marlowemuses | This will be happily ever after...

Something shifted, changed, like the sigh of a breeze turned compass-points. Unquestioning, Damen let it guide his body toward Laurent's, into the sheets, into the welcoming cradle of his lover's lap. There was give in the murmur of fingers in his hair, in the aqueous swell of hips, even in the murmur of -

"Oh." He - hadn't heard that name from another's lips in so many years. A strange, nameless ripple passed over him. The glimpse of memory, but closer to the surface, the shimmer of longing that the intimate affection brought with it. He was more deeply roused by that than by any touch Laurent could have given him just then.

Breathing heavily, Damen pressed his face to Laurent's. He let his motions speak for him: the snug cradle of his hand wrapped around them, the slow rumble of hip and thigh and buttock cresting over Laurent to rock their lengths together, the brush of his other hand through Laurent's hair as he reclined on one elbow. His lips moved against Laurent's cheekbone but he spoke no words, just curled his palm in lazy squeezes around Laurent's cock and his, treasuring the warm juncture of flesh, the softness and hardness combined there.

Laurent lost himself to it, submerged in the feelings of trust and pleasure. He'd known this man for a mere handful of days, and felt as though his heart might burst with yearning and affection. Everything he felt was Damen, his Damen, his king.

Twisting his neck so that he could claim Damen's lips, Laurent keened once, kissing him with heated, desperate passion.

Forgetting all else, he moved with Damen, beneath Damen, conscious of nothing but the iron and silk grip of Damen's hand between them. He chased the sensations, intoxicated by pleasure, and was taken utterly by surprise when he spilled himself between them, with only a shudder and a gasp as warning.

Bewildered, Laurent broke the kiss and let go, brows furrowed as he stared at Damen.

The twists of the past two days had left Damen eager for this kind of physical comfort, denied his usual refuge in the pliant body of a lover. Having it now, he was in bliss. The sweetness with which Laurent let them twine brought endless soothing to his weariness, a balm to the stings of these last hours. He poured against Laurent's lips, reading their tale.

Belatedly, in the warm but dry cocoon that their bodies made together, Damen thought of how well an application of the oil would have done. A few drops of his own seed welled up and eased the slide of skin under his fingers, though he knew it would be more copious the closer he got...

And then there was wetness spilling all over him, and it took a moment to realize it was not his own. It flowed over his wrapped fingers, slipping between them, slicking their bodies. He stared back at Laurent, unbelievably aroused by the sensation.

There was a smile in the deepest corners of his eyes as he hovered over Laurent, looking down at him almost reverently. "Not a waste."

Deeply embarrassed and more than a little spooked, Laurent scowled at him. He wasn't quite sure if he was being mocked, and he wanted to bolt and hide from all the confusing new experiences of his life, but his pride wouldn't allow it.

For once, Laurent was speechless, caught without even a smart remark. He panted softly, recovering from the pleasure of it, and watched Damen's eyes, not knowing how he was supposed to react.

The reality of the situation seemed impossible. Laurent had always struggled to bring himself pleasure, and yet this foreign barbarian had wrung an orgasm from him in mere moments, without doing anything more significant than rutting against him.

Laurent was sort of adorable when he scowled. Damen enjoyed the sight of it probably far too much.

No smart comment? Impressive. And a notch on his bedpost, when it came to Laurent. Damen bent down to kiss him again, softly and briefly. It's all right. The confusion of feelings that the sudden reversal must have brought...he wondered to himself if this was the first pleasuring Laurent had had with another man before, thought it likely, and the thought pleased him.

He shifted off of Laurent and reached for his husband's hips to roll him over onto his stomach, where he would press against the sheets, wetness and all. "Help me paint the bed," Damen said, lips bent over Laurent's ear. He brushed a kiss there, and his hand drifted down over Laurent's exposed back, over the curves of his buttocks. The touch was very nearly a question, asking for more.

[Hot-dogging. Yes? If Laurent will behave himself.]

Laurent allowed himself to be moved onto his stomach, though he watched Damen over his shoulder with suspicion. He didn't know what Damen had in mind, and thought the position was unusual for what Damen had said that they weren't doing this morning.

He did, however, like the feeling of Damen above him, kissing the back of his ear. Damen was soothingly gentle, and Laurent wanted to bask in it, though his instincts insisted it was a better idea to tense up and scowl, so he did.

"Thought you were in a hurry," Laurent said, suggesting that Damen should go ahead and do whatever it was he thought he was doing.

So suspicious. Damen would be wary too, flipped onto his stomach with Laurent behind him. But that would mean he had his back to Laurent, which made all the difference in the world.

