Work Text:
The throne room was thick with incense, smoke curling toward vaulted ceilings painted with saints and kings of old. Rows of courtiers bowed low as fortune-tellers glided like shadows across the marble floor, their veils glittering faintly with crushed gems. Voices rose in a single drone, low and ominous, until even the chandeliers trembled as if uneasy.
When the chant broke, the eldest stepped forward. Her eyes, clouded white, fixed on the dais where King Hirunkit sat, ringed by his sons and daughters like jewels set for display.
“The signs are clear,” she intoned, her voice tolling like a funeral bell. “The boy with the constellation upon his skin bears the mark of the wolf. He is the bridge between man and beast, peace and blood. If he is not given, the forest will rise, and the wolves will tear this kingdom stone from stone.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. As if pulled by one cord, every gaze shifted to the second prince.
Nani stood in crimson court robes, the heavy silk pooling at his boots. His head was high, but the torchlight betrayed him cruelly — catching on the constellation of dark moles that traced his cheek, his jaw, the tender slope of his neck. Exactly as foretold.
The King’s hand tightened on the armrest, jeweled rings biting into gold. “So it is written,” he said, voice like iron. “So it must be done.”
A wave of approval moved through the court — half relief, half fear dressed as piety. To them, one son’s sacrifice was no tragedy. It was strategy.
Nani felt their stares like claws at his throat. He could have wept. He could have begged. But he was his mother’s son, and she had taught him long ago that the worst wolves in this kingdom did not walk on four legs.
So he drew one slow breath and pressed his palms together in solemn acceptance.
“If my fate is to be given to the forest,” he said, voice steady and clear enough to carry to every corner, “then let it be done — for the peace of the realm.”
No tremor broke his tone. No crack marred his mask. Yet behind the stillness, his heart clawed against his ribs, aching, bleeding in silence.
The court bowed as one, satisfied. The prince had not cursed the King, had not screamed. He had been noble, obedient, sacrificial.
Only Nani knew the truth — that his composure was not surrender. That even in the wolves’ jaws, dignity was the one thing they could never take from him.
The day of the offering dawned unnaturally bright.
Banners snapped above the city gates, their gold-threaded edges glittering in the sun. Flowers carpeted the cobblestones, their petals crushed beneath the press of thousands who had gathered to watch. Children perched on their fathers’ shoulders, women clutched charms of iron and salt, men whispered prayers for fertile fields and gentle winters.
It could have been a coronation.
It could have been a wedding.
But the prince who walked the path wore neither royal white nor groom’s silk. Only a cloak dyed the color of fresh blood.
Nani moved with measured steps, the hood drawn up to shadow his face. Every footfall was deliberate, as though he bore not only his own body but the burden of an entire kingdom.
The people cheered as he passed. Cheered — as though he were not being led to slaughter, but to glory. Their voices rose like festival song, their hands casting petals that clung to his boots and the hem of his cloak.
“Blessed be the Red Prince!” someone cried.
“Blessed be the sacrifice!”
Nani did not falter. He kept his chin high, gaze fixed on the forest gates yawning wide, the dark beyond endless and unyielding. His cloak flared behind him, a beacon of scarlet against stone and mortal faces.
Only once did his resolve betray him: his fingers tightened on the clasp at his throat, knuckles paling beneath the silk. His heart pounded, not with fear of wolves, but with the sharp sting of abandonment.
His father had not walked beside him. His siblings had not lifted a hand. He was alone. And still he would not bow his head.
The gates groaned open. The breath of the forest spilled out — pine, earth, shadow. The crowd hushed, festival voices smothered as if the trees themselves had devoured sound.
For one last heartbeat, Nani paused at the threshold, sunlight painting his cloak a brilliant flame. Then, without looking back, he stepped into the dark.
The gates clanged shut.
The cheering began again.
---
The forest swallowed him whole.
One moment: sunlight, banners, petals beneath his feet.
The next: silence.
The trees rose like pillars of a forgotten temple, branches twisting together to cage what little light remained. The air was damp, cold, clinging to his skin with the scent of moss and soil.
Nani kept walking. Each crunch of his boots on dead leaves sounded deafening in the stillness. No birds. No rustle of creatures. Not even the sigh of wind.
