A/N: Hello lovely people! I did it! I had a sick day, some long workdays and a house-party. But I managed to finish this and I'm very proud. It's a little short, but I didn't want to leave it like that. Hope you're all well! ❤️

I know it's messy. Edits will happen ASAP.

Chapter 7.

Deon woke to the foreign feel of a hard arm around his waist and hot breaths in his hair. The previous day came rushing back on a wave of fear so strong it made his heart clench and his head spin.

He'd been shocked. Terrified. And he'd sought refuge in the arms of the person who hurt him.

Sickened, he tried to shift away and agony blazed between his legs. He gasped and the arm around him tightened.

"Seyin." The prince murmured and Deon turned to him instinctively, dread squeezing his chest. "Is it morning already?"

Ice grey eyes peered down at him through dark lashes and a ringed hand stroked down his side.

There was a flurry of muffled voices in the corridor and the door burst open. A servant girl stared at them with panicked eyes for a moment and then her shoulders sagged. She shouted down the hall and turned back to the prince, bowing her head low.

The prince watched her with lazy amusement and several guards rushed into the room, looking immensely relieved when they spotted the prince. The young man spoke in Peraan and the girl touched her fingers to her mouth and left.

"They've been looking for me." The prince explained and stroked Deon's nape idly. "I usually have my shadows." He tipped his head towards the guards that had assembled against the wall. "But sometimes, I want privacy."

He smiled fondly down at Deon and the boy just stared up at him. His throat burned when he swallowed and his body ached. He knew it was an illusion. He knew the prince's kindness could turn to violence in an instant. And that wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

"Sweet Seyin," The prince murmured and caressed his cheek, "I can see the noise in your head. You think too much."

The man lowered his head and Deon flinched back. A painful grip in his hair forced him right back around and the prince's eyes were now hard and slitted.

"I told you, this was your last chance. Twins are rare. But I could have more at the snap of a finger." The man hissed.

Deon's mouth pressed tight, even as his eyes brimmed with tears. But he wouldn't cry again. He wouldn't.

"What about your brother?" The prince said.

Deon's eyes went wide and the treacherous tears fell. The prince smiled viciously. "Do you care about his life? Should I punish him instead?"

"No!" Deon hadn't meant to raise his voice and the sound stung his throat. Alen had always cried at the smallest cut or scrape. He would never be able to endure something like this.

"No?" The prince's eyes flashed with triumph. He released Deon's hair and lay back against the mattress, folding his arms behind his head. "Then kiss me."

Deon's hands fisted in the sheets and a familiar anger warmed inside him. It wasn't explosive, like it usually was. It was barely a simmer. But it was there.

He took a painful breath and sat up. He'd kissed the man for hours last night. But this was different. His head was clear and he had to initiate it himself. As if he wanted it.

His lips trembled, but he lowered his head and touched them lightly to the prince's full mouth. A hand settled on his nape and tugged him down until Deon was pressed against the man's chest.

"Do more." The prince breathed against his lips.

Deon squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. He tried to picture Alen. His brother's soft skin and velvety lips. But the taste in his mouth was different, sharper, and the body against him was so much larger.

A palm smoothed over his hip and ran over his thigh. It was a familiar motion by now and Deon felt his cock lift. He knew that warm hand could bring him in moments and his hips tilted unerringly towards it. The hand moved away and Deon frowned, kissing the man harder.

A huff of laughter separated them and the prince brushed back a lock of Deon's hair. "I would love to play with you, Seyin. But I have guests arriving soon."

Deon blinked in shock. It was a rejection. But the prince had just told him to do it. Did he do something wrong? Half closed eyes watched him with cool satisfaction.

"In fact," the prince quirked a dark brow at one of the guard's in silent question. The stone-faced man nodded once.

"They've already arrived." The prince finished and shoved Deon carelessly off his chest. Pain flared when the boy fell against the mattress, but his cock was still stupidly hard.

The prince was thankfully in a similar state when he stood and he hissed when he put on his kilt.

"Bring Jesa." He ordered a guard and walked out without a backward glance at Deon. The men followed and the door shut.