He couldn't stop himself from stroking the all-too-beautiful lines of Laurent's pale back. He was marble-perfect. Emphasis on marble.

Damen knew himself, knew his own body's tendencies when he felt the way he did now, an unfurling warmth gathered in his chest that somehow had the power to take over his feted stamina. "This won't take long," he replied, a self-deprecating smile forming against the back of Laurent's neck.

He shifted over him, his knees and a hand taking most of his weight, afraid to crush the more delicate man beneath him. His right hand, still slick with Laurent's spend, found the soft warm space between full cheeks and worshipped there for a moment. A fantasy of sinking deeper, with hands and then cock, and making Laurent entirely his own, made Damen's head spin wildly. He forced himself to breathe. To remember their obligations this morning.

He didn't have to time to do it properly. Just this would have to be enough.

Damen guided his erection between the beautiful rolling mounds and pressed slowly, shallowly, along their crease. There was nothing penetrative about it. The thick shape of him eased in the suggestion of a thrust as Laurent's cheeks were dampened by his own seed.

Breathing harder at that first intoxicating slide, Damen nosed at the hollow behind Laurent's ear. "You make me want to lose myself."

Laurent tensed as Damen's hand slicked the space between his cheeks, probing at the sensitive skin. It seemed so brash and hurried, after what Damen had said earlier, but Laurent made no objection, because he wanted it to happen, wanted to know what it felt like, wanted to possess Damen utterly.

Gasping in surprised arousal as Damen settled above him, grinding along the cleft of his ass, Laurent's eyes widened, cheeks flushing, emotions unguarded on his face for just a moment because he knew that Damen couldn't see his expression.

"I understand I have that effect on people," Laurent said, his usual dry tone breathier than usual. Damen was big, and the motion of him against Laurent's ass was like a promise.

Laurent squirmed beneath him, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable to be used like this, but Damen's weight above him was solid, trapping him in place. Tense with nerves, Laurent dropped his head against his own arms, trying to contain the panic. He felt blissful. He felt terrified.

This was closer to what he'd been dreaming about since those early flirtations than anything they'd done thus far. Even when he'd had a single touch inside Laurent, it hadn't come with the visceral closeness that the press of hips and buttock and cock gave him. Damen pressed closer. He wanted to wrap around Laurent until every single bit of him belonged to Damen.

He spread his hands over Laurent's shoulders, caressing, soothing, holding. The squirm of Laurent's body was exquisite. Damen felt the shifting rub of flesh against him and heard himself groan, low and guttural.

"When you spoke...of those men who would touch you here...I wanted to put my hands around their throats." Unconsciously, he let more of his body drape over Laurent's, as if to cover him from any other's touch. The motion of hips had a hypnotic quality, the even keel of a ship in calm seas sluicing through the spray, or the gentle swing of a baby's cradle.

"And then I wanted to touch you myself, here. To...feel you want that touch." One hand moved down Laurent's side, stroking the contour of his waist and hip, settling around the place where outer thigh met buttock. The rest of him was blanketed in Damen, the flush overlay of Damen's pelvis rocking him into the mattress, the broadness of his chest encompassing Laurent's back. The only way they could be closer was to breach that final hurdle. Later.

"Are you jealous of them, my king?" Laurent asked, soft and dangerous, laying the question like a trap. He shuddered beneath Damen, struggling with his own nature. He wanted this. He felt trapped.

Trembling as Damen's hand settled there, as Damen moved against him, intimate and possessive, Laurent's breath stuttered, heart pounding.

"Hurry up already," he snapped, trying to hide his nerves and vulnerability with irritation, just like he so often did. Anything else was dangerous, and would get him hurt.

He was close, as close as he'd thought he would be with just a few breaths buried in the secret space of Laurent's nape. His body did its best to imprint itself on Laurent. A treacherous spill of seed gave promise of what was to come.

The spark of words crackled like a whip between them.

"You did not belong to them," Damen said, and it was more growl than speech.

It was perhaps the wrong thing to say to Laurent just then. He didn't care. He was already coming, already splashing the crevice of Laurent's cheeks as hot-bright pleasure took hold of him, too soon but it didn't matter, there was no shame in it this way.

Damen pulled back by the third jet of pearly seed, letting it sling across the sheets, turning and letting the fourth and fifth find their marks across various points on the bed. The whole while, he kept a hand on Laurent, cupping a cheek like it was a precious sculpture.

It took a long few moments to spend himself completely. He had burned for two days, unsatisfied by even his own hand, tempted beyond belief by his new husband. He was still tempted. What would it have felt like to empty his load into Laurent's warmth and press the last few drops deep into him with shallowing thrusts? Damen dragged his fingers across Laurent's spine, shuddering at the thought.

