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Chapter Text

The spring was Shane’s favorite season. The sun was warm yet the breeze held a slight chill from the winter recently passed on. The flowers that began to bloom from the ground richly soaked by rain were the most vibrant.

It was on a lush spring day that his life ended.

His heart may have continued to beat even after the brutish savages descended upon their home, but his life as he knew it had truly ended.

Shane watched helplessly as one of the huge men held his father down by the heel of his boot. These men were dressed for the dead of winter. Fur coats and chainmail protected their large builds.

They were a stark contrast from Shane’s people. Dressed in loose clothing fit for the coming warm months, his neighbors all threw down their makeshift weapons when they saw their leader, Shane’s father, subdued on his back.

Even Shane’s normally calm mother had her eyes wide with fear. Yuna Hollander was not an easily shaken woman, but the sight of her beloved David covered in blood was just too heartbreaking.

Yuna and Shane were held tightly by ridiculously strong men as they watched the leader circle David like a wolf.

The man was tall as a mountain and just as broad. Blonde curls blew wildly in the wind, and his hazel eyes seemed almost cold as ice. His skin was fair like porcelain with scars that told stories of his past. The lazy way he gripped his blade revealed how little he regarded Shane’s village as a threat.

“You speak common tongue, da?” The leader brute spoke. His voice was deep and harsh like winter. Shane did not recognize his accent.

David did not answer him. Shane watched helplessly as his father merely stared at the invader. His heart hammered in his chest at his father’s defiance.

The man merely chuckled humorlessly. He swung his blade around to make contact with the vulnerable skin at David’s neck.

“They call you their leader.” The man stated, motioning to the people watching. “I was charged with killing their leader and taking their land for my father.”

Shane’s breath hitched as the blade pushed forward. His mind raced for a way to stop this.

“Do you deny them?” The man asked mockingly. “Are you too much of- how you say- coward to be their leader?”

Shane’s lips moved before he could stop them.

“Your father’s the coward!” He exclaimed, struggling against the man holding his arms. The man’s focus shifted from his father to Shane. “Sends you to do his dirty work instead of doing it himself.”

The smile that crept onto the invader’s face chilled Shane to the bone. It nearly pained Shane to admit that he would have been handsome in any other light.

The man stalked closer, right up in Shane’s face. Hazel eyes raked over Shane’s every feature as if drinking him in. There were several inches difference in their height, but Shane still kept his gaze firmly locked on this monster.

There must have been something that pleased him in Shane’s face because the brute smiled. This one was somewhat more pleasant looking. There was a sparkling glint in his eye that almost looked mischievous. As if this was a boy playing a prank rather than threatening to kill Shane’s father.

“What is your name?” The man purred.

Shane clenched his jaw. “Why? So you know what name to write on my burial?”

Shaking his head with a condescending click of his tongue, the man regarded Shane with a dramatically offended look.

“I am not going to kill you, дорогой.” (sweetheart) A hand reached up to touch Shane’s tense face. “Perhaps, you and I can come to an… agreement, little prince.”

Shane scoffed. “I am not a prince. We have no royalty here.”

The man’s eyes darkened. “You do now.”

Ilya had to steel his face to hide the twitch in his eye as one of his men slammed the boy down a little harder than necessary into the chair across from him. It would do him no good to show favoritism towards his prisoner at this point. Plenty of time for that once he truly had the boy in his clutches.

He watched as the boy, who still refused to give his name, shifted in his seat. Ilya knew he made the kid uncomfortable. His gaze was known to strike fear into even the most decorated soldiers let alone this tender little island boy.

“Tell me your name.” Ilya demanded. A hundred names came to mind, but he doubted any of them would be welcome. “I must call you something. I could give you name.”

“Shane.” The raven-haired boy snapped. Even angry, his voice danced over Ilya’s skin like silk.

“Shane.” Ilya tasted the name. It was fitting. The prince leaned forward, resting his chin in his palms. “I have a proposition for you. Prince-to-prince."

Shane rolled his eyes. It pleased Ilya to know his boy was not too frightened of him. “I already told you. I am not a prince.”

'I will make you one.' Ilya wanted to say. 'I will shower you in jewels and gold like you have never seen.'

“Whatever.” Ilya responded, instead. “You are your father’s heir and will lead his people one day. And, you were right, by the way.”

Shane’s dark eyes fluttered up to meet Ilya’s. The Russian prince could drown in those dark depths. Shane’s skin was tanner than his own, and the freckles that dusted all over his face made Ilya feel something stir deep within him.

“My father is a coward for not weilding his own blade.” Ilya continued, unbothered by the Russian soldiers in the room. They were all loyal to him, not his father. “He entrusts me, his heir, to make decisions on behalf. Your bravery makes me…curious.”

Ilya watched the haze of distrust come over Shane’s face.

“My proposition for you is this.” Ilya leaned back. “Come with me to Russia, and I will spare your people.”

Shane’s expression morphed through a delicious constellation of emotions at Ilya’s words. Disbelief, fear, sadness, anger. Painted upon his lovely face.

Ilya wanted nothing more than to dive into his boy’s head and bury himself so deep that he knew Shane better than Shane knew himself.

It was a shame when Shane settled a weary mask of frosty indifference to his face. Such political expressions, like the ones Ilya sees on the snakes of his father’s court, do not suit Shane’s sweet face.

No, his boy should spend his days lounging around like a kitten in a sun patch. He would smile up at Ilya with something as tender as love.

“And if I refuse?” Shane gritted out. His dark eyes challenged Ilya.

“You will board my ship with a bonfire at our backs.” Ilya responded calmly.

It was not the best start. Ilya was not a fool. Threatening the lives of his parents and people was not the ideal way to woo the boy, but there was no world in which Ilya was leaving this island without Shane.

He would rather his sweetheart board his ship as a political ally than a true hostage, but there would be plenty of time for groveling later if his hand was forced.

There were several beats of silence following Ilya’s thinly veiled threat. Each second, Ilya’s heart raced faster. He really, really didn’t want to have to use physical force on Shane. He hoped the boy wasn’t stupid and accepted the prince's offer. As Shane's face continued to race with thoughts, Ilya surveyed the boy's flimsy clothing. The smooth skin stretched across Shane's collarbone was on display from his loose-fitting shirt. As soon as they board the ship, his boy would need to layer on more clothes. Part of Ilya's nerves calmed at the thought of Shane drowning in Ilya's own furs, encased in his scent. Ilya would provide Shane with all the garments he could ever need to keep his warm blood comfortable in the frosty land of Russia.

“Fine,” Shane responded, sounding a little more defeated and less irritated. Thankfully, there were no tears in his eyes. Ilya didn’t know what he would do if the boy began crying. “I would like to see my parents and ensure they are unharmed before we leave.”

Ilya bowed his head. “Of course, дорогой.”(sweetheart)

Shane stood immediately, as if Ilya were diseased. Before the boy could flee, the Russian prince caught his wrist, pinning it to the table between them.

Those wide, dark eyes reminded Ilya of the deer he would hunt back home. So fearful. So bright. So perfect.

“Don’t you wish to know my name?” Ilya smiled, stroking his thumb across the racing pulse.

Shane swallowed. “I-I suppose.”

“Prince Ilya Rozanov of Imperial Russia.” Ilya flashed his dashing smile reserved for the pretty lords and ladies of his court. “Don’t worry, мой любимый, I will take good care of you.” (my sweetheart)

As soon as Ilya released Shane’s wrist, the boy fled. Not before Ilya could bask in the vision of pink, freckled cheeks.

Breathing in the sweet smell of island flowers, Ilya smiled, and for once, he was grateful to his father for this mission.

Chapter Text

Shane had never been on a ship before. There was a group of men in his village that would take small sailboats out to fish, but nothing prepared him for the sheer size of the ship he would be forced to sail on.

He didn’t know how long the journey would be nor if it was even safe. Even if he died on this vessel, he would die knowing his family survived. Hopefully, if Shane was too weak to survive the trip, Rozanov wouldn’t return to take another hostage. Or, even better, if Shane died on the ship, perhaps that meant Rozanov did, too.

Shane shook his head. No, he wouldn’t wish death on another, even if it was his captor. That’s not who his parents raised him to be.

“We couldn’t be prouder of you, honey,” His mother had crooned when he held her tightly in a good-bye hug. “You are our brave boy, and you are strong enough to survive this. We will see each other again, just you wait.”

Holding back tears, Shane steeled his expression as he began climbing the side of the boat as the other men did.

A large hand reached out to help him over the edge. Without looking at the man, Shane gratefully accepted the assistance.

When he went to pull his hand back, though, the calloused hand only gripped him tighter.

Ilya Rozanov’s smiling face stared at him when Shane looked up to snap at the hand’s owner. His angry words died in his mouth, but his ire still remained.

“Come, I will show you where you’ll be staying.” The prince tugged Shane along. He even went as far as to tuck Shane’s hand against the crook of his elbow, still holding onto it tightly. Shane could feel the firm muscle beneath the furs.

“Surely one of your men can spare a moment to show a prisoner to the brig.” Shane said snippily. Something about the way Rozanov smiled at him put him on edge. Shane had never been kidnapped before, but he didn’t think kidnappers were supposed to be so pleasant.

Rozanov shook his head, tutting lightly as if Shane were a child. “Nonsense. You are not my prisoner. You are my guest.”

Shane scoffed.

Rozanov ignored the sound in favor of dragging Shane through the deck of the ship until they reached a grand door. The prince opened it to reveal a grand room. Far more grand than a war ship should have.

There was a large dining table with foods Shane had never seen before. Various furs were thrown all along the walls and chests. Even a huge bed fitted with red silk blankets.

“You are mocking me?” Shane asked, dubiously. Why would Rozanov lead him to this room?

“Mocking you?” Rozanov sounded genuinely surprised by Shane’s words, as if he had misunderstood the prince. “No, this is where you shall stay. The only room fitting for a prince is my own.”

The reality of Rozanov’s words sunk in pretty quickly.

This was Rozanov’s bedroom, and he wanted Shane to stay here.

Absolutely not.

“Well,” Shane cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to step away from the imposing man. The grip Rozanov had on his hand did not lessen. “Then, it is fortunate that there is only one prince here. You can keep your rooms, and I can sleep with the crew.”

Rozanov clutched Shane’s hand impossibly tighter. His face pinched with discomfort.

“Sleep with crew?” He echoed, his accent thick. “No, you sleep with me.”

Shane’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you are mine.” Rozanov said slowly, as if Shane were a child. “My deal with you makes you mine.”

“I am not yours.” Shane snapped. He tried to wrench his arm out of Rozanov’s grip. “Let me go.”

“Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Rozanov’s voice softened. “Do not be frightened. I will not harm you. This is only room worthy of you. When we return to Russia, you will have your own bed again.”

Shane’s heart continued beating furiously in his chest. The events of the day began crashing his entire being. The flashes of his father on his back with Rozanov’s blade ready to strike made him nearly whine in distress. This monster’s hands that held him hostage threatened to kill and burn everyone he loves.

Darkness began to close in on Shane’s vision. Breathing became difficult, like he had taken large inhales of the sea water.

“Shane, Shane,” Rozanov’s voice filled his head. Large, calloused hands cupped Shane’s face gently. “Look at me, дорогой, you must breathe.” (sweetheart)

“Can’t,” Shane wheezed out. His chest hurt, but the hands on his face were cool and felt so nice. Like ice on a hot summer day.

One of the hands left his cheek and reappeared on his chest. Steady pressure on the space between his pecs caused him to release what little air was left in his lungs. When the chilled hand reached up and squeezed gently on his sensitive neck, Shane gasped, inhaling full lungs.

The darkness around his vision cleared slightly as the steady hand remained cupping his throat, feeling the air moving in and out.

“That’s it,” Rozanov murmured. His lips moving against Shane’s forehead. Wait, when did Rozanov press his lips to Shane’s skin? “Much better, мой хороший мальчик.” (my good boy)

The words were unfamiliar to Shane, but the soft caress of Rozanov’s voice made him shiver.

Just as the fog cleared from his panic attack, Shane promptly succumbed to exhaustion from the day, passing out in Rozanov’s arms.

His sweet, fainting boy.

Ilya gazed down at Shane’s slumbering form. Against the blood red sheets, Shane’s freckles popped even more. His plush, pink lips and thick eyelashes made him look like a nymph. All innocent sweetness meant to tempt Ilya into sin.

The panic attack had taken Ilya by surprise, and he filed it away to be discussed with Shane at a later date. If his boy was prone to such moments of stress, Ilya needed to know. It was up to Ilya to take care of Shane now, and anyone could take advantage of him in such a state.

Shane had done such a beautiful job listening to Ilya once his nerves had turned off the part of his brain that made him adverse to Ilya’s touch. The boy responded perfectly to Ilya’s firm direction. It was a promising sight.

Once his angry kitten got over the initial fear and distrust their meeting had placed within him, Ilya was sure Shane would happily give control over to the prince. Naturally, Ilya knew he had to earn the right to guide Shane through the rest of his days, but he was confident in his ability to woo the boy.

Ilya was propped up on his side, gazing down as Shane lay on his back. The prince made sure to tuck him in tightly, keeping him warm and comfortable. He would not let his poorly dressed sweetheart catch a cold their first day together.

Staring at a sleeping Shane quickly became Ilya’s favorite pastime. He memorized every freckle. Every small line. Every expression he made while sleeping.

Ilya’s bubble of bliss was popped by a knock at his door.

Not bothering to stand, the prince called the person in.

Scott Hunter, one of Ilya’s men, entered. He was a good soldier. He and Ilya had been raised alongside one another and trained together since birth. Ilya trusted Scott to be within such close vicinity to his boy.

“Sir,” Scott inclined his head respectfully. “We have done as you asked. Provided the village with provisions and better weapons. All is ready to set sail.”

“Very good, Captain.” Ilya responded, never taking his eyes off Shane. “You are dismissed.”

When Scott didn’t immediately turn to leave, Ilya looked up at him, brows raised.

“Ilya,” Scott spoke hesitantly. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

Ilya knew the words came from a place of good intentions, but his jaw clenched nonetheless.

“Spit it out, Hunter.”

Scott swallowed nervously. “What are you going to tell your father?”

“Leave that to me.” Ilya responded. The truth was, he didn’t know yet. They had a week-long journey for him to figure it out. “Oh, and Scott?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Your boys will attend to him.” Ilya stated. Scott’s face flushed at Ilya’s words. “They are like kittens, no? Play around with each other rather than stick their noses where they don’t belong? That was your idea, da?”

“Yes, sir.” Scott bowed before hurrying out.

Ilya hid a smile by burying his nose in Shane’s lovely dark hair. Inhaling the scent of island flowers, Ilya hoped the smell would never fade.

“Я должен найти способ развеселить тебя, мой маленький котенок.” (I must find a way to entertain you, my little kitten.) Ilya crooned, nuzzling Shane. “В безопасности и под защитой, как вы и заслуживаете.” (Safe and protected, like you deserve.)

There were so many threats in the Imperial court, but at least there, Ilya could control Shane's surroundings. Leaving him on the island where his boy could succumb to disease or if another kingdom invaded their island, was absolutely out of the question. Creating the perfect environment for Shane to flourish was only possible in Russia. Eventually, Ilya would become king, and his influence would be even more vast. There was truly no safer place for Shane than in the eye of the most cutthroat court in the world.

His precious island blossom would bloom in the snow-covered ground of Russia, and Ilya would be there to build a greenhouse around him.

Chapter Text

Shane panicked for a moment when he woke up to complete darkness. What time was it? Where was he? Why didn’t his mother wake him?

It only took a second for the events of yesterday to seep back into his consciousness. He was no longer home. He was imprisoned by a brute of a prince. He had passed out ofter having a panic attack in front of his captor. 

Shane could feel the gentle rocking of the ship, but the room was pitch black. There were muffled sounds of voices as well as footsteps above him. His hands carefully felt his surroundings. 

He recalled the bed from the room Rozanov had shown him. If these were the same red sheets, they were remarkably soft. The bed was the most comfortable Shane had ever been on.

