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open post.
GEN/NSFW/TFLN/TEXTS/STARTERS/PROMPTS from canonmates/non-canonmates most welcome.
GEN/NSFW/TFLN/TEXTS/STARTERS/PROMPTS from canonmates/non-canonmates most welcome.
GEN/NSFW/TFLN/TEXTS/STARTERS/PROMPTS from canonmates/non-canonmates most welcome.
mund. (royalty pt.2)
He was now Prince Consort to a powerful king who had shown him that what he'd thought was going to be his life might not have to be. He'd given him pleasure and told him he was beautiful and he'd fucked him so thoroughly that Credence could still feel it. His thighs ached and he could feel a pull, a lack of being full and safe that he's never had before. Credence also can't shake the almost euphoric aura that's surrounded him, enveloped him in an easy calm that helps him through the first part of their long day.
There's been visitors, of all ranks. Some with gifts and others with problems that Graves is meant to help remedy. He's sat by his side for hours now, listening, and answering when the King asks him to. He's supposed to learn the kingdom in and out, be a part of it, not a bystander. He doesn't have an answer to every question, but when he doesn't, Graves explains to him and the room at large, what the best solution would be. The young woman assigned as Credence's maid and helper is instructed, after a quick respite for lunch, to put a cushion in Credence's chair as his husband had noticed that he was fidgeting.
The flush that causes stays on his cheeks for the next hour, but it helps and he catches himself sneaking little glances of his husband. He's only sitting a few inches away, in a grand chair, Credence's own smaller and set beside him - they could touch, but they don't. He knows this is business, and he has to keep his silly whims to himself. The line has finally decreased, the final visitor comes and goes, and Credence sits up a little straighter as paperwork is spread out in front of his husband.
Servants are waved away so that the King can finish signing and reading for the day, and Credence can't help but slide a little closer in his chair. He's exhausted, craves some kind of touch, anything.]
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Graves may rule his kingdom with an iron fist, authoritarian and brooking no fools, but he is just and fair to the best of his abilities, most of his waking hours devoted to the good of his people. His new husband is here to learn, to understand, and Graves gently explains what he can to him in between the many who seek an audience with him. Credence, he's learned, is surprising insightful from time to time, and he is heartened that his new spouse is no imbecile.
He doesn't deny, however, that he's in a relatively good mood today -- most of which owed to Credence, the pleasures he's afforded him with his body, tight and willing and eager, and the mess they've made together in their bed. It's filthy and delightful all at the very same time, but work is work and while Graves allows himself the occasional distraction, he is a king before he is a husband, and he does what is due before finally, they are left to their own devices. He had been just a touch smug when he witnessed Credence's blush at the gift of the pillow, another reminder of how thoroughly Graves had fucked him last night, taking his virginity for himself and showing just how good he can make him feel.
Graves looks forward to doing it again.
However, even while the last seeker is gone, his day is far from over -- there are documents he has to peruse, minutes to review and policies to be scrutinized. But then there's the matter of Credence, who has obediently sat beside him the entire day, quiet and attentive and spoken only when asked -- and it looks like he's just about run out of patience for it. The gentle, discreet movement captures Graves' attention, and he looks up, his expression mild. His hand comes to rest over his, curling over Credence's fingers. ]
You want something.
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The serious expression he'd been wearing, to show the people of his husband's kingdom that he wouldn't take their issues lightly, falters. A little hint of embarrassment and newly minted affection creep onto his face. Credence doesn't want to press his luck or assume that the King is as kind and generous and wonderful as he thinks he might be, but he can't help it. It's been a day and he's already smitten. He turns his hand over, wiggling his fingers.]
No. [His shoulders sag.] I mean, yes.
[He looks up, brows furrowed in worry. If he says what he wants, Graves might not like it or might decide not to give it to him. Credence figures that if he goes for it and something bad happens, it'll only be what he's used to, but last night makes him think of the what-ifs.]
We're so far apart. We've been that way all day.
[No, that sounds needy. Too desperate, but he really does mean it. Credence fumbles over the right words, tries to pull his hand away.]
I just meant that.. I liked what we did. No, I mean.
[Credence feels like he's on fire, flushing from head to toe, warm and uncomfortable all at once.]
We were sitting together all day and you didn't touch me. We couldn't even touch each other.
[And he missed it, already, misses him.]
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Graves listens, in no hurry to interrupt when Credence lays out his thoughts, allows himself to speak freely instead of censoring himself, and when he finishes Graves only reaches for him anew, his hand closing around Credence's wrist. He has been caught up in work the entire day, and his new husband has been feeling neglected -- this is a unique feeling; Graves doesn't usually care if his flavor of the month is endeared to what he does, although this is different, isn't it?
This is more than just a short-lived fling, someone who isn't just here for the crown's sake. While Graves might not be naive to believe that this is love, he knows there's still something special, something unique that's been seeded, and what it grows into he will only find out later.
He presses the back of Credence's hand to his lips, giving it a kiss as he observes how those beautifully pale cheeks flush, exquisite in his shyness. Graves had taught him quite a few things last night, but there is more to be done still, more of his innocence to claim as his own.
It's intoxicating, the purity of his innocence, and Graves takes pride in being the first ,the only to bring him pleasure, to make his toes curl and to draw out his little mewls, and he feels something in his chest twinge. ]
Come here. [ He says at length, because there is much to make up for, and he sets his paperwork aside. ] Sit in my lap.
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He flushes at the kiss to his hand, at the reminder of where those lips have been, where they could be again.]
Now?
