She would need a disguise, for she could not go in her true form. The irony of shedding her beauty to track down Makellos was not lost on her. But it would be only temporary, and once Makellos was dead, she would never have to worry about him again. She found a spell to transform her queenly raiment and astonishing beauty into the guise of an ugly old peddler woman. She took the crushed gemstones and other elements needed, blending them together into a potion that she swallowed with no consternation. The world began to spin, and she collapsed to the floor of her chamber.
Her limbs twisted and became gnarled, like branches on a lifeless tree. Her golden hair turned a dull silver. Her butter soft skin with her rosy cheeks, ruby lips, and shapely eyes sunk anddistorted, the hollows within them making her unrecognizable. Her elegant gown shriveled and darkened into muddy brown and midnight black, her shoes aging into patched and worn buckskin that barely covered her liver-spotted feet.
She rose to her feet and looked into her magic mirror. The face that looked back at her was hideous, twisted, and asymmetrical. Her stooped waist and hunched back gave her the appearance of an old, feeble woman. She shuddered, for she had never been more hideous in her life. But it was the perfect disguise to entrap the kind-hearted prince.
She placed the poisoned apple into the basket of fruit before she slipped out of the palace via one of the servant stairwells. She took one of the horses from the stable and rode it off into the darkness toward the south. The foothills would take time to search, and she did not wish to be slowed by guards or alert others to her presence. She would travel for days, weeks, months, for as long as it took until she found him. And when she did, she would complete the job the others had failed to do. Makellos, the fairest of all, would not live to see the next sunrise.
Sixteen
Snow had a plan. One he was more than a little excited about, if he was being honest with himself. In the almost two months he had been with the miners, he had shared their beds many times, often sweet and loving. But tonight, he was going to surprise them all. Well, all except Bernhardt, whose turn it was to stay home. He was going to need a little help, and there was no good way to ask the man to leave the cottage. This was something he wanted to do before the snow fell and it got too cold to really enjoy the idea. So, he explained the plan to Bernhardt, who eagerly accepted and even added a few thoughts of his own. Snow had forgotten that Bernhardt used to be an actor, so he had a flair for the dramatic and an eye for visual presentation.
As the sun descended low, Snow and Bernhardt prepared the evening surprise together. When everything was in place, Bernhardt agreed to wait outside for the others, and he sat out in the crisp evening of the woods, sipping a hot cup of tea and puffing on his pipe.
The other six miners returned a short while later to find the door and windows to the cottage closed and Bernhardt sitting on an overturned bucket by the door. “Is everything all right?” Der asked worriedly.
“Oh yes,” Bernhardt said with a slightly mischievous smile. “Quite all right. Snow has a surprise for us all for dinner.” There were murmurs of speculation, but finally everyone set aside their tools to go inside.
The cottage was warm and cheerful as always, lanterns lit and fire blazing in the hearth, and the delicious scent of roasted venison reached their noses. But the thing that caught every eye was the wooden dining table, upon which was placed their usual dishes and silverware. But in the center of the table lay Snow, without a stitch of clothing on. He lay on his back, resting peacefully. Upon his naked stomach was a platter of roasted meat. A bowl of colorful vegetables sat between his slightly spread legs. His skin gleamed in the lantern light, an almost golden hue. His dark head rested lightly on a single pillow on the table that tipped his head up just a bit so he could look down himself to the seven men in the doorway. “Welcome home,” he said, his voice still sweet but dropped down into a more seductive purr. “Please, enjoy dinner.”
Several of the little men just stood and stared. A few let out whistles and cheers, and Dagobert sprinted over to the table, nearly crashing into the bench in his haste to press his lips to Snow’s in an enthusiastic kiss.
Snow smiled, having to hold still so the platter on his stomach did not go flying, but he kissed Dagobert back lovingly, moaning softly as he felt hands brush up over his bare feet and legs. He heard the scrape of the benches as the miners settled into their places around him. “Mmm, I ain’t the prayin’ type, but I thank whatever deities might be out there for this meal we are aboutto eat,” Grim said, which produced guffaws of laughter from the others.
Snow had been worried that the little men would perhaps decide not to eat the meal he had prepared, so he was glad when each of them served up a piece of roasted venison and a spoonful of honey-slathered vegetables. A few droplets of the sauce fell onto his skin as the meal was dished out, sliding down his skin and tickling him, but someone would lean over and lick it up with their tongue, making him moan and squirm. His own cock had been half-hard to start, and each brush of lips or tongue over him, every reach across him, whether it touched him or not, sent a little thrill through him.
Dagobert lifted a forkful of meat and offered it to Snow’s lips. Snow moaned and wrapped his mouth around it, chewing and carefully swallowing, his eyes locked with Dagobert’s. The young man grinned at him. “Good?” he asked softly, so only Snow could hear.
Snow nodded. “Good,” he agreed.
There were appreciative sounds all around as the little men ate the delicious meat and vegetables, each occasionally offering a bite to Snow’s lips as well. Snow had gone all out with the meal he had prepared; honey sauce for the roasted vegetables, the meat perfectly cooked and seasoned, and fresh berries with whipped cream at the end. It was a delightfully delicious meal. Sigurd picked up a fat blackberry and pressed it to Snow’s lips. The prince sighed in delight and opened his mouth, sucking the fruit in, his tongue brushing over Sigurd’s fingers playfully as he did.
