Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sir Christopher Heyerdahl grinds his teeth. It’s a habit he’s been told by his dentist he needs to stop. His dentist has never met Jensen Ackles.

“He’s such a quiet boy,” his father, the king, had said. “Not at all rowdy like his older brother. Or outspoken like his younger sister. He’s usually no trouble at all really.”

“He’s always been my sensitive little boy,” his mother had said, sniffling into her handkerchief. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly. He must be so scared.”

“He’s a goddamn wimp,” his brother had said, barely pausing in his sparring match to answer Chris’ questions. “Would rather read his stupid books than pick up a sword. Probably dropped dead from fright the moment those barbarians took him.”

“Jensen is tougher than any of them realize,” his sister had snapped. She’d been the one to seek Chris out when she’d heard what he had been hired to do. Teenage girls weren’t, in Chris’ not so humble opinion, a reliable source of information. “He once punched Weatherly in the face for talking smack about my embroidery. And to be fair, those bluebells did actually look like tiny frozen penises so he had no need to really. Jensen might look like a pretty princess but he’s got a tough streak.”

Chris should have listened to the sister. Even if she is, y’know… female.

“Come now, Prince Jensen,” Chris tries to reason again, careful to keep his voice calm. “I’m here to rescue you. Not cause you any harm.”

“Sure, you are, douchebag,” the feral creature glowering at him from across the room snarls. “Except from where I’m standing it looks a lot like you’re trying to kidnap me.”

Chris sighs. “Your highness, you were already kidnapped. If anything I’m trying to unkidnap you.”

Ackles, naked as the day he was born, and apparently unbothered by it, narrows his eyes. Which incidentally, are just as beautiful as Chris had heard told from nearly everyone in the Ackles’ kingdom.

“What if I don’t want to be unkidnapped? Huh? What if I’m perfectly happy right here? What if I don’t want some creepy old knight sneaking up on me in my bed while I’m goddamn sleeping?”

Chris, who doesn’t think of himself as creepy or old, tries not to take offense. Jensen, he tells himself, is lashing out because he’s afraid. Although he doesn’t look very afraid. With the black tattoos twisting like vines down the side of his neck and across his chest, he looks like a barbarian, a snarling miniature version of a Padaleckian barbarian perhaps, but one of them nonetheless.

Chris vows determinedly to hold his patience. “Your parents miss you deeply.”

Prince Jensen snorts. “I’ve been here for two years, they probably only just noticed I’m gone. They don’t miss me, they miss having another child to marry off for political advantage.”

Chris coughs awkwardly and ignores Jensen’s mention of marriage. “They obviously miss you enough to seek out the fiercest warrior in the western lands to retrieve you and bring you back safely to them.”

Jensen looks him up and down. “So what happened to that guy then?”

“It’s me, I'm the fiercest warrior in… oh forget it.” Chris snaps, before reining in his temper once more. He smiles tightly. “Your parents were rather insistent on getting you back, young prince. It’s my honor-bound duty to return you home to them.”

Ackles juts out his chin, his lips curling up in a sneer. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, asshole. This is my home.”

Chris takes a deep breath and counts slowly to ten, twice. “Prince Jensen, this is a barbarian wasteland. These savages have obviously brainwashed you.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Just because the Padaleckians don’t sip tea from fine bone china cups while waggling their pinkies in the air doesn’t make them savages.”

Chris is beginning to lose patience. All this inane chitchat was not in his rescue plan. He expected to be fighting off Padaleckian warriors, not one obnoxious puffed-up little prince. He squares his shoulders and grabs the handle of the sword, sheathed at his side.

“Enough, Prince Jensen. It’s time for us to leave.”

“It’s definitely time for you to leave anyway.”

Chris silently reminds himself that Jensen has undoubtedly been through a trying time. Possibly even tortured by the Padaleckis. He grins viciously at the thought.

This boy would drive anyone to torture. In fact, Chris is starting to wonder if he should have taken the reward money rather than agreeing to accept Jensen’s hand in marriage as payment. He was expecting to wed a docile young man with a mouth made for sucking cock and a backside ripe for fucking, not this unmannerly wilding.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to come with me of your own free will and then I’m afraid I will have to force you.”

He doesn’t expect Jensen to laugh. “Yeah?” the brat says, widening his stance and spreading his hands on his hips giving Chris a framed view of his cock. And is that a piercing? Really?

“I’d like to see you try, buddy.”

Distracted though he may momentarily be, that’s a challenge Chris is more than willing to accept. Jensen has a spirited attitude but he’s still barely more than a scrap of a child. Chris could subdue him with one arm tied behind his back.

Two arms tied behind his back though, turns out to be problematic. He’s not entirely sure how that happened. One moment he had Jensen pinned against the wall, green eyes blinking dazedly up at him, the next he was face down on the floor with a blinding headache, a bloodied nose and a pain in his balls that he fears may be emanating from some unrecoverable damage.

“You should learn that no means no,” Jensen is saying, his bony knee digging into Chris’ spine as he tugs viciously at the rope knotted around his wrists. Chris grunts. He’s pretty sure the blood he can feel dripping down his arms is evidence enough that Jensen’s ropework is secure.

Evil little bastard.

The sound of a quiet knock at Jensen’s bedroom door stills them both. Chris, from his prone position on the floor, cranes his neck to watch the door creak open.

“Jensen, hey, Jensen? I know I’m not supposed to see you until our wedding tomorrow, sweetheart, but I couldn’t wait to… um… am I interrupting something?”

Chris’ breath returns to him in a rush when Jensen’s weight disappears from his back. He would be relieved if the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the height and width of a draft horse and covered in tattoos. He’s most definitely a Padalecki. And apparently Jensen’s betrothed.

“Jared! About fucking time!”

The giant, Jared apparently, is staring at Chris the way a person would stare at a cockroach they’re about to crush beneath their boot. It’s… disconcerting.

Jensen throws his arms around the barbarian’s neck, hugging him with a ferocity that might knock an ordinary man off his feet. Chris’ injured balls throb mournfully when he has to watch the two men proceed to kiss with a passion that would put a whore to shame.

“Is there any particular reason you have a man bound on your floor? This isn’t some kind of kinky role-playing thing you’re into that you haven’t told me about, is it?”

Jensen wrinkles up his nose. “Eww, no. Have you seen him? He’s old enough to be my grandfather. Gross. Though if you want to tie me up and have your wicked way with me, you savage barbarian, I wouldn’t complain.”

Jensen wriggles his eyebrows. Giant Jared Padalecki responds by smacking Jensen’s ass. Twice. The plump round flesh jiggling and turning pink in front of Chris’ eyes.

Jensen releases a breathy moan and attempts to climb the other man like he’s an oak tree. Chris does not need to see how easily Jensen’s legs wrap around Padalecki’s waist, or how effortlessly the barbarian holds him up while they make a solid attempt to devour each other with their mouths. He especially doesn’t need to see it when his dick is squashed against the cold stone floor below him and his balls are a crushed shadow of their former selves.

“Really?” Chris snarls, unable to hold his tongue. “You’re going to defile each other while I’m lying right here?”

Jensen turns and scowls at him. His lips kiss-swollen and cheeks flushed a becoming shade of rose.

“What’s his story anyway?” Jared asks, nodding towards Chris while still effortlessly holding Jensen up.

“Apparently my parents sent him to retrieve me. Like I’m a wayward fucking poodle or something,” Jensen grumbles. “I told him no, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Couldn’t you just have killed him instead of playing with him?”