“Wake up!”

The man groaned as something hard and sharp collided with his side, breaking bones still tender and mending from the day before.

“I said wake up!” His abuser snarled giving him another violent nudge.

Opening gold eyes the young man stared up silently at his master. The man hunched over him, hairy, foul smelling, and dangerous beyond anything Trey had ever encountered before. Of course his arms and legs being bound tight to the cold stonewall behind him could have colored his view a bit.

He’d once run into a bear while traveling. That was so long ago that he could barely remember it anymore. Vislav reminded him a lot of that bear, though. The tsar lacked the fangs and claws but at least the animal had had the decency to only want him dead. This “man” before him wouldn’t even grant him that.

A rough hand slapped him hard, snapping his head back painfully.

“Its your own fault you know,” the tsar rumbled as he unlocked the young man’s legs and flipped him over onto his stomach, forcing Trey onto his knees to keep from breaking his still chained wrists, “if you had left like a good boy I would never have thought twice about you,” a large hand clamped onto his waist, crushing the skin into the bone, “but you didn’t did you? I knew you were a no good thief the moment you stepped into my hall. I was too smart to be dazzled by your charm but I was willing to let you leave with your life but then you did the one thing I hate most of all. Tell me boy, tell me what I hate most of all.”

The man gritted his teeth as the tsar leaned over him. He wasn’t a small man but the tsar’s form was huge and he was heavy. Something he didn’t want to think about was pressing itself greedily between his legs and he shifted, unconsciously trying to stop what he knew was about to happen. There was a snarl and a meaty hand crashed into the back of his head, sending his forehead down sharply to scrape against the cut stone of the wall.

“Tell me!” The tsar snapped, losing patience.

The young man’s vision swam and he closed his eyes. “People touching your property.” He breathed.

Groaning his approval the tsar shoved into him and despite his foreknowledge the young man cried out in pain as the foreign object forged a tunnel through muscles not properly relaxed despite years of similar treatment. He heard the tsar licking his lips and shuddered.

“And what are you now, boy?” Vislav demanded.

Trapped under the heaving sweating frame that was working to satisfy its own desires of lust and dominance the young man was barely able to whisper out the required reply.

“Your property . . . master”

Once upon a time there lived a tsar who had a most wondrous orchard. Inside this orchard grew trees that bore a magical fruit. The tsar jealously guarded his treasure, determined that none but he should have them, though he never ate the fruit himself. One day he came to his orchard to find all the fruit gone. Angry he sent out his eldest son to catch the thief. The next day all the trees had been picked bare and the tsar found his son sleeping. That night he sent out his second son, ordering him to catch the thief but again the next day all the fruit was gone and his son was fast asleep. Finally he sent out his third son who cleverly managed to stay awake. As reward for his efforts the youngest son saw a flicker of red, like fire, dancing among the trees, magical fruit disappearing as it passed. He jumped from his hiding place, determined to catch the thief and managed to lay a hand upon him but the thief got away, leaving the son with only a tale of a thief with the coloring of fire who could scale the high walls like a bird and who obviously held a magical power.

The tsar promised his kingdom to the one who brought the man to him and so his sons set out. During his journey the youngest son met a grey wolf that helped him find the thief who had been taken prisoner by the tsar of Dolmat. The tsar's son tried to steal the thief but was caught. The tsar promised him the thief if the son would get him a magical horse from the neighboring city. The son had further adventures but eventually returned with the horse. He was give the thief but before he could return the thief to his father his older brothers attacked him and left him for dead, returning with the thief to collect the reward that should rightfully have been his. And so was born the tale of the Firebird who in southern lands was called the Phoenix . . .
-Old Russian Fairytale

Ivan stared up at the stone palace, trying not to sigh in disgust. They were dark from years of snow, rain and a constant onslaught of moss. Even the lights of warm fire illuminating the tall thin windows didn’t manage to soften its appearance. It sat huddled before a dark forest, as though wishing it could sink within its depths to hide forever. It was a far cry from the sprawling gardens and open palace of the lands to the west. He’d spent the first sixteen years of his life within those walls, desperate to find a way, any way, to be free of them. And now, five years later, here he was again, riding back within their grasp, daring them to take him again.

Well, not exactly.