Shane recalled Rozanov’s words.

“This is only room worthy of you.”

The thick accent, foreign to Shane’s ears, had spoken the words so genuinely, it had surprised him. Rozanov seemed to think Shane deserved a room as nice as this for whatever reason. Perhaps, Rozanov still didn’t understand that Shane wasn’t a prince like him. He was merely the son of a man, not a king. 

Thankfully, Shane did not feel the body of another in the bed with him. Perhaps, Rozanov had other quarters. It would make sense, after all. Rozanov may be a generous jailer, but even he probably wouldn’t share a bed with a prisoner despite his strange words.

Stumbling, Shane rose from the bed, hands splayed out in front of him so as to not run into anything. Blindly moving through the dark room, Shane crept closer to the sounds, assuming that meant the door was near. 

When his hand grasped something that felt like a doorknob, the thought crossed his mind that he may be locked in. That was foolish, though. They were on a ship. What was Shane going to do? Throw himself overboard?

Even with his new predicament, Shane didn’t wish to die.

Steeling his nerves, Shane opened the door slowly. He hadn’t paid attention to the hallways when Rozanov had escorted him to the room, and he was now cursing himself for his own idiocy. 

Shane did not get far, though. Just outside his door was a table, dimly lit by several candles, with a group of men hovered around it.

They seemed to be playing a game of some sort with cups and dice. Shane observed from around the corner for a few moments.

It wasn’t until Rozanov took control of the dice that Shane leaned in closer. 

The movement caught the prince’s eye. His gaze flashed over to Shane. It was only when the prince’s eyes trailed down did Shane realize something.

He was not wearing any pants. Rozanov must have undressed him while he slept, leaving him in only a loose shirt that was far too large for him and his undergarments. His legs, smooth and unblemished from the winter months, were on full display. 

With a startled squeak, Shane was slapped out of his daze when Rozanov suddenly rose from his seat and began stalking towards his prisoner. 

Shane turned and fled back to the room, knowing Rozanov was hot on his heels. 

There were foreign words thrown around behind him that Shane did not understand. Whistles and cackles from the men gave a pretty good hint at what was said.

Shane tried to shut the door behind him, but a powerful palm slapped the wood, forcing it open. 

“Look, Rozanov, I-I,” Shane stuttered. Then, he remembered he should be the mad one. “I can’t believe you!”

Even in the dim light from the hall, Shane saw how Rozanov’s face shifted into surprise at Shane’s exclamation.

“You undressed me while I was asleep.” Shane hissed, slowly backing away from the towering man. “That is unacceptable.”

There was a moment before Rozanov repeated, “Unacceptable?”

“Yes.” Shane insisted, crossing his hands over his chest. “Uncalled for? Ridiculous? Inappropriate?”

Rozanov’s head nodded in the shadows. “I see.”

Pride swelled up in Shane at the man’s words. 

“If me undressing you for you to sleep more comfortably is inappropriate,” Rozanov stepped closer. “What you call flaunting pretty little legs in front of my men?”

Shane flushed hotly, mouth dropping open.

“Such a display of brazen desire surely deserves punishment, da?” Even in the shadows of the dark room, Shane could see Rozanov’s eyes turn positively blackened with lust. “Tell me, непослушный котенок, what is punishment on your island?” (naughty kitten)

“You cannot punish me.” Shane hated how his voice cracked with a slight whimper. Something was stirring in his belly. Some itching heat he had never felt before.

Rozanov stalked closer, pushing Shane back until his legs hit the bed.

“You are mine.” Rozanov’s body heat radiated on Shane’s bare skin. The man’s imposing form towered over him. “Nobody will ever see a spot of skin upon your body ever again unless I allow.”

Rozanov leaned over, causing Shane to fall back onto the bed. The Russian’s body continued to descend upon him until he could feel the movements of the prince’s chest as he spoke. 

“I could make you wear veil, too.” A warm hand caressed Shane’s cheek. “Hide away even this perfect face with all your precious freckles only for my eyes.”

Shane shivered. He felt the heat in his lower belly flare at Rozanov’s touch. His dick twitched in interest, and he clenched his legs together as a wet warmth began to build at his most sensitive core.

“Would you like that, Дорогой?” (sweetheart) Rozanov purred. His lips pressed gentle kisses all along Shane’s flushed cheeks and jaw. 

Shane whimpered as the prince’s lips brushed a sensitive spot beneath his ear. Another kiss was placed there, drawing another embarrassing noise.

“So responsive.” Rozanov murmured against his skin. 

Suddenly, Rozanov attacked the skin in that very spot with his teeth. He bit down nearly hard enough to draw blood. 

Shane let out a yelp, his hands flying up to clutch at the fur along Rozanov’s chest. He couldn’d hold back his moan as the bite turned into a gentle suck, drawing blood up to the surface. 

Sparks of fire erupted in Shane’s mind. Nobody had ever touched him like this. He was rock solid in his undergarments, now, and he was surely leaking. 

“Now, now, Дорогой.” (sweetheart) Rozanov soothed, nuzzling Shane’s neck. “Took punishment like good boy.”

Shane shivered again at the words. He didn’t know what to say. Something about them made him tingle from his fingertips all the way down to his toes.

“Time for bed, котенок.” (kitten) Rozanov murmured. His strong hands guided Shane to lay under the covers, and the prince tightly tucked the blankets around him gently. “I will be outside winning game. If you need me, call out. I will hear you, da?”

Mind fuzzy and a little sleepy, Shane merely nodded. He could call out. Sure, that was easy. 

Shane’s neck throbbed slightly where Rozanov bit him, but the sensation merely lulled him into a deeper sleep. He didn’t even stir when the prince joined him several hours later into the night.

Ilya rose the next morning in possibly the best mood he had ever been in his whole life. Not only did the events of the previous night include tucking his angry kitten into bed all floaty and sweet but also crushing all his men at dice. And, then, he was greeted with the beautiful sight of a still sleeping Shane resting his head on Ilya’s naked pec.

At some point in the night, Shane must have attached himself to Ilya. The boy had fallen asleep on his stomach, and Ilya didn’t have the heart to move him into a better position to cuddle despite how much he wanted to.

It seemed as though a sleeping Shane wanted to as well. 

The morning light streamed in through the port hole high on the wall. Shane looked even more heavenly in this light. 

While his kitten certainly suited the role of sexy innocence last night, there was something so pure about Shane sleeping that made Ilya’s heart clench. This perfect creature was now his to look after. He would do anything to keep this look of contentment on Shane’s face.

Ilya’s gaze caught onto the love bite that now bloomed an aggressive purple on Shane’s neck. It had truly been a spur of the moment decision. Seeing Shane’s smooth legs on display where any of his men could ogle was enough to make Ilya’s fragile control snap for a moment. 

The way Shane had trembled and moaned beneath him was truly addictive. Ilya could not wait to hear it again. He couldn’t wait for the day Shane would come to him, begging and needy for release that only Ilya could provide.

Brushing the pad of his thumb against the mark, Ilya savored in the sight of Shane slowly waking up. His brow furrowed, and his lovely eyelashes fluttered delicately. His whole body would tense for a moment before relaxing into the soft sheets.

“Good morning, Дорогой.” (sweetheart) Ilya murmured, pressing a kiss to Shane’s head.

Shane tensed for a second before slowly extracting himself from Ilya’s grip. Ilya let him go. Sometimes allowances had to be made to let Shane grow at his own pace. Last night had been a big step for them, and Ilya did not want to ruin progress by being greedy.

“Um, good morning.” Shane answered awkwardly. He scooted across the bed, making sure the covers still hid his bare legs. 

Ilya watched Shane for a moment, letting the boy squirm at the awkwardness. 

“Uh,” Shane coughed. “So, how long is the journey?”

“Six days.” Ilya answered.

Shane nodded. “What will happen when we arrive?”

“You will live comfortably.” Ilya said, watching Shane’s reaction. “And one day, you may grow to like it.”

Shane shifted. “That’s it?”

Ilya’s eyebrows raised. “What? You want job?”

“I guess I kind of assumed…” Shane trailed off. 

His boy was too precious.

“Assumed what?”

“That I’d do something.” Shane mumbled. “I can’t just do nothing.”

Ilya almost cracked a smile. He could teach his boy to do nothing. He would grow to enjoy nothing. Worrying about nothing. Planning nothing. Everything would be handled by Ilya. All Shane would have to do is look pretty.

“I suppose I have job for you.” Ilya pretended to be thinking very hard.

It was endearing how excited Shane got at the idea of work.

“Really? What is it?”

Ilya sat up, allowing the blankets to drop from his bare chest. Shane’s eyes immediately darted down to the muscles that rippled as the prince moved. 

“You could spend your days keeping the future king happy.” Ilya leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Bat those pretty eyelashes and spread those soft thighs.”

Shane’s face erupted in pink hues. He leaned away from Ilya, clutching the blankets as if that would save him.

“Fuck off.” It was the first time Ilya had heard his boy curse. The dirty word should not have turned him on as much as it did. “I am not a whore.”

“Of course not.” Ilya conceded. “I am messing with you, Дорогой.” (sweetheart)

Shane’s posture relaxed slightly.

“I would never pay you for your services.” Ilya said. No amount of gold in the world was worth as much as him. “But, I would never turn you away.”

Ilya watched as Shane’s cheeks stained an even deeper pink. He watched as the little pink tongue darted out to wet Shane’s lips.

He wished he knew what Shane tasted like. What he kissed like. He already knew some of Shane’s sweet sounds, but he wanted more. Ilya just had to know every possible sound he could draw from that mouth.

As he watched Shane sneak glances at him as Ilya rose for the day, the prince knew his conquest was not too far away.

Chapter Text

Shane fidgeted from where he sat on a hard wooden chair. Sitting for hours had made him restless. With nothing but his own mind to occupy his attention, Shane found it increasingly hard to sit still. 

Sure, the salty breeze and beautiful view of the ocean was enough to awe him for the first couple hours, but as time dragged on, Shane felt itchy. Not like a skin-creeping itch, but almost a hum in the back of his mind.

He was also becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he had gone several hours without food or water, but he wondered if that was intentional.

After the embarrassing way his body had reacted to Rozanov’s crude joke, Shane had hoped to slunk away into a corner of the ship and avoid the prince for the rest of the journey. Unfortunate for him, Rozanov seemed intent on keeping an eye on Shane, personally.

A wooden chair had been dragged up the deck by Rozanov himself with a firm order for Shane to sit and watch. 

So, Shane had no choice but to listen to his captor and sit on the incredibly uncomfortable chair and watch as Rozanov directed his men about the ship. The prince stood at the helm, sailing the impressive vessel with skill that Shane couldn’t help but feel impressed by. 

Every once and a while, Rozanov would look back at where he left Shane perched, giving the dark-haired boy a satisfied smirk or sly wink. The prince did not make any conversation with Shane, though. It was as if Shane was an ornament upon a shelf.

“You need anything, tell me.” Was all Rozanov had said before leaving Shane to his own thoughts.

Shane squirmed, trying to relieve the dull pressure building at the base of his spine, only for a spark to shoot up. He let out a hitched breath.

The sound, so soft and barely audible, drew the attention of the Russian prince immediately. 

Shane froze when those cool hazel eyes locked onto his. For a moment, he feared Rozanov’s temper. In truth, the man had not harmed Shane. Not raised his voice nor his hand. The small spot on Shane’s neck that still ached duly had not been exactly an unpleasant experience, even if Rozanov had labeled it punishment.

It was impossible to shake the sight of Rozanov the first time Shane saw him, though. Huge and towering. All broad muscles and firm lines. The blade the prince had expertly weilded was clearly from years of training to kill. 

Not that the prince would need such a weapon to harm Shane, a simple boy who had never been taught to fight.

Holding his breath as Rozanov drew near to him, Shane steeled himself for the worst.

Rozanov crouched down so he was at eye level where Shane sat. His broad hands came up to rest upon the armrests of the chair, bracketing Shane in. 

“You need something?” Rozanov looked at Shane expectantly.

Shane blinked, unsure of what to say. 

Yes, I want to get out of this damn chair.

“Um, no,” Shane averted his eyes, unsettled by the intense way Rozanov assessed him. It was as if the prince could see into Shane’s thoughts. 

A hand carefully reached towards his face, and Shane resisted the urge to flinch.

“Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Rozanov murmured, rough fingertips coaxing Shane to look up. “Tell me what you need.”

Searching Rozanov’s eyes, Shane found nothing but neutral patience. He didn’t look angry or annoyed. The prince was merely waiting for Shane to respond.

Shane wanted to stand up, to stretch his muscles. He wanted water. He wanted food. He wanted to go back to bed and wake up back home with his parents. 

But, worst of all, he didn’t want Rozanov to stop touching him so softly. 

“I-I’m thirsty.” Shane settled on. A simple request. Even prisoners were offered water, surely?

Rozanov nodded and did not respond. He merely continued to gaze at Shane, as if he was expecting more.

Shane opened and closed his mouth a couple times before swallowing nervously.

Seeming to take pity on Shane, Rozanov sighed. His fingers traveled from Shane’s chin to gently caress his cheek.

“Tell me, Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Rozanov said, a little more firm. “What is it you do when you wake up on island? Hmm?”

Shane’s brow furrowed at the question. Was this a trick?

“I get up,” Shane said hesitantly. “I eat breakfast and do my morning stretches.”

Rozanov nodded again, as if committing the terrible explanation to memory. 

“So, in morning, you need food and drink and exercise? Not to sit on hard chair like naughty child, da?” Rozanov continued running his rough fingers along the soft skin of Shane’s cheek. The feeling was distracting, but it gave Shane something to cling to rather than escaping to the part of his mind that said this was all wrong.

Shane merely nodded, feeling the fingers trail after his movement.

“You need anything, tell me.” Rozanov parrotted his words from earlier. “Understand, Дорогой?”

Another hesitant nod.

“Now, let's begin morning all over.” Rozanov suddenly stood, holding a hand out to Shane to take. 

Placing his hand into Rozanov’s considerably larger one, Shane stood, trying not to wince at his stiff muscles. A firm arm came to rest around Shane’s waist, pulling him close to the prince’s side.

“Shane,” the sound of his name from Rozanov’s mouth made him flinch slightly. He looked up to see the Russian gazing down at him with stern eyes. “I mean what I say. Being stubborn will get you nowhere. Believe me, I am more. If I need to put you in hard chair every morning until you limp like wounded deer to get you to speak up, I will, da?”

Realization dawned on Shane. It was a test to see how long Shane could hold out before asking Rozanov to get up and eat or drink something. 

Heat rose up in Shane’s cheeks, suddenly embarrassed. When he saw Rozanov’s expectant eyes, he nodded again, unable to form words.

The softness that clouded over the prince’s hazel eyes made Shane a little lightheaded. He blamed it on the lack of food and water. 

“Come, Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Rozanov tugged him along by a firm hand on his hip. “Let’s get you fed.”

Ilya watched as Shane politely ate his food in silence. An assortment of bread and fruit was all the boy had shown interest in. No meat or cheese. 

Another thing filed away in the section of Ilya’s brain designated for discussions to have with his boy eventually. If it was up to Ilya, Shane’s plate would be far more decorated with foods that would give him some more fat on his bones. His delicate island flower would not survive the Russian winter as thin as he was.

The vision of sweetly plump cheeks, a testament to how well Ilya provides for him, was a tempting thought. Like a spoiled lapcat. 

For now, Ilya allowed Shane the choice. 

His kitten’s morning lesson had not quite gone as he had hoped. Ilya realized he would have to learn to steel his nerves if he was going to be firm with Shane. One little sound of discomfort from his boy had Ilya abandoning all plans to allow Shane more time in his chair to reflect on his needs.

Shane could be stubborn. Ilya saw it in his eyes. 

But, Ilya was far worse.

He had to teach his boy that holding back from Ilya and neglecting his body’s needs in favor of a thread of independence was not going to be tolerated.

The test was also to assess how obedient Shane could be. A brattier boy may have just gotten up on his own rather than obey Ilya’s direct order to sit and stay.

Shane turned out to be just as Ilya had expected.

