Chapter Text
The Kingdom of Luoth was ruled by King Legar, an alpha of two sons, Crown Prince Alberic and a younger son, Prince Rulian. Never had the line of Legar ever produced an omega, and when each prince presented as alpha, the kingdom rejoiced.
These two princes were opposite mirrors of each other and as close as brothers could be. They were both tall and straight-backed, Alberic fair with a shock of gold hair, Rulian with hair as silky and black as a river at midnight. Alberic was broad-shouldered, sun-kissed and ruddy-cheeked; Rulian was lean and lethal, pale as the flesh of a ripe apple. The people of Luoth often said that Alberic was the sun and Rulian the moon; one could not exist without the other, and they were both equally beloved.
Though Alberic could be hot-tempered, he was a jovial personality, quick to laugh, easy-going with the generals he commanded, friendly with the common folk. He was often seen smiling, bright green eyes sparkling as he charmed women and led armies into battle. His bravery was as expansive as his kindness, and everyone who met him knew him to be good-hearted.
Rulian was far more reserved, a quiet fellow who barely spoke unless spoken to, though his every utterance was known to be the height of politeness and decorum. Although his manner was exceedingly proper, he was no less ruthless in battle. He was as fearless as he was untouchable, as fierce as a shard of ice brought to life.
It was often said that if Prince Alberic was command, Prince Rulian was the blade; Prince Alberic the heart of Luoth, Prince Rulian the kingdom’s virtue. While everyone loved Alberic the most, the most respected was Prince Rulian, the immaculate paragon of Luoth nobility and honor. These brothers were two shining sides of a gold and silver coin, the Gold and Silver Sons of Luoth.
Four years after Prince Rulian presented, an attack came from the west. The Kingdom of Gasredal had long been jealous of the land, resources, and riches of the Kingdom of Luoth, and the King of Gasredal, Alpha Shadarian, had declared war. He, too, had two alpha sons, Crown Prince Sorcus, and Severin, Prince of Ellar.
Though no one could match the beauty of the Sons of Luoth, Sorcus and Severin were themselves most handsome, both tall and broad-shouldered, full of strength and vigor, their features sharp and defined. Here, however, was where similarities ended. Both brothers were liars and cheats, known for their immorality and cruelty. Prince Severin in particular was infamous for his depravity, his lewd and licentious behavior despised by Gasredal’s own people, who lived in fear of their royal family.
At first, the war seemed to tip in Luoth’s favor. Alberic was an intelligent, sensitive commander, and the quick decisiveness of Rulian’s silver blade on the battlefield cut a wide swathe of blood that many feared to cross. Meanwhile, Princes Sorcus and Severin did not even participate in the day-to-day concerns of war, instead preferring to wallow in the excesses and lassitude of court, letting their battles be fought by their generals.
The three alpha generals of Gasredal were known throughout the two kingdoms to be hopelessly dull, crude people who should not have been capable of causing the destruction they had already managed. However, what these generals lacked in acuity and wit, they made up for in brutality, causing them to be particularly dangerous.
General Wulfric was a mountain of a man, dumb-witted and slow, capable of shattering rocks with his bare hands. The soldiers below him fought with an unusual fervor out of fear that his massive strength and infamous rage would be unleashed upon them if victory was not won by them in battle.
General Erminus was shrewd but small-minded, rising through the ranks from street rat to soldier to general through petty manipulations and scheming. His soldiers were similarly self-serving and vulgar, believing that by fighting dishonorably, they, too, could rise. The armies of General Erminus, known in particular for their willingness to slaughter and maim civilians in nearby villages to lure the armies of Luoth away from the central battle, were aware that Prince Alberic would feel compelled to split his forces in order to protect the people. These traps were new and more nefarious every time, so that they could not be predicted, and slowly General Erminus chipped away at Luoth’s armies.