He’d left as Ivan Tsaravich, third son of the Tsar Vislav. At twenty he’d been thin, tall, graceful, and most damning of all, feminine. His features had been delicate, his movements elegant. His father had taken it as a personal affront to his own masculinity and had ordered his older brothers to make him a man. His second brother usually ignored him, only beating him when Ivan failed to get out of his way fast enough. His eldest brother, however, had made it his personal mission to make every moment of Ivan’s life a living hell. He’d been beaten so many times it had been a wonder that his face and body hadn’t been permanently disfigured.

Worse had been the private lessons his father had forced upon him when no one was around to see. Ivan shuddered at those memories. In the dark of the night his father used to come to him, angry and drunk and determined to show him what happened to men who looked like girls. By twenty he’d been well versed in those lessons.

Shaking his head firmly, Ivan shoved those thoughts from his mind. It would be different now. As far as the Tsar was concerned his black sheep of a son was dead, body rotting for five years in some unmarked grave for failing to bring the firebird back to him.

Ivan smiled darkly as he rode past the gawking villagers. His long black hair danced along his back and he made no move to hide his features. Time hadn’t taken away the feminine features but rather had sharpened them. His skin was as pale as any well sheltered princess’s and his features were still delicate.

Among the bulky, hairy men of the north, Ivan knew exactly what he looked like. He also knew the danger of what he was doing. He’d seen it first hand five years ago when a pale man with shocking red hair had ridden up to the palace of Tsar Vislav and offered to pay for his shelter with what the Tsar considered female pursuits. Only girls sang and played instruments. Only girls told stories.

Vislav and his sons had shown the man what else girls did to pay for their lodging, though Ivan doubted that any girl would have survived what they had done him. Trey shouldn’t have survived either, but he had. And he’d dared to seek revenge upon his attackers. So was born the tale of the Firebird.

Ivan checked the smile that came to his face. His father had claimed the Firebird as his own, promising his kingdom to the son who brought the elusive man to him. Trey had stolen apples from the Tsar’s magic tree, earning himself a death sentence until Ivan himself had seen the red haired man slipping away and realized that though there were scars from the beating he had received at the Tsaravichs’ hands less then a week earlier they were healed, as though by magic.

If there was one thing Vislav desired most in the world it was the possession of all things magical and by eating the apples, Trey had absorbed the magic and changed his death sentence into something much worse. Pursued across the Tsar’s lands the Firebird had been captured in Dolmat where the youth had been caged and forced into the role of catamite for Tsar Dedumil’s twisted pleasure. Ivan had watched the Tsar enjoy his new toy late into the night as he tried to figure out a way to retrieve him and bring him back to his father.

Ivan wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with red haired boy with the golden eyes but, while he fulfilled the tsar of Dolmat’s wishes, Ivan’s dreams were filled with memories of having a body forced to do his bidding. Trey’s cries of pain being forced into the realm of pleasure obsessed Ivan’s waking moments and drove him with the promise of power.

And Ivan desired power a great deal.

When Dedumil had turned over Trey to him Ivan had tasted that power every night, learning to control the larger and far more masculine body and force it to enjoy what he was doing. All his life people had hated him, disgusted with his features and mannerisms. He enjoyed the feel of being in a woman but Trey had been infinitely more satisfying than any woman. No woman gave Ivan such a feeling of power, of control. Having Trey gave Ivan back those things that had been stolen from him by an overbearing father and cruel brothers.

When his brothers had tried to kill him and taken Trey from him he had sworn he would have revenge and he would reclaim the Firebird. Trey belonged to him. Trey would be his again and he would make sure it was permanent this time.

Five years Ivan had waited for this moment. For the moment when he’d prove to the world that he was truly a man, despite his appearances. Pulling his horse to a halt before the large doorway and the guards who stood gaping at him, he allowed a smile to tug at his curved lips.

“Tell your master that the sorcerer Ilyia has heard of his power and wealth and wishes an audience with the greatest of all the Tsars of the Rus.”

As the men tumbled over each other to do his bidding Ivan felt a spark of satisfaction feed his obsession. Soon, he promised himself, soon he would have all the power he deserved and his father would realize what a foolish mistake he had made.

Not that he would live to regret it, of course.

Swords are for the weak and fearful who wish to hide their faces behind steel and allow their enemies to come straight at them. No, those who are strong never let their enemies know who they are. They smile with the face of a friend as they convince their enemies to stab each other in the back in the ensuing confusion.
-Ivan Tsaravich

“Ilyia! Come here and show us your power!”