Obedient yet hesitant.

Shane obediently stayed put yet couldn’t follow the command to speak up for his own needs.

If that didn’t show just how much Shane needed Ilya, nothing ever would. His boy needed a firm hand to guide him.

Of course, Shane wouldn’t always be in charge of vocalizing his needs. Eventually, Ilya would be able to predict his sweetheart’s needs and desires before Shane even knew them himself. For the time being, Ilya had to rely somewhat on Shane to tell the prince about himself, and this lesson laid the foundation for that.

Ilya rested his chin on his palm as he watched Shane chew carefully. His boy had glanced at the food wearily for a moment before tucking in. Probably second-guessing if Ilya would drug him but deciding it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Shane still viewed himself as a prisoner, and perhaps stuck on a ship, it was easier for him to think that. Ilya’s mind was already swirling with ways to change Shane’s mind.

He would recruit some close friends whom he trusted with Shane. Scott Hunter’s boys, Kip and Hayden, would be good examples for Shane to watch. The three of them had their own dynamic much like Ilya had planned for Shane. Ilya had seen how Kip and Hayden cling to Scott like he is the sun, and Ilya couldn’t wait for the day Shane would regard the prince with the same devotion.

Even Ilya’s close childhood friend, Svetlana, would be a good friend to his boy. Nobody knew him like she did, and Shane would see how people trusted and followed Ilya, eventually learning he could do the same.

The only problem was Ilya’s family, particularly his father and brother. He still hadn’t decided how he was going to explain his guest to the king. 

Not that Grigori would give a damn or truthfully, remember Shane existed, once the conversation ended.

Alexei would, though, and that meant Shane would be in danger. 

Ilya’s brother was a fool. So much so that even their father understood that the older brother could never inherit the throne.

Not that Alexei agreed. 

Foolish men make foolish decisions. Ilya did not trust Alexei to make a foolish decision that would put his new treasure in danger.

That meant Ilya would have to be clever about Shane’s image in the court. It would be easy to call him a hostage, that would require some level of harsh treatment on Ilya’s part. Shane would never see the inside of a cell as long as Ilya lived, so that was out of the question.

Obviously, Shane couldn’t be seen as Ilya’s lover. As much as it pained him, Ilya knew he couldn’t publicly claim Shane until the throne was officially his. Only then, would he be the most powerful man in Russia. 

Male companions were not unheard of, and in the privacy of closer quarters, many men enjoyed the comforts of other men. 

The other issue was that of an heir of his own.

Ilya shook his head, pushing that particular issue to the side for now. He didn’t want to think of bedding a woman when he had the most perfect creature right in front of him.

Said perfect creature was now gazing curiously at Ilya, biting one of his plush lips.

Ilya cocked an eyebrow, causing Shane to flush and drop his gaze.

That was something his boy seemed to struggle with. Holding Ilya’s gaze made him uncomfortable for whatever reason. It would come with time. They’d spend years gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Are you full enough, Дорогой?” (sweetheart) Ilya asked when Shane began picking at the food rather than eating it. Ilya took notice of how Shane often needed something to do with his hands. 

Shane hummed, lifting his glass to sip at the water Ilya had poured for him.

“You are quiet today.” Ilya commented. He tried not to sound aggressive. He wanted Shane to talk to him.

He wondered what excited Shane. What things he liked to talk about. What things made him smile. He wondered what secrets Shane hid behind that shy blush. 

Shane probably had a beautiful smile. Lovely and bright like a star.

“As opposed to when?” Shane mumbled.

Ilya smirked. Little kitten baring his teeth.

“So you are always quiet?” Ilya prompted. That would be alright. If Shane found words difficult, Ilya could learn to listen to his body. 

“I am quiet when I have nothing to say.” Shane quipped back. His voice had an endearing firmness to it. Ilya willed his dick not to answer it. 

Ilya leaned back in his seat. “So, you have no questions?”

Shane’s eyebrows twitched adorably, and he got that little pinch on his forehead as he frowned.

“Questions about what?” He asked.

Ilya waved his hands around, indicating to the ship.

“Russia,” he said flatly.

Ilya watched as Shane’s eyes gave away each little thought passing through his head. Part of him wanted to ask, the curiosity was clear.

Another part of him is afraid. Either of the answer or Ilya’s reaction.

Shane shrugged, squirming in his seat. Ilya had made sure to get him a chair cushioned with soft pillows. His gentle sweetheart was probably still sore from sitting.

“Sore?” Ilya couldn’t help himself. As he expected, Shane flushed a pretty pink. 

Shane’s blush deepened, and his frown grew.

“Shut up.” He snapped. He crossed his arms. 

“Is okay, мой маленький принц.” (my little prince) Ilya responded, his tone lazily relaxed. “You are soft island flower. I will protect you.”

“I am not soft.” Shane growled. “Or a flower.”

Ilya let out a laugh, loud and genuine. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so elated. It was like Shane was a drug, making Ilya light and airy. 

“And I don’t need you to protect me.” Shane hissed. His pout made the outburst far more like a kitten than a snake. 

Ilya leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. 

“Believe me, Дорогой, you do.” (sweetheart) Ilya’s voice was honest, as if he were stating the sky was blue. He didn’t want to frighten Shane’s gentle heart, but he wouldn’t lie to the boy.

Just as Shane opened his mouth, a yell was heard above deck. 

Soon after, the sound of an instrument blared.

Ilya stood. Shane looked at him with alarmed confusion.

Thunderous footsteps and men yelling shocked Ilya into movement. 

He had to get Shane somewhere safe and join his men. 

Their ship was under attack.

Chapter Text

Shane knew his lip was bleeding. 

Gnawing on it out of nerves, he just couldn’t stop. 

His hands pressed against the sides of his head, trying to block out the noise from above. The pressure of his palms kept him in reality, but his chest was numb. It was as if he wasn’t breathing. His heart had stopped.

A particularly loud thud landed just above his head, causing him to jump. 

Yells and gunshots and blades clashing.

It was all too much. Too loud. Too harsh. 

Shane tried to think of his home and his family. He would give anything to be with them. Not on this goddamn ship. 

He was probably going to die.

The thought made him whimper out loud, hot tears falling down his cheeks.

Fuck Ilya Rozanov.

If Rozanov died, what would become of Shane?

Would the pirates kill him? Or would they take him?

Shane let out a sob.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the door to Rozanov’s bedroom slammed open. 

The prince had stashed Shane in the room with strict orders to not move. Rozanov had promised he’d be back, and he would protect Shane.

It was humiliating to admit that when the door opened, Shane was desperate to see Rozanov’s face. 

So, when it was the dirty, snarling face of an unknown man, Shane’s chest seized up with fear.

This was it. He was going to die.

Shane scrambled up from where he had been crouched against the wall, looking around for some kind of weapon to defend himself.

“Well, well, well,” the man’s voice was gravely, almost painful sounding. He had an accent of his own. Not quite the same as Rozanov, but nothing Shane had ever heard before. “The Russian scumb keeps the real treasure to warm his bed.”

Shane nearly vomited. 

“Don’t worry, treasure.” The man crooned, coming towards Shane. “My master treats his pets well.”

Shane’s hand found purchase on a glass jar, holding it up to swing. 

The man smiled, revealing rotten teeth. He lunged for Shane.

Shane brought the glass down on the man’s shoulder, causing it to shatter. He felt small pricks in his hands, but all he could focus on was the man’s bony, disgusting hands coming down upon Shane’s arms.

“You little bitch.” The man snarled. He backhanded Shane so fast, the room spun. “Master will have fun breaking you in. Taming mutts are his forte, after all.”

Shane furiously tried to break the man’s hold. His hands burned from the glass, and his cheek stung terribly. 

All he could think was, Please Rozanov, don’t be dead. Please, save me.

The man leaned towards Shane’s face so close, Shane could smell his awful breath. 

Shane glared up at the man, trying not to show his fear. He kicked wildly and furiously twisted his arms.

“So fiery.” The man practically moaned. “I bet Rozanov likes that. Bet he takes your sweet ass like the savage that he is. Those pretty tears make me want to do the same.”

Shane felt the man press his crotch up against Shane’s stomach. The hardness he felt there only renewed his struggles more.

The man let out a groan of pleasure, reaching his hand down to grope Shane’s ass.

This can’t be happening. 

Nobody had ever touched Shane like this, not even Rozanov, despite the prince’s clear interest.

It felt so wrong. Shane’s skin crawled in disgust.

Just as Shane realized that he was about to be raped and nobody was going to save him, the man was viciously ripped off of him.

Immediately, Shane collapsed to the floor now that the man was no longer pining him to the wall.

He didn’t even register the blood dripping from his cut hands.

All he saw was Rozanov.

Rozanov, standing like a god, holding the man off the ground with his bare hands wrapped around Shane’s attacker’s throat.

This was a different Rozanov than Shane had seen at his village for the first time. That Rozanov had been cocky and condescending with his violence.

This Rozanov was pure rage. Anger glazed over his eyes as he squeezed the life out of the man.

“Russian scumb.” The man spat out, breathless. 

Rozanov sneered. “You accept gold from Russian scumb.”

The prince held up a coin Shane didn’t recognize. It was gold with something imprinted on it. 

The man didn’t respond. Whether from lack of air or refusal, Shane didn’t know.

Rozanov shook the man, his head wobbling like a toy.

“Кто, чёрт возьми, заплатил тебе?” (Who the fuck paid you?) Rozanov roared. The man’s face grew purple. 

The man merely smiled, blood pooling in his mouth.

With an angry growl, Rozanov snapped the man’s neck. 

The sound resonated through the room like a gunshot.

Shane began hyperventilating. The room was turning black.

Shane knocked his head off the wall from flinching so hard when Rozanov moved close to him, crouching down.

“ох, мой сладкий цветок.” (Oh, my sweet flower.) Rozanov murmured. He reached out, but when his hands came close enough, Shane scrambled to the side. “I am sorry I did not get here sooner. Everything is alright now, Дорогой. The bad men are dead.” (sweetheart)

Shane let out a shakey breath.

“You killed him.” Shane whispered.

He looked up at Rozanov. The prince was covered in blood, most likely not his own. His eyes were still wild and bright. The anger seemed to have left those hazel eyes, but the intensity made Shane shiver.

Rozanov had not dropped his hands from where they had reached out to touch Shane. He merely paused their movement, leaving them hovering between the two of them.

“Of course, Дорогой.” (sweetheart) Rozanov answered, not sounding the least bit bothered. “He deserved far worse death, but unfortunately, we have no torture chamber on ship.”

Shane flinched at the mention of a torture chamber. Was that what waited for him in Russia? Torture?

“He touched you.” Rozanov continued. “He would have hurt you more. Nobody is allowed to hurt you.”

“Not even you?” Shane asked. Perhaps, it was stupid, but the words just fell out.

Rozanov did not even wait a beat.

“Not even me.”

Shane held Rozanov’s gaze, searching for a lie. His eyes were firm, though. Sincere and clear.

“Come, Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Rozanov coaxed, motioning with his hands. “We will wash and tend to your hands.”

Shane glanced down at his bleeding palms. There was definitely glass stuck inside the skin. He wondered if they had a healer on board the ship.

Rozanov’s hands came to gently cradle Shane’s. 

The prince’s face was gentle when his gaze met Shane’s. He offered a small smile.

Shane couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Ilya kept his thoughts on Shane. He focused on the injured, traumatized boy in front of him rather than the hundreds of potential traitors racing through his head.

Somebody wanted Ilya dead. Actually, many people probably wanted Ilya dead. The problem was someone was brave enough to actually attempt it.

Paying pirates to feed Ilya to the fish. 

Ridiculous and predictable.

Ilya had led Shane to another room while his men cleaned up the mess left in his bedroom. 

He had instructed Shane to sit upon the desk that held the plans and papers for their mission. A bucket of clean water and vodka was brought to the room as well as a needle to remove the glass.

Ilya busied himself with carefully extracting the glass from his Shane’s precious skin. Each little sound of pain Shane made cut into Ilya like it was his own pain. He reveled in the image of the man’s life leaving his body to calm himself.

Silence floated around them, other than Shane’s occasional sound or the glass hitting the bowl. 

When the prince was satisfied, he finally looked up at Shane. 

He expected tears or perhaps, anger.

Shane’s face was surprisingly blank. It was as if the boy was in a trance. 

That worried Ilya even more. 

If Shane needed to cry, Ilya would hold him. If Shane needed to yell, Ilya would take it. 

He had, after all, put Shane in this position. If he hadn’t taken Shane, his poor boy wouldn’t have even come in contact with that bastard.

Still, Ilya didn’t regret bringing him. He was mad at himself for not protecting Shane sooner, but in the end, he had killed the man.

“This will burn, okay?” Ilya warned Shane before pouring the alcohol over his wounds to clean them. 

Shane hissed, pulling his hands back. A little spark of annoyance danced in his eyes.

Ilya gently wrapped Shane’s hands in bandages.

When he was finished, the prince gently tipped Shane’s chin up, assessing his pinkened cheek. Whereas Shane’s pretty blushing cheeks made Ilya stir with desire, this mark upon his boy’s face only made him furious.

They stared at each other for several moments. 

Ilya could tell Shane was searching for something in his gaze. He let his boy look. He wanted Shane to look deep into his eyes until he reached Ilya’s soul. He could see how much Ilya desired to protect him. He would know how Ilya would spend every waking moment keeping anyone from ever touching Shane again.

He could see how much Ilya wanted to comfort him. Wrap his smaller frame up in soft furs and rock him to sleep. Ilya would watch over him if nightmares came. 

As if he could hear Ilya’s thoughts, Shane’s face crumpled, and he launched himself into the prince’s arms, breaking down in tears.

Ilya’s surprise was quickly dashed as he wrapped his arms around Shane, pulling his boy close.

Shane attached himself to the prince like a barnacle, legs around Ilya’s waist and arms tightly clutching Ilya’s neck.

“Let it out, мой дорогой,” (my sweetheart) Ilya cooed. His one hand gently petted Shane’s hair as the other kept the boy held up. “You were so brave. мой смелый котёнок, I am so proud of you.” (my brave kitten)

Shane’s body shuddered. He merely clutched Ilya closer.

Ilya moved to sit in one of the chairs, having Shane straddle his lap. His kitten burrowed his face into Ilya’s shoulder as he cried. 

Rocking Shane back and forth, Ilya kept whispering sweet words in Russian. Eventually, Shane quieted down.

When Ilya pulled back to check on him, the boy’s eyes were closed. He had apparently cried himself to sleep in Ilya’s arms.

Ilya continued to sway back and forth as his mind finally wandered to the truth.

He had to make a plan quickly. Shane would need protection, and Ilya needed to get to the bottom of who was willing to go this far to kill him. 

The feeling of Shane’s comforting weight in his lap merely solidified Ilya’s determination. His poor boy. Even if he didn’t believe it, Shane needed Ilya to protect him. This attack had only proven that. Perhaps, this was an unfortunate lesson Shane had to go through.

Although Ilya would prefer to keep Shane in a perfect bubble of bliss, a peek into the real dangers of the world would surely help show his wayward kitten the benefits of being Ilya’s. Perhaps, a controlled, planned reminder of this day would be beneficial to Shane’s training.

The thought lingered in Ilya’s brain. Perhaps it was cruel. Perhaps it was unhealthy.

Ilya didn’t care.

He laid a gentle kiss on Shane’s forehead. 

If striking a healthy amount of fear for the world in Shane would keep him just like this, it was a sacrifice Ilya would just have to make.

Not for a little while, though.

Ilya would ride the high of Shane clinging to him in the wake of this attack. Eventually, his silly kitten would begin thinking he was strong enough to survive all alone. That is when Ilya would gently remind him that the only safe place was right here- in Ilya’s arms.

Chapter Text

Shane was being annoying. He was being clingy. He was being an annoying, clingy prisoner.

And Rozanov seemed to be basking in it.

After the attack, Shane felt a bubble of anxiety build up and suffocate him every moment Rozanov was not in sight. The last time the prince left his side, Shane was a blubbering mess.

