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Promised to Idris

by H. J. Perry

I spent the night with the man of my dreams, and I promised him my soul. Now he’s come to stake his claim.

The big beautiful man is a powerful prince in his realm

And he’s used to getting what he wants.
Even when he's not dressed.

He lives in a beautiful palace with views to die for.

And now he wants me there by his side.

He wants me

Just humble, ordinary me

and only me

Forever.

Mate, and it's for life.

From another world, the Raven Prince can take the form of a bird or a man, but he takes only one lover.

It’s an opportunity too good to miss and an offer most people would grasp.

But am I ready to sacrifice everything I know to live so far away with the royal family in a palace that it’s literally out of this world?

***This steamy low-angst romance is a rewriting of a fantasy book entitled Raven, which was published in 2017.***

  • Can be read as a standalone
  • 40,000 words
  • No cheating
  • Happy for now ending
Published:
Genres:
Tags:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 5
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 18-25
Tropes: Alpha Character, Biological Urge to Mate, Cultural Differences, Fated Mates / Soul Mates, InstaLove / Love at First Sight, True Love, Uncommunicative Masculinity, Wingfic
Word Count: 40000
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters
Excerpt:

The bedsheets in Caspian’s dream were made of black silk. They covered a mattress as soft as an oversized pillow. He sank into it and stretched out. Thousands of flickering flames from candles danced in unison, lighting up the room.

A familiar scent hung in the air, almost like rain. The same odor that hung in sections of the forest—what it was exactly, he couldn’t say.

Caspian sat up, supporting himself on his elbows.

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The sheets slid across his bare thighs as he shifted his position. He realized then that he was naked.

Even though it seemed so real, it had to be a dream. He doubted black silk or satin existed anywhere in Dr. Kilpatrick’s house.

He remembered going to bed in the stiflingly hot guest room, underneath a central overhead light and surrounded by huge old wooden furniture. Not a candle in sight. Wearing his cotton pajamas, he’d made the bed up with white sheets. It was so hot that he’d only put on one cotton sheet to go over him. 

Caspian had undoubtedly fallen asleep while reading a book, as was his normal way of dozing off. The eReader, still lying on the bed beside him, had switched to sleep mode when he didn’t ‘turn’ the page.

Sensing eyes on him, Caspian glanced around, his eyes adjusting to the warm flickering light. “Hello?” he called out before actually seeing the man who stood in the shadows at the edge of the room.

Dressed from head to toe in smart black clothes, the stranger had slicked-back black hair, too. The man stood in front of a dark background, which was probably why Caspian didn’t notice him right away.

He saw him now.

Except, the stranger wasn’t in the room. Not exactly. He stood in the doorway, where he leaned at an angle with a shoulder against the door frame that propped him up. As far as Caspian could see, there wasn’t a door, just an opening to something beyond, which lay in darkness.

The tall man cut a striking figure with his strong, chiseled features and broad shoulders. He was older than Caspian by a few years—likely in his late twenties. 

Hello,” he said, taking a step forward into the light. His black hair shone a sleek, iridescent blue. It struck Caspian as familiar, but he couldn’t place from where.

Unafraid, fully aware it was a dream, Caspian kept the sheets modestly over his lap. He wasn’t ashamed of his body or looks, but he wasn’t an exhibitionist even when asleep. Well, he regularly had those fantasies, but he didn’t need to launch straight into them.

The stranger took another step forward, his gait a confident swagger. His fingers worked at the black buttons of his shirt as he drew nearer. Enticing black chest hair peeked out at the top of the shirt. And when it fell open, it revealed acres of toned pectoral muscles. 

Caspian gulped. “Who are you?” He asked the chest and then thought to shift his gaze to the man’s face.

Without answering, the stranger didn’t stop moving.

Reaching the foot of the bed, he paused to kick off his shoes and shook his open shirt free of his slender frame.

Mouth watering, Caspian took in the sight of muscular arms and a torso covered in fine, velvety black hairs. He longed to run his fingers over the hairy chest but didn’t move.

The sure-of-himself stranger ran a pointing finger from his navel suggestively down the length of the thick black treasure trail until he reached the top of his pants. He made short work of unfastening the belt and removing it from the loops before dropping it out of sight.