The third general was Cenfus, a wealthy lord of Gasredal who had taken the position not out of any interest in war but out of an extreme interest in profit. General Cenfus was a lazy fellow, incapable of lifting even a finger to do an ounce of work, continually perfumed and pampered by mindless omegas who would only do his bidding. Still, the soldiers of General Cenfus were the most violent and vicious of all. They fought not out of fear or a hazy hope of advancement but for very real reward, for General Cenfus had put out the word that for every enemy soldier slaughtered in battle, he would pay ten pounds rose gold. Though proof of these kills was not always practical, General Cenfus was said to provide an additional bonus for enemy alpha cock. This was even less practical to procure, considering the layers of armor and leather on every soldier and the lack of external evidence of secondary gender, but the promise of such riches sent the soldiers of General Cenfus’s army into absolute frenzy.
Facing these three tyrants were the Gold and Silver Sons of Luoth and their own generals. The most prominent of these generals was the alpha general Maerek of Ilth, friend to Crown Prince Alberic since birth, and mentor to Prince Rulian. Like the princes of Luoth, General Maerek was good and honorable. Born a commoner, his heroic deeds and feats of bravery had earned him the title of lieutenant, then captain. Favored by Alberic and beloved by Rulian, Maerek had soon been awarded the title of general.
Despite the horrors of Gasredal tactics, these three shining examples of Luoth bravery and goodness held the enemy armies back. The war was nearing its end when King Shadarian the Third suddenly declared that the Kingdom of Gasredal would end the war immediately and withdraw all troops on one condition: the Kingdom of Luoth surrender its second son, Prince Rulian.
The demand was outrageous, most of the kingdom incensed. King Shadarian’s messenger promised that Prince Rulian would not be harmed or imprisoned, but rather treated as an honored guest of the court. His presence would be a promise of future peace, a symbol of harmony between two lands. So enraged was Prince Alberic by the proposal that he cut out the tongue of this messenger and sent it back in a jeweled box the messenger himself was forced to carry.
The terms of such a truce did not, after all, seem necessary. The war was almost won, and Prince Alberic believed the matter to be over when the rebellion began.
This rebellion began as a rumor. The rumor was this: these Gold and Silver Sons were close. A little too close. Wasn’t it a little unusual? Then the rumor grew: these Gold and Silver Princes were good. A little too good. Was there perhaps something imperfect about them, yet invisible? What could they be hiding?
Then whispers began in the west. The war had lasted eighteen months so far, long past the projected date of peace. The last harvest had been ransacked and pillaged, the spring planting sabotaged and ruined. What were people to live on, when their sons were all dying in battles, and women and children and the elderly were not safe in the villages, and what crops there were sown were sown in blood? The question came to be asked: was Prince Rulian of more value to Prince Alberic than his own people?
The flames of these rumors were fanned into rebellion by the lords of the west, chief among them Chancellor Osfrith of Nader and Lord Leofwine of Tairn. Chancellor Osfrith was of a noble family, and as a child, he had known Alberic, Rulian, and Maerek well. Osfrith, however, had been unlike these other children, in that he was vain and competitive, secretive and mean. Older than Rulian, Osfrith had picked on him as a child, mocking his quiet nature. Sometimes he had even contrived to “accidentally” close the door when they visited cellars, leaving Rulian locked all alone, or forgetting that Rulian had not yet learned to swim when he playfully tossed Rulian in a lake. Once Alberic learned of the true nature of these incidents, he demanded that Osfrith be stripped of all titles and cast out of the land. King Legar, ever lenient in nature, had instead decreed that Osfrith should be awarded a title in the farthest corner of the country, where Rulian would be sure never to encounter him again.
Lord Leofwine of Tairn was a noble infamous for his licentious habits, even when he visited court. Though he had been married over thirty years, Lord Leofwine still found new ways to humiliate his wife, finding new omegas who had only just presented and terrorizing them even in public, ultimately pursuing them until they were left with child. At this point, Lord Leofwine typically abandoned them, though he had even been known to bring omegas so seeded to his orgies, claiming that now the omegas were with child, anyone could feel free to breed them without consequence. Both Alberic and Rulian had urged the king their father to imprison this pig of a man and throw away the key, but Lord Leofwine, though despised by the people of Tairn, was deeply beloved by his lordly neighbors. The neighbors appreciated Leofwine’s ability to procure them fine omega stock for breeding and looked the other way at his more obscene indiscretions. Meanwhile, the land of these neighbors provided the majority of the grain that fed the capital state, and the king could not upset this delicate balance of power without risking starvation for the people of his shining city.
