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Dane is waiting for him down by the stables when Finn arrives that morning.
He’d been reprieved of attending the mornings council session; had begged it off to sleep in a little longer whilst Finn sat beside his father and his father’s advisers to listen in on their discussions regarding the kingdom’s affairs.
Finn had sent Dane back to his own rooms in the early hours of the morning before first light, so that he may not be discovered reclining within the crown prince’s chambers.
He’d instructed Dane to be ready to ride out at ten, when the sun was midway into the sky. Indeed, his charge had certainly grown better at following instructions since his arrival in Lunare some weeks ago.
Dane is now watching a young groom saddle their horses, an apple in one hand and a small pocket knife in the other, which he is using to peel small slithers from the tender fruit.
Finn pauses for a moment to observe him from across the courtyard. From here, the morning sun shines upon Dane’s bronzed curls, highlights his tanned complexion and the slope of his cheekbones. From his ears glint a set of gold jewels which catch the light each time he ducks his head to slip a piece of apple skin between his lips, and the sea green cloth of the tunic he has donned matches the shades of colour within his eyes.
Once again, Finn is overwhelmed by his beauty. Unlike his kinsmen, who all bear a similar colouring of dark eyes and hair the colour of midnight, deep oaks and chestnut browns, Dane is a stark contrast.
He turns heads no matter where he roams; be it those awed by his looks or enamoured with his easy, charming personality, there is no denying that he is a welcome breath of fresh air to the Kingdom of Lunare.
That such a thing of beauty should choose to warm Finn’s bed confounds him daily.
As he watches, Dane’s head raises and he turns towards him, as though pulled by some invisible chord. A small smile, smug yet sweet, graces his lips, and Dane nods his head in acknowledgment.
His penetrating gaze, however, imparts a thousand other meanings; ones of sin and sex and pleasure and passion, and Finn feels his cheeks warm as he recalls the latest round of carnal fun they had engaged in last night.
Running a hand through his dark hair, he clears his throat, and approaches the Solari Prince.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Dane says, as Finn enters the stable. The groom pauses in his ministrations of tightening Augustine’s briar, turning and dipping low at the waist into a respectful bow.
“Your Highness,” Finn greets him. He motions for the groom to rise and hands him two cloth bags. “I will need these to be saddled.” The groom nods, and scuttles off to resume his work. Turning to Dane, Finn says, “We did not see you at breakfast today.”
“I was indisposed,” Dane says with a cheeky grin. He slips another sliver of apple shell into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“You were sleeping?” Finn asks, voice lowered.
“I had a busy night, my lord.” Fingers, light as a feather and mischievous as an imp’s, brush the exposed bone of Finn’s wrist behind the groom’s back.
“Oh?”
“I was studying a tome from your library. An ancient one, at that.”
Finn raises an eyebrow. “Ancient.”
Dane hums lowly. “Indeed; one written in the language of your forefathers. Although, I am struggling with it.”
“Which part?”
“Your dialect.” Dane’s eyes drop to Finn’s crotch momentarily. “Such a tricky thing to get my tongue around.”
Finn gulps. “Are the horses ready, Mika?” he asks quickly, turning to the groom.
“Uh, indeed, my Lord.” The young man drops into another hasty bow.
“Come,” Finn says to Dane, “We have much to do today.”
He climbs gracefully onto Augustine’s back; pats the stallion’s neck to soothe its quiet huffing.
Dane shrugs. He approaches his own horse, feeding her the remains of his apple, which she chomps down greedily. She is a fine golden mare named Loretta; a gift of good will bestowed by Finn’s father when agreeing to house Dane for the summer solstice. “What’s in the bag?” he asks, nodding his head towards the sack strapped to Augustine’s saddle.
“Business,” Finn replies, and nudges his horse into action.
He leads the way out of the castle; can hear the sound of Loretta’s hooves clacking against the cobbles behind him. Once they are clear of the drawbridge, he is able to coax his stallion to go faster. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dane riding alongside him. The prince is an excellent rider, and shows no signs of fatigue or that he is unable to match the pace set by Finn and his beast.
They ride through fields laced with lavender and poppies; around them, insects buzz, swooping around their horses’ ears and tails.
