The Princeman by Topher Penrod
This story is set in a time when condoms are not invented. Bareback sex between consenting adult males is going to be an ongoing thing in this story. If this sort of material offends you, then don't read any further.
Please practice safe sex in real life.
None of the characters in the story are intended to represent any real people. They are figments of my imagination.
Please enjoy the first chapter of my story. I know its a short chapter, but I want to get a little feedback, see if people like it. Feel free to email me and let me know what you thought about the story. My email is cpenrod4@gmail.com
Dreldin: 20 years old, brown hair, green eyes. He has a well-muscled, very toned build from years of practice with a sword. He stands a few inches shy of 6 ft tall. (If it helps, I picture Dreldin to look like Shia Lebough)
Prince Tygon: 22 years old, blond hair, blue eyes. He is also well built, a much larger frame than Dreldin, taller, a hunk. (I picture Prince Tygon to look like Channing Tatum)
Chapter 2
Dreldin woke up wrapped in Prince Tygons arms, the hunky young man was spooned to Dreldins back. It felt nice to be close with another human, the body contact gave Dreldin a sense of contentment. He could feel the Prince breathing slowly, steadily behind him. Dreldin quietly extricated himself from the Prince's arms and went to the wash basin. He washed his face and hands, then his cock, making sure everything was clean and smelled nice.
Once he was satisfied with his hygene, he dressed and went to fetch Prince Tygon breakfast. Campfire and sweat were the smells of the day, per usual. Dreldin was easily able to find some fried ham and eggs for Prince Tygon, he grabbed healthy portions of both and returned to the command tent. The General and several other officers were already sitting at the table inside.
Prince Tygon had yet to emerge from his private tent. Dreldin went to wake him, taking the platter of breakfast along.
As he pushed through the tent flag, he found the Prince cleaning his hole, using a wet towel to scrub the seed away. Dreldin set down the platter of food and took over, helping the Prince clean himself. He helped the Prince dress and then they ate. Once the Prince was awake and satisfied, they stepped out into the command tent.
"Good morning General, Officers," Prince Tygon greeted them. He seated himself in his customary chair and the meeting began.
They finalized the battle plan and traded a few small jests amongst one another, but no one seemed to be in a talkative mood. Prince Tygon dismissed them all to make the remaining preparations.
"Dreldin, help me get into my armor," Prince Tygon commanded. Dreldin followed him into the private tent and they began the arduous task of encasing Tygon in the full plate armor worn by cavalry.
About thirty minutes later, Prince Tygon was fully clad in polished black armor. He looked magnificent, royal, he looked a true Prince. Dreldin didn't like the weight of full plate armor and settled for a plain leather armor set, it allowed him much more speed and range of motion on the battlefield. Dreldin had his customary short sword strapped to his waist, along with a dirk and several small throwing knives.
Prince Tygon armed himself with a longsword and lance, weapons of the cavalry. Once they managed to get him mounted, the Prince was a sight to behold. The men were inspired by the mere sight of him, knowing that he would ride into battle with them did more for moral than anyone could possibly know. Dreldin stayed at the Prince's side, as was his job as a Princeman.
The infantry was the first to move into position, followed by the archers. Volley after volley of arrows was launched at the mercenaries, who hid behind large shields. Once General Guntor realized the archers were ineffective, he order the infantry to advance. Thousands of armed and armored men suddenly were on the move, it looked like a foul ocean of flesh and metal.
Prince Tygon lead the cavalry way out and off of the battlefield, he guided them into a flanking position and waited for the infantry to engage the mercenaries. It didn't take long before the crashing of armored bodies dominated the air.
"Cavalry! Prepare! We ride out to crush these mercenary fucks!" Prince Tygon cried out, his men replied in kind.
Dreldin pulled his short sword from its scabbard and raised it into the air, saluting his Prince along with the rest of the men comprising the cavalry. The men started at a slow walk, pushing the horses up to a steady trot. After a few minutes, the cavalry had become a fearsome charge, thundering across the ground with dizzying speed. As the respective armies came into sight, Dreldin could tell that their infantry were winning. Both armies had met at a full charge, the first lines of men being crushed by the weight of the next several lines. Screams of death and pain followed seconds after, blood flowed freely, staining the ground a sickly brown.
The mercenaries were beginning to notice the massive cavalry charge, though they were doing nothing to prepare for it. Some were already fleeing, knowing exactly what was about to happen. That was the trouble with hired soldiers, they fought for money, which didn't matter much when thousands of mounted cavalry armed with long deadly lances were thundering down upon you. Just a few more minutes and the cavalry charge would connect with the enemy soldiers, death and mayhem would survive in its wake. Dreldin felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him bold, lusting for blood. The mercenaries who were brave enough to hold their ground were finally beginning to form a defensive line to meet the cavalry charge. Spears were materialized from all over the immediate battlefield, they were the only hope the mercenaries had to repel a mounted charge.