Ivan looked up from his dinner and rose, bowing low. When Tsar Vislav said ‘show us your power’ he really meant ‘come here so I can show off my power’. Everyone here knew who was the master and who was the pet. At least, Ivan thought with a smirk as he raised his hands and produced a spark of lightning that danced across the high ceiling to the gasps of Vislav’s court, they thought they knew.

He’d been moderately fearful that his father or brothers would recognize him but it appeared that they had already forgotten that there ever was a third son. Even Elena, who had been yet another prize he had planned to retrieve from his thieving brothers didn’t seem to even remember him. Not that he cared. After seeing how the woman simpered over his brother Vasiliy he had given up on his plans for her.

“Very impressive! Think of how our enemies would run with this demonstration of our strength!” Vislav thundered out and Ivan bowed again.

Next to the hulking tsar Dimitriy sneered, showing off an impressive set of yellowed and broken teeth. Ivan had watched himself around the man, knowing that his features made him a target but Vislav had marked him as his property, socially not physically to Ivan’s immense relief, and Dmitriy appeared to be smart enough not to try his father’s claim.

Returning to his seat, Ivan had to pull his mass of hair back to drape behind the chair. It fell behind him in a river of shadow, black as a raven’s wing. On either side of him the women cooed but he ignored them. It was a difficult game to play with Vislav’s women but Ivan had had three weeks to learn it. He had to show the proper attention to them, flirting just enough to make everyone think he enjoyed the company of women, but not enough to make it look like he was actually using them. The men of the palace didn’t like the thought of someone who looked like him dirtying their women.

Gingerly picking up his fork he concentrated on the meat on his plate. It was bloodier than he was used to but he suffered through it. Real men ate meat raw. At least he was allowed to have wine instead of the ale the rest of the men drank. Vislav was lenient with his ways, allowing him to hide behind the façade of being exotic. He held magic within his blood; he was expected to act a little different from normal people. It was a thin line, though, between being exotic and acceptable and being feminine and weak.

Ivan didn’t think Vislav would beat him for it but he also knew the Tsar wouldn’t let him go. Just because the large man hadn’t marked him as his property didn’t mean Ivan was free to just walk away when he felt like it.

It didn’t matter though; Ivan had no plans to leave.

Dmitriy was trying to “seduce” a woman who was serving him, though his manner of seducing was blatant grabbing and obviously suggestive words. The girl, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem to think too much of this form of courtship and was trying to get away, much to the older man’s irritation. Seeing an opportunity, Ilyia jumped for it.

It had been three weeks since he’d arrived and he still hadn’t found out what had happened to his second obsession. He’d already found magical orbs, stuffed snow cats, gargoyles that could move, caged forest sprites, and dozens of other things that Vislav wanted his opinion on but not once had he been shown the creature he had been most hoping to see.

“My lord,” He called out. Vislav glared at him and Ivan forced himself to look contrite. “Please excuse my presumptuousness but there has been something that has been that has been troubling my mind for days now.”

The Tsar grunted and waved a grease-coated hand at him, signaling for him to go on.

Leaning back in his chair Ivan played with the stem of his glass. “I’ve heard tell of a great journey by your sons but no one seems to be able to give me a proper telling of it that does any justice.”

He saw a dark glint that told him the Tsar was suddenly interested in what he had to say. “What journey?” He demanded.

Ivan hid his smile behind the rim of the glass. “Why the journey that brought you what everyone seems to think of as your greatest treasure.”

Vislav frowned. “My greatest treasure?”

He lowered the glass back to the table and clasped his hands in his lap. “The Firebird, of course.”

It was a gamble, he knew, but Ivan couldn’t proceed until he had located Trey. True, he was determined to take possession of all of his father’s lands but he wasn’t willing to do it without knowing Trey would survive to enjoy his reign with him.

Silence fell throughout the hall and Ivan didn’t miss that Dmitriy and Vasiliy both stared up at their father. He forced himself to look only mildly interested at dark eyes studied him for a moment.

Finally Vislav shrugged as though it were no great thing. “The Firebird thought it could take from my orchards. I proved that not even nature could triumph over me.”