Their path, though unorthodox, leads them to the village. Finn rides them into the square and dismounts at the large fountain that stands in the centre of it. He and Dane tie up their horses reins nearby the fountain so that the animals may drink, and Finn removes one of the bags from his saddle. He hands it to Dane, who looks confused.
“My Lord?”
“Come on,” Finn says, turning towards the square. Already, a small crowd of fae have begun to gather around them. Some of them carry old wounds and battle scars, walking with wooden prosthetics and slings over their limbs.
Dane opens the bag. Inside, it is filled with small golden coins.
Finn takes a handful, and begins to move through the crowd, distributing coins amongst those congregated. He looks over at Dane. “Come on,” he repeats.
Dane picks up a coin and looks around. Nearby, hugging the knee of her mother, is a small fae girl. She can be no more than four summers old, with masses of curly black hair tied up with a bow. She looks at him with large, assessing eyes.
Dane stops and holds out the coin. Tentatively, the girl reaches out and snatches it from his hand. A large grin breaks out across her cherubic face, revealing a missing tooth, and she darts away quickly.
Dane watches her go, and turns towards Finn.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks quietly, as Finn hands out more of the coins. Some of the fae touch his arms and shoulders in reverence.
“Many of our people were injured during the uprising,” Finn murmurs back. “Some of these families have lost their fathers, their sons. They died fighting for my future kingdom.” One fae woman breaks down into tears, and Dane slips her an extra coin when no one is looking. He returns quickly to Finn’s side. “I would help them, if I can,” Finn explains.
“You give them coin from the royal treasury?”
“This is my coin,” Finn says shortly. “To do with as I please.”
Dane pauses, nods.
They continue to move through the crowd, handing out money and receiving thanks. Eventually, though, the sack is empty.
Dane looks over at the other bag saddled to Augustine’s side, but Finn stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Not that one,” he says. “Come, we need bread.”
Blindly, Dane follows him to the bakery in the lower district. He has been here many times now with Finn; the bakery is renowned throughout the kingdom for making some of the finest loaves around.
Finn chats casually with the baker, who looks thrilled to have not one, but two, crown prince’s once again gracing his establishment, whilst Dane eyes up a row of small honey cakes on display on a table nearby.
“Would you like one?” Finn asks him suddenly, and Dane flushes at being caught out. “A loaf of your seeded rye, Alessian,” Finn says to the baker, “And two of your honey cakes.”
Goods procured, Dane trapes after Finn back to the square. “What will we do now?” he asks, as Finn packs his baked goods away into the sack still attached to his stallion’s saddle. “Visit a convent? Kiss some babies on the brow? Heal the blind?”
“No,” Finn says, “Now, the day is our own.” He looks around, and then squeezes Dane’s wrist. “Come, I have an idea.”
They remount their horses and ride back out to the meadow. This time, however, Finn turns his horse to the east, directing them towards the Whispering Forests.
Already, a grin is breaking out across Dane’s face as he realises what Finn is planning. They leave the horses at the edge of the trees, and Dane turns to Finn. “We’re going to fly?” he asks, his devil-may-care attitude betrayed by a boyish eagerness.
“We’re going to fly,” Finn says, but his words are stopped when Dane darts forwards and kisses him hard on the mouth.
They grapple for a moment, lips smacking in heated passion, when Finn grabs him by the curls. “Someone could see,” he murmurs, chest heaving, and Dane snorts.
“The horses?” he teases and Finn scowls.
“You know that’s not-”
“Not what you meant; I know. Come on, Finn, my wings are getting cramped.” Already, Dane is stepping away and removing his tunic. It leaves him bear chested, only in his pants and boots, and he unfurls his amber wings, shaking them out where they have been repressed against his back all day.
Finn pauses in undoing his mother of pearl shirt buttons, his eyes subconsciously drawn to Dane’s magnificent visage. He truly does look as though he was sculpted by a master craftsman. Every inch of him is chiselled; the mounds of his pecs, the peaks of his nipples, the hard, firm ridges of his abs. Finn would know what it’s like to taste every part of him; his mouth waters at the thought of being on his knees with Dane’s large, perfect cock between his lips, and his wings tremble as he, too, stretches them from behind him.
He has no need to fear when it comes to staring. Dane’s eyes rove hungrily over the wings that protrude from his spine, the colour of a spider’s silk. “You’re gorgeous,” Dane says, and Finn blushes.