The belt snapped free of the loops, and his pants dropped a little, clinging to his hips and emphasizing the bulge of his crotch. The obscene bump seemed to be all that held them up.

When he dropped the belt, the dreamy stranger used a free hand to cup his prominent package, dragging fingers up either side to emphasize its size and shape, and to draw attention to his erection. He didn’t need to, though. It had Caspian’s attention.

With unfathomable skill and dexterity, the man ran his fingers around the silhouette of his cock under the black fabric and undid his fly at the same time. He moved his hips in a small circular motion, and the pants glided down over his thighs.

It took quite some balls for a guy to perform a private striptease in this way.

Enjoying every moment of the show, Caspian licked his lips, subconsciously attempting to summon moisture back into his dry mouth. All thoughts focused on the now-naked man at the foot of the bed.

Who. Are. You?” He repeated although he didn’t much care about getting an answer. Not if the man intended to continue.

On the bed.

Naked and crawling on hands and knees, up the bed.

Over him.

He was overconfident, brazen, and not stopping to check that the man in the bed wanted this development, although as it happened, the man in the bed was extremely happy with it.

Caspian drew in a breath but didn’t back up. He stayed still as the presumptuous stranger crossed the bed, over his legs—still covered by the sheet—and straddled his lap, with a very hard cock prominent between them, and Caspian’s equally aroused member pushing against the silk sheet and body above it.

The stranger smirked as they grew close.

Face to face, the sharp, aristocratic point of the stranger’s nose brushed against Caspian’s.

Caspian’s heart hammered in his chest. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. The slight touch felt electric. The air sparked with sudden, impossible chemistry.

Idris,” the stranger said again before stealing a kiss.

Closing his eyes, Caspian gasped into the stranger’s mouth. After a brief moment of hesitation, he kissed the stranger back. Arousal surged low in his stomach and bound him to the moment.

Nothing else had ever been so important, so captivating.

They sank onto the bed together. The stranger pressed down, with only a slither of black silk to separate their naked bodies—sheer smooth silk protecting him from a stranger.

In the haze of his dreams, Caspian didn’t think he needed protecting. He didn’t often have erotic dreams and rarely, if ever, so vivid. He didn’t intend to fight it.

Bring it on, dream boy.

He ran his palms down the man’s sides to touch the bare, warm skin.

The stranger’s soft lips weren’t afraid to take control. He kissed Caspian as he’d never been kissed before, guiding his pleasure and deepening their passion.

It felt so wonderful.

If this was just a dream, it didn’t have to make sense.

In real life, Caspian had never fallen into bed with a nameless stranger. He’d never so much as had a one-night stand. At the very least, he’d shared a successful date or two with every guy he’d slept with. He’d only had sex with men when there was a real possibility of a permanent relationship. It was how he’d been raised and what he wanted.

Of course, none of his relationships had lasted, which was why, at twenty-two years of age, he was single and alone with his fantasies in Beaumont.

He’d always been guarded with his affections and his body. If he met more men like this dream guy, he’d reconsider his stance. 

It is just a dream, right? 

It was okay to indulge if he wanted to. 

Boyfriends had come and gone again all too quickly, but he’d never lusted after a single one of them as he lusted after this man.

Take me. Make me yours.

Of course, in a dream, he didn’t need to state his desires out loud. He was already getting what he wanted: the complete attention of a man who looked like the carved work of Michael Angelo, except so much bigger where it counts. This cocky creation of his imagination already knew what Caspian craved—a man who’d take control in the bedroom. 

In his deepest fantasies, the men he desired were unbelievably competent in all things and arrogant enough to know it. They were dominant in the bedroom and out of it. But that was just fantasy.

In this dream, the stranger played exactly how Caspian wanted.

Cocky and sure of himself, arrogant even.

Make love to me,” Caspian whispered against the stranger’s lips.

The embers of his arousal were lit and burning, his cock hard and his body needy.

The stranger chuckled. He pulled away from the kiss and sat up, still astride Caspian’s lap. When he drew back enough for them to gaze into each other’s eyes, Caspian was startled at how dark they were—almost as if he had no irises at all.