He pointedly turned and proceeded to ignore Ivan, who allowed himself to frown ever so slightly. The noise in the hall picked up to the nearly deafening pitch that singled a return to normalcy and Ivan suffered through the rest of the dinner hour. When it was proper to do so he bade his tablemates a good night and stood. Slipping from the room he was unprepared for the strong hand that latched onto his arm with enough pressure to bruise him. Memories flared up, making him fight for a moment before a rough shake reminded him where he was and he forced himself to calm down. Looking up at his captor he forced back the gasp that rose in his throat.

“What do you know of the Firebird?” Vislav growled, peering down at him closely.

Ivan made himself look unthreatening. “Very little, my lord, only what I have heard in stories about your halls . . .”

The tsar snarled and gave him another bone rattle shake. “You lie little sorcerer. Nobody here speaks of the Firebird.”

Ivan mentally cursed himself. “Forgive me, my lord. I . . . I heard of it from the one who taught me my trade. He once had the Firebird in his possession though I was not there at the time. When I returned he told me of him and . . .”

“And you came to steal it from me?” Vislav demanded and Ivan knew that the hand that disappeared from his view wasn’t going to scratch at an itch.

“No!” Ivan exclaimed, “I merely wished to see him. I have never heard my former master speak so highly of anything. The firebird must be an incredible creature for him to go on about him so.”

Black eyes studied him seriously. Ivan could almost see the man’s brain trying to decide if he was telling the truth. After a moment Ivan found himself released with a sharp shove that sent him tumbling back a few steps.

“The Tsar of Dolmat really speaks of the Firebird?”

Ivan thanked the gods for his father’s vanity. “Oh yes, my lord. He is sorely remorseful that he allowed him out of his grasp,” he decided to add a bit more to his story, “your sons must be quite impressive. I have never known anyone to get the better of him.”

Vislav visibly preened at his words. “They are fine men.”

Ivan bowed, trying to look repentant. “I am truly sorry for my deception, my lord. I should have just told you but . . . I feared that if you knew who my former master was I would never get the chance to see the Firebird.”

The Tsar scowled at him. “You may not yet. The Firebird is for my amusement only,” he paused and then caught Ivan by the shoulder, “though I have been known to be generous. Please me and you may see him yet. You are right, you know. He is my finest treasure.”

Ivan bowed again, watching from under a spill of black hair as Vislav guffawed and stormed away, rattling the halls with his passing. Straightening he caught the dark eyes of Dmitriy glaring at him from the doorway to the dinning hall. Favoring the heated glare with a sly smile Ivan felt an immense satisfaction when it was his eldest brother who backed down and turned away with a guttural curse.

Soon my lovely Firebird, Ivan whispered in his mind, soon you’ll be mine again. He turned, letting thoughts of skin as white as his own giving under his slender hands. Of shoulders twice as broad as him being pressed down as deep cries lay witness to his power.

Soon.

You know what? Forget it. You never listen to what I tell you anyway. I’ll just do it myself.

-The Grey Wolf to a nineteen year old Ivan Tsaravich

Ivan bit back a curse and dragged the heavy head of his horse to the side to keep the beast of burden from straying off the path. There were snickers from behind him and he pointedly ignored them. He wasn’t sure which of his two brothers had chosen to give him a nearly unmanageable horse but it didn’t matter. He was stuck with the muddy brown mare and he was determined not to give anyone anything to laugh about.

He was immensely glad for his natural affinity with animals. If not for that he would have been tossed in the mud or still trying to convince the nag to leave the relative warmth of the stable. As it was he was spending more time trying to stay on course then he was enjoying the hunt.

A large black horse stomped by, perilously close to the mare who shrieked and nipped at the offending rider. Ivan had the pleasure of seeing Dmitriy having to jump to save his leg from horse teeth. The Tsar’s eldest son growled and punched the nag in the nose. Ivan cursed under his breath as the nag screamed and shook her head to clear it as the black trotted up to the Tsar’s own black.

Father and son have matching horses, how cute, Ivan sneered as he got the horse to move again with the help of Vasiliy’s impatient gelding.

A breeze fluttered past and all the horses in the line paused, sniffing carefully. Ivan tensed; fearing the sensitive creatures would ruin his plan, but when the breeze died away and the trees stilled the horses moved on.

“Why did you come here, sorcerer?” Vasiliy demanded, pulling up along side him.

Ivan shrugged, keeping his eyes forward. “Your Tsar is a man who appreciates magic, it seemed like a good place to be.”