“I have a place in mind where we can go,” he says, tossing his shirt over his saddle. At the same time, he reaches for the sack, which he holds tightly in one fist. “Will you follow?”
“I would prefer to race you,” Dane admits. Already, his wings are fluttering; he is like an eager child, keen to run free and play.
Finn raises an eyebrow. “A wager, then,” he says. “The first one to race above the clouds is the winner. If I win, you will follow me, without complaint or questions.”
“And if I win?” Dane asks.
“Name your price.”
Dane thinks for a moment. “I would have you with my mouth.”
Finn snorts, a blush creeping up his pale cheeks. “You’ve done that before, it is hardly something new-”
“No, you misunderstand me. I would have your behind with my mouth.”
“Oh.” Finn coughs; the image that conjures in his mind has him twitching beneath the cloth of his pants. “Is it not… unclean?”
“That depends,” Dane says.
“On?”
“You. You are a meticulous bather, Finn Lunare. I am not too concerned.”
Finn shivers. “Well?” he asks.
“You’re on.” And then Dane kicks off the ground, amber wings fluttering as he flies into the air.
“Wait, you cheater!” Finn yells, flying after him. Dane whoops with joy, twisting and arching through the air as Finn beats his wings hard to catch up with him. They fly higher and higher, swooping and diving through the winds. Finn sees the cloud line above him and he closes his eyes; when first learning to use his wings, he’d always found this part the most difficult.
The clouds obscured his vision for only a moment, light as whisps and twice as tickly, and then he is soaring, high above the kingdom. He flaps his wings, looks around him, and sees Dane hovering nearby him. He gives him cheeky wave, waggling his fingers, and Finn huffs, a scowl overtaking his handsome features.
“You cheated,” he snaps.
Dane shrugs. “Only a little.” He sighs fondly at the sight of Finn’s protruding lower lip. “Well, I won, so I get to put my mouth on your succulent behind.”
“Why should I let you?” Finn sulks and Dane flutters over to him.
“Because, dear prince, I am still going to follow you,” he says softly, “To partake in whatever ludicrous activity you have planned for us. I did swing the odds in my own favour, after all. And then, later, when you are all bathed and clean, I shall have my mouth on you.” He cups Finn’s face, strokes across his bottom lip until the pout that hangs there is softened. “Will you show me now?”
Finn assesses him wearily, like he is unsure if he is being mocked. After a beat, he says, “There is a glade, in the middle of these woods. I should like to show it to you.”
He’s adorable. “Lead the way.”
Despite his earlier brooding, Finn breaks into the most spectacular smile. He flits into a steady dive with Dane hot on his heels, as he leads them into a steady glide across ancient tree tops. Dane relishes the feel of the wind in his hair; how it whips at his cheeks and makes his eyes stream; how it makes him feel so breathless and alive all at once.
They fly on, lower and lower, past bracken and brooks, until they come to a break in the trees. Finn comes to an easy rest, his feet settling on the ground with a soft thump. Dane lands not far from him. He turns to see Finn disappearing into a thicket, and walks after him.
The glade Finn has brought him too is breath-taking. It stretches over gentle mounds of greenery, with trees that bare leaves the colour of cherry blossoms in bloom. A quiet stream runs through it, where Dane can see fish and fauna alike leaping and growing from its watery depths.
It is beautiful.
He looks over at Finn, who is rummaging through the bag he had been clutching this entire time. Curiously, Dane peers over his shoulder to see Finn produce a blanket, which he rolls out onto the ground. He delves back into the bag and takes out the bread and honey cakes they had procured from the bakery, as well as a bunch of grapes, a casket of strawberries, a square of cheese. He also produces two silver goblets and a bottle of wine.
As if sensing his eyes on him, Finn bristles beneath Dane’s regard. “The bag is enchanted by the mages,” he says, not quite meeting Dane’s eyes. “To store lots of things without ever feeling too big or too heavy.” When Dane says nothing, he blushes. “You think me silly.”
He reaches for the wine, and Dane is on him in a second, squeezing his wrists gently. “I do not,” he says lowly, and brings Finn’s hand up to his mouth to bestow a kiss upon his knuckles. “I think it’s beautiful. You did this for me?”