[He asks, but he doesn't hesitate. Nobody would question the King. Not Credence, not any of the people outside these doors. Credence slips into Graves' lap, a little sideways, a knee carefully hooked over one of Percival's. Even through his clothes he can feel warmth.]
What if someone comes in?
[Would they knock first or walk in unannounced like back home? His Ma was cruel to her people, was undeserving of their respect and they showed it in little ways like that. He didn't think it would be the same here, but he was learning, seeing everything for the first time. Credence tries to sit still, he does, but he's still sore, aches for reasons he can't explain. He finds himself squirming, turning a little in Graves' lap so he can place a hand on his chest, gently stroking, soothing himself more than anything else.]
I.. feel empty. Like you've taken something away from me.
[He shifts his hips, face scrunching up.]
I've never felt this way before.
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[ Graves says quietly when Credence climbs onto his lap, all long limbs and understated grace. He studies him when Credence settles in, when his hand strokes his chest, warm over the fine dark silks of his robes. He can't take his eyes off him -- Credence is strange and beautiful, and Graves can't help a possessive flare of pride when he realizes that his new husband is irrevocably changed from the night before; that he's fundamentally changed, eyes opened to pleasures of the flesh, a taste for it kindled within him and Graves is the only one that can answer the longing.
A hand comes to rest on his waist, the other curving over his ass. Credence is sore today, he knows -- but here he is, still wanting more, like a kitten after a saucer of milk. He will indulge him, and Graves leans forward to kiss his mouth briefly, lingering and in no real hurry. Teasing him, he thinks, is worth it when he starts to ask for more, reckless and passionate and entirely insatiable. Graves has never been more happy with a partner, especially when it's Credence, and he squeezes his ass gently, careful not to make it hurt more. ]
I took your innocence from you. [ He murmurs, his words low and velvet. ] You belong to me now. All of you. [ He nuzzles him, noses against his cheek, his gesture lazily intimate. Credence had given him something precious, something he thought had been a lie up until the moment he realized Credence knew so very little of sex. That's all about to change. ]
How shall I make you feel better today?
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His back tightens, chest pressing forward when a hand finds its way to his ass, squeezing. There's a dull ache between, but it only makes him want more.]
I like it when you touch me.
[He doesn't know how to ask for what he needs, doesn't really know what that is. Credence wants to feel the way he did last night, to be full and to hurt and to be something beyond just himself. He doesn't know how to say that.]
I like what we did before. [He kisses Graves' cheek, leans back and meets his eyes, silently asking if that was okay - if he's allowed to kiss and touch anyway he wants, if he has the same permission.] Can we do more of that?
Will you make me feel that way again?
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[ He can see it now, how Credence is budding, starting to shed the rigid confines of his mother's instruction -- having had a taste of sex and how good it feels, he's developing a desire for more of it, and Graves cannot be more pleased. Oblivious to the stirrings of that fierce jealousy, he cups his husband's face and guides him close to his, a faint nod signalling his approval. He will coax Credence forward, show him that theirs is a relationship that can go both ways -- he can kiss, touch, and be kissed and touched in return. ] We can do it all day and all night, if you want. Have you take me inside your mouth, your lovely, tight little ass for hours.
[ He leans forward to kiss his mouth briefly, his hand sliding under Credence's robes, into trousers, a finger rubbing between the crease of pert, firm cheeks. ] I'm going to make you feel so much more. [ He smiles, lazy, predatory. ] Take your clothes off, my love.
[ Right here in this grand, empty throne room. ]
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Yeah? [He huffs out shakily, pressing another kiss, and another.] I mean, yes. I want all of that.
[A quiet whine echoes through the room, causing his face to flush and body to warm from head to toe - that was him, he made that sound. He hears the command, feels the lazy smile against his own, but he doesn't actually want to move off Percival's lap to get undressed. Frowning, almost pouting, he slides off his lap to hastily remove his clothes.]
Do you think anyone will come in, sir?
[When he's naked, any insecurities are washed out by the fear of someone seeing them together like this. He balances his palms on Graves' knees, leaning in but not climbing back up yet.]
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Graves remembers how he fucked him, how good he is, how tight and willing and so damn eager, and he's certain Credence is at least thinking about it as well -- look at how he turns a lovely shade of rose, how naked he is, and he leans up to kiss his mouth softly. ] They will see their King claim his beautiful, beautiful consort. They will see how exquisite the royal Consort is when he's naked and greedy to be fucked by his husband. [ His voice lowers, smooth and velvet. ] They might even wish to be the ones to get to fuck him.
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Beautiful?
[The word comes out shaky, broken. Even after hearing it from his King already, it's so new and unusual. It makes him flush with pride and embarrassment. The rest of what he says sends a rush of pure want down his spine and his cock twitches, back arching lightly.
He moves then, desperate and confused by all the things he's feeling, climbing into Graves' lap to place his hands on either side of his face.]
They'll never have me. [His voice is firm, innocent even still. Credence presses their mouths together, eyes slipping shut.] I'm only yours.
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[ Graves' approval is palpable; Credence is learning very quickly even if he's still apparently overwhelmed. He appreciates how his new husband is taking all of this in stride, even if it's very clearly overwhelming, and he has to smile at his expression, how he flushes crimson like he's both shy and proud at the same time.
Hands coming to rest on his waist, Graves' gaze hungry and admiring on every inch of him, he hums softly, a hand sliding between his legs to gently cup his balls. He's fondling them, playing with him, wanting to pleasure him. ] Your tight little hole, that's mine, too. It's made only for me, isn't it?