The silence in the room was deafening and for several moments Deon just stared at the door blankly and then his eyes filled.

He squeezed them shut and took several deep breaths. Shame and helplessness sank cold in his gut. He'd just been manipulated and ridiculed. In front of several guards.

He didn't need attention from a prince, he tried to remind himself. He didn't want it. He only wanted Alen and where was he?

...

The healer and a group of servants eventually arrived. The old woman examined his throat, and between his legs, and fed him a cold soup that tasted fresh and citrusy, followed by a warm cup of herb tea.

The servants waited patiently until he'd finished and then they sponged his bruised skin and rubbed it gently with oil. When he had first arrived Deon hated their ministrations, but now it was almost soothing.

They brushed his hair until it lay smooth against his spine and a young woman fit a wide gold bracelet onto his upper arm with a blood red stone in the center.

Deon stared down at it silently. None of the Telenien men he knew back home would have been caught dead wearing it and it probably cost more than their farm earned in a year.

The women led him into the corridor. Each step brought on little flames of pain, but thankfully he didn't have to walk far before they showed him through a familiar door carved with leaves.

The room was full of light. Moon shaped lanterns shone on the ceiling and sunlight streamed through translucent curtains woven with sparkling little gems. Roi sat in the center of his bed, with a jade tray in his lap, nibbling on a pastry.

He looked up at Deon and nearly dropped his dessert.

"A gift." One of the women announced in Telenien and one by one they filed out, leaving a guard by the door.

Roi pushed away the tray and scrambled out of bed. "Deon!" He ran his hands self-consciously through his mussed curls. "Are you alright?"

The boy's periwinkle eyes were wide with concern, lingering on Deon's throat and the bracelet on his arm.

"Fine." Deon said, even though he clearly wasn't. Little tremors were starting to run through his arms and legs - and he wanted to cover up his battered body. He wanted to run, but he also didn't want to be alone and it was a frightening mix of sensation.

"...Good." Roi seemed just as lost, hands fluttering back up to his fair hair and then fiddling with a jewel at his wrist. "Do you want to sit down?"

Comfort won over pride and Deon moved determinedly past Roi and aimed for a woven green chair by the table.

"We can sit on the bed." Roi said and then flushed when Deon looked at him. His skin was so fair the blush spread to his ears and chest. "Uh, it's more comfortable." He glanced uneasily at Deon's bruised thighs.

Deon's jaw tightened and he sat gingerly on the bed. He knew Roi was showing him kindness, not pity. But it was difficult not to snarl at the smaller boy.

Roi was beside him a little quicker than he expected. "Are you hungry? There's food on the table or these sweet pastries." He pointed to the tray. "They're my favorite."

Deon shook his head and leaned back against the bed. Lying down was such a relief to his sore limbs. Roi's sheets were much softer than his own and they smelled floral.

"What am I doing here, Roi?" He mumbled, eyes closing.

He felt Roi lie down next to him, but the boy didn't touch him. Usually, Deon would have preferred it that way, but now he wanted contact desperately and he wasn't ready to examine why.

"...He knows I like you." It was barely a whisper by his ear and a silent question hung in the air.

Deon opened his heavy eyes a sliver and stared at a pillow beaded with yellow crystals. A few days ago he wouldn't have doubted his answer. But Alen wasn't here and Deon knew his brother had other lovers.

When he remained silent, careful fingertips trailed down his arm. Another question.

"I was glad to see you." Roi said softly. "I didn't think you noticed me back home. You always kept to yourself. But you remembered my name."

Deon felt the boy lean closer and then a featherlight kiss brushed his shoulder. He swallowed tightly past the pain in his throat. There was a deeper meaning to Roi's words and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Can I hug you?" Roi asked and Deon felt tears run down his cheeks.

He nodded his head a fraction and then Roi was climbing over the bed to face him and pressing into his arms. The boy's weight was slight and warm. His skin felt silken where they touched and his arms folded around Deon gently.

Deon shuddered with silent sobs and his cheek pillowed against soft curls.