It was no use though, their spears killed a few dozen horses, the cavalry charge killed thousands. The horses simply rode through the mercenaries, crushing them. The lances wreaked equal havok, killing effectively and easily. The mercenaries who weren't killed in the initial charge were now forced to fight men who were mounted and well armed. Lances were tossed aside, replaced by swords, axes and maces. Now the cavalry was in the midst of the mercenary forces, Prince Tygon grabbed the warhorn on his saddle and blew it three times. It was the signal for the cavalry to extricate themselves from the battle and form up away from conflict in order to charge again.
The soldiers were well trained, they charged individually out of the mercenaries and returned a massive wall of horse and man flesh. Again the horses simply crushed over the mercenaries, swords cleaved skulls in two and in some cases took the heads right off. At this point the mercenaries were broken, most were throwing down their weapons in surrender. Others were doing their best to flee the carnage and slaughter.
"Die Prince!" A mercenary screamed, spinning an axe in a deadly arc. The blow would have connected with Prince Tygon's back, but Dreldin's short sword was there to meet it instead. He deflected the axe blade and quickly followed with a violent slash that took the left arm off of the mercenary. The man screamed in agony for only a few seconds before passing out from the shock.
"Thank you Dreldin, I owe you for that one," Prince Tygon called out, cutting down an opponet of his own.
The battle lasted only a small time longer, the mercenaries had either thrown down their weapons, died, or fled. Prince Tygon ordered all the prisoners shackled and seen to by physicians. He sent men out to gather their dead, they needed a proper burial. More men were tasked with setting up a new camp about a mile away from the battlefield. The mercenary bodies were piled in heaping stacks, drenched in oil and burned, the stench was horrid. Dreldin found himself burying his face in his shirt, the smell of his body odor, sweat and testosterone better than burning human flesh.
It took several hours for the tired men to set up camp, but by nightfall, the dead had been gathered, graves dug, filled and buried. The men were settled in, washing away the blood and dirt of the day, taking stock of which friends had been killed and which had survived. General Guntor had suffered a dirk to the gut and wasn't expected to survive, the healers assured Prince Tygon that they were doing everything in their power to help him.
The Prince visited the makeshift hospital that had been erected. It was a mess, a bloody, smelly, ghastly mess. Men were crying, bleeding, suffering, dying, it was at once the worst and the best of what man had to offer. Physicians and nurses were running to and fro, assisting one another with surgeries, cleaning, comforting, and healing the wounded men. The Prince stopped and held a soldiers hand as a physician sawed off the ruins of his right leg. Thankfully, mercifully, the man passed out before the Physician had cut very deep.
"My Prince, you have done your duty, you are exhausted, please, let us retire to your tent," Dreldin said, grabbing the Prince by the arm. Tygon was simply too tired to argue and allowed Dreldin to lead him without struggle.
Once they were safely in the tent, cut off from all the noise, Dreldin was able to get the Prince to rest. He helped Tygon remove his armor, undergarments and filled a tub with hot water. Prince Tygon gratefully sank into the hot bath and let the water wash away the stains of battle. Dreldin slowly, gently, methodically washed the Prince's body with a soft cloth, The Prince was so relaxed he fell asleep in the tub, which didn't bother Dreldin any. He picked up the Prince, wrapped him in a towel and carried him over to the bed. He was so tired, he didn't even wake up as Dreldin put him in the bed. Dreldin pulled the covers up over the Prince and watched him sleep for a few moments.
Now that his duty to his Prince was done, Dreldin had time to take stock of his own body. His right calf muscle was burning and when he looked down, he saw that he had a fairly deep gash, it was mostly done bleeding at this point, but it didn't look good at all. He cursed, not remembering having received the wound. He stripped down to his undergarments and emptied the tub, rinsing it out so that he could fill it with fresh hot water. Once the tub was filled again, he checked on the Prince, who was still soundly asleep. He stripped off his last bit of clothing and lowered himself gingerly into the steaming bath. It was almost too hot, scalding his skin, turning it a flushed red color. It felt good though, cleansing after a day of killing. His body was deep in the process of relaxing, letting the heat seep down into his muscles. His cock began to grow hard of its own accord, lengthening and begging for release.