Only him.
Only his footsteps.
And something else.
It came swiftly — not sound, not sight, but weight. A pressure prickling across his skin. The sensation of eyes raking the line of his throat, the slope of his shoulders. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.
His hand twitched toward his clasp, then stilled. He would not clutch at it like a child. He forced his chin higher, though his pulse hammered harder with every step.
The deeper he went, the heavier the air became. Shadows gathered thick as ink at the roots of the trees. His red cloak, so vivid beneath the sun, now burned like a wound against gray bark and stone.
Once, he thought he heard it — a breath, too close. He spun. Nothing. Only trees. Only silence.
But the feeling did not ebb. It thickened.
Something vast lingered just beyond his sight. Not rushing, not striking, but circling. Patient. Certain. Like a predator savoring the last, slow moments before the kill.
Still, Nani’s steps did not falter. He would not run. He would not give them the sight of a prince fleeing like frightened prey.
And yet — his breath caught when a branch cracked unseen. His throat tightened when the faint gleam of gold — no, eyes, surely eyes — flickered between the trees and vanished.
The forest was alive. It was watching him.
And Nani knew then, with cold certainty: he had not stepped into emptiness.
He had stepped into the Wolf’s den.
---
The silence broke.
A low rumble rolled through the trees, deep and resonant — thunder caught inside a chest. Nani froze, breath sharp in his throat, as a figure uncoiled from the shadows.
He was tall — taller than any man Nani had ever seen — with shoulders carved like stone and movements that belonged to a predator, not a prince. Black fur draped heavy across him where silk should have been, and his eyes burned gold in the dark, catching the thin light like fire trapped in amber.
The Wolf King.
Nani’s fingers curled against the folds of his cloak, but he did not step back. He forced his spine straight, chin high, though every instinct in him screamed to flee.
The man smiled. Slow. Sharp. Too many teeth glinting in the gloom.
“Well,” he drawled, voice rough velvet, dark enough to raise the hairs at Nani’s nape. “What’s a sweet red lamb doing in my forest?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. His eyes swept over Nani’s throat, his jaw, the constellation of moles scattered across his skin. Hunger tangled with fascination in that gaze, feral and — disturbingly — tender.
“Ah.” He stepped closer, shadows bending to his stride. “The trembling lamb didn’t wander in. He was sent. Dressed in red, wrapped neat, walking straight into the den.” His teeth flashed. “A gift.”
“I’m not trembling,” Nani said. His voice was quiet, his palms damp beneath his sleeves.
The Wolf King’s grin widened, delighted by the defiance. “No. You’re not. You stand as though you’ve already got a crown.” His head tilted, studying him as if each breath was a secret he wanted to unravel. “Brave little prince.”
Nani swallowed hard, forcing his heartbeat into silence. “If you mean to kill me, then do it. I won’t beg.”
A pause. The gold in the Wolf King’s eyes darkened to molten fire. Then he laughed — low, hungry, disbelieving.
“Kill you?” His smile turned almost gentle, though his teeth still gleamed like blades. He stepped closer, close enough for Nani to see claw-scars faint across his jaw. Wildness flickered in his pupils.
“No, sweet lamb,” he said softly, voice dark as a vow. “I don’t want to kill you.” His gaze fixed, unblinking.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Nani stood motionless as the Wolf King closed the distance, every nerve in him screaming to run, yet his body refusing. Even the trees leaned closer, branches folding like eaves to watch.
Claws — not fully bared, but hinted at — gleamed faintly as he reached out. His fingers brushed the edge of Nani’s cloak, tugging the crimson fabric as though testing its weave.
“So soft,” he murmured, voice rough silk. “Red like spilled wine. Red like a beating heart.” His golden eyes flicked up, sharp enough to cut. “Tell me, lamb… did you really think I’d rip you apart the moment we met?”
Nani’s lips parted, breath unsteady. His pulse hammered at his throat, visible, vulnerable, but still he forced the words out. “Isn’t that why I’m here? To be a sacrifice?”
The Wolf King lingered in silence, thumb tracing the clasp at Nani’s throat, pressing against the frantic flutter beneath. His smile returned — not cruel now, but darker, deeper.