He couldn’t help but expect a filthy, rapist pirate would come barreling through the door if Rozanov was not there to shield him.

It was surprising how the next few days blurred into some kind of domestic routine. Shane found himself grateful that Rozanov had insisted they share a room because he would often wake up to nightmares. It would have been far more humiliating to wake the entire crew.

If Shane was plagued with nightmares, Rozanov would hold him, murmuring in his native language, until Shane fell asleep. Rozanov would often rise first, letting Shane sleep as long as he could.

When Shane inevitably woke up, Rozanov would insist he drink a flask of water and try to convince him to eat some meat with his breakfast. Every day, Shane would refuse, preferring the bread and fruits that reminded him of home.

Despite his newfound dependence on the Russian prince, Shane didn’t want to forget his home. He still ached to return to his parents.

Anytime Rozanov tried to ask Shane about his island, he would change the subject. 

From the short amount they shared about their respective homes, Russia seemed like a very different place than Canada. Shane would be lying if he didn’t feel the small thrill in his belly at the notion of a new place.

It was equal parts terrifying and exciting. 

Rozanov informed Shane that he would be protected and safe in Russia despite how cruel he had made his home sound. Shane would have his own room again.

When Rozanov had told him this, Shane couldn’t help the creep of anxiety that swelled in his throat. He remembered how much he had been against sleeping in the same bed as Rozanov in the beginning, and now, he was on the verge of a panic attack at the idea of no longer having the prince by his side.

Shaking his head, Shane scolded himself internally. This was his kidnapper for fucks sake. The man who threatened to kill and burn his home. He shouldn’t be so attached. 

Shane didn’t realize his movements had caught Rozanov’s attention until the prince crouched down in front of where Shane had sat, curled up on a chair in the room Rozanov had been studying maps in. 

That was part of their routine. Rozanov would survey the progress of their journey in the morning via sailing the ship himself and studying their maps to ensure they would make it to Russia on time. 

Shane would sit on one of the cushioned chairs with a book that was more pictures than words of Rozanov’s choice. He told Shane it would help him learn Russian.

When Shane sulkily informed Rozanov that he didn’t want to learn Russian, the prince merely had smiled indulgently. Shane quickly realized the books would be his only source of entertainment during these moments.

He wondered if it was another test like the first day. Rozanov didn’t seem like the kind of man who did something for no reason.

That always made Shane wonder. If Rozanov had a reason for taking Shane, what was it? It wasn’t like Shane would add any value to his life. He didn’t know politics, he wasn’t some wealthy lord, and he didn’t even speak Rozanov’s language.

Shane didn’t have the courage to ask, though. He was, frankly, afraid of the answer. 

Shane was not an idiot. He knew attraction when he saw it. Even if he didn’t know where it led, Shane knew there was more to it than just cuddling. 

His parents told him that he was special and that he deserved another special person to love him.

Shane didn’t think Rozanov loved him, but he also didn’t know why the prince seemed so interested in him. 

Like now, Rozanov cradled his face, snapping Shane’s attention out of his own thoughts. The prince stared at him. 

“You are far away, da?” Rozanov murmured. “What is going on in your pretty little head?”

Shane blushed. He was sure Rozanov could feel the warmth spread through his palms.

“Nothing,” Shane mumbled, eyes flickering downward. Sometimes Rozanov’s gaze was too intense. “Sorry.”

Rozanov shook his head, thumb brushing over Shane’s freckles.

“No sorry.” Rozanov rumbled. Shane’s heart ticked at the sound of fond exasperation in the prince’s voice. “Tell me, Дорогой.” (sweetheart)

Shane swallowed. He felt Rozanov’s fingers trace the movement of his neck. 

“Just thinking about what happens next.” Shane admitted. “When I have to be alone.”

Rozanov’s brow furrowed. 

“Alone?” He echoed. He continued to pet Shane gently. It made Shane feel like a startled animal.

“Well, yeah,” Shane shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant and calm. “Surely princes are busy, and I won’t know anyone but you in Russia.”

Shane felt stupid. Explaining to Rozanov how stupidly, annoyingly reliant Shane was on him. The prince probably thought he was pathetic.

Understanding dawned in Rozanov’s eyes as he nodded slowly. He hummed before standing and offering a hand to Shane.

It was Shane’s turn to be confused. He warily placed his hand in Rozanov’s larger, rougher one, standing alongside the prince.

Rozanov led Shane out of the room.

“Where are we going?” Shane asked, biting his lip. 

“I want to introduce you to friend of mine.” Rozanov responded. “So you will not be alone.”

They ended up in front of a closed door which Rozanov opened without knocking. Inside, it was a small room with a bed and some clothes strung about. A few journals and maps lay on a small table in the corner. 

There was also a man. He was a few years older than Shane with thick brown hair and neatly cut facial hair. 

The man looked up in surprise that was quickly dashed when he saw his visitors. His posture was relaxed, and a friendly smile graced his face.

“Ilya,” the man casually addressed the prince. “What if I had been indecent?”

Rozanov shrugged.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Shane’s head whipped between the two of them. Were they together?

The man’s face flattened in exasperated amusement. When he took in Shane’s bewildered expression, he let out a huff of a laugh.

“Don’t worry, kid.” He spoke to Shane. “My boys don’t share with anyone but each other, not even with His Highness.”

Shane peeked up at Rozanov. The prince was smiling. 

“You two needed to meet.” Rozanov explained, closing the door behind him and Shane as they entered the room fully. “Tell him about kittens.”

The man flushed slightly at Rozanov’s words.

“Kittens?” Shane said, not understanding.

“Just a nickname.” The man hurried to explain, flashing Rozanov an unimpressed look. “My name is Scott, by the way.”

“Shane.” Shane responded. He realized after that Scott probably already knew that.

“My boys will be excited to meet you.” Scott said. Digging around in a nearby bag, he presented Shane with a portrait. 

In the small painting, there were two young men. Both attractive and smiling happily. One had darker hair than the other with darker eyes to match.

They made a handsome pair, and they were leaning in closer than what would be considered casual.

“That’s Kip.” Scott pointed to the one with darker hair then the lighter. “And that is Hayden.”

They didn’t look like kittens to Shane. Perhaps, the word translated differently in Russian.

”Once we land, you can meet them.” Rozanov said, hand coming to rest on Shane’s lower back. “They can entertain you while I do boring prince things.”

“But,” Shane glanced at Scott. “Surely, they have jobs, too?”

Rozanov smiled.

“I call them kittens because they are spoiled pets.” He said, leaning closer to Shane’s ear. “They keep old man happy, and they get to lounge around instead of work.”

“They work.” Scott argued half heartedly. He smiled fondly at the picture when Shane handed it back. 

“Sucking your dick and making your food is not work.” Rozanov shot back.

Shane startled at the crude words. He remembered the conversation he had with Rozanov.

You could spend your days keeping the future king happy.

“They do plenty of other things.” Scott said, as if sensing Shane’s unease. “Kip loves animals, so he would gladly take you to the kennels or stables if you wanted. Hayden is my mischievous one. He is usually off finding trouble somewhere and dragging my innocent Kip along.”

Shane also loved animals. They had several stray cats and dogs that would come to their village for food, and some stayed to be domesticated.

“Okay,” Shane answered, unsure of what else to say.

Rozanov seemed to understand.

“Come,” Rozanov murmured, pressing his hand more firmly against Shane’s back to lead him out of the room. “Time for nap, I think, yes?”

That was another thing in their routine. Rozanov insisted Shane nap at least once no matter how long he slept in the morning.

Shane’s lips formed a pout instinctively. 

“I feel fine.” Shane protested, knowing it was futile. 

“Just quiet time, then.” Rozanov responded. “I will lay with you.”

Shane would never admit it, but he hated the “naps” because he would often wake up alone. Rozanov would do other duties while Shane slept, one of the only times they were apart.

They ended up curled up with Shane’s back to Rozanov’s front with the prince’s strong arms holding him tightly.

The weight was comforting, like the arms held Shane in a safe place where he would never drift off to scary thoughts.

“Kip and Hayden will take care of you when I am not around.” Rozanov spoke quietly. His chest vibrated along Shane’s back. “They are good boys, and Scott loves them.”

Shane’s heart rate picked up as he geared up the courage to ask what was on his mind. Something about the way the two men had talked about the pair of them unsettled Shane.

“Does he own them?” Shane asked in a quiet voice.

When there was a pause, he feared the answer would not soothe him.

“Is complicated.” Rozanov answered. “But, technically, no. Scott does not own them.”

Shane relaxed only slightly at the words. He didn’t realize Rozanov wasn’t finished. 

“His father does.”

Ilya internally berated himself for answering Shane’s question so honestly. He had hoped the candor would help Shane trust that Ilya wasn't trying to manipulate or hide the truth from him.

The prince realized his boy might be too delicate for unfiltered truths from now on. 

After finding out that Scott’s father basically owned Kip and Hayden through indentured servitude, Shane had retreated into himself.

His body grew tense in Ilya’s embrace despite the prince’s attempts to soothe his skittish kitten. No words of comfort nor gentle caresses seemed to get through the haze of panic Shane had worked himself into.

There was probably no such system of debt where Shane was from. The idea of owning another person was inconceivable to him.

Ilya could have forced Shane to listen as he explained the complex situation, but that would mean exposing a lot of Kip and Hayden’s personal lives. He was confident the three boys would grow close enough that Scott’s kittens would share with Shane on their own time. The story would sound far more convincing coming from them, anyway.

Ilya also knew it would be pointless to explain to Shane how he and Scott had been planning tirelessly for how to end the system once he took over the throne. The politics of it all would just confuse his sweet boy. He would merely have to wait until Shane could see if for himself. 

It was one step forward and two steps back with Shane. 

Just as Ilya began to hope the aftermath of the attack had made a more lasting impression on Shane, he was reminded that they had only known each other for a few days.

Even though Ilya knew that he and Shane would be together forever, his sweetheart still needed to warm up to the situation.

Ilya couldn’t wait to be home. 

Although there were many parts of Russia that he despised, he hated leaving his country in the hands of others. 

He was also desperate to get Shane settled. There were so many more things to butter the boy up with than on a ship. Sweets, puppies, music, books, games.

When it became apparent that Shane was not going to nap like a good boy, Ilya decided to fill the tense silence with mindless chatter.

“It will be the whelping season soon. That means all the bitches will have their litters.” Ilya said, running his fingers through Shane’s hair. “You can help Kip in the kennels. Perhaps, pick one out to keep for yourself.”

Ilya figured a pet would be good for Shane. A loyal hound to be by his boy’s side. Ilya would help train the pup himself to protect Shane. 

“There will still be snow for many weeks before spring comes.” Ilya continued. “Once it is warm, there will be big feast with food and games. You can watch as I win them all. I will even show you how to play.”

Ilya leaves out the fact that Shane will probably never compete. There would be far too many executions if someone harmed his boy, even by accident during a game. 

If Shane wanted to play games, he could with either Ilya or Kip and Hayden. 

“That sound fun, da?” Ilya prodded. Shane had been stiff and silent as Ilya spoke. The prince wasn’t even sure if the boy had heard him. “Shane.”

Shane flinched slightly at the sound of his name, slowly turning around to look at Ilya. 

Ilya hated that look. It was as if he thought Ilya would raise a hand to him. It was that dread-filled, hesitant look of fear that made Ilya want to bundle Shane up and just drive away those thoughts.

If only Ilya could just project his thoughts into Shane’s stubborn little brain. 

“Shane.” Ilya repeated. He placed a hand on Shane’s chin, cupping it to prevent his boy from looking away. “I want you to think. Have I harmed you?”

Shane swallowed, the movement of his delicate neck like a siren’s call to Ilya.

“You bit me.” Shane responded weakly.

Ilya’s eyes flashed down to the still purple mark on Shane’s neck. 

“Is love bite, Дорогой.” (sweetheart) Ilya corrected. “It felt good, no? Made you all floaty and sweet.”

Shane blushed prettily. Ilya could tell he was remembering the sensation.

“You are safe.” Ilya said, brushing his nose against Shane’s warm cheek. “You are fed. You are rested. You are unharmed. Who rescued you from filthy pirate?”

Shane hesitated. 

“You did.” He mumbled, slightly petulant.

My little brat. Ilya thought fondly. 

“That is right.” Ilya responded, slightly more stern. Sometimes a firm hand was necessary when dealing with bratty boys. “Do you know what filthy pirate wanted to do?”

Shane’s sweet flush drained pale.

Ilya did not wait for him to answer.

“If I did not save you, he would have held a knife to your throat.” Ilya rested his hand over Shane’s neck, feeling the relaxing pulse. “Ripped your clothes off. Forced his diseased cock inside of your precious body.”

Ilya steeled himself to continue as he saw tears fill Shane’s eyes. He had to drive this home to his boy before allowing him comfort.

“He may have been merciful and slit your throat. Or worse, he may have taken you with him.” Ilya held Shane’s teary gaze. “And what do you think he would do, hm? Feed you? Comfort you? Rock you to sleep?”

Shane shook his head, a sob leaving him.

“Who does that for you, глупый мальчик?” (silly boy) Ilya asked. 

“You do.” Shane whimpered. “I’m sorry!”

There it is.

Ilya shook his head, clutching Shane closer. The boy buried his head in Ilya’s chest. 

“No sorry.” Ilya repeated his words from earlier. “Sometimes my boy gets lost in his own head, hm? Is okay. You are only silly kitten, da?”

Shane nodded, still crying.

Ilya wasn’t convinced Shane fully absorbed what the prince called him, but it didn’t matter. He held Shane as he cried, clutching Ilya like he would disappear.

Yes, Ilya decided. Shane would need a little film to blur reality just a tad. 

Ilya did not like making Shane cry, so if keeping his baby boy blissfully ignorant, so be it. 

There was something that stirred deep within Ilya, though, as he felt sobs wrack Shane’s poor body. Knowing Shane had nowhere to turn but Ilya. Even if Ilya was the cause, it didn’t matter. Shane would learn that only Ilya could wipe away his tears. 

His boy’s poor mind plagued itself. They would have to discuss Shane’s panic attacks very soon. 

Listening to Shane’s cries turn to whimpers and sniffles, Ilya couldn’t help but wonder if the boy would cry as sweetly while the prince fucked him.

Was he a crier? Was he whiney in bed? Would he protest as Ilya milked just one more orgasm out of him? Did he like a bit of pain? 

There was no doubt in his mind that Shane was a virgin. An innocent little gift for Ilya to unwrap and enjoy. Ilya could make him feel ways he never had before. 

Ilya couldn’t help himself as his one hand travels down Shane’s back to rest upon his boy’s pert ass. It felt firm yet malleable to the touch. Perfect, just like every part of Shane.

Tracing shapes on Shane’s hip, Ilya nuzzled into his hair.

“How about you come watch me beat crew one last night in dice?” Ilya murmured against Shane’s head, pressing sweet kisses there. “Be my good luck charm.”

Shane didn’t answer, but his timid nod was enough.

“Это мой хороший мальчик.” (That’s my good boy.) Ilya whispered seductively into Shane’s ear.

His kitten shivered.

Chapter Text

Ilya felt his nails dig into his palms as he watched Scott lead Shane further and further away. It felt as if there was a string tied to Ilya’s heart that tugged him painfully towards Shane’s own heart.

He reminded himself that Shane was in the best possible hands- other than his own. Scott would get his kitten settled and introduce Shane to Kip and Hayden. It was better this way.

Shane would be occupied, not allowing his fragile mind to panic at the loss of Ilya’s protection, and Ilya could meet with his father without worrying about Shane scampering off somewhere he shouldn’t be.

They landed as the sun rose. The crew was desperate to get off the ship, exhausted from their journey. 

Ilya felt mixed feelings about returning to his home. It was his home, after all. His kingdom. 

He itched to take a trip to the cemetery, as if his mother’s grave had changed over his time away. One day, he would take Shane there and tell him her story.

Not yet, though.

Unsurprisingly, Ilya was greeted by the Grand Duke, his father’s closest advisor. He was also Scott Hunter’s father.