Dreldin obliged it, gripping it firmly underneath the water, masturbating. He bounced his balls around in his left hand, while his right hand pleasured his cock. He was tired, and sore, and horny. He didn't want to draw out his orgasm, he simply needed to shoot his seed. He sped up his rhythym, his hand furiously stroking his steel cock. His orgasm was fast, intense and satisfying, he especially enjoyed watching his seed spurt into the water. Now that his balls were empty, he lingered in the tub a few moments longer, letting the last pleasureful tingles of his orgasm take their course. Once the pleasure had passed, he stood up from the tub, his cock still stiff with need despite his orgasm. He toweled off and then climbed into bed with Prince Tygon, snuggling up against his back, letting his cock slide right between the Prince's cheeks to his hole. He dabbed a small amount of oil on his cock and smeared it around, making sure it was nice a slick.
Prince Tygon didn't wake as Dreldin pushed his cock inside, shuddering at the pleasure. Dreldin kissed the Prince's neck even as his cock slid in and out of his hole. He ran his fingers through the Prince's blond hair, gently tugging on it. Still asleep, the Prince was beginning to moan, thrusting his ass backwards into Dreldins groin, causing his cock to go all the way inside. Dreldin couldn't resist, he picked up his speed, brutally fucking Tygon's hole. Tygon was waking up now, the pounding he was receiving making it near impossible to sleep.
"Dreldin! Fuck yeah, mmmhmmm," he moaned, squirming a little as Dreldin vigorously humped his meaty ass.
"You like my cock? Does it feel good?" Dreldin asked, pushing the Prince's head down into the bed and holding it there.
"Oh! Yeah! Dreldin...FUCK!" The Prince experienced a full blown orgasm and he hadn't even been playing with his cock. His seed was shooting out of his cock, splashing on the bed and getting everywhere.
Dreldin wasn't far behind, gasping as his cock slipped into the Prince again and again. He felt his balls pull up close to his body, the sweeping, flooding pleasure sensation emanated out from his balls and worked its way across his entire body. Seed roped out of him, filling the Prince's insides with warmth. Dreldin kept humping the Prince even as his cum was filling his ass. He knew he could keep fucking and shoot seed again, but he didn't want to keep the Prince from sleeping.
"Bend over, I want you now," Prince Tygon said, forcibly rolling Dreldin over. Dreldin saw that the Prince was hard and ready despite his orgasm a few moments ago. The Prince reached back and got a handfull of Dreldin's seed from his ass, he smeared it on Dreldin's ass and then pushed his cock inside.
Dreldin cried out in pain as the Prince begain fucking him, roughly, there was no slow passionate lovemaking, it was raw need that drove the Prince. His base male instincts had taken over, lust heavy in his head. He didn't care about hurting Dreldin, all he wanted was to take his pleasure from Dreldins hole, and take it he did. Dreldin eventually got used to it, and even managed to have an orgasm of his own, but the pain was intense. Prince Tygon was not gentle, even once during the sexual exchange. At the end though, when his hot seed flooded into Dreldin's ass, he grabbed Dreldin's face, turned it, and planted a long passionate kiss on his lips.
Dreldin tremendously enjoyed the kiss, and he smiled as the Prince pulled out of his ass, he could literally feel the hot cum drain from his hole. He was surprised by the amount of seed the Prince had released, especially after having just orgasmed moments before they had sex. Prince Tygon had flopped down onto the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed. He was looking at Dreldin with a strange expression on his face.
"What?" Dreldin asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"Just enjoying the view, you have a handsome fit body," Prince Tygon said, reaching up and pinching one of Dreldin's nipples.
"Don't get me started again or your hole will suffer the consequences," Dreldin warned him.
"You say that like its a threat," Prince Tygon replied.
They both laughed, Dreldin layed down next the Prince, put his head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. It was still slowing down from the heated fuck they had just shared, the beat of it somehow reassured Dreldin, comforting him, helping him to fall asleep. The Prince only remained awake a small time longer, he gingerly kissed Dreldin on the forehead and then snuggled in close and fell asleep.
The next morning Dreldin woke before the Prince and saw to his breakfast, salted beef, eggs, and spinach. The Prince was still asleep when Dreldin returned with the meal, he was even softly snoring, which Dreldin found very cute. He set down the tray of breakfast and left the tent, deciding to let the Prince sleep in for a bit. He wandered the camp, somehow finding himself back at the hospital again. If possible, it was even worse than before. The spilled blood was rotting, smelling of death, the screams weren't nearly as frequent now though. More just an insistent and constant moaning, it sucked the happiness from the room. Misery was a constant companion here, Dreldin found himself beginning to get sick. These were men he knew, men he had fought beside, and they were in agony. He was suddenly overwhelmed, his head was rushing, he was having trouble catching his breath. He saw his own sword cutting down mercenaries, flashes of blood spraying and men screaming pierced his skull. He fell to his knees, holding either side of his head, trying to shut out his senses and regain his composure.