Then he bent low, his breath hot against Nani’s ear.
“Sacrifice is for gods, lamb. I am no god.” His golden eyes glinted, molten. “I take what I want. And I want you.”
Nani’s pulse stuttered, confusion tangling with fear. He wanted to ask what that meant, but his voice was locked tight.
The Wolf King drew back, smile spreading slow and dangerous. His thumb pressed once more at the frantic beat beneath the cloak.
“I’ll eat you,” he murmured, eyes burning like fire caught in amber. His voice dropped, intimate as sin. “But you’ll like it.”
The words slid into Nani like a blade wrapped in silk. His heart thundered, not yet understanding what had been promised — only that the wolf was claiming him in ways he could not name.
The Wolf King did not release him right away. His thumb lingered over the rapid pulse, savoring it as though testing how much strength lived inside that fragile rhythm. When he finally let go, it was indulgence, not mercy.
“You’re not afraid enough,” he murmured, circling. His voice was low, coaxing, more intimate than a threat should ever sound. “The others sent you here to die, but you stand as if you expect to be… entertained.”
Nani turned with him, refusing to give his back. “I don’t expect anything,” he said, steady though the lie burned.
A sharp laugh, rich and soft. “Lamb, you already know how to lie to wolves.” He moved closer, steps silent on the moss. His fur cloak brushed Nani’s sleeve — not an accident, but a deliberate trespass.
Nani’s breath caught. He told himself it was the cold. The shadows pressing close. Anything but the way those golden eyes stripped him bare.
“You think you’re here for slaughter,” the Wolf King murmured, leaning closer, his breath brushing Nani’s temple. “But slaughter is quick. I prefer… slow things. Drawn out. Things worth keeping.” His hand lifted Nani’s hood back, light spilling across his face. “And you…” His eyes raked the constellation of moles. “…you are worth keeping.”
Nani forced himself not to recoil. His voice was quiet but firm. “Then keep your games to yourself. I am no plaything.”
That smile again — dangerous, knowing. “No. Not a plaything. A prize.” His gaze slid down, tracing the line of Nani’s jaw, lingering on the constellation of moles like stars he meant to chart with his mouth. “And I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”
The forest air felt heavy, too close. Every step Nani took to keep distance vanished the moment Sky leaned in again. Not touching — not yet — but brushing against the edges of him, wrapping him in a presence too sharp, too consuming.
The Wolf King tilted his head, as though listening to a secret only he could hear. Then he whispered: “Come.”
It was not quite a command. But the forest seemed to bend with the word, the path unfurling as though it had been waiting.
Nani’s body resisted, every nerve taut with warning. And yet his feet carried him forward, one step, then another, tethered to the dark figure ahead.
The Wolf King did not look back, but his smile lingered, visible even in shadow.
“Welcome, little lamb,” he said, voice rolling like velvet thunder. “To the Wolf Court.”
---
The forest opened like a wound.
Nani had expected dens, caves, the stink of beasts. Instead, the trees gave way to a hollow where moonlight spilled like molten silver. Towers of stone and bone jutted from the earth, entwined with roots and vines, forming halls suspended in shadow. Fires burned green and blue, licking across walls scarred with claw-marks and carved runes older than any kingdom he knew.
The Wolf Court.
Figures slid from the gloom — wolves, some half-shifted into men, others keeping their beast-shapes, their eyes glowing like embers. They crouched on balconies, leaned against pillars, circled in silence. Every gaze fixed on him, the lamb in red walking at their King’s side.
Nani kept his chin lifted though his stomach turned. The weight of their stares pressed heavy: hunger, curiosity, disbelief. Growled whispers rippled through them, a language he didn’t know yet understood — prey, human, offering.
Sky ignored it all. He strode through the heart of the court with effortless command, black fur gleaming with frost, golden eyes burning brighter than the moon.
At the far end rose a throne — obsidian carved and crowned with antlers, draped in pelts of things long dead. Sky ascended it with the grace of inevitability, cloak sweeping, gaze never leaving Nani.
He let silence reign. Let the anticipation mount until the air itself seemed to crackle. Only then did he bare his teeth.