Green eyes gifted to the two of them from their mother told him that he wasn’t believed. His elder brother’s next words solidified Ivan’s belief. “It would seem Dolmat would be a better place for you.”

A slight smile played over Ivan’s lips. “True but things were getting . . . strained between my former master and myself.”

He saw the sparkle that said Vasiliy thought he had cornered his victim. “What did you do?” He asked.

“I did nothing.”

His brother’s eyes darkened. “Then why were things strained?”

Ivan had to drag his horse back onto the path before he could answer. “Sorcerer’s are like a family. After awhile the child and the parent can no longer live in the same house because their personalities are no longer compatible. When this happens it is best for the fledgling to fly the nest, as it were, before things get out of control.”

“So you ‘flew the nest’ to get away from your master?”

Emerald eyes slid to the side to gauge his brother’s surprising reaction. Perhaps Vasiliy was ready to fly the nest as well. How . . . interesting. Ivan filed that bit of information away for later.

“Yes. I was tired of studying in dusty libraries and taking orders from a man who didn’t even know I existed most of the time. I thought it was time to spread my wings a bit.”

A ghost of a smile flashed across Vasiliy’s face but a shout from their father shattered the moment and Ivan looked up just in time to see the Tsar go down under a pelt of grey fur. Banishing Vasiliy from his mind, Ivan urged the mare forward towards the snarling wolf and his howling father. He was grateful to see that Dmitriy’s stallion wasn’t nearly as well trained as it looked as the massive horse reared to get away from the predator.

Reaching out a hand Ivan called the power he would need to complete his ruse and as he whispered the words needed to shape the power he silently prayed the grey wolf wouldn’t forget himself amidst the feel of a struggling victim.

Lights exploded and momentarily blinded him as the power snapped into the shape he desired and the wolf leapt back with a howl of pain that Ivan couldn’t distinguish as fake or true. He hoped he hadn’t harmed his friend as he leapt down off the nag and took cautious steps towards the massive creature.

Shaking its large head, the wolf opened grey eyes and blinked at him. Holding out his hand Ivan made up words as he approached it. The wolf cocked his head and began to back up. Lips pulled back to reveal frightful teeth and Ivan heard shrieks from behind him as the ladies of court caught up to them. Whispering a true word of magic, Ivan flung a harmless bolt at the wolf. With a smile and a faked scream of pain the grey wolf leapt away and he heard large paws crashing through the underbrush of the forest.

Pretending to straighten his tunic Ivan turned with a small smile and met the dark glare of his father.

A man makes his own destiny. He allows no one else to do it for him, and those who would interfere in that must no be tolerated.
-Tsar Vislav

Saving the Tsar’s life didn’t quite have the effect Ivan had been hoping for. Rather than being properly grateful for having his life spared from a vicious wolf, Vislav was furious. Ivan snarled and beat his fist into the wall of the small room he had been locked in. It was foolish but how was he to know that the Tsar would throw such an ungodly fit at having been saved by a sorcerer?

No, Ivan corrected himself, he was having the fit at being saved by someone who looked like they should be stuffing themselves into corsets and batting eyelashes at the guards.

He sighed and dropped down into an overstuffed chair. It was his own fault really. If he had thought it through he would have been able to foresee this outcome but he’d let his desires overrun his brains. His hand came down to rub his growing erection as his dream came back to plague him.

Gods he needed Trey under him again!

Closing his eyes he slid his hips to the edge of the chair and loosened the string of his pants. Sliding his hand inside his fingers encountered the heating flesh and he groaned. Gently he danced his fingers across the head, imagining pale pink lips placing kisses there. When he looked down he could almost see the golden eyes, such an exotic captivating color, staring up at him, begging him to stop, show some mercy, or, eventually, to give him the release the nineteen year old needed so very much.

The first time he had had Trey the boy had been too exhausted to do much other than lay there under him. The second time, however, oh how he had begged! Ivan closed his eyes, tightening his hand around his shaft as he let the memory wash over him.

“Please! Please let me go!”

Ivan smiled as he slipped the golden key into the lock. “You want to be set free? But don’t you see that its impossible, my little bird? Don’t you know what they’re calling you? They’re calling you the firebird.”

Golden eyes blinked at him as a pale pink lip trembled between white teeth. “The firebird?”