Finn flushes. “I thought you might like it.”
“I love it,” Dane says, and kisses his mouth. “I love it.”
Finn is still blushing, but he’s smiling again, eyes alight at the praise. “Shall we sit?” he asks. He joins Dane on the blanket and uncorks the wine. He pours them both a glass and watches intently as Dane takes a sip.
Dane swills the liquid around his mouth, and his eyes widen. “I know this taste,” he says, looking at Finn in wonder. “This wine is from my homeland?”
“Your father gifted us a whole cellars worth when the peace treaty was signed,” Finn explains, leaning over to top up Dane’s glass now that he has his stamp of approval. “Which you would know, had you been there.”
“Yes, well,” Dane murmurs, “I was busy.” Finn doesn’t say anything, so Dane reaches for a honey cake. He nibbles on the corner, lashes fluttering at the way the sweetness bursts pleasurably across his tongue. “You know, we do not have these in Solari,” he says, and Finn looks surprised.
“You don’t?”
“No.” He inspects the sweet cake. “You think your baker would be willing to trade?”
“I think a lot of things will be different now.”
Dane watches Finn’s side profile, how he looks intently at the grass. “It concerns you?”
“We have never had the means to govern ourselves before,” Finn says. “To rule our own kingdoms, negotiate our own trade deals. The overlords ensured that no fae could stand on their own two feet. To have so much freedom feels…?”
“Overwhelming?”
“Oppressing.” Finn shakes his head and sips his wine. “Forgive me, I know not what I speak of.” He reaches for the bread, which he tears in half and hands one side to Dane. He chews, but he does not look like he is enjoying the taste.
“You care for your people,” Dane says.
“Someone must.”
Dane ponders for a moment. In the weeks he has spent with Finn, he has seen him impose many qualities that will set him up to be a worthy ruler of the Lunare lands. It is true; he is serious to the point of boredom, stubborn as a mule, and meticulous to boot. He is also kind, patient, and caring. “You will be a good king,” he says.
Finn nods. “I would see to it that our kingdoms remain friends,” he says softly. Against the ground, his outstretched fingers find Dane’s, and they brush against them gently. It makes Dane’s wings tremble with giddy delight.
“I would like that.” He reaches for a strawberry, relishes its silky richness on his tongue. Finn also indulges in one, and its juices stain his lips red. “Tell me about this place,” Dane says, stroking Finn’s knuckles.
Finn leans back onto the grass and closes his eyes. “I used to come here with my mother,” he explains.
“The queen, she…?”
“She’s dead, if that’s what you’re asking.” Something small and sad washes over Finn’s face. “Childbirth, when delivering my brother.”
“You have a brother?”
“No.” Finn lifts his head to look at him. “No, it took them both.” He sits up and hugs his knees. “Now, it is just myself and my father. I take my role as the next in line seriously because… Well, because there is no one else.”
Dane frowns. He reaches over, brushes the skin of Finn’s back where his wings begin. “My mother is my father’s third wife,” he says softly, and Finn blinks.
“I didn’t know that.”
“There are even some who claim that she was pregnant with me before she and my father were married. That I’m illegitimate,” Dane says. He laughs softly, humourlessly. “I suppose I have no need to worry about ever taking the crown. I am the fourth spare, of use to no one.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“No, it’s not,” Finn says, with finality. After a beat, he adds, “You are of use to me.”
“Because I warm your bed at night?”
“Because.” Finn pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Because I have very few friends at court, and even less who know what it’s like. To have the weight of expectation on your shoulders, always.”
“I have no expectations on me.”
“You are a prince, are you not?” Finn asks, and Dane sighs. Finn picks a blade of grass. “I fear I’ve rather brought the tone down, haven’t I? I have a tendency to do that.”
“At least you have a good taste in wine,” Dane says, and his companion snorts a laugh which he tries to smother unsuccessfully in to his palm. Dane leans over to top up his glass, then swigs straight out of the bottle himself.
They stay by the glade, nibbling at the food that Finn had brought and trading the wine bottle back and forth.
At dusk, fireflies emerge to light up the night, and a thousand tiny stars twinkle in the skies above them. Over the course of the afternoon, the two of them have sunk lower and lower onto the blanket, where they lie now. Finn’s head is pillowed on Dane’s chest, and he runs his fingertips back and forth across the dark hair that runs downwards beneath Dane’s bellybutton.