“You see him,” Sky said, his voice a growl that filled every shadow. “The lamb they sent me. The prince in red.”
The pack stirred, restless, murmurs rising like storm winds.
Sky raised his hand. Instantly, silence. His eyes dragged over Nani, slow, deliberate, until the boy felt stripped to bone.
“He is not prey.” The words cut like a whip. “He is mine.”
Shock rippled through the chamber. Some snarled, some stiffened in disbelief, but none dared step forward.
Sky leaned back in the antlered throne, smile curving sharper, hungrier. “And other than mine,” he said, voice dropping to something almost tender. “He is your Queen.”
The chamber erupted.
Howls split the air, claws raked stone, voices rose in frenzy. One wolf threw back his head and keened high until the ground itself seemed to tremble. Another followed, then another, until the hollow rang with a chorus that was half worship, half delirium.
They did not resist. They rejoiced.
Their King had chosen. Their King had found his mate.
Wolves surged closer, bowing low, pressing foreheads and hands to stone in gestures of reverence. Women draped in furs reached out, yearning to brush the crimson cloak — none daring to touch the prince himself. The air thickened with devotion, with joy sharpened to something almost holy.
Nani stood frozen at the center, his heart hammering against his ribs. Mate. Queen. The words echoed like chains, tightening, binding. He kept his face still, a mask of calm, but inside panic tore through him, wild and breathless.
From his throne, Sky watched, golden eyes gleaming with triumph. The frenzy of his court was nothing but confirmation, and his feral smile deepened with satisfaction.
At last, as the pack scattered into celebration — torches flaring, drums beginning their slow, steady thunder — Sky rose. He descended the throne, every step measured, inevitable.
His hand closed around Nani’s wrist, firm and unyielding. He pulled him from towards his chamber as though the matter were settled, as though the boy in red had always belonged at his side.
The private chamber muffled the echoes of the howling court. It smelled of smoke, fur, and old blood, the air heavy with heat. Sky shut the door, and the silence folded around them like a snare.
Nani turned, fury breaking through the mask he had worn all day. “Queen? You named me—” His voice cracked. “You claimed me in front of everyone?”
Sky didn’t answer with words. His grin bared teeth, his eyes burning gold. He stepped close, shadow swallowing the prince whole, until Nani’s back pressed to the stone.
“You had no right,” Nani whispered, even as his pulse betrayed him.
Sky stepped closer, deliberate, his shadow swallowing Nani where he stood. “No right?” His voice was low velvet, frayed with hunger. He leaned in, breath hot against Nani’s cheek. “I am King here. What I say is law. What I keep is mine. And you—” his gaze dropped to the trembling pulse at Nani’s throat “—you are mine.”
“I never agreed,” Nani whispered, even as his back pressed into the cold wall.
Sky’s smile softened, though his eyes burned. He brushed his knuckles along Nani’s jaw, tender where he could have been cruel. “No, little lamb. You didn’t. But you will.”
The chamber seemed to shrink, stone and shadow closing around them. Nani’s breath came shallow, chest rising too fast, yet he held his ground.
Sky’s thumb stroked his jaw. “You think being Queen is a curse,” he murmured. “But you don’t see what I see.”
“All I see is a wolf who takes,” Nani bit out, though his voice trembled.
Sky chuckled low. “Not without asking, little lamb. I tempt. And you… haven’t tried to run.”
His hand slid to Nani’s throat, thumb brushing over the first mole like a star. He bent, pressing his lips there — warm, lingering, reverent.
Nani froze.
Another kiss, lower, at the hollow of his neck. Warm, reverent.
“These stars,” Sky murmured against him, voice rough with certainty, “they are mine. They were mine before this life, and they will be mine in the next.”
Nani’s breath shivered. His hands pressed flat to the wall, as if bracing himself. Sky kissed along his jawline, mapping the constellation with lips and tongue, slow and claiming.
His mouth traced the constellation upward, slow, deliberate, as though memorizing each one. “I’ve kissed them before,” he murmured, voice breaking into something softer than hunger. “In another life. It has always been you.”
Nani froze, breath caught between disbelief and something that ached sharp in his chest. His hands pressed flat to the stone, fighting not to tremble. “Stop…” The word slipped out weak, betraying him.