The man was almost identical to his son, save for gray hair and lines of wisdom on his face. They both stood proud and confident, tall with easygoing faces.

“Your Highness,” Hunter addressed Ilya, bowing, before embracing the prince. “I trust your journey was fruitful.”

“In an unexpected way.” Ilya responded, smiling. 

The Duke was practically a second father. Or maybe, his only true father figure where it mattered. When the King berated Ilya, the Duke taught him. Hunter was the one who taught Ilya to read a map and how to strike fear into the hearts of enemies.

“Ilya,” Hunter spoke low, almost silent. “I must warn you before entering. Your Father’s condition has worsened.”

Ilya’s jaw clenched.

“Worsened, how?”

Hunter gazed at him with pity. Ilya hated that look.

“He was asking for your mother this morning.” Hunter replied.

“I see.” Was all Ilya said before brushing past the duke and into the room.

The king was sitting at his desk, holding a piece of paper close to his face. He glanced up at the sound of Ilya’s arrival.

Ilya bowed to his father.

From the outside, the king didn’t look any different than before Ilya left. The prince knew that didn’t matter, though. The king’s ailment wasn’t of his body but of his mind.

The healers had said there was nothing to be done. A physical ailment may have a cure, but the mind was too complex. Eventually, the king would be unable to rule.

The issue was, a prince could only assume the throne if the king died. 

A kingdom ruled by a king who had lost his mind was not the Russia Ilya wanted to inherit.

“My son.” Grigori rose from his seat. “Returned from battle.”

“Hardly a battle, Father.” Ilya responded. “Just a mere island with simple inhabitants.”

“Still.” The king insisted, placing his hands on Ilya’s shoulders. “You return victorious.”

Ilya nodded. “Anything of value from the island is now Russia’s.”

Shane being the only true thing of value, and Ilya being Russia.

Ilya held his breath for a moment. He did not want his father to pry. The hope was to keep Shane’s existence as much of a secret as possible. 

“Good, good.” The king went back to sit down. “Now, go see your mother. Surely, she wants to hear of your journey.”

Ilya’s throat closed up.

He shared a look with the duke who solemnly lowered his eyes to the ground. 

“Father,” Ilya said carefully. “Mother is dead. She has been for ten years now.”

The king blinked. Then, he waved a hand dismissively.

“Yes,” he mumbled, giving his attention back to the papers on his desk. “Leave me now. Much work to do as a king. You will understand once your days of lazy princehood are over.”

Lazy. It was one of his father’s favorite descriptions of Ilya.

The prince bowed before turning and fleeing the room.

Hunter followed him, clasping Ilya on the shoulder.

“Come, let us celebrate your return with a drink.” The duke offered with a smile. “Where did my son run off to in such a hurry?”

Ilya cracked a smile in return.

“You know how he gets.”

“Ah,” Hunter’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “Him and those boys. I wonder how he will break the news to them.”

Ilya’s brow furrowed. The pair began walking to Hunter’s private study in the palace.

“The news?” Ilya didn’t know any news.

“Surely, my dear son arriving with a third pretty boy from some remote island would ruffle their feathers.” Hunter explained. He gave Ilya a teasing look. “Perhaps you should ask to borrow one, my boy. My son seems to be growing quite a collection.”

Ilya tried not to wince. The duke was a powerful man, second only to the king and Ilya himself. He had plenty of spies in court.

Naturally, Ilya knew it looked like that from an outsider, but he couldn’t help the possessive urge to correct the duke. He began thinking about taking his threat to cover every inch of Shane’s skin, including his face, as more of a reality.

Counting down from ten in his head, Ilya responded with a mere shrug.

“You seem tired, my boy.” The duke noted. “Go retire for the day.”

Ilya didn’t love how the words came out as an order, but he excused himself nonetheless.

“Ilya,” Hunter said before the prince could leave the study. “Your father is my oldest friend, and I have cared deeply for him during his many years on the throne. I care deeply for you too, my boy, and I would hate to see you or our great kingdom robbed of a good, strong king for years to come.

“Be ready, Ilya. Your time may come sooner than you think.” Hunter said.

Ilya nodded stiffly before leaving the study.

God, he needed to feel Shane in his arms. Now.

It would seem fate was not on his side today, though. 

As soon as Ilya closed the door behind him, he came face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see.

Alexei. 

“Brother,” Ilya greeted him politely, moving to walk past. Alexei pushed off the wall he had been lazily leaning against to get in his brother’s way. “Out of my way.”

Alexei made a dramatically wounded sound, pressing his palm to his chest in mock hurt.

“My little brother,” he lamented. “You are so cruel, Your Highness. Can’t big brother celebrate your safe return.”

The way he sneered the word made Ilya’s gaze sharpen. He had not forgotten the attack, and although he hoped his own flesh and blood wasn’t behind it, the possibility was regrettably high.

“Celebrate on your own time.” Ilya responded dryly. “Is only thing you are good for, after all.”

Spitting back the words their father had bellowed when he removed Alexei from the line of succession was perhaps a little overkill, but Ilya had no time for this. His boy was waiting for him to return.

To his surprise, Alexei only smiled, sharp and cruel.

“If I am only good for fun, then what does that say about you? The son who is only good for killing.” Alexei shot back. “Although, I suppose your bloodlust has its uses. Especially when there is trouble at sea.”

In a flash, Ilya had Alexei pinned against the wall, hands clutching his older brother by the throat, cutting off oxygen.

“You.” He hissed. “You dare send those filthy pirates to kill me?”

Alexei gurgled, desperately trying to remove Ilya’s hands. He shook his head furiously.

“Pathetic.” Ilya spat. He released Alexei into a gasping heap on the floor. Ilya kicked him sharply in the side, causing him to keel over in pain. “You are nothing but dirt under my boot. Go ahead, brother, use up all your money bribing anyone with a sword to kill me. I will beat them every single time, and one day, I will stuff the gold you spent down your throat and throw you into the sea.”

With that, Ilya stalked down the hall towards the room he had informed Scott would be Shane’s.

The prince’s head was reeling. He needed to turn it off. If only he could fuck Shane. That would be the perfect distraction. 

Carefully opening the door to Shane’s new bedroom, Ilya was pleased with how it was set up. Not too extravagant to draw attention but spacious and decorated well enough to be worthy of his boy.

Lying on the plush bed, Shane’s sleeping form was like a siren’s song to Ilya. The gentle rise and fall of his chest soothed Ilya’s frazzled nerves.

The prince moved closer, kneeling down beside the side of the bed to gaze at Shane’s face.

Such perfect skin, littered with adorable freckles. His boy had caught some sun while living on the ship, making the spots a little darker and his cheekbones slightly flush all the time. His thick, dark eyelashes fluttered slightly as Shane dreamed. 

Ilya reached out, gently caressing his kitten’s cheek, savoring the soft skin. 

Nothing would ever compare to this sight.

Well, maybe the moment Ilya finally took Shane’s virginity, his face would be even more lovely. Ilya could imagine it already.

The little scrunch of discomfort as his boy struggled to stretch on Ilya’s cock. The moment the slight burning would turn into immeasurable pleasure. It would be beautiful.

But, this sleeping, peaceful Shane was very beautiful, too.

Ilya had never found himself caring so much about another. He knew he’d do anything for Shane, except leave his side. The thought should scare him, but he had already resigned himself to a life full of Shane.

Feeling his own exhaustion begin weighing on his eyelids, Ilya crawled into the bed behind Shane, curling around his boy protectively.

He thought he had done a perfect job of slotting himself in without disturbing the sleeping beauty, but Shane squirmed slightly and let out an incoherent mumble before turning his head to sleepily stare at Ilya through half-open eyes.

“Sh,” Ilya shushed him, squeezing. “Go back to sleep, Дорогой.” (sweetheart)

“Ilya.” Shane murmured. The prince hummed in response. “I met Kip” yawn “and Hayden.”

Ilya inhaled Shane’s sweet scent.

“I know,” Ilya responded. “They were nice to you, da?”

Shane let out a happy hum. Ilya felt his heart squeeze at the adorable sound.

“I hope they wanna be my friends.” Shane’s eyes drooped closed. Ilya realized the boy probably wouldn’t remember this half-asleep conversation. 

Ilya couldn’t help the coo that left him.

“Of course they do, Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Ilya crooned, watching Shane surrender to sleep. “How could anyone not love you?”

Ilya joined his boy in sleep, feeling far more content.

Shane woke up to an empty bed. 

He sat up, confused. He was sure he had felt Rozanov spooning him at one point. 

Was he starting to dream of Rozanov in his bed?

Shane blushed at the thought.

There was a knock at his door, making him jump slightly.

“Shane, it’s just me.” Kip’s voice came through the door. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Uh, come in.” Shane awkwardly answered. 

Kip smiled brightly at him, carrying a large platter. He set it on the table against the wall and beckoned Shane to come over.

The young man was a bit shorter than Shane with lithe muscles that made him look graceful when he moved. His hair was perfectly styled and his face clean shaven. His clothes looked soft, and he wore the black fur of some animal to keep the chill away. 

“His Highness said you were partial to fruits and bread.” Kip said, unveiling some of the plates of food. There were many things Shane didn’t recognize. “I had the bakers make some things especially for you. These are my favorites.”

Kip pointed to something that looked like a spiral with a white glaze seeping over the top.

Shane politely tried a piece. It was very sweet. He had never tasted something so intensely sugary. 

“It’s good.” Shane responded, licking the sweet glaze off of his fingers.

Kip smiled brightly. 

It was difficult for Shane to wrap his head around Kip. He seemed happy enough. There were no obvious bruises or injuries on him. His posture was relaxed, and he spoke with conviction.

Not exactly how Shane pictured someone who was practically a slave.

When Scott brought Shane to meet Kip and Hayden the day before, Shane had expected to be led to some dungeon or tiny, locked room

Instead, he was brought to a room arguably grander than the one he had been given. Both young men were waiting inside when Scott and Shane arrived. They practically ran to embrace Scott, initially ignoring Shane.

Shane had to awkwardly wait and watch as they greeted each other happily. A few chaste kisses and passionate embraces made the relationship between the three of them quite clear.

Eventually, the attention of the room turned to him, the stranger.

Kip and Hayden both eyed him curiously. Their gazes were assessing yet not cold. They regarded him with something akin to eager optimism.

Perhaps, they didn’t have many friends. At least they had each other.

“Where is Hayden?” Shane inquired. Hayden had been the first to introduce himself to Shane with Kip following his lead. This made Kip’s solo trip to Shane’s room a little surprising.

Kip’s eyes dashed down towards his own plate where one of the very sweet breads lay. 

“He wasn’t feeling well this morning.” Kip explained. “He is sleeping in a bit.”

Shane frowned.

Kip’s reaction set off warning bells in his brain. What if Hayden was hurt? Scott seemed nice enough, but Shane had to remind himself that he couldn’t trust Scott or Rozanov. They were brutes after all.

And, if Scott’s father practically owned Kip and Hayden, who would stop him from slapping them around if he desired?

“Oh,” Shane responded, appetite gone. “I hope he is okay.”

“He is, don’t worry.” Kip hurried to say. His eyes were earnest. “Trust me, he is happier now that Scott is home. Of course, I help him when he is sick in the mornings, but there’s just something about Scott taking care of him that just feels right.”

Sick?

“He’s sick?” Shane asked. Was it deadly? Could Shane catch it?

Kip pursed his lips.

“It is difficult to explain.” He said. 

Shane dropped the subject. 

“Let’s go visit the kennels today!” Kip exclaimed, clearly desperate to end the awkward silence that lingered. “There’s no puppies yet, but the adults are just as cute.”

Shane smiled stiffly. He didn’t want to be rude. He wanted Kip to be his friend, even if he didn’t understand the life the other man led.

The two found themselves ducking into the kennels. The building was near the stables and had its own insulation to keep the animals warm. 

Kip explained that many of the dogs were bred and trained for hunting, but a select few would be trained as protection dogs for nobles and royalty. It was considered an honor to care for them.

“I just help out.” Kip explained as he opened one of the kennels, beckoning the dog out. Its dark brown fur was clearly neatly groomed, and it wagged its tail as soon as it saw Kip. “This is Duke, one of the studs. He sired two litters due in the spring.”

“Are you spreading rumors about me again, Skip?”

Shane whirled around at the unfamiliar voice. Unlike Kip, the man’s accent was nearly as heavy as Rozanov’s, but the common language words flowed effortlessly.

The man was dressed like a king. Or at least, what Shane imagined kings wore. Red velvet jacket with gold trim. A white animal hide keeping his neck warm. 

He stood tall, and his presence demanded attention. The hat on his head covered his hair, but his face was familiar.

He looked just like his son.

“Your Grace,” Kip bowed slightly before dashing over to embrace the man. He even placed a quick peck on the man’s cheek. “I would never do such a thing.”

The man laughed, head tipping back in delight.

“You are a sweet talker, that’s for sure.” He tapped Kip’s nose teasingly. When the man’s attention turned to Shane, he smiled kindly. “Hello, there.”

Shane swallowed. This was one of those moments he had to begrudgingly admit to himself he wished Rozanov was by his side.

“My, you are a pretty thing.” The man appraised, stepping closer. Shane shrunk back slightly. Thankfully, the man turned back to Kip. “Where is your other half? Surely, you haven’t replaced him.”

Kip bit his lip.

“Hayden was feeling a bit sick this morning.” Kip gave the man the same excuse he gave Shane. It made Shane wonder what was really going on with Hayden. Clearly, Kip was close with Scott’s father, but was just as vague about Hayden’s condition as he was with Shane. “I wanted to show Shane the dogs.”

The man nodded, not prying.

“Of course, you are always welcome to show off my hounds.” Scott’s father said, rubbing Kip’s back. Shane felt nauseous at the sight. “You are my best helper. I’m sure you could teach this one a thing or two about hard work.”

Kip squirmed slightly at the words, glancing up at Shane. The eye contact was too quick for Shane to decipher the emotions flickering in Kip’s eyes.

Whatever was there, Kip covered it with a bubbly mask.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Kip smiled. “I know my hard work will pay off one day.”

“That’s the spirit.” Scott’s father praised. His gaze returned to Shane. “Listen to Kip, boy. You’ll have much to learn if you wish to be happy here.”

With that, the man left. 

Shane didn’t miss how Kip’s shoulders sagged once the man was out of sight. He wanted to ask. He wanted to pry. He had so many questions.

Kip looked like he was going to apologize but thought better of it, turning his attention to the dogs.

Shane wondered if Rozanov would answer his questions.

The only thing he knew for certain was he didn’t trust Scott’s father.

Chapter Text

Shane poked the offensively bloody looking cut of meat on his plate. It practically looked alive still.

Rozanov said it was cow, but Shane has never tried cow. And, he wasn’t very impressed.

Meat didn’t appeal much to Shane anyways. He preferred fish if anything. Salmon was his favorite. His mother made it the best.

Shane had already politely taken a bite of the roasted potato even though he knew he wouldn’t like it. The bread was good, but it was smothered in some thick sauce that tasted very salty. 

There was no fruit, no vegetables other than cooked carrots covered in the same sauce.

Shane wished he ate more when Hayden and Kip brought him along for lunch. He was too preoccupied trying to observe their behavior.

Not that he learned much anyways. They both seemed very good at covering up any concerns with bright smiles and happy laughs. 

But Shane knew better. He saw Kip’s reaction to Scott’s father. 

He just had to get to the bottom of it.

“You don’t like food?” Rozanov’s voice sliced through Shane’s thoughts. 

The prince had dug into his own plate with no hesitation. 

Shane shrugged, dropping his fork.

“I’m not very hungry.” He responded, taking a sip of water.

“Liar.” Rozanov shot back. Shane startled, looking up with wide eyes. “You did not eat much at lunch, I am told.”

Shane scowled, crossing his arms.

“Spying on me?” Shane was a bit put off by his new friends tattling to Rozanov, but he knew they probably didn’t have a choice.

Rozanov smirked, taking a sip of his own drink. Wine, he called it. Shane nearly gagged when he tried a sip.