His stomach was roiling, and after a few seconds, he was puking, only there was nothing to puke, he hadn't eaten since yesterday at breakfast. He dry heaved for several minutes, purging only a small amount of bile from his body. Once he had the puking under control, he immediately begain to feel better.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, boy," an old soldier told him. The man was probably in his forties, a large battle axe was strapped to his back, he appeared to be missing his left ear.
"I see the faces of the men I killed," Dreldin said, dully.
"Of course you do. It is a reminder, constant and unyielding. It helps us remember why we killed them, why we are fighting in the first place. Our Kingdom, our homes, our loved ones, these things will get you through. Do not regret the act of killing, save your regret for when you needlessly kill a man, then you have earned the right to regret," the old soldier patted Dreldin on the shoulder and walked away.
Dreldin left the hospital, wandering further into the camp, walking amongst the men. He caught bits and pieces of the conversations they were having. Most spoke of home, of what they were fighting for. Some bragged about a particularly satisfying kill, and still others cried, cried for friends lost, for brothers, for fathers. War was truly a nasty, dirty, aweful business, there is no sugar-coating on it, there isn't a rosy fairy tale ending, there is death, and atrocity and murder and hate and evil, each and every one of them entirely unavoidable.
Dreldin realized he was thirsty, severely so. He made his way to the stream, taking handfuls of water until his thirst was back under control. Most of the soldiers were up and about throughout the whole camp by now. Dreldin figured it was probably time to go and wake the Prince. He dried his hands on his pants and weaved his way back through the camp.
As he passed a large fire with several men seated around it, he was surprised when one of them hollared at him. A soldier with a mace strapped at his belt came running over. He embraced Dreldin in a huge hug, practically squeezing the air from his lungs.
"You saved me yesterday, you probably don't remember, but when you shoved your sword into the mercenaries back about ten minutes after the battle began, you saved my life. He was about to kill me, I was laying on the ground beneath him, he managed to get me down off my horse," the man was apt to ramble on if Dreldin didn't put a stop to it.
"I'm sorry, but I really must go. I need to wake Prince Tygon," Dreldin explained.
The soldiers eyes widened, "Wait, you are a Princeman aren't you?" the soldier asked.
"Yes, I belong to Prince Tygon, my name is Dreldin," he replied.
"Imagine that, I was saved by a Princeman," the soldier looked up at the sky in wonder, thanking whatever Gods he chose to believe in. Dreldin left him to stew over that revelation, shaking his head and recalling the mercenary. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered a mercenary standing over another soldier, he didn't remember what the mercenary looked like though, he had cut him down from behind. It took about ten minutes to reach the Prince's tent, and surprisingly, he found Prince Tygon awake already, eating from the breakfast tray that Dreldin had brought him.
"Ah, Dreldin, there you are," Prince Tygon hugged him, "We are moving again, General Guntor needs an actual hospital, not a makeshift battlefield one. We also received a bird this morning, a message from my Father," Prince Tygon walked over to the table and picked up a small scroll, handing it to Dreldin.
Dreldin read, it was a message directly from the King. It congratulated Prince Tygon on his victory and ordered him to return to the castle, there were new diplomatic developments that required his presence.
"Well, you are Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Baregavon, you have obligations," Dreldin said, poorly suppressing a smile.
"Think that's funny do you?" Prince Tygon said, a strange look coming over his face. He suddenly leapt on Dreldin, wrestling him to the ground and giving him a serious knuckles on the forehead treatment.
"Get off! Get off!" Dreldin said, laughing the whole time. Prince Tygon finally relented and let Dreldin up, giving him a gentle shove once he was on his feet.
They settled down and Dreldin helped the Prince get dressed in his riding leathers. Once the Prince was set to go, Dreldin donned his leathers and they mounted their horses. The men had already begun to pack up the camp, but it would still be some time before the army was ready to march.
"Commander Loram!" Prince Tygon called.
"Prince Tygon," a handsome man said, entering the tent. He was dressed in chainmail and had a longsword hanging from his belt. His head was mostly shaved, though it had a few days worth of growth.
"Finish packing up the camp, when the men are ready, lead them back to the castle, we have been ordered to return home by my Father. Dreldin and I are going to ride ahead, we will take forty cavalry as an escort, see to it," the Prince said.
"As you command, my Prince," he said, bowing.