Laurent snarled in reply.

Damen's seed splashed hot and slick against his crease, his back, and then Damen pulled back, splashing the bedcovers with his copious spendings, but still keeping a hand on his possession.

Struggling out of his grip, Laurent snatched up the bedsheet, wiping at his backside and then throwing the soiled sheet in Damen's face.

He felt marked. Claimed. Humiliated.

They had what they needed. Laurent snatched up his clothing and headed for his room, wondering if he'd let Damen lie to him about the servants inspecting the sheets. A deception in order that Laurent would let him use him like this.

Feeling soiled, Laurent cleaned himself up quickly with a wet cloth, dressing himself again in his severe Veretian garments and then pressing back against a wall, just in the shadow of a tall wardrobe, and shaking with his emotions.

Of course.

Of course this was how their first completed intimacy would end. Damen wondered why he had ever expected anything different.

This was simply how Laurent operated. Lure Damen into a lull of affection, arousal, and openness, get what he wanted from him, then twist the knife in to his exposed heart.

Damen laid his tired limbs across a dry patch of bed. Two days of this and he was exhausted. What would two years do to him? Two decades?

One or both of us will be dead, he thought with a grim smile. We can't survive this, day in and day out.

And when his body slave slipped in to ready him as usual, he did not have the wherewithal to send her away. He allowed himself no liberties, simply allowed her to clean him in the simple lavatory afforded by his suite. He thought longingly of the baths, of scraping and steaming away the bruises of this day and night. He stopped her before she could pass the sponge between his legs.

"I will do that myself."

Laurent's words came back to him. He had to keep himself from trembling. "Go."

She fled.

[Time to skip to awkward festivities?]

Laurent met his husband in their shared antechamber. Clean and dressed, he looked untouchable and unruffled once again, with no sign that Damen had left even the slightest impression upon him, unlike the bite marks he'd lavished upon Damen.

"My king," he said, returned to formalities. He stepped close to Damen's side, lightly curling one hand around Damen's arm, taking the position of Consort. "Let's go show ourselves, shall we? Fear not, I'll be a docile trophy for you, unless diplomatic advantage calls for something else. If possible, try not to let anyone speak of me crudely. The Veretians will not appreciate it."

It was as if nothing had ever happened between them.

Damen held himself with silent dignity, back straight, his arm beneath Laurent's hand like iron. "I would not appreciate it," was all he had to say to that. "You are my Consort, and due every respect." Woe to the man or woman who slighted his Prince.

He'd frowned at 'docile trophy.' That...was not how he viewed Laurent. Was that what Laurent thought his new husband wanted?

Slaves prostrated themselves as they passed in the corridors, with various freeborn and nobles of both their houses bowing deeply and murmuring, Exalted, Highness. News of their emergence quickly spread throughout the palace, and breakfast in the Akielon style was spread out in the feast hall.

Well-wishers were everywhere. Damen, who had no talent for the sort of play-acting that this role seemed to endlessly require of him, focused on the things he'd felt when he'd held Laurent in his arms that morning, still open and warm to him. It seemed to be enough for their courts, who viewed them with a sort of collective set of rose-colored glasses. He was thankful they were so eager to believe him truly joyed, besotted with his Prince.

At intervals throughout the morning, after breakfast and while plans for the day were set in motion, he turned to speak in Laurent's ear. No doubt those watching (and everyone was) assumed he was murmuring sweet nothings there. They were somethings, though, practical somethings: repetitions of various Akielon words and their meanings, explanations behind various customs that this day held, questions about the Veretian expectations. They knew so little of each other, and he had promised Laurent to help him with his Akielon, and this seemed much safer to Damen than any other sort of conversation they might hold after...all that had happened.

Laurent was grateful that Damen's pride extended to him, and that Damen would allow no one to speak crudely of him, even once they left Marlas. He brushed his thumb lightly over the firm muscle under his hand, the tiniest amount of affection offered.

Navigating the court was easy for Laurent, drawing attention and dismissing it with ease. Having Damen at his side made it easy, providing him with a constant defense and excuse against anyone's approach.

Damen's words to him pleased him greatly, appreciative of Damen's sense and of the efforts he was making. Laurent's murmured replies came with soft nips and sweet kisses to Damen's ear and cheeks, very easily performing the role that was required of him.

Occasionally, Laurent turned Damen's head to steal a kiss, blue eyes brimming with affection and mirth, and seeming oblivious to the laughter and applause that followed each time he did it.