“You are my responsibility.” Rozanov reasoned. “If you are neglecting your needs, I will take care of it.”

“I’m not neglecting anything.” Shane snapped. “I don’t want you stalking my every move.”

“Well, Дорогой, that is not up to you.” (Sweetheart) Rozanov calmly said. “Eating is not up for debate. You are too skinny already.”

Shane shifted in his chair. He wasn’t skinny, he was healthy. He ate food that nourished his body.

Rozanov’s eyes softened.

“Don’t worry, you are pretty, skinny thing.” Rozanov murmured. Shane flushed. “But delicate.”

“You act like I’m made of glass.” Shane argued. 

Rozanov cocked his head.

“Not only delicate in body but mind, too.” He continued, as if Shane hadn’t spoken.

Shane swallowed.

“You have panic attack.” Rozanov noted, taking another sip of wine. “Is new?”

Shane merely glared, arms still crossed defensively. He wasn’t talking about this, especially not with Rozanov.

“Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Rozanov wheedled. He gazed at Shane intensely. “I will help you.”

“How?” Shane snapped. “You don’t even know me. You just kidnapped me because you have some sick obsession.”

Rozanov did not rear back nor flinch at Shane’s harsh words. He regretted them as soon as they left his mouth. He was tempting fate (and Rozanov’s temper) with those words.

The prince was silent for several moments, merely watching Shane. The lack of response scared Shane more than anything.

“Shane,” Rozanov finally addressed him. Shane flinched at his name. “Come here, Дорогой.” (sweetheart)

Before he could stop himself, Shane shook his head.

“Shane.” Rozanov’s voice hardened. “Here, now.”

Shane gulped before standing on shaky legs, fragile as a newborn fawn.

He stumbled over to stand next to Rozanov’s chair. The prince did not touch him.

“Kneel.”

Shane blinked.

He opened and closed his mouth.

“I will not ask again.” Rozanov said calmly. “You kneel or you stay in this room alone until you learn how to behave.”

Alone.

Shane didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to hang out with Kip and Hayden. 

And… as much as he hated admitting it, he wanted Rozanov to hold him. He wanted the prince to protect him. 

But, he didn’t want to kneel. It was too humiliating. 

“I am not a slave.” Shane said, lip wobbling. He didn’t want to belong to someone. 

Rozanov’s hand came up to cup Shane’s chin. He hated how comforting the touch was. 

“You are not a slave.” Rozanov rumbled. His touch was gentle. “But, you are mine. Mine to care for. Mine to serve, not other way around.”

Shane shivered. The words should have frightened him. In fact, they did. They also fanned some dark flame in his belly. It was so wrong.

This prince. This brute.

Serving Shane.

“Now, милый мальчик,” (sweet boy) Rozanov nodded to the ground. “Kneel.”

Shane felt his body obey without his mind’s consent. His knees hit the ground, and the feeling vibrated up his spine, tickling his brain.

“Good boy.”

Shane concealed a whimper by biting his lip.

Rozanov returned to eating. Not touching Shane. Not speaking to Shane. Not looking at Shane.

Shane merely existed. The slight ache in his knees grounded him in the moment, but his mind was floating.

It was like he couldn’t form a coherent thought. Little bits and pieces of thoughts swirled around his head like clouds.

It felt…good.

A hand in his hair distracted him from trying to think too hard about it. The hand scratched his tingling scalp, making him want to purr like a cat.

Rozanov still didn’t speak. He continued to eat in peace, occasionally running strong fingers through Shane’s hair.

Eventually, the prince finished eating. He pulled his chair back partially from the table and hoisted Shane’s relaxed body into his lap.

Shane leaned back into the warm body as he felt strong arms encase him, keeping him steady. 

Perched on Rozanov’s knee, Shane felt so safe.

“Now, Дорогой,” (sweetheart) Rozanov crooned, rocking them back and forth gently. “Is your turn to eat.”

Shane whined, feeling childish as soon as the sound left him.

Rozanov bobbed his knee, jostling Shane.

“None of that.” He scolded lightly. “Is good food. Make you big and strong.”

Shane pouted.

Rozanov’s eyes flicked down to Shane’s lips. 

Shane squirmed under the attention.

“I don’t like this food.” He whispered.

Rozanov let out a sigh.

“What food do you like?”

“Fish.”

Rozanov’s shoulder looked so comfortable. Shane just wanted to lay on it.

So he did.

The movement seemed to soften Rozanov’s reserve slightly.

“Fish.” He repeated. “You will eat fish, da?”

Shane nodded.

“Okay.” Rozanov said. Shane thought the argument was over. He was feeling quite victorious. Until Rozanov picked up the fork again. “Tomorrow, we eat fish. Tonight, you eat this.”

Shane turned his head away from the fork. 

“Shane.” Rozanov’s tone turned firm once more. “You are being непослушный мальчик.” (naughty boy)

Shane shook his head. He didn’t care. He wanted to float again. He didn’t want to eat the gross food.

“Shane. Last chance.” Rozanov gritted out.

When Shane did not eat, Rozanov dropped the fork and pulled further away from the table. His strong hands took hold of Shane’s hips and tipped him over the prince’s knee.

Shane gasped in surprise. He recognized the position. Some parents would spank their small children into behaving. Shane’s parents didn’t believe in it.

“непослушный мальчик, do not count. I will decide when you are done.” Rozanov said, hand resting on Shane’s upturned ass. Thankfully, still clothed.

Shane struggled slightly, but his body still wasn’t fully awake. He was no match for Rozanov’s hands anyway.

The prince began placing rhythmic smacks all over Shane’s ass. His mind was so fuzzy, he couldn’t have counted even if he wanted to. Each connection of Rozanov’s large palm against Shane’s ass nudged him futher away from reality.

They weren’t necessarily painful. More heat than sharp. A warming of his backside that Shane had never felt before.

He started squirming when the heat turned slightly more painful. 

“Almost there, Дорогой.” Rozanov said soothingly. “Good boy.”

A few more well-placed spanks sent Shane over the edge, sobbing and clutching Rozanov’s leg.

Immediately, the prince pulled Shane up into his embrace. Those strong arms encircled Shane as he cried.

Big, warm hands rubbed his back. 

“Shh.” Rozanov’s deep voice vibrated against Shane. “Is okay now. Time to eat, da?”

Even though Shane still was disgusted by the food, he wanted Rozanov to be happy. He wanted him to be proud of Shane.

It felt so good when Rozanov called him a good boy. 

So, Shane stomached each bite Rozanov brought to his lips. He chewed the salty meat and potatoes slowly after Rozanov scolded him for nearly swallowing the pieces whole.

When the plate was adequately empty, Rozanov wrapped both his arms tightly around Shane, kissing his head.

“Почему я должен быть с тобой строг, дорогая?” (Why must I be firm with you, sweetheart?) Rozanov murmured against Shane’s hair. “Моего котенка нужно научить правильно себя вести.” (My kitten needs to be taught how to behave.)

Shane didn’t know what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Despite how gross the food tasted, his belly was warm and heavy. He may have felt a little bloated, but he didn’t care in that moment.

“Now, let’s try important talk again, da?” Rozanov suggested, massaging the back of Shane’s neck. “You have panic attack?”

Shane nodded.

“A lot?”

Another nod, a bit slower.

“People are hard.” Shane whispered, the words flowing from his loose tongue. “Always treat me different.”

“Ah, son of man in charge.” Rozanov nodded understandingly.

“No,” Shane protested. “Because I’m different.”

Rozanov’s brows knitted together. 

“That’s why I want Kip and Hayden to be my friends.” Shane muttered sleepily. “They don’t know I’m different.”

Rozanov nuzzled Shane’s hair.

“I could be your friend.” He spoke gently. “You need only let me in.”

Shane yawned.

“No.” He huffed, closing his eyes. “You confuse me… wanna be close but I wanna be smart.”

“No more confusion, Дорогой.” (sweetheart.) Rozanov continued to rock Shane into slumber. “I will make all clear to you.”

Ilya spent the night in Shane’s room. He kept a silent vigil nearly all night over his boy. He felt like Shane deserved his undivided attention even if he wasn’t awake. 

Ilya had pushed him. It had paid off, though. Shane ate to keep him healthy, and he allowed Ilya a peek into his loud mind.

Different.

Ilya wondered what that meant. If even in his floating state, Shane hadn’t spilled the details of how he was different from others, it must be a very close-kept secret. 

Of course, Shane was different.

He was so unlike anyone Ilya had ever met. There was not a vicious, scheming bone in his boy’s body. He was pure like snow, falling freshly onto the ground. Or, a flower turning its head towards the sun.

Ilya would be the earth. Shane would find his way falling deeper into Ilya’s embrace, resting after a long journey. 

Ilya would be the sun. He could be the bright light that helped his boy grow and flourish.

Unfortunately, that meant Ilya had to be firm with Shane sometimes. His kitten may be sweet by nature, but he had a streak of mischief. 

Not that Ilya minded. He didn’t want to squash Shane’s adorable spirit.

But, he was Ilya’s to care for and protect. Things like eating, sleeping, and stress were things Shane no longer would manage alone. He would have Ilya guiding the way.

Shane was honestly too adorable. Coming as close to a confession as Ilya could coax out of him. 

The prince knew there was some level of attraction on Shane’s part. Even if it was dampened by fear and hesitation, the spark was felt by both of them.

Shane was doing beautifully, though. It was hardly fair of Ilya to expect Shane to be jumping into his bed so soon. 

No, Ilya wouldn’t want that anyways. It was far more satisfying to earn Shane’s trust. There would come a time Ilya would look back with fond memories of training his kitten to give up control.

The prince didn’t do anything halfway. Despite his father’s words, he wouldn’t be lazy with Shane. He couldn’t be. 

Ilya dozed off at some point in the early morning, rising as the sun peeked through Shane’s window. 

He parted ways with his sweet boy with a tender kiss. He contemplated waking Shane, but it was decided Shane needed the rest. 

He would tell Kip and Hayden to be on standby to attend to Shane through the day until Ilya was finished with royal business.

His first mission of the day was not business at all. He needed to take a visit to one of his oldest friends for advice.

Svetlana was one of the smartest people he knew. She probably already knew about Shane but was politely waiting for Ilya to spill.

Her father was one of the esteemed merchants who had business with the royal family. They traded luxury goods such as furs and jewels. That made her disconnected from royal politics yet familiar with the stress.

Sventlana’s family home was not far from the palace, and Ilya made the trip in secret. Their friendship was known, but it would still be frowned upon for the crowned prince to be making house calls to meet with a woman in private.

“Ilya,” Svetlana greeted him with an embrace and kiss on the cheek. “You finally come to mingle with the commoners.”

Ilya cracked a smile. She was dressed perfectly. Decked out in her father’s precious furs and metals. She looked more royal than the prince himself.

“I have been…occupied.” He responded, taking the offered seat. “I came seeking some advice.”

Svetlana raised her eyebrows, but the look in her eyes was knowing.

“Why, Ilya, don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch.” She teased.

“Is not that.” He insisted, running a hand through his hair. “This must be different. He is so perfect. So soft, sometimes I fear I will break him.”

“And, you don’t want that?” Svetland questioned neutrally. She knew Ilya’s sexual appetite. 

Ilya shook his head.

“Not like that.” He responded. “He is mine already, but I want him as he is, not some empty-headed doll.”

Ilya wanted to keep Shane’s delicate little heart locked away, not because it was shameful or dirty, but because it was too precious to lose. A flighty bird with its wings clipped so it won’t fly into the hawk’s claws.

Ilya explained the short yet honest conversation he had coaxed out of Shane last night.

Svetlana hummed. She seemed to contemplate the words for a few moments.

“You must be careful, then.” She said, “If he is as soft as you say, you may need to allow him to believe he is in charge.”

“But, he cannot be trusted to even eat properly.” Ilya responded. “In charge is the one place he will never find himself again.”

Svetlana shook her head.

“No, no, of course not.” She waved her hands. “But, it is all about perception. He is in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers. He has been taken from anything familiar and comforting. Something inside him is desperately searching for control because it was all taken away so quickly.”

This was why Ilya came to Svetlana.

“I am not saying to give him control, but allow him some choices.” She explained. “That will also give you a sense of his likes and dislikes. Learn as much as you can about him, even from Hunter’s boys. Knowledge is power, Ilya, you know this.”

He did.

If Ilya wanted to crack Shane wide open, he would have to slowly encourage the boy to open up.

Ilya kissed Svetlana on the cheek again in gratitude before heading back to the palace. He already knew his mind would be spinning with ways to shower Shane in affection while creating a bubble where his boy could make some small decisions on his own.

The prince did not expect Scott to intercept him, with both his boys sporting teary eyes and frightful looks.

“What happened?” Ilya asked, taking in the way Kip and Hayden clung to Scott and each other. Their hands were tightly wound, but they huddled close to Scott as if they would be yanked away.

“The three of them were having breakfast in Shane’s quarters when your father’s private guards knocked down the door and took Shane, calling him a prisoner.” Scott responded. His thumb traced a slightly pink spot on Hayden’s cheek. The poor kid was shaking like a leaf.

Ilya’s jaw clenched.

Chapter Text

Shane’s whole body trembled from where he kneeled at the feet of the King of Russia.

The man was an imposing force, despite the signs of age marring his face. In fact, he looked nothing like the prince. 

In the corner stood a man who resembled the king far more than Rozanov. A man who wore a satisfied smirk, leaning against the wall.

At his side stood a familiar figure. Scott Hunter’s father.

The duke was frowning, eyes moving back and forth between Shane’s hunched form and the king.

“Какой жалкий пленник. Дрожит, как листок. О чём же думал мой глупый сын?” (What a pathetic captive. Shaking like a leaf. What was my foolish son thinking?) The king spoke in Russian from the moment Shane entered the room. Of course, Shane didn’t understand any of it. “Какова твоя цель, мелкий? Ты пришёл шпионить за моим королевством? Воспользоваться идиотизмом моего сына?” (What is your purpose, runt? Are you here to spy on my kingdom? Taking advantage of my son’s idiocy?)

Shane knew the king was asking questions only because he gave Shane an expectant look.

Eyes wide, Shane glanced at the only familiar face in the room- the duke- for help. He didn’t understand. For all he knew, the king could be ordering his death.

“Your Majesty,” The duke addressed the king in common language. “I don’t believe the boy understands our mother-tongue.”

“Тогда он глупый мелкий пацан.” (Then he is a foolish runt.) The king spat. He glared down at Shane from his throne. His ice blue eyes were as cold as the Russian air.

The duke pursed his lips, clearly contemplating his next words wisely.

“Возможно, нам следует обратиться к Его Высочеству. Он сможет объяснить свои мотивы.” (Perhaps, we can call upon His Highness. He can explain his reasoning.) Hunter suggested, switching back to Russian.

Shane gulped, holding back tears. God, where was Rozanov? 

The sight of Hayden falling to the ground as the guard struck him was engraved in Shane’s mind. The sound of his cry broke Shane’s heart. It also had not escaped him that Hayden had placed a protective hand over his stomach as he hit the ground. He hoped Hayden was okay. He hoped they went straight to Scott.

As the duke continued to attempt to placate the king, Shane couldn’t help but think he may have misjudged the duke at first. Sure, he was creepy, but he was the only one helping Shane.

Everything about Russia made Shane’s head spin. 

All he wanted was to curl up in bed. 

Maybe, with Rozanov keeping him warm.

Please, Rozanov. Shane begged in his mind. You saved me before. I need you again.

As if hearing his call, the doors to the throne room were slammed open, revealing a very pissed off prince.

Stalking forward like a proud wolf, Rozanov stared his father down as he approached where Shane was kneeling.

Shane didn’t dare rise, even if Rozanov’s presence had caused him to sag in relief.

The prince stood right next to Shane. So close, Shane could feel the rage wafting off of the prince in waves.

“Отец, я думаю, нам есть о чем поговорить.” (Father, I believe we have much to discuss.) Rozanov’s tone was firm.

Shane shivered. That wasn’t a tone he used towards Shane. It was cold and unfeeling. Even when he was scolding Shane, there was a level of warmth that seeped into Shane’s bones.