Lord Leofwine, seeking profit, and Chancellor Osfrith, still bitter due to his ostracism, stoked their fellow lords into excitement. They claimed that Prince Alberic loved his brother unnaturally, and that he placed the company of his brother above the lives of his own people. When the lords of the west decided that such strangeness between brothers should not be borne in the great Kingdom of Luoth, the people of the land were more than willing to agree, not out of concern for the relationship between brothers, but because their own people were dying.
So it was that the western portion of the Kingdom of Luoth joined forces with the Kingdom of Gasredal to fight the Gold and Silver Sons, and the tide of the war turned in the opposite direction.
Battles raged another six months. King Shadarian continued to promise truce in exchange for Prince Rulian, whom he continued to claim would be a guest of court and treated with utmost care. At the end of these six months, Prince Rulian went to his brother’s war tent and announced, “I’m surrendering.”
“Brother,” said Prince Alberic, turning from the General Maerek and his other war counselors.
“They say I will be treated well,” said Rulian.
Alberic looked at him in shock. “You don’t believe them.”
Rulian inclined his head. “No.”
“Brother,” Alberic said again, dropping the map he had been holding on the table, advancing toward his brother. “This is madness. You can’t—”
“How do you propose to stop me?”
Alberic stopped his advance as though he had been slapped in the face.
“I don’t recommend bondage,” said Rulian. “That would only reinforce the rumors.”
Alberic swallowed hard. “Don’t speak of that—that filth. It’s blasphemy. It’s—perversion.”
“Yes,” said Rulian, ever calm.
“They won’t keep to their word.”
“No,” Rulian agreed.
“Then why?”
“I live, and there is peace. I die, and I’m a martyr. Either way, our people know that they are more precious to you than any one man.”
“They’re not.” Alberic’s voice was flat.
“They have to be.”
“Why?”
“You are the future king. And I—I am a . . . spare.”
“You’re mine,” Alberic growled.
Rulian looked to the side. “It’s comments like these,” he said delicately, “that arouse suspicion.”
A strange gleam was in Alberic’s eyes, unsteady in the flickering firelight of the royal tent. “I can’t stop you, can I?”
Rulian’s face remained averted. “No,” he agreed.
There was a pause. “Why are you like this?” Alberic said softly, as Maerek and all the other counselors looked on.
“Every young person in this kingdom longs to be as brave as you, as kind, as good.” At last, Rulian turned his face to look at his brother. “I have never been an exception to this.”
Alberic reached out. “Brother—”
“I must arrange for my departure,” Rulian said, turning away and beginning to leave.
“What, now?”
“Don’t worry, Brother,” Rulian said, pausing as Alberic grabbed his arm. “I’m sure there will be time for a very touching goodbye that will not lead to speculation of any sort.”
Stunned, Alberic’s fingers loosened on Rulian’s sleeve, and Rulian slipped off into the night.
Rulian’s last words to his brother were a lie. He surrendered himself to the Gasredal army that very night, knowing that once Alberic recovered from Rulian’s sharp words, his brother would never let him go.
So it was that the Kingdom of Luoth traded its second son to the Kingdom of Gasredal for peace.
Prince Alberic, the people said, never was the same again.
*
Rulian was taken to Mydalr, the sprawling capital of Gasredal. There, Rulian had assumed he would be put on display in the king’s court as a prize of war so that the lords and generals of Gasredal could laugh at him and gawk. This was not the case. Instead, he was taken to the Western Palace, the infamous residence of Prince Severin, younger son of the king.
The court of the Western Palace was known throughout both kingdoms. Even the royals and dignitaries of Gasredal scorned it, lords and ambassadors disdaining it. The king and the Crown Prince ignored it, pretending it did not exist. The court of the Western Palace was not a place for nobility but rather for debauchery.