He almost leaped out of his skin as Bernhardt lifted a spoonful of the whipped cream and let it fall right onto Snow’s erect cock. It slid down, sticky and sweet. “Oops,” Berhardt said with a grin before he stood up on the bench and leaned down to lick his way over Snow’s cock, clearing away the cream there. Rivulets of itmelted and slid down past his balls, between his legs, and down into the crack between his cheeks. He knew it was just whipped cream, but the sticky, warm slide of it still made his cock throb and his hole ache eagerly.
“Well, I am ready for dessert,” said Hardwic with a sweet smile. There was agreement all around as plates were rushed off the table, leaving Snow stretched out upon it as the only delicacy left.
“Mmm, thank you for the wonderful meal,” Sigurd said, leaning down to press a kiss to Snow’s lips. “Did you get enough to eat?”
Snow batted his lashes. “I am still very hungry,” he said, hoping it sounded as seductive as he wanted it to be. It must have worked, because several of the men were already disrobing.
“Which of us do you want to eat?” Sigmund asked, already down to just his breeches and boots, which he was making fast work of.
“I want all of you,” Snow said, narrowing his eyes. “I want to pleasure all of you together.”
“Our insatiable little prince,” teased Sigurd, and Snow giggled softly.
Grim moved behind his head. “Mm, back up, baby boy,” he said. Snow shivered, sliding himself carefully back on the table so his head hung off the end of it. The blood that was not rushing to his cock rushed to his face, but he obediently opened his mouth when Grim’s cock tapped against his cheek. Grim slid forward, and Snow whimpered, letting his throat loosen for Grim to slide all the way forward. He realized that this way he couldn’t see what was happening on the table to the rest of him, but that was all right. As long as he pleasured his lovers, he was happy to do whatever they wanted. Tonight, he wanted to be used for their pleasure.
Sigmund wrapped his lips around Snow’s cock, playing with the head with his tongue as Dagobert slid up between Snow’s spread knees. The container of oil was already on the table, and he liberally slicked up his fingers before sliding one into Snow’s hole. Snow moaned around the dick, his hips bucking eagerly toward Sigmund’s mouth and Dagobert’s fingers. He had stretched and oiled himself earlier too, which Dagobert seemed to realize, because he was able to add a second finger easily, making Snow whine pleadingly. Grim pressed his hips forward deeper into Snow’s throat so he couldn’t even make those noises.
Someone knelt up on the bench next to them, and Snow reached for the cock there, beginning to stroke it, slowly up and down, fondling the balls there. Sigmund’s mouth on his cock licked and swirled around, teasing in a way that made his balls ache with need. He took a deep breath through his nose as the head of Dagobert’s cock pressed to his hole and slowly slid in, the redhead letting out a gasp of desire. Another cock slid into his other hand, and he began to stroke that too. He heard a groan and turned his eyes slightly, seeing what he thought was Der and Hardwic nearby, groping and kissing, and his heart gave a little flutter. While he wanted to give all of his lovers pleasure tonight, he was very happy that they did not only feel the need to turn to him for affection and that perhaps some old sparks could reignite.
Dagobert only kept the thrusts slow and easy for a short time before he began to thrust hard and fast, deep into Snow. The prince’s eyes watered at the pleasure pain, redoubling his efforts on Grim’s cock, his hips bucking up toward Sigmund’s mouth and Dagobert’s thrusts, moaning and making soft pleading whimpers as the pleasure assailed him. With a gasp, Grim grabbed his shoulders and came down his throat. Snow did his best to swallow in his current position, but some of it dribbled out of mouth and down, or rather up, his cheek. Grim caughtit with his thumb, brushing it down to Snow’s mouth, and he eagerly sucked on it, giving the thumb pad a little nip as he did. Grim stroked his hair, leaning down to kiss him. “Good boy.”
Snow whimpered pleadingly, and one of the cocks in his hand, which he realized was Sigurd, moved to replace Grim at the head of the table and slid his cock into Snow’s throat. He took it down with a pleading noise, little cries escaping him as Sigmund and Dagobert made his head spin with pleasure. His back arched as Dagobert thrust hard into him and spilled himself, grinding his hips against Snow’s as his hips pumped and his cock throbbed and pulsed. His own cock ached for release, but Sigmund’s mouth on him was so delicate and light that he knew it would take him forever to come that way, which he was sure was the point. He had learned over the many weeks that, for as much of a flirt as Sigmund was, he was also an incredible cocktease.
Dagobert slid out of him, pressing kisses down Snow’s thighs and legs before he stepped away. Snow’s empty hole pulsed pleadingly. The cock in his hand moved away as Bernhardt crawled onto the table. He slid between Snow’s spread knees. He already had the container of oil in his hands and his fingers coated with it. He slid two fingers inside of Snow, who moaned and grunted softly, spreading his legs wider as he swallowed around Sigurd.
There were kisses and touches all over his legs and torso as the others gathered around, and he reached out to stroke his fingers over faces and hair, whatever he could reach in his tipped back position. Bernhardt’s fingers were not very long or thick, but he knew how to use them inside of Snow’s quivering passage.