The king stared at Rozanov for a moment. Then, when his eyes flicked back down to Shane, the prince took a step forward and angled himself to cut off all sight of Shane. 

Something about Rozanov protecting him made Shane feel heat creep up inside him. This powerful being was using his force for Shane. Just like he did on the ship. 

Shane was important enough to be protected by the Prince of Russia.

Glancing up at Rozanov’s back, Shane had an overwhelming urge to fling himself at the prince, clutching him tightly. He resisted, though, due to the suffocating tension in the air.

“Shane,” Rozanov suddenly addressed him when the king did not respond. Shane’s eyes widened, but the prince did not break eye contact with his father. “Go with Duke Hunter. Your Grace, if you wouldn’t mind escorting my guest back to his chambers safely.”

Shane’s gaze darted over to the duke, who bowed and drew closer to him.

The duke held out a hand to the kneeling boy. Shane reluctantly took it.

Shane glanced back at Rozanov before he was guided out of the room by the duke. It wasn’t until the door closed that he heard the screaming match begin.

The duke had a slow gait. He stood tall, but there was a slight limp to his walk.

Shane didn’t know what to say. Was it rude to speak or to not speak?

“I find no pleasure in it, you know.” The duke suddenly spoke. He did not look at Shane. “Hayden and Kip deserve better than the hand they were dealt.”

Shane flinched. He hand’t expected the duke to bring up the two indentured servants.

“This may be difficult for you to imagine, but I take no pleasure in cruelty.” Hunter continued. “Harming vulnerable creatures such as yourself is of no value. The king has never understood this.”

“Then, why don’t you free them?” Shane questioned, feeling brave. The way the duke had defended him in the throne room had given him a boost of confidence. Besides, the man brought it up.

“It is not that simple. The debt is not their own.” The duke explained, clasping his hands behind his back. “They are paying off their parents’ debt. If I hadn’t taken them under my care, they would have ended up far worse. Sold to a pleasure house, most likely.”

Shane frowned. A pleasure house?

“What is that?” He asked.

The duke glanced at him, surprise evident in his eyes.

“It is a place where men and women use the only thing they have to make money- their bodies.” The duke answered. “They sell what is between their legs. Kip and Hayden are lovely, healthy boys. They would have been sold for a high price.”

Shane couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped. 

“Under my son’s care, they received an education as well as protection.” The duke said. “Besides, you’ve seen them. Even if they were free, they would flock right back to my son’s side like the little birds that they are.”

Shane had seen them. Kip and Hayden both looked at Scott like he hung the moon. But, would they really stay with him?

If Rozanov gave Shane the option, would he flee?

A small voice inside him reminded Shane he wasn’t locked up. He could leave whenever he wanted. Sneak out during the night. Even during the day, Rozanov was busy. Shane could walk out of the doors, and nobody would probably stop him.

The idea of leaving, though, caused panic to seize Shane’s heart. Where would he go? He didn’t even speak their native language. He had no money to buy passage back to his island.

“You’ll come to learn a valuable lesson, boy.” Hunter said. “Loyalty and devotion does not come easily in this world. If you are lucky enough to come across someone who showers you with it, denying them hurts nobody but yourself.”

Shane glared slightly at the duke.

“You are suggesting I should be grateful the prince kidnapped me?” Shane asked plainly. He was tired of riddles and confusing advice. “I am nothing but a prisoner to him.”

“I think you should take better care to understand the power you hold.” The duke met Shane’s gaze evenly. “There are some who would kill to have the Prince of Russia show them such tenderness.”

Shane did not speak the rest of the walk. Neither did the duke. He seemed content with the turmoil he had caused within Shane’s mind.

When they reached Shane’s quarters, he attempted to hurry inside.

His arm was caught in a tight grip.

Shane glanced up fearfully into Hunter’s dark eyes.

“Take care, boy.” The duke spoke kindly. “Think about what I have told you. Grant Ilya a token of your affection and see how much of a prisoner you truly are.”

Shane yanked his arm out of the duke’s grip and ran into his rooms. He bit at his lip and sunk to the ground.

And the worst part was… all he wanted was Rozanov.

Ilya threw a vase against the wall, watching the delicate pieces shatter and fall to the ground. 

Nothing quelled his rage. 

He had already thrown and broken various items in his room, but nothing made him feel better.

Of course, Ilya knew what would actually calm the monster inside him.

Instead of immediately running to Shane and never letting his boy out of his sight, Ilya knew he had to at least attempt to control his temper. It would do no good to potentially lash out at Shane.

“Ilya.” Scott’s voice cut through the cloud of rage in Ilya’s mind. His friend was standing at the door, having just walked in.

“What is it, Hunter?” Ilya growled, dropping himself into a chair. He rubbed his forehead aggressively, willing his headache to go away.

“Shane is asking for you.” Scott said.

Ilya flew to his feet.

Shane was asking for him.

Just as Ilya was about to run past his friend, he paused in front of Scott. He took in his friend’s appearance. He was less neatly kept as usual. 

 “Is Hayden alright?” Ilya asked, his voice low despite nobody else being in the room. “You are well within your right to have that man put to death considering Hayden’s… delicate condition.”

Scott and Ilya shared a meaningful look. Ilya could see it in his friend’s eyes. He had already thought of it. 

Hayden was a rare being. A boy with both male and female characteristics. Something that would have made him worth a very pretty penny to any pleasure house in the world.

Instead, he had found himself in the embrace of Scott Hunter, and after several years of love, Hayden was carrying Scott’s child.

It was a very well-kept secret. Only Ilya, Scott, and Duke Hunter knew of Hayden’s condition.

“I plan on taking both my boys to the country for some time.” Scott answered. His words may not have been a direct answer, but Ilya saw it in his eyes. “Of course, I could also take Shane if you desire it.”

Ilya knew Scott had good intentions. Now that his father and brother knew about Shane, his boy was only in danger at court.

It pained Ilya to contemplate leaving Shane miles away in an unfamiliar house, but it was certainly an option. Perhaps, the only option. 

At Scott’s countryside estate, Shane could get some fresh air and bond more with Kip and Hayden. He would be safely tucked away from Ilya’s temperamental father and meddling brother.

“Let me speak to him first.” Ilya sighed. A part of him was afraid Shane would leap at the chance to leave Ilya’s side. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but distance could also provide Shane with clarity that would push him away from Ilya’s guiding hand.

Sometimes delicate little things like Shane can get lost in their heads, especially when they have time and space to do dangerous things like thinking. 

Ilya would be very disappointed if all their progress was dampened by Shane having time to think in the countryside.

That meant Ilya had to weigh his boy’s safety against the potential of him regressing back into defiance.

Naturally there was no contest.

Shane’s safety came first. If Ilya had to re-teach his kitten some valuable lessons, would it truly be that much of a hardship?

With a newfound desperation, Ilya got to Shane’s door at blinding speed. He couldn’t wait to hold his boy.

The picture of Shane kneeling at his father’s feet would haunt his nightmares. Shivering and cowering.

Ilya would create a world where Shane would never bow to another again. Only Ilya. And, only because he wanted to.

Not bothering to knock, Ilya opened the door slowly.

When his gaze took in Shane’s room, he saw his sweet boy sitting on the bed, hands fidgeting with one of the decorative pillows. 

At the sound of the door, Shane’s head of dark hair snapped up. His red rimmed eyes met Ilya’s.

Awe, poor little lamb.

Ilya wasted no time closing the distance between them. He yanked Shane up and clutched the boy to his chest.

All the fear from the day melted away. The rage he felt when fighting with his father floated into the distance. 

Shane’s soft body was a balm to Ilya’s nerves. The feeling of his boy drawing in air and releasing it assured the beast inside that Shane was alive and well.

“How are you feeling?” Ilya cupped Shane’s face, thumbing the freckles cheeks tenderly. Shane sniffed adorably. 

“I’m okay.” Shane responded. His voice was quiet, practically a whisper, but his tone was honest and sure. “I-I m-missed you.”

The stuttered confession made Ilya’s heart race.

The words were far sweeter than sugar and more valuable than gold. 

Ilya leaned down, placing a kiss to Shane’s cheek, causing a blush to appear on his face. 

Shane’s tongue darted out, and Ilya nearly growled. Those lips were like two perfect plush pillows. 

If Shane was anyone else, Ilya would have devoured him. He still will, but it had to be done right.

The words reminded Ilya of Scott’s offer. Perhaps, his concerns for Shane’s training would be proven incorrect.

“I missed you too, дорогая.” (sweetheart) Ilya crooned. “I am here now.”

Shane inhaled sharply. Ilya peered down at his boy’s angelic face.

There seemed to be a moment of hesitation in Shane’s eyes before he surged up and connected his lips to Ilya’s.

The prince’s eyes widened for a moment before enveloping Shane in his embrace once more and returning the kiss.

Shane’s lips moved hesitantly, a little sloppy. Ilya would bet a lot of money that this was Shane’s first kiss. 

It made his inexperience all the more endearing, though. 

All Shane’s firsts would belong to Ilya. His firsts and lasts.

Shane’s mouth tasted just as sweet as Ilya imagined it would. Soft and warm. Ilya wondered how it would feel wrapped around his cock.

Several seconds of their mouths moving as one, Shane began to pull back, but Ilya didn’t let him run away.

Eventually, Shane pulled back more insistently and moved his head to the side with a gasping breath.

Ilya grinned at the sight of his boy.

Flushed cheeks, reddened lips, hazy eyes.

Perfection.

Shane glanced up at Ilya through dark eyelashes shyly. He even squirmed slightly in the prince’s arms. 

“What have you done with my shy, little дорогая?” (Sweetheart) Ilya asked, enjoying Shane’s bashful expression. “So bold now.”

“I just wanted to thank you properly.” Shane said, lowering his gaze to Ilya’s lips. “For saving me… again.”

Shane’s words made Ilya’s heart clench. 

Ilya was Shane’s savior. Protecting him from evil. 

“I will always save you.” Ilya vowed. He meant it. He would always be there to protect his precious flower. “No matter where you go.”

Shane shivered. The look in Shane’s eyes verified to Ilya that his boy understood the double meaning.

Such a smart kitten.

Ilya leaned down, connecting their lips again. This time, Shane was a little less hesitant. His hands came to rest on Ilya’s chest.

A fire lit in Ilya’s stomach. He felt his cock grow against Shane’s leg.

Ilya nipped at Shane’s bottom lip, causing him to gasp. Ilya took advantage, diving into Shane’s warm mouth. 

This was heaven.

With a growl, Ilya pushed Shane back onto the bed, crawling over his body. 

“You are perfect.” Ilya murmured against Shane’s mouth. His boy let out a shaken breath so close to a moan, it made Ilya’s mouth water.

The prince’s hands pulled at Shane’s shirt, showing off soft skin. So smooth. 

Ilya nipped at Shane’s throat, drawing sweet gasps from his boy. The taste of his boy’s skin was addicting, he could only imagine Shane’s cock.

“Let me see you, дорогая.” (Sweetheart) Ilya cooed, removing Shane’s shirt completely. His boy instinctively went to cover himself, but Ilya grasped his wrists and pinned them above his head. 

Kissing down Shane’s neck to the soft skin of his pecs. Ilya’s teeth grazed Shane’s nipple, drawing the first true moan.

It was like music to Ilya’s ears. Higher pitched and breathy. It ripped from Shane’s lips like the boy had no control over it.

“Feel good?” Ilya teased, swirling the sensitive area with his tongue. Shane’s eyes rolled back. “So sensitive. My good boy.”

The words alone made Shane whimper.

“You like that?” Ilya nuzzled his nose against Shane’s. “Being my good boy?”

“Mhm.” Shane hummed. 

Ilya buried his face in Shane’s shoulder, inhaling his scent. 

“Do you trust me, sweet boy?” Ilya asked, rubbing his thumbs over Shane’s pulse. “I want to make you feel good. Reward for being so good.”

Shane nodded. His eyes were not fully focused, but his body was pushing towards Ilya’s touch.

“I’m going to take these off, okay?” Ilya grazed the waistband of Shane’s pants with his fingers. 

A moment of clarity in Shane’s eyes made Ilya pause. He didn’t remove his fingers, but he didn’t advance.

“O-okay.” Shane stuttered. He bit his lip, glancing up at Ilya with those big, brown eyes. 

Ilya slowly hooked his fingers on Shane’s waistband and revealed more and more precious skin.

He had never been a particularly religious person. The cross on his neck was nothing compared to how close Shane made him feel to heaven. 

Eventually, Ilya had pulled the pants down far enough to expose Shane’s cock. Nestled on top of a small patch of dark hair, Ilya’s mouth watered at the sight. 

It was pink and half-hard. Not as large as Ilya’s but a decent size. 

Shane began trembling. He was biting that damn lip again. He seemed to be holding his breath.

“Breathe, дорогая.” (Sweetheart) Ilya commanded. The last thing they needed was for Shane to pass out. “Everything is okay.”

Shane exhaled and inhaled shakily. 

Ilya reached out to grasp Shane’s cock. 

When he did, he noticed something lower. Past Shane’s balls was something else. 

Glistening pussy lips. 

Ilya felt his heart stop. 

Different.

That was how Shane had described himself.

Different from any others on his island. Different in the same way Hayden was.

Precious, special, rare. 

This boy. This perfect, beautiful boy had the potential to give Ilya a child, an heir. 

They could have a baby together. A perfect mix of the two of them.

Shane seemed to notice Ilya’s fixation. He began squirming, trying to get away from the prince’s eyes and touch.

“Stop.” Ilya commanded. His voice was more firm than he had intended. “Don’t move away from me, дорогая. I have not finished worshiping you.” (Sweetheart)

Shane blushed.

“You aren’t m-mad?” He whispered.

“Mad?” Ilya echoed. He brought himself close to Shane’s face again, kissing him sweetly. “I am very happy.”

“Really?” Shane looked skeptical.

Ilya nodded. 

The prince leaned down, placing a kiss on Shane’s lower belly. Then, he rested his forehead lightly there. Right over where Shane would grow their baby.

He could already imagine it. A perfect little prince. A princess, too, to keep her brother in line.

Maybe, a whole brood of freckled children running around the palace, bringing life back to it like Ilya’s mother always wanted.

Ilya gazed down at Shane.

Yes, the countryside may do his delicate flower some good. 

Such a treasure needs to be kept safe.

Ilya thought back to Duke Hunter’s words about being prepared if the king can no longer rule.

The only time Shane will be truly safe would be when Ilya wears the crown. He couldn’t bear to have his sweet boy afraid of someone harming him, especially not while carrying Ilya’s child.

No, there were many plans to be set in motion before Ilya puts a baby in Shane’s belly.

As the prince continued to nuzzle and savor the feeling of Shane’s soft skin, his mind swirled with visions of their future family. 

Chapter Text

“Hand that to me, will you, hon?” Shane wasn’t sure if Hayden was speaking to him or Kip, but when the man met Shane’s uncertain gaze, he hurried to hand Hayden the small bag.

With a gentle murmur of thanks, Hayden took the item, opening it and organizing its contents on the vanity.

Kip busied himself unpacking various clothing items they had in their trunks while asking for Shane’s input every now and then about where things should go.

The three of them were unloading the trunks and bags they brought for their countryside retreat. Since Hayden and Kip’s luggage were far more plump than Shane’s, he’d offered to help them unpack. 

Shane’s timid suggestion after they finished the tour of the estate was met with happy smiles and enthusiastic agreement. Scott and Ilya were discussing something important in the study anyways.

The carriage ride had made Shane’s legs stiff and stomach a little unsettled. At least, he blamed it on the carriage ride, not the fact that Ilya would only be here for one day before returning to the capitol without Shane. 

Part of Shane was relieved after the whole situation with Ilya’s father that he was no longer at court, but he also was afraid of being alone. Nightmares still plagued him, and now, he would have to face them in a cold, empty bed after once again being transported somewhere unfamiliar.

Hayden and Kip had seemed ecstatic about the situation. They reassured Shane during the whole carriage ride that the air was fresher and life was merely simpler in the countryside. They believed Shane would be more comfortable here rather than under so much scrutiny. 