Rulian’s first night in the Western Palace, he was assigned two body guards, then forced to attend the court. When Rulian entered, almost no one heard his introduction. An orgy had already begun. Prince Severin, a handsome, languid man lounging in a throne, waved Rulian away with an annoyed gestured, then focused on the festivities before him, joining in breeding an omega not long after. The guards brought Rulian to a chair by the throne and requested that he sit.
Rulian sat. He sat, and he sat, and he sat. No one approached. No one pointed or laughed. No one even appeared to notice he was there or register who he was, as though the presence of an enemy prince in this court was so unremarkable that no one cared. Forced to sit and watch the debauchery before him, Rulian formed no expression.
An omega servant was pulled to the ground by wealthy-looking alphas and raped before Rulian’s feet. A pregnant omega in the center of the hall was being violated by five alphas at once, taking turns with her mouth, her sex, her ass, her breasts. Another pregnant omega was filling goblets with her milk, serving them to alphas who fondled her and laughed. At one point, a pack of dogs was brought in and set upon an omega in heat. At another point, a large pool of blood had to be cleaned from the floor, beta servants carrying away a body.
It lasted until the sun rose the next morning, and Rulian sat stone-faced through it all.
He had steeled himself against his fate, preparing himself for any possibility. As far as he was concerned, his life was forfeit. He was only here as decoration, insurance for the peace between two kingdoms and for his brother’s honor. Rulian would have sacrificed anything for that honor, to destroy those filthy rumors. He had sacrificed everything.
He believed it was worth it.
As for surviving Severin’s court, Rulian was very well practiced in maintaining a neutral expression and pretending nothing was going on. He’d done it for years while Osfrith tricked and bullied and undermined, thinking that he should be brave and bear it all himself. Alberic would have. The things that Osfrith did would never have even happened to Alberic. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Alberic had asked, when he did find out.
The answer had been simple. “I didn’t want you to know.”
Alberic had hugged him then, too hard. Then he’d put his hand on the back of Rulian’s head, forcing Rulian to look at him. “If anyone ever hurts you again,” Alberic said savagely, “they go through me. Do you understand? You tell me the second anyone touches a hair on your head, I’ll be there.”
Alberic had only just presented as an alpha at the time. Rulian had been eight, and his breath had left his body.
“Promise me,” Alberic had said, shaking him a little. “Promise me you’ll tell me.”
Rulian had promised.
No one was touching Rulian now. He wasn’t being hurt. This was something he could bear.
*
Nothing appeared to be wrong with the food served to Rulian in Gasredal, but the taste was always foul.
He considered the idea that he was being poisoned, but if so, the poison was slow. He didn’t notice any immediate effect other than lethargy, which might be a result of sudden inactivity after two years of war. If it was a slow-acting potion, there wasn’t much that he could do about it. There wasn’t much he could do about any of it. What would happen to him was going to happen. He was here for Luoth.
He was here for his brother.
Rulian was given a set of rooms—not the cell of a prisoner, but the chambers of an honored guest, well-appointed, with all the comforts one could ever need: a bathing room, a dressing room, a sitting room, a walled garden. Still, no one seemed to take particular note of his presence, other than the two bodyguards, who waited outside the doors to these chambers whenever Rulian was inside them. In the evenings, they escorted Rulian to court, but his presence did not seem to be desired or required there, and Rulian found that he could always slip out almost as soon as the fucking began.
He was allowed to walk about the palace, in the gardens, the kitchens, the unoccupied guest chambers. He found a library, which appeared to be full of texts containing explicit drawings, though there were a few pamphlets and books on other subjects. When courtesans or well-dressed people saw him in the halls, they ignored him, as though he was insignificant, beneath their notice. When servants brought him meals or drew his bath, Rulian attempted to speak to them, but they dropped their eyes, becoming mute.