You don’t do anything half-assed, do you?” the stranger asked.

Caspian made a face, not exactly sure what the man referred to. In general, it was a spot-on assessment, though, as if the stranger knew him well.

The stranger only laughed and kissed him again.

Caspian closed his eyes and kissed the stranger back with everything he had.

The stranger’s hands roamed along Caspian’s back to the dip of his spine, then down to his ass. Strong hands cupped Caspian’s cheeks and pulled him closer. Caspian choked on a gasp against the stranger’s lips when their groins met, and cocks rubbed together through the silk.

The stranger was hard and well hung, as Caspian already knew. It was one thing to see with his eyes; it was another to feel it pressed against his own aching need.

The silk shifted over Caspian’s legs.

The firm nude body that pressed against him pushed him back into the soft mattress as if the bed swallowed them alive, and Caspian loved every moment of it.

Make love to me,” Caspian pleaded into the hungry mouth that devoured him. “Put it inside me. I want to feel it.”

Eager hatchling,” the stranger murmured. “How sweet.”

I’m not…” Caspian’s mind fogged. What wasn’t he? Sweet? He couldn’t remember. He could only push his hips and rub their shafts together.

The stranger tightened his fingers on his ass.

Caspian felt beyond himself with pleasure.

Not what?” the stranger asked in a hot whisper. His mouth and tongue ate hungrily at Caspian’s face, jaw, and neck.

Not…” Caspian trailed off. He didn’t know what to say, so he kissed the stranger passionately again.

The stranger chuckled into his mouth.

He drove Caspian crazy with his essence. His fuck-me-senseless-please sexiness. His cocky, sure-of-himself charisma. His audacity and arrogant posture, as if he’d never known rejection.

Caspian didn’t know his name, or where they were, or if they would ever see each other again, but the stranger got under his skin. The haughty manner of his chuckles, as if he knew what Caspian wanted and needed, made him prickle with irritation. And desire. He wanted to kiss him until all traces of smugness disappeared, leaving them both delirious with the need for each other.

Drawing back, the stranger wedged a knee between Caspian’s legs, prizing his thighs apart. The stranger’s cock parted from Caspian’s, who in turn badly wished that it would come back. He needed that touch with or without silk separating them.

Take me,” Caspian pleaded again, unable to resist.

A deep rumbling voice, with a hint of an unidentifiable sing-song accent, asked. “Do you realize what this means if you go through with this?” 

Orgasms? A sore ass? He didn’t understand what the man referred to, and he didn’t care much.

But it wasn’t the stranger in the bed who asked the question. It wasn’t his voice. It was similar, but it came from another direction.

Looking about the room, Caspian noted dark shadows surrounding them. For some reason, it never occurred to him that they might not be alone. He’d fixated on the first person he set eyes on, but now that he looked.

They were not alone.

Two men came forward from the shadows, one on either side of the bed. They were both dressed like Idris once was, in smart black clothes. They looked so much like him they may have been related, possibly brothers or cousins.

Mm… answer me, hatchling,” the stranger to his right urged. “Do you realize what this means if you go through with this?”

Caspian shook his head and collapsed back into the pillow. “No.”

The stranger to the left sat on the bed, his weight making it sink a little in that direction. “We all want you to join our family as much as you want this with the prince.”

Idris shooed the man away with a wave of a hand and said, “Pay no attention to these two; they are only here for my protection. I know you want me.”

You’re a prince?”

Prince Idris, I am, but just Idris to you.”

COLLAPSE

About the Author

HJ Perry (Gay romance author) AKA Helen Jayne (Lesbian Romance author)

She lives in the English countryside not too far away from Manchester.

Based on the advice, write what you know, HJP writes books about Queer people and England where, for the most part, LGBT people are treated with the same respect as anyone else.
Having worked in the construction industry for years in real life, the fictional characters also often work in that macho, male-dominated environment.
HJP has also been a political activist campaigning around LBGT issues since the 1980s.

You will find lust, sex, desire and love in these books and always a happy ending.
Often a happy start, happy middle and very little angst too.

She writes happy books that are the sort of stories she, as a queer woman, wants to read.
They are for an adult audience.