Taking their word for it, Shane barely spoke ten words on the ride, afraid his secret would slip out, and Hayden and Kip would think of him as pathetic for fearing distance from the man who kidnapped him.

Suddenly, Hayden let out a little gasp and clutched his abdomen. Kip was at his side in a second, asking if his lover was alright.

“I’m just fine.” Hayden sounded a little exasperated. “You’re worse than Scott sometimes.”

Kip pressed a kiss to Hayden’s cheek, causing Shane to blush at their affection. He’d seen some casual, loving touches between the three of them before, but he always felt like he was intruding.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked, feeling it was impolite to not ask, despite Hayden waving off Kip’s concerns.

Hayden and Kip shared a look before they both settled on the bed. Kip patted the spot next to him, indicating they wanted Shane to join them.

“Shane, there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you.” Hayden said, his voice calm and soothing. “Since you’ll be living with us, it will become more and more difficult to keep from you anyways.”

Shane’s eyes widened, expecting the worst. So, Hayden was sick.

“Have you ever heard of men who are not just men?” Hayden continued. “They are something of a rarity.”

Shane furrowed his brow, shaking his head. 

“Well, sometimes there are men who are born with the ability to carry a child.” Hayden explained, keenly watching Shane’s reaction. “And, I am one of those men.”

Ability to carry a child.

“Shane, honey.” His mother’s voice. “You are different, but that doesn’t make you any less. Just because you have the ability to carry a child does not make you wrong.”

“You are pregnant?” Shane asked, his words slow. His gaze flicked from Hayden’s belly to his gentle face.

Hayden nodded. Kip grasped his hand tightly.

“With Scott’s baby?”

Another nod.

“But…” Shane bit his lip. He shyly glanced up at them before dropping his gaze to his twiddling fingers. “You’re not married.”

Both Hayden and Kip blinked. There was an awkward pause.

“No, we’re not.” Hayden confirmed, his own words slow with confusion. Suddenly, he let out a laugh, bright and airy. “You are something else.”

Shane gulped, immediately feeling bad.

“I-I’m sorry!” He quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Kip smiled, relief clear in his eyes.

“No, no, Shane, it’s okay.” Kip leaned over to ruffle Shane’s hair. “We just weren’t expecting that to be what you were concerned about.”

Shane cocked his head to one side.

“Well,” Shane inhaled, bracing himself. “I can’t exactly judge you when I was born the same way.”

Another pause. 

Kip and Hayden seemed speechless.

“You are…like me?” Hayden finally asked. “You have both a man’s and a woman’s body?”

Blushing, Shane nodded. He hadn’t told anyone this, but after seeing Rozanov’s reaction to his body, he thought that perhaps people were kinder here than at home. Perhaps, it was even more common here.

“Oh, Shane,” Kip breathed. “Does His Highness know?”

Shane nodded again.

Hayden and Kip’s eyes widened.

“Did he know before he, um, brought you here?” Kip asked awkwardly. 

“No, he found out the other day.” Shane blushed deeper at the memory. Rozanov’s hands all over his body. The way he’d so intently stared at Shane’s most private place. 

“Do you know what this means?” Hayden leaned in closer, voice dropping. “You could carry the future king of Russia.”

Stuttering, Shane shook his head.

“No, Rozanov and I are not married.” Shane assured them. “We cannot have a baby together.”

Hayden looked at Shane like he was a puppy, yapping adorably.

“Oh, honey.” Hayden let out a little laugh. “You don’t have to be married to a man to bear his child. Scott and I are not married, and we never will be. A duke cannot marry his servant, but since my child will have Scott’s blood, they will inherit his lands, his wealth, his title.”

“What if he marries someone else?” The words tumbled out before Shane could stop them. He slapped a hand over his mouth once he realized how awful they sounded.

Neither Hayden or Kip looked offended, though.

“He won’t.” Kip sounded so sure. “The only reason he would ever take a wife is for political reasons, and he has no need. His father is right hand to the king, and Scott will be the same for His Highness. Besides, Duke Hunter is the only one who truly has any power over Scott’s marital status, and he has never pressured Scott to take a wife, especially considering an heir is not an issue.”

It sounded like it made sense coming from Kip’s mouth, but Shane was not convinced. He had heard stories of some women in his town who had given birth to children who had no father because they had no husband. 

“Ilya would be the same way, you know.” Hayden said gently. The sound of Rozanov’s name made Shane jump. “It is clear how devoted he is to you. Any child of his would be well taken care of.”

Devotion.

“You’ll come to learn a valuable lesson, boy.” Hunter had said. “Loyalty and devotion does not come easily in this world. If you are lucky enough to come across someone who showers you with it, denying them hurts nobody but yourself.”

The duke’s words brought a bitter taste to Shane’s mouth.

He couldn’t help but let his mind wander.

A baby. With Rozanov.

Shane’s parents always told him that he was the future of their village. He would do great things and make a good leader.

Would his child make a good leader? A good king?

Something deep inside Shane squirmed at the idea of carrying Rozanov’s baby. The same feeling that had warmed his belly when he kissed Rozanov that night. Something he had never felt before.

“Don’t worry about it for now.” Kip stood from the bed, continuing to unpack. “Just enjoy the countryside and let His Highness worry about all that political drama.”

Shane nodded, mind still envisioning a baby in his arms with curly hair and his eyes.

“If we had a baby, would he become king?” 

Rozanov’s head snapped around so fast, Shane was worried his neck broke. He didn’t have the bravery to look the prince in the eyes after uttering the words.

“What did you just say?” Rozanov asked, stepping closer to where Shane was looking out the window at the torches that provided the only light in the dark night.

Shane gulped. It had taken him several minutes to get up the courage to say it the first time. He didn’t know if he had any left to say it again.

“Nevermind.” He mumbled.

Rozanov’s large hand cupped Shane’s cheek, moving his gaze to meet the prince.

“A baby?” Rozanov spoke softly. “Our baby?”

Shane hummed, unable to form words as he looked into those intense eyes.

“Yes, Дорогой.” (sweetheart) Rozanov said. His thumb tracing the skin under Shane’s eye. “Any child you bless me with shall be my heirs.”

Devotion.

“I-I spoke with Hayden about his baby.” Shane stuttered. “He knows about me.”

Rozanov nodded.

“Good.” He responded. “Is good practice for you, da?”

Shane flushed, causing the prince to grin wolfishly.

“I don’t understand…” Shane’s voice trailed off. Rozanov merely continued to gaze upon his face while Shane searched for the words. “They laughed when I asked if they were married.”

Rozanov contemplated for a moment before tugging Shane towards the bed. He laid Shane down on his back, and the prince draped himself over Shane’s body, propped up on his elbow and side.

One huge hand came to rest on Shane’s hipbone, causing his breath to stutter.

“A baby made from love does not require a marriage license, милый мальчик,” (sweet boy) Rozanov explained. The mention of love made Shane’s heart skip a beat. “Hayden’s baby was put in his belly by Scott because they love each other, not because the court has bound them together.”

Shane absorbed the words. He met Rozanov’s gaze.

“And you…” he whispered. “You would put a baby in m-my belly? Because you l-love me?”

Rozanov’s gaze was soft, regarding Shane with so much warmth, it lit a fire in Shane’s chest. However, there was something deeper, something dangerous in the prince’s eyes.

“Is that something you want, котенок?” (kitten) Rozanov dipped his head to place soft kisses along Shane’s cheek, traveling down his jaw and neck. Each one was like a brand on Shane’s skin. 

“Bet he takes your sweet ass like the savage he is.”

Shane stilled as the pirate’s grating voice suddenly popped the warm, cozy bubble he had sunk into at Rozanov’s soft words and touch.

Of course, Rozanov noticed right away.

“What is it, Дорогой?” (sweetheart) Rozanov asked, concern laced heavily in his deep voice.

“Will it hurt?” Shane asked meekly. 

“Perhaps a little in the beginning.” Rozanov admitted, placing a kiss on Shane's forehead. “But, I will take care of you. Would you like me to show you?”

Immediately, Shane shook his head. He wasn’t ready yet. 

“Relax, котенок.” (kitten) Rozanov laughed lightly. “You will not leave this room pregnant tonight. Lie back and let me make you feel good.”

Shane, wide eyed, did not protest as Rozanov hooked his hands on Shane’s sleep pants. They were borrowed from Hayden as Shane’s own wardrobe was certainly lacking. The prince had announced a tailor would arrive tomorrow morning, and Shane would be fitted with all the clothes he could need.

The chill in the air on Shane’s skin made him shiver, goosebumps rising on his bare thighs.

Rozanov laid gentle kisses to the lean muscle. Shane’s skin tingled where the prince’s mouth touched him. 

Shane’s legs were coaxed apart, leaving his half-hard cock and pink lips exposed for Rozanov’s eyes. Instinctively, Shane tried to close them again, but Rozanov’s hands were firm. 

Something about how easily the prince held him down made Shane’s squirm. The strong, calloused hands that slayed the pirate who was going to hurt Shane. The hands who wield so much power and strength touched Shane’s soft skin.

“You are so beautiful, Дорогой.” (sweetheart) Rozanov breathed. He seemed almost in shock again, just as he had been when he first laid eyes on Shane.

Fingers, controlled and confident, simultaneously grasped Shane’s dick in a firm yet careful hold and prodded at his soft pussy.

Shane gasped. Nobody had ever touched him there. Only himself in rare, curious moments.

Rozanov’s hands felt so different from his own.

The prince coaxed Shane’s cock to fully harden as his fingers explored the slightly swollen entrance of Shane’s pussy. Never intruding, merely making themselves known as the folds grew slick from the attention.

“That’s a good boy.” Rozanov’s voice deepend, his accent thick with desire. “See? Is not scary, милый мальчик.” (sweet boy)

Shane supposed it wasn’t that scary, just different. Nothing hurt. In fact, it felt so good, Shane’s head was starting to float away from him. Just like that day Rozanov had spanked him. His mind seemed to flutter away, lost in the sensations the prince gave him.

The first pressure of Rozanov’s finger breaching Shane’s virgin pussy made the boy gasp. Immediately clenching down on the feeling, Shane heard Rozanov curse under his breath.

“So tight,” he murmured. “Relax for me, Shane. Is not going to hurt.”

Slowly, with a few more pumps of his cock, Shane relaxed, allowing Rozanov’s finger to travel deeper inside him. The single finger felt large inside Shane’s body. 

Rozanov shallowly moved his finger in and out, a quiet sound of wetness making Shane blush. It was not long before another finger bullied into Shane’s tight heat.

There was a slight stretch this time, making Shane let out a whine and squirm his hips slightly.

“Hush, котенок.” (kitten) Rozanov’s voice was slightly firm, cutting through the hazy cloud in Shane’s mind. “You are okay.”

The small amount of burning dissipated quickly. Leaving only the heavy pressure of Rozanov’s fingers giving Shane’s pussy something to clench on rhythmically. When the prince reached his fingers as far as they could go, Shane’s body would desperately squeeze, as if trying to hold them inside, before releasing as Rozanov retreated out.

With his thumb, Rozanov began rubbing circles on the little button just under Shane’s balls. This caused Shane to let out a moan and twitch his hips up to chase the feeling.

“Oh, ты такой совершеный.” (you are so perfect) Rozanov groaned. 

The combination of Rozanov touching every part of Shane’s sex was too much. There was a build up in his belly, feeling like a wave about to crash on a rocky shore.

“W-Wait.” Shane cried as Rozanov seemed to sense it and sped up his motions. “P-P-Please.”

“Бедняжка.” (Poor thing.) Rozanov crooned cruelly, not giving Shane a moment to think. “Ты даже не знаешь, о чем просишь.” (You don’t even know what you are asking for.)

Shane did not understand the words, but that didn’t matter. His whole body tensed as his orgasm threatened to overtake him.

The pleasure crashed over him viciously, yanking a high-pitched moan from his throat. It came in waves, one after another, for several seconds before Shane could think again.

He looked up through bleary eyes to see Rozanov greedily licking the fingers that were just inside Shane.

That fuzzy, warm feeling kept Shane from being too embarrassed at the sight, and he was sure his face was already bright red from his orgasm that he couldn’t blush anymore if he tried.

“You taste delicious, котенок.” (kitten) Rozanov growled, leaning over Shane’s body to kiss him. He tasted himself on Rozanov’s lips. “Next time, I will make you cum on my tongue.”

A spark of desire lit up in Shane’s belly despite having just come down from his high.

Rozanov pulled up Shane’s pants with little ceremony, tucking the boy into bed.

Shane let himself drift into that warm, soft place he seemed to find himself in anytime Rozanov touched him. The prince was so comfortable to lay on.

“Sleep now, милый мальчик.” (sweet boy) Rozanov commanded, arms tightening around Shane. “If you are very good boy for tailor tomorrow, I will show you how one day, I will put baby in your belly.”

Shane felt those massive hands cup his lower stomach before falling into a peaceful sleep.

Ilya swirled the vodka around in the glass cup as he contemplated his next move.

“You really believe Alexei is behind it?” Scott asked from where he stood leaned against the fireplace. “That fool doesn’t have the capabilities of pulling off something like that. I mean, where would he even get that kind of money?”

“Exactly.” Ilya agreed. “If it was him, he is not alone.”

Shane took a sip from his own drink.

“Who wants you dead that badly?”

“Everyone would could possibly have a claim to the throne.” Ilya said dryly. “Any possible distant cousin or relative could benefit from my death. They would all petition my father, who is slowly losing his wits, and eventually, one would be crowned.”

Scott clenched his jaw.

“You think your brother would hope to reclaim his right?”

Ilya had contemplated this idea, but it was too easy. They were missing something.

“Have you thought of your own succession, my friend?” Scott asked, his voice feigning nonchalant ease.

Ilya snapped up to look at Scott. His oldest friend. His closest advisor.

Of course, Ilya had informed Scott of why it was of most importance to protect Shane. Just as Scott trusted Ilya with Hayden’s condition, Ilya trusted Scott with Shane’s. After all, he would need assistance protecting a pregnant Shane from prying eyes one day.

“Spit it out.” Ilya demanded. “What do you really mean to ask?”

Scott tipped his head back, eyes closed.

“Will you marry?” He asked, his eyes pained. “Someone other than Shane.”

The idea of killing his best friend for even suggesting an idea was attractive to Ilya for about five seconds before he realized Scott’s true thoughts.

“You are to be married?” Ilya raised his eyebrows.

Scott shook his head.

“Not officially.” Scott returned his gaze to the fire. “But, my father has spoken with a Duchess back home who is interested in leading an olive branch.”

Ilya suddenly stood. Scott’s posture tightened, standing at attention towards his prince, not his friend.

“Back home?” Ilya echoed, voice dangerously calm. “You are returning to Romania? To marry a Duchess?”

Scott shook his head.

“No, of course not.” He said, pleading in his voice. “I am Russian now. You know this. My father merely wishes to mend some hurts from the past, and he believes a marriage is a good first step.”

Ilya sneered.

“And you think this Duchess will be forgiving of two indentured servants warming your bed each night. One of which is pregnant with your child.”

Scott’s face was pained. 

Ilya knew his words were cruel, but he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only was Scott debating marrying, but he was debating marrying a high-born lady from the country that had banished him and his father during the war.

A country that was still considered an enemy of Ilya’s family and kingdom.

“Ilya, please.” Shane sighed. “It was just a suggestion my father had. No official plans have been made. Of course, none of which would happen without the consent of the crown.”

“The crown of which I do not yet possess.” Ilya snapped. “The crown of which is actively being attacked by someone in my own court. Perhaps, Captain, you should take better care to find out who is trying to kill your prince rather than dreaming of some Romanian cunt to sink your cock into.”

With that, Ilya left. 

His anger was softened slightly at the sight of Shane giggling happily as Hayden brushed his hair and Kip told dramatic tales of their upbringing in this house while flailing his hands around.

Ilya’s thoughts were plagued by fear. He had always thought Duke Hunter and Scott were his only true allies, but now, he was afraid he had misjudged them.