Given the way Prince Severin ran his court, Rulian began to suspect that the type of people who spent time in the Western Palace were barely aware of the war at all, so little did the court concern itself with affairs of state. Even when there wasn’t an orgy, which seemed rare, the banquets were all ribald jokes, gossip, and frivolous discussion. Barely-clad omegas served the people seated at the long table, and inevitably, one of the alphas pulled one of them into their lap and began a violations. The banquet would then descend into another orgy, and Rulian would excuse himself, unnoticed.
The only time Rulian’s access to anything was ever barred was when he approached the palace gate, and even then, his bodyguards seemed vaguely disinterested. If it had only been the two of them, Rulian could have easily incapacitated them in spite of their weapons, but there were at least three more guards attending the gate itself. If Rulian had had his own sword, none of the give guards would have stood a chance.
He was even allowed to write letters and did so, sending Alberic a letter immediately on the second day, assuring him he was well and that Mydalr was a great deal more cultured and beautiful than either of them had been led to believe. He received a letter back the next day. Alberic must have written it immediately upon learning of Rulian’s departure, and the letter was full of anger, recriminations, begging Rulian to come back, promising Rulian he would come fetch him home. It was all written in Alberic’s spiky, disordered script, the blunt, forceful way he formed sentences while writing. Although Alberic always spoke at least ten times more eloquently than Rulian, Rulian had always been the one who could write.
Rulian wrote another letter immediately in response, then burnt it. It was not the sort of letter one sent to one’s brother. It was not the sort of letter one should write at all, especially when there were couriers in this enemy court who would no doubt read it.
Calming himself, Rulian wrote another letter still, this one in response to the letter he had received. Thus began a correspondence. The time to deliver the letters was at least a week, so there was a lag, but Rulian wrote almost every day, which was what his brother would expect. Alberic wrote every day as well. Some letters mentioned that he had sent gifts, but Rulian never received them. One letter mentioned that he had sent a handservant, Alberic’s own personal attendant, Indulf. Rulian worried about this, until he received a letter from Alberic a week later containing a rant about the fact that Indulf had been returned.
The messenger who had laid out the potential truce between the kingdoms—Gasredal’s withdrawal in exchange for the Younger Son of Luoth—had stated that Prince Rulian would be a personal guest of King Shadarian and his two sons. The messenger had known that that was not the case. Rulian had known that that was not the case, and Alberic had known it too. Rulian was a war prize, that was all. He would not be treated like a prisoner or a slave, but he was not a guest. He would not be gifted personal servants of his homeland. He would not be given special privileges.
He was insurance.
Luoth would not attack Gasredal if the life of it second most beloved prince was in Gasredal’s hands.
Two days after receiving this latest letter, the onset of Rulian’s rut began. He thought that he knew the various ways that this would go: either he would be forced to face the rut alone, or he would be given an omega (or several) and be forced to breed. The former option, while considered torture for most alphas, was no different than how Rulian had faced every other rut of his life. Unwilling to breed an omega he did not love, he had no time to find an omega that he did love, and so Rulian had always faced his ruts alone.
The latter option would be a gesture Gasredal would claim was generosity, but everyone would know that it was a humiliation. Giving an alpha omegas to breed, rather than allowing an alpha to choose and claim them himself, as was natural, was the sort of thing one did with a stud. Furthermore, the breeding stock that Gasredal would supply their prize were likely to be in some way shameful. Either the omegas would be the sort used as milk producers for those who demanded the milk as a dietary delicacy, or they’d be already mated to other alphas, or worst of all—omegas stolen from Luoth and enslaved by Gasredal during the war.
Rulian wondered what he might do if faced with the last option, but he already knew that he would not take his own life. The act was ignoble, and Alberic would blame himself. Nor could Rulian simply refuse to breed; an alpha in rut in the presence of a fertile omega could not physically resist after a certain point.
And yet Rulian was not faced with this option. Nor was he faced with any other of the options he had imagined.
Instead, he was faced with alphas.
When other alphas encroached upon their territory, alphas in rut had an instinct to fight. An alpha in rut, aided by a frenzy of internal chemicals, could usually take down at least two alphas out of rut. Rulian, who was well-trained in combat and incomparably fast and second in strength only to his brother, could have taken five.