It feels good; Dane, in turn, strokes the sensitive skin where Finn’s back meets wing, and he relishes every little twitch and tremble that runs through Finn. They’re both merry from the wine, feeling warm and sated beneath the emerging moonlight, and it isn’t long before Finn lifts his head from its resting place upon Dane’s breast bone and kisses him.
His lips taste like honey and strawberries, juicy and sweet. Dane licks the seam of his lips, silently requests entrance, which is eagerly granted, and he shivers in pleasure at the way Finn moans quietly into the kiss, like he can’t help it.
Eager fingers, made strong from twanging bows and wielding swords, twist into his curls, tugging to guide the direction of the kiss. Dane nips Finn’s lower lip with wicked little teeth and Finn grunts, the sound bleeding from within him like he has been punched.
“Get on top of me,” Dane murmurs. Finn nods, barely detaching their mouths as he pushes himself up onto all fours, before swinging a leg over Dane’s hips with all of the grace he uses to mount his horse. Sitting up, Dane is able to reach him better, and their kisses grow more impassioned the longer their lips are intwined, tongues stroking and stabbing for dominance as they share breaths.
Arcing his hips, Dane feels the way that Finn has hardened beneath his pants; he hooks a hand onto Finn’s backside and presses him down against his own aroused cock, grinds their bulges together until Finn’s head drops back and he lets out a ragged curse. “Fuck, that’s good,” he slurs.
“You like that?” Dane murmurs, leans up to kiss the hollow of Finn’s lovely neck. He scrapes with his teeth lightly, just to watch how Finn’s wings twitch in obvious pleasure. Finn nods, mouth slack, and then he kisses Dane again, grips his face to ravage his mouth.
His hands are everywhere; pulling Dane’s hair, scratching at his cheeks, running desperately over his shoulders and arms and chest as they settle into a dirty grind. Dane moans softly as Finn’s fingers skim above the cleft of his arse, greedy and grabbing. “Off, off, take them off,” Finn chants. Dane kisses him once more before nudging him away. Finn rises onto his knees to lower his pants enough to get his own cock out while Dane does the same, kicking his pants and boots off so that he is naked. “Yes, Dane, yes…” he moans.
This time when he settles on top of him, the skin of their bare cocks rub together, and they both moan. Like this, out in the open with no fear of any guards or servants to overhear them take their pleasure, they can be loud, and Dane encourages Finn by murmuring, in his ear, “Good boy, let me hear you.”
“Oh, oh!” Finn groans, bites down hard on his lower lip till it becomes flushed with blood. He is a vision like this, overwhelmed by lust, free from the burdens of his responsibilities. Here, he can take as much as he likes, because Dane will always be happy to give it to him. His Lunare prince, a revelation in the moonlight. “Fuck…”
Dane brings his hand to his mouth; cups it and spits in it. It is not behaviour becoming of a prince, but here, their titles and status mean nothing. The only thing that matters is the pleasure that they will wring from each other; pleasure that Dane will bestow when he wraps his now spit slick hand around both of their cocks.
Finn makes a choked off gurgling noise, humps harder against him like a beast in rut. Dane steadies him with a hand gripping his arse cheek firmly. “Patience, my prince,” he says, “Like this.” Then he rolls his hips slowly. He is strong enough to move Finn astride him, and the slow thrust of his pelvis rolls their hard cocks into his slick grasp.
“Fuck, that’s so good,” Finn breathes, kisses him sloppily, and Dane lets out a breathless chuckle.
“I have many things to teach you, Finn Lunare.”
“Then you will corrupt me.”
“Only because you long to be corrupted.” He thrusts again and Finn moans.
“Yes-”
“You want to be filthy-”
“Yes, yes-”
“Debauched-”
“Dane, ah-”
“And ravished.”
“Oh-!”
“In a way that is unbecoming of a prince.” Dane speeds up his strokes. “You wish to be fucked like a whore.”
“Fffuck, Dane, oh!” Finn groans loudly, hips jerking helplessly against him as he fucks his fist and Dane’s cock together.