Ivan nodded. “Yes. All this wonderful red hair,” he ran his fingers through it, licking his lips, “like flames. And only a bird could have flown over the wall my father built to protect his orchard.”

The boy before him blushed slightly, pressing back against the bars of the cage. “Phoenix.” He whispered.

“Hm?”

Trey drew in a shuddering breath. “Where I come from its called a phoenix.”

He laughed, closing the door firmly behind him and passing the key to the waiting wolf to keep his prey from escaping. “Firebird, phoenix, it matters not. You’ve been caught and you’ll spend the rest of your days singing lovely tunes in golden cages.”

Eyes that matched the color of the bars widened and the boy tried desperately to get away from him. “No! Please let me go! I didn’t mean anything! I’m just a traveler. I just want to see the world, that’s all.”

Ivan reached out and caught a handful of the red hair, pulling the boy roughly against him. He was slimmer then the other boy but he was taller. Leaning down he licked at the red scar along his left cheek. His father’s mark showing the world that the boy belonged to the Tsar.

“I want you to sing for me.” He whispered, reaching down to tug at the boy’s pants.

The boy cried out and tried to push away from him.

Ivan laughed in delight as he struck the boy, dazing Trey long enough for him to push the other boy to the floor of the cage. “Yes! Sing, my little bird. Sing for me.” He crowed, jerking the pants off and wrapped them tightly around wrists that were still growing but already thicker than his would ever be.

The boy fought him but another slap made him fall limp long enough for Ivan to get his hands tied to the bars of the cage. Sitting back on his heels Ivan growled at the body under him.

“Do you want to fuck me, Trey? Do you want to treat me like the girl I resemble?”

Gold eyes looked at him in a highly unsatisfactory way and he snarled, biting down hard on a pale nipple. Trey screamed and bucked wildly underneath him. Ivan rode it out, rubbing his covered groin over the uncovered one beneath him. When Trey finally collapsed down it was to fight shivers of pleasure and another bout of begging to be free.

Ivan listened, lapping at the blood that welled under his bite. He kept lapping long after the wound had healed thanks to the boy’s inner magic. He rolled his hips sensually, enjoying the feel of the heat that was growing beneath him despite the boy’s pleas to be left alone.

Ivan lifted himself up slightly, pressing his lips to chapped ones, forcing his tongue deep into the wet mouth, glad that someone else had taken the task of beating the urge to bite out of the boy. He thrust his tongue in and out, fucking the mouth beneath him. When a groan slipped from the boy’s throat he pulled back, staring down at half lidded golden eyes.

“I’m going to fuck you, Trey,” he whispered, nipping at the lips, “I’m going to show you just what kind of man I am, and you’re going to be a good slave and let me do it, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t . . .” The younger boy whispered.

Ivan backhanded him hard. “You’ll talk when I tell you to talk!” He snarled.

The boy whimpered.

“Beg me to fuck you.”

Trey squeezed his eyes closed. “Please . . . let me go.”

A growl escaped him. “That’s not what I want to hear, love.” Reaching back he ran long nails over the boy’s erection.

A scream of pain erupted from the boy trapped under him. Ivan cooed, licking at the neglected nipple until Trey settled down. “I don’t want to hurt you, Trey.”

“Bullshit.”

He chuckled. “I don’t like causing pain for pain’s sake.”

“Then let me go.”

Ivan shook his head, watching his black strands mix with fiery red ones. “No. I’ll never let you go Trey. I don’t want to hurt you but I will to get what I want from you.”

There was a choked sob. “What do you want?”

“You, Trey. I want to dominate ever part of you. I want to fuck you and have you crawl back for more.” He ran his hands over the barrel of Trey’s chest, fingering ever rib. “I want to hear you sing for me late into the night. I wonder if the fairy tales will remember that the song of the phoenix is really the sound of its begs?”

“Why me?” The boy asked, his voice breathy with something that sent shivers through his aggressor.

“Because you’ve led me on a merry chase. Because you challenged me. Because I love you.” Ivan shrugged.

“You . . . love me? How can you love me? We’ve never even met properly!”

He chuckled, laying his head on the boy’s chest and reaching down to skip fingers lightly over the thick shaft. “I loved you the moment I saw you slipping through the trees of my father’s orchard. I loved you the moment you gave me an excuse to get out of that palace. And when I saw that Tsar fucking you in the garden, heard the sounds you made, saw the way the torchlight flickered off your tears I knew that I had to have you all to myself.”