When his two alpha bodyguards approached him that afternoon, Rulian warned them of his condition and expected them to leave, to find betas to guard the door or to escort him to some kind of enclosure used for political prisoners in such a condition. Instead, the bodygaurds moved closer. Rulian growled, posturing. The guards moved closer still, too close, and Rulian fought.
He tried to fight.
Everything felt slow, hazy. He moved as though through water. The bodyguards restrained him easily. They looked fuzzy around the edges, and realization came in a wavering sort of way: oh.
He’d been drugged.
Was that really what was wrong with the food? It wouldn’t have taken months to give him something to make him weak and dizzy; several plants he’d found in a book in this very palace could have done it. What else had they been giving him?
The bodyguards escorted him just as they had escorted him every day. Were they taking him to court? Would he be forced to fuck the scantily clad omegas in front of Prince Severin’s rich friends and favored guests? Would his rut be sport for their amusement?
But the bodyguards didn’t take him to court at all. Instead, they packed him into a palanquin, which had restraints fastened to the walls as though fashioned for this very purpose, and for the first time in two months, Rulian left the palace through the gates. Another realization hazily wafted through the first: oh. They had planned for this. They’d been planning for this all along. They’d ignored him because whatever they had planned, they needed his rut to enact it, and he had merely been dead weight until then. What did they have planned?
At last, the palanquin, shrouded in heavy curtains to block the view of wherever they had been going, stopped. The body guards pulled him out and escorted him through a large wooden door reinforced with iron. Rulian’s senses, heightened by rut, could easily identify the scent of a barracks: the smell of iron and of steel, lingering traces of polish and sawdust, the heavy tones of leather, and through it all the unmistakable scent of men.
While some omegas fought in Luoth armies, Rulian had never heard of any enlisted by Gasredal. Were they really going to give him betas? Some would say that was better than going through rut alone, but Rulian would not. The scent was not beta. This smell was overwhelmingly alpha.
By the time they reached the large interior room that Rulian hazily identified as the armory, Rulian was staggering, barely able to walk on his own two feet. The room was full of alphas.
“Oh, look,” one of them said. “It’s Alberic’s Blade.”
“The Silver Knife of Luoth,” another said.
“I doubt his blade is really that impressive,” said one more.
“Not for long,” another said.
Then Rulian, Silver Prince of the Golden Kingdom, was stripped bare, strapped down, and faced suddenly with an alpha cock belonging to one of the very soldiers he had spent the last two years fighting. Rulian had imagined a thousand humiliations when he had agreed to surrender himself to Gasredal, but he had never imagined this. His mind simply was not dark enough to envision such depravity.
Alphas didn’t fuck other alphas. It was simply unheard of. Even for the purposes of humiliation and torture, the act would not only debase the one who was fucked, but the one doing the fucking; alpha pheromones were not compatible. The chemicals in an alpha’s body could render another alpha impotent, if contact was too intimate and fluids were exchanged. There was a risk that by entering another alpha’s body, alpha cock become contaminated.
These alphas didn’t seem to care. They seemed to be ecstatic at the prospect of defiling the Silver Son, and Rulian could vaguely hear them arguing about who would have the privilege to go first. Dully, he registered the fact that there were the same soldiers who had seen his swirling silver blade on the battlefield and run from him, the brothers of those who had fallen to his sword, screaming. The men who had feared him and trembled before his righteous fury, these were the ones who took him now.
Then a soldier’s fist wrapped itself in Rulian’s hair, his inky, midnight hair about which the minstrels of Luoth had written sonnets, and the soldier forced against Rulian’s soft pink mouth his first taste of alpha cock, and it went down very, very easily, past his mouth, into his throat. Rulian should have choked. He should have bitten down. He did neither. Whatever potion they had given him rendered every muscle completely lax; his mouth was open, his throat yielding so completely to the obstruction that it felt like it belonged there. Rulian could feel that he was drooling. He couldn’t help it.
There was nothing he could do.
At least, Rulian thought distantly, Alberic wasn’t there to see.
Alberic would never need to know.