Sky smiled against his skin. “If you truly wanted me to, lamb, you wouldn’t look at me with fire in your eyes.”
He pulled back just enough to look at him — eyes molten, smile sharp. “Your father cast you out. Your kingdom offered you up. But I—” his thumb brushed Nani’s cheek “—I will keep you. I will worship you until you believe what I already know.” His voice dropped into a vow. “You were born to be mine.”
Then his mouth closed over Nani’s, swallowing the gasp that slipped free. The kiss was searing, devouring, leaving no space for protest. His hand slid under the red cloak, dragging it from Nani’s shoulders until it pooled on the floor like blood.
Nani gasped when Sky’s hand found his waist, pulling him flush. The wolf’s tongue swept deeper, his grip unyielding. When their lips broke apart, Nani’s mouth was swollen, his chest heaving.
Nani shivered. “Don’t…” he whispered, but his body betrayed him — he didn’t move away, didn’t push him away, didn't resist.
Sky’s breath was rough velvet. “Your lips say no, but your pulse sings yes.” His hand slipped down, finding Nani’s waist through silk, thumb stroking slow and possessive.
Their mouths brushed — barely this time — before Sky pulled back just enough to scrape his teeth along Nani’s jaw. “I could bite you here,” he murmured, lips grazing his ear. “Mark you so no court, no god, could deny you are mine.”
“I won’t be owned,” Nani gasped, though heat already flushed his skin.
Sky laughed, low and pleased. “Oh, lamb… you already are.” Then he claimed his mouth.
The kiss was hungry, searing, devouring without teeth. His hand tightened at Nani’s waist, pulling him flush, red silk crushed between them. Nani’s gasp slipped into the wolf’s mouth — unguarded — and Sky swallowed it like wine, tongue sweeping in, claiming.
When Sky broke away, a thread of heat lingered between their lips. His grin was sharp, eyes wild. “I told you, lamb. I’ll eat you. And you’ll like it.”
Sky pressed him back onto the furs. Nani’s body tensed, pride fighting instinct, but Sky was patient. His mouth returned to the moles scattered across his collarbone, kissing each one like prayer, his tongue wet and deliberate.
Nani’s breath stuttered. His thighs pressed tight, his body trembling.
Sky groaned low, sliding his hands beneath silk, spreading warmth across bare skin. His palms mapped ribs, waist, hip, reverent and hungry. When he found Nani’s nipple, his mouth closed over it, sucking until a helpless sound broke free.
Nani turned his face aside, ashamed, lips parted in silence.
Sky didn’t relent. He kissed lower, tracing every mark, until his mouth hovered at Nani’s belly. His hands gripped the prince’s thighs, thumbs coaxing them apart, slow and unyielding.
“I’ve never…” Nani’s voice shook, almost broken. “I’ve never done this before.”
Sky stilled. Golden eyes flared, not with mockery but something fierce and possessive. “Then I will be slow,” he rasped, thumb tracing Nani’s jaw. “I will be soft. And you will tell me if it’s too much.”
Nani tried for a scoff, but the sound caught. His eyes fluttered shut as Sky’s lips trailed down his throat — burning, soothing, undoing him.
The Wolf King kissed each mole along his collarbone like a prayer, voice rough between them. “The stars branded you for me. I’ll worship every one.”
Nani gasped, shaking his head, but he didn’t resist when Sky spread him wider. His cock lay stiff against his stomach, flushed and untouched.
Sky’s mouth descended.
Nani cried out, his hips jerking as wet heat swallowed him whole. Sky groaned deep, the sound vibrating against his length, his tongue curling slow, deliberate. He worked him with ruthless patience, sucking until Nani’s thighs trembled and his fists knotted in the furs.
When Nani broke, spilling with a strangled moan, Sky swallowed it down, groaning like he’d been given something holy.
Nani collapsed against the pelts, dazed, chest heaving. But Sky didn’t stop. He crawled back up, kissing him deep, forcing him to taste himself. His hands slid down, spreading Nani’s legs wider.
Nani’s limbs trembled, his lips swollen, his chest rising too fast. “Enough,” he whispered, shame warring with the heat curling low again.
