mouth down, down, until he was fully sheathed in that wet, velvety heat.
Malekith hummed in response, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through Aric’s body. He moved with slow, deliberate languor, sucking and laving with practiced skill. Aric’s head fell back, his eyes fluttering closed as he surrendered to the onslaught of sensations. He was keenly aware of every stroke of Malekith’s tongue, every scrape of teeth, every gentle tug of his hair. It was too much and not enough, a sweet torture that left him breathless and desperate.
He wanted to thrust, to take, but Malekith held him firmly in place by the hips, dictating the pace. Aric’s muscles quivered with the effort of holding back, his entire body thrumming with pent-up desire. He was acutely sensitive, every nerve ending singing, and he felt each touch, each caress, like an electric shock.
Malekith’s hands slid up his thighs, stroking and kneading, his mouth never still. His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin of Aric’s inner thighs, and Aric’s breath hitched, his hips twitching. Malekith’s eyes, dark and hooded, met his, and Aric saw the promise there. A silent plea formed on his lips, and Malekith responded, his mouth working Aric’s cock with renewed fervor.
Aric’s hands tightened in Malekith’s hair, his knuckles white as he struggled for control. He was teetering on the edge, his entire body coiled tight, and then Malekith’s fingers, slick with oil, pressed against him, seeking entry. Aric’s eyes flew open, his breath catching as he felt that first burn of penetration. Malekith’s finger pushed past the resistance of his body, and Aric’s back arched, a strangled cry escaping his throat.
Malekith’s mouth left his cock with a wet pop, and he murmured words of encouragement, his breath hot against Aric’s sensitized skin. His finger thrust slowly, carefully, scissoring and stretching, preparing him. Aric’s body trembled from holding still, his cock leaking against his abdomen. He wanted more, needed more, and his hips bucked restlessly, seeking friction.
Malekith added a second finger, stretching him further, and Aric bit his lip to stifle a moan. It burned, but the pleasure was indescribable, a white-hot brand that seared through him. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet, he trusted Malekith to take care of him. Malekith’s fingers worked him open, each thrust hitting that spot that made his vision spark and his cock twitch.
“Please,” Aric gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I need—”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but Malekith understood. He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself at Aric’s entrance, the thick cock Aric had only experienced once before even more impressive for the experience: subtly ridged, broad and long, with precum beading like pearls at the tip. Aric’s eyes met his, searching, questioning, and Malekith’s expression softened. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Aric’s lips, before pulling back to look into his eyes.