Then his legs were spread, and his thighs went where they were guided, splayed wantonly open on the breeding bench, like a whore. And when the first alpha cock breached his hole, it should have hurt, but it did not. He only felt a mounting pressure, as though his whole being was slowly being packed full with another body, another consciousness, another self, setting up residence in his skin, pushing the person he had once been into an infinitesimal speck.
Then the cock at his throat and the cock in his ass began to fuck, and that speck popped out of existence entirely.
They fucked him one after another, sometimes in tandem, ass and mouth. Time passed in a blur. There had been at least a dozen alphas to start, but there were more, coming and going from the armory, as though the announcement had been put out and soldiers were stopping by after lunch, on a break, just to dip their cock in the Silver Son and be on their way. Rulian found himself fading in and out of consciousness. Every time he woke, a new alpha cock was already inside of him, nudging at his ass or throat, usually both at once.
An alpha rut lasted three to four days. Rulian could feel the rut still happening, his senses still charged, his blood still coursing. He would have thought that the abuse would dull the other symptoms of rut, but instead, after the first eight hours or so, he realized that his cock seemed to be ignoring the proceedings, thickening and aching with hardness despite treatment that never should have fallen on an alpha. A few times, the other alphas seemed to notice his hardness, laughing about it, flicking it occasionally, never satisfying it, usually thereafter ignoring it completely.
Sometimes soldiers entered the room to find Rulian’s ass and throat already occupied. Some of them waited their turns, slowly stroking themselves as they laughed and jeered, watching him be used. Others used his bare skin to rub their cocks against, covering him in come. “I’ve heard this one called the Moon of Luoth,” one of them said, rubbing the come into Rulian’s skin. “Let’s make sure he looks the part.”
“You need to come inside him for it to work,” another said.
For what to work? Rulian didn’t know.
“You can absorb it through the skin,” another voice said. “Don’t you know that’s why omegas like it when you cream their face?”
“I thought that was because they liked to lick it up.”
“Make him eat it,” another suggested, and then the soldiers came on him and forced the globs of come down his throat.
When at last they put another cock in his mouth, Rulian felt almost relieved. It was warm and solid, steady, like a lifeline, something to focus on, something to hold on to.
“Look at that,” a soldier breathed. “He’s sucking.”
“Knew the bitch would turn,” said someone else, and they all laughed.
Another twenty hours passed, and Rulian realized something much worse than the hardness of his own cock. The erection resulting from his rut did not seem to be acting independently of the alpha cocks seemingly permanently entrenched in his throat and ass. Rather, his erection seemed to be responding to the abuse—not flagging, but intensifying, every time he was newly filled—every time another alpha filled him with their come.
Eventually, Rulian became so hard that he couldn’t hide it anymore. The ache was too painful. He needed relief. The hooting and hollering of the alphas fucking him and other alphas registered before Rulian even realized what he was doing.
“The bitch is fucking back onto me; look at him,” an alpha said.
“He’s getting off on it, the little slut.”
“Put him on top of you,” another one suggested. “I bet that bitch would ride.”
Rulian realized through his daze that he was rocking his hips helplessly, thrusting back to meet the alpha cock inside him. It was dragging his own cock against the bench, giving him the friction he needed, but suddenly he could feel the ache of his spread legs, how wide open his thighs had been for hours. He could hear the sound of the alpha cock squelching into his ass, come of other alpha cocks leaking out as he was fucked, mirroring the drool from his slack mouth.
“Nah,” said the alpha at Rulian’s back. He held Rulian down, so hard that Rulian could no longer rock his hips. “The pussy needs to get what’s coming.”
Rulian came. He didn’t even know how. It must have been the alpha jerking him against the bench, giving friction to his cock, but his whole body convulsed, tightening, gripping the alpha cock inside him tight and hard.
“Yeah, that’s the kind of thing I mean,” said that same alpha, gripping Rulian harder and jerking his ass down onto the alpha cock. “Show this little bitch who’s boss.” Then he began to fuck twice as hard, and the edges of Rulian’s vision went dark.
The alpha came, and Rulian blacked out once more.