Sky only laughed softly, thick with desire. “No, little lamb. I’ve only begun.”
He spread Nani’s thighs with patient strength. Nani gasped, instinct fighting instinct, but Sky coaxed them open again, gentle yet unyielding. He slicked his fingers with oil, pressing one carefully against him.
“Breathe,” he murmured, kissing Nani’s temple as he worked him open, slow and deliberate. One finger, then two, scissoring, stretching, until soft gasps turned into broken whimpers.
“It hurts,” Nani whispered.
“I know,” Sky soothed, lips tracing the constellation across his skin. “But pain is the door. Beyond it waits pleasure you cannot imagine.”
When Sky judged him ready, he slicked himself and pressed forward. He held at the threshold, golden eyes burning. “Look at me.”
Nani obeyed. Their gazes locked as Sky pushed in, slow and relentless.
The stretch tore a cry from his throat, his nails biting into Sky’s shoulder. Sky groaned against his neck, trembling with the effort of restraint, sinking inch by inch until he filled him completely.
“Gods,” Sky rasped, voice guttural. “So perfect.”
Nani shuddered beneath him, pain twisting into something sharper. Sky stilled, kissing him deep until the tension eased. Then he rocked his hips, slow, measured.
Nani gasped — startled, desperate. The angle shifted, and suddenly his cry broke high, his back arching.
“There it is,” Sky rasped, thrusting again, angling until Nani’s cry broke high and helpless. “That’s the sound I wanted.”
The rhythm built, slow but inexorable. His mouth worshipped every mole, biting, kissing, marking. When Nani writhed beneath him, caught between shame and surrender, Sky’s fangs grazed his throat.
Nani trembled, eyes wet, his voice breaking on a moan.
Sky bit, shallow but sharp, blood welling as Nani shattered around him, climax tearing through his body.
The Wolf King roared, sinking his fangs just enough to mark. Nani climaxed with a cry, his body breaking apart around Sky, who followed with a guttural groan, spilling deep, clutching him like the world might try to steal him away.
When it was done, he licked the wound clean, reverent. His voice was hoarse, rough with triumph.
“Now the forest knows. The gods know. You are mine. My mate. My Queen. Mine.”
Nani lay limp, dazed, his body trembling, tears wet on his cheeks. And yet he was wrapped in the Wolf King’s arms, held as though no power on earth could pry him free.
Dawn seeped into the Wolf Court like a secret, pale light threading through bone-carved towers and black spires. The fires had burned to embers. The night’s howls of celebration had faded into silence, leaving only the weight of morning.
Nani woke tangled in furs — and in arms. The Wolf King’s breath warmed the curve of his neck where the bite still throbbed, tender and raw. His body ached in ways he had never known, every nerve marked inside and out. He should have felt broken. Instead, he felt… complete.
He shifted, eyes catching on the red cloak draped at the foot of the bed. It no longer looked like a shroud of sacrifice. Against the dark furs, against the wolf’s claim seared into his throat, it looked like a coronation robe.
Behind him, Sky stirred. Golden eyes opened slow, molten in the dim light. He pressed a kiss to Nani’s shoulder — lazy, possessive, as though nothing in the world could take what was his.
“Good morning, my Queen.”
Nani’s lips parted. A protest gathered on his tongue, a denial he wanted to speak. But the words tangled, caught, and died.
Because when he thought of his father’s throne room, of the cheers that rose as the gates clanged shut, of the forest’s unblinking eyes, he understood: there was no path back. The sacrifice was already sealed. The wolf had already claimed.
And somewhere beneath his fear, beneath the shame, something glowed — a dangerous ember. The memory of Sky’s mouth on his skin, of pleasure that stole his breath, of being seen not as cursed, but as marked. Treasured.
He turned his face away so Sky could not read the storm in his eyes. His voice came quiet, even, almost steady.
“I was supposed to be a sacrifice.”
Sky’s arms tightened around him, his teeth brushing lightly over the wound he had left.
“You were,” he murmured, reverent, unyielding. “And now you are mine.”
The words settled over Nani like chains.
Like a crown.
And for the first time, he could not tell the difference.