“How is this . . . love?” Trey demanded.

Ivan shrugged a second time. He smiled as the lungs under his ear began to pant as he teased and prodded the red shaft to life. Slipping down he ran his tongue over the weeping head, thrilling at the salty liquid that covered his tongue. He dipped his head, thrusting the cock down his throat and back up. The boy under him keened and began to fight at his bonds.

“You’re mine, Trey. Now,” he slapped the boy’s balls sharply, receiving a shocked cry and lurch of hips, “beg me to take you.”

The boy remained stubbornly silent and Ivan shrugged. Holding the boy still he forced his tongue deep into the slit. Trey shrieked and twisted. “What . . . what are you doing?”

Ivan smirked. “Something that I will require of you quite often. I’d pay attention if I were you, love.”

He returned to his ministrations as the boy keened and struggled. Ivan pulled away long enough to wet his index finger and then used it to ring around the boy’s entrance. At that touch Trey froze, his entire body tense with fear.

“Shhh.” Ivan whispered, teasing licks along the swollen head. When he had the boy squirming again he slipped his finger inside, pushing and thrusting. After a moment he added a second. It wasn’t long before his slave was thrusting up at him. With each thrust Ivan pulled the quivering cock from his mouth to demand, “Beg me!” before taking it in again.

After what seemed like an eternity he heard a faint whisper.

“Hmm?” He breathed, staring down at the tear stained face.

“Please . . .” Trey whispered, his whole body tense and shaking.

Pulling away completely from the boy’s cock he thrust his fingers in deep, impaling the boy who threw his head back and howled.

“Please what?” He demanded.

Trey’s cheeks burned red and his hands gripped the bars so hard his knuckles were snow white. “Please . . . do it.”

Ivan curled the fingers inside the boy making him choke in surprise and began lightly slapping at the thick hot flesh that bounced against Trey’s stomach. “Not good enough slave.”

Gold eyes closed in shame. “Please f . . . fuck me.”

Ivan grinned and removed his fingers. “Look at me boy!” He ordered as he positioned himself. Trey shook his head and Ivan sighed in irritation. Gripping the erection in a tight fist he secured the boy’s attention. “You will always look at me unless I tell you not to, do you understand?”

Trey nodded and received another blow for it.

“Tell me!” Ivan ordered.

A red tongue licked at a split lip. “I understand.”

Ivan’s green eyes glittered. “Call me master.”

Trey stared at him in horror.

A hand came up warningly and Trey cringed. “Yes, master.”

Ivan laughed in triumph as he shoved himself hard into the body beneath him. Trey clenched up, his muscles getting a death grip around Ivan’s cock. Reaching out his free hand he pumped the abused cock as he tongue fucked his slave. At the duel pleasure Trey relaxed and Ivan humped against him.

“You see? You do want this. You want me to do this to you. Gods you’re so good,” he groaned between thrusts, “I’m going to keep you forever, my little phoenix, my firebird. Forever.” He swore as he licked the tears that fell from golden eyes.

Ivan bit back a howl as he came, hot fluid flowing over his hand. He kept his fist tight, milking himself as his cock shivered and gave up the last of its desire. Standing on shaking legs he cleaned himself up in the basin by the fire. Throwing the cloth he used to wipe up the evidence of his actions he pulled up his pants a second before the door to his room was thrown open.

He whirled and forced himself to straighten and bow deeply as Vislav stormed in. He prayed the man wouldn’t notice the scent of sex and his prayers seemed to be answered as the man glared down at him.

“You’ll be at dinner.” He ordered before whirling and storming out.

Ivan stared at the door that slammed shut behind the tsar so hard it made the hinges rattle. Come to dinner? He hadn’t expected the tsar to forgive him so easily. Shrugging he moved to his closet to find a proper outfit.

He needed to come up with a new plan. Two nights ago he had had his old friend the grey wolf pretend to attack the tsar during his daily ride so that Ivan could “save” him from the crazed animal. Instead of showing him in praise and offering him to see the Firebird he’d been made a prisoner in his own room.

Ivan sighed and shook his head. He’d probably never find out what had caused a change in his father’s mood. As a child he’d learned that his father was an unreliable man, given to sharp changes of mood. He just thanked his luck and planned to do better.