Finn’s cock is wet around the head, making Dane’s glide sloppy with precum. It turns him on, how messy Finn gets. He’s always so well polished and put together; like this, with his lips bitten near bloody, his hair a mess, his skin flushed and his cock drooling and weepy; he looks like he belongs in the finest brothels throughout the land.
“What would they all think? If they could see you now?” Dane growls, presses his fingers between Finn’s arse cheeks to feel the way the Lunare prince’s hole tightens and flutters reflexively. “Their precious, perfect prince, begging to cum at the behest of a nobody like me?”
“No, no- oh fuck, fuck, don’t stop-!”
“But they won’t see you, will they?” Dane licks across a muscled shoulder. “This is only for me. Who is this for?”
“You, it’s for you-”
“And who is this cock for?”
“You, Dane, oh gods, please-”
“What do you need, my prince?”
“Let me- let me come, I’m gonna cum-” Finn sobs. He tears at Dane’s curls to drag their mouths together, bites and sucks and nips until they are gasping together and sharing breathe. “Please, please, Dane- I need it-”
“Do it,” Dane groans, his own steady rhythm forgotten in favour of stroking their cocks as hard and fast as he can. Finn moans into the air, hips jerking wildly before his eyes go wide and shocked. A choked off scream is torn from within him, as his back goes as taut as his bow string, and he comes messily across Dane’s collarbones, chest and stomach. “Oh, oh, Finn…” he moans, his own grip turning slack as he comes, adding to the mess of spunk and slick that has settled into his pubic hair.
Finn moans weakly, sags onto his lap and winds his fingers in Dane’s hair again, gentler this time, as he pecks his lips. Their breastbones are heaving, lungs starved of oxygen in the wake of their combined orgasm, and it fills Dane’s heart with something unfamiliar and fluttery as they hold one another and kiss.
They stay like that, locked at the lips, arms around each other, till it is fully dark. Their sleepy, post coital kisses are interrupted by the sound of the dinner horn being blown back at the castle, far back over the treeline. Dane is almost disappointed when Finn gives him one final kiss, and rests his weary head upon his shoulder.
“We need to go back,” Finn mumbles, presses a gentle kiss to his neck. He rises on wobbly legs and staggers over to the stream, where he scoops up some water to hastily clean himself.
Dane watches him for a moment before clambering to his feet also. Unlike Finn, he stays naked, cupping the cool water in his hand to rub it over his cock.
Finn glances at his impromptu wash. “I will have one of the servants run you a bath when we get back to the castle,” he says quietly. “If they begin to boil the water while you are eating, it should be hot enough for you to bathe.” Dane had commented multiple times on how cold he found the baths within the Lunare castle to be.
While Dane redresses, Finn packs away the items from their picnic. He shakes out his wings, ready to fly back to their horses, when Dane grabs his wrist. “Thank you,” he says quietly, “For bringing me here. I enjoyed it very much.” He rubs a thumb over the bone in Finn’s wrist. “One day, I should like to show you the beach in Solari.”
“The beach…?” Finn asks.
“A place where sand meets the sea,” Dane explains. “It is truly beautiful there.”
“What does one do at the… beach?” The word sounds funny in his mouth.
Dane shrugs. “You can relax. Swim. Collect shells.”
“Shells?”
“From crabs and sea snails.”
Finn considers this. “I should like that very much.”
They fly back to their horses, where they redress in their shirts. Finn gives them the leftover fruit from their picnic, and they ride back to the castle, just as the horn blows a second time.
“I fear that we are late,” Dane comments, as they dismount from their steeds in the stable.
“Indeed,” Finn murmurs. “But it would have been worth it, to incur my father’s wrath.” Dane smiles at him, and Finn feels a fluttering in his chest that bleeds all the way through to his wings. “Prince Dane requires a bath,” Finn instructs to one of the servants, “A hot one, in his room. Your highness?” He calls to Dane, as he sees him turn to leave the stables. “You mentioned earlier that you were having some difficulty with the language of one of our ancient Lunare tomes. If you care to stop by my quarters after dinner, I’m sure I can teach you a thing or two about the Lunare tongue. If you are interested in learning, of course.”
The smirk that tugs at the corners of Dane’s lips is positively sinful. When no one is looking, he winks. “My lord, I should like for nothing more.”