Damen was, in fact, proud of his Consort. Proud of how easily he adapted, proud of the honor he brought to both Vere and Akielos as their collective Prince. Watching him amongst the court, it was easy for Damen to let his gaze soften and his approval shine through. It still amazed him, just how gifted Laurent was at diplomacy and winning favor.

When he wanted to.

Slowly, the effect of the glances and nips and kisses began to take its toll. A dull flush spread over Damen's face as he let Laurent thieve his lips, feeling the warmth of them pulling him in, feeling the contentment of his people at his own contentment. His arm slid behind Laurent's waist, comfortably resting there as he kept the gap between them deliberately small. He bent his head. "I think they like - "

"Exalted."

Damen turned from the shell of Laurent's ear to examine the newcomer. Nereus. He should have warned them - should have known this would be one of the wedding gifts offered up. It was too late now, for Nereus approached with a deep bow and a flicker at a retinue of young slaves who glided forward and prostrated themselves before the thrones at a humble distance. They were all male. Deference to Laurent?

Damen kept the corners of his eyes fixed on his spouse. This could be an ugly scene, he realized, a rare feeling of nervousness creeping through his limbs.

[Erasmus and Isander can both be here hehehe]

Laurent's brow arched at the newcomer and his retinue.

It was a bold move, as Marlas was still in Vere, and Vere disallowed the sale or breeding of slaves--any human born on Veretian soil was Veretian. Gifting slaves, however, was permitted, as was keeping slaves, both stipulations that Laurent despised.

"Who is this?" Laurent asked of Damen, back straight and chin proud, radiating a sort of petty irritation as though the stranger's worst sin had been to interrupt their conversation.

When he was given the trader's identity, Laurent took a step forward, looking him over as though he was the slave being offered rather than the lovely youths on their knees. "Nereus, tsk," he said, tone light and only with a hint of scolding. "It's considered distasteful to present slaves at a Veretian court." Never do this again. And, if you have sense, never do this again in front of me. "But, I will forgive you this time. I understand that it was your enthusiasm and generosity to your King that led you to this misstep."

He smiled indulgently upon the man, and then walked past him, no longer interested in the slaver. Instead, he turned his attention to the slaves, considering them. One of them had trembling hands, though the tremor was very subtle.

Laurent stopped in front of that one, reaching out his hand in offering. "Tell me your name."

The censure was received for what it was, although Nereus looked offended and Damen felt personally responsible. He sighed. He would have to speak with the man later.

He tracked Laurent's movements with a watchful gaze. All of the slaves were of the finest quality and training. What was Laurent looking for, exactly?

A long-limbed, well-formed youth with the classic Akielon olive skin and dark waves and a sweet tremble to his body was the overjoyed recipient of Laurent's attention. He raised his head but not his gaze, blushing and kneeling before the Prince. "Highness, this slave is Isander." He had been instructed in the Veretian title, Damen noted, and was graceful and pliant even as he quivered with excitement and nerves.

Giving his opinionated husband the right of addressing the gifts first, Damen held his breath. Laurent would have to be a fool to miss the implications of the gift. Veretian territory or not, it was to the Akielon King that this offering catered. Giving slaves to Laurent (if he would accept them, which Damen seriously doubted) was a respectful but necessary formality to avoid offense by omission.

"Your Highness has an excellent eye," Nereus said. "That is one of our most promising selections. Isander will serve you well."

"Your finest yet, Nereus," Damen agreed, knowing that this boy was probably hanging on their every word. Damen hung on Laurent's, ready to step in if anything should go awry. Surely Laurent would not be unkind to them after what he'd said this morning?

Edited 2017-02-19 01:20 (UTC)

"Come stand by me," Laurent invited the youth, as he returned to his place at Damen's side.

He lifted an eloquent brow at Damen, expecting him to make his own choice. He was fully prepared to harshly judge whatever course of action Damen chose. It was a test, and while he hoped that Damen would come up with a creative solution, he did not expect it.

"Are all the rest for you, or are you expected to simply choose one or two?" Laurent asked, dancing on the edge of acceptable propriety for both cultures, and making Damen's situation all the more challenging.

Damen raised an eyebrow. The invitation was unexpected from Laurent; his choice was surely deliberate. Damen had no idea what game he was playing, but he felt compelled to counter however he could. In response to Laurent's call, the young man rose and glided to his side with the most elegant humility, still trembling with joy.

The question earned a knitting of the dark brows. He chose his words carefully. "We are King, and we may choose as many as we like. Even none. Although that would be a slight to our friend's generosity." These slaves were worth a small fortune each; to refuse to accept even one would be to turn down a truly Kingly gift. He could not afford to offend Akielon allies when not all agreed with the new King's treaty, or marriage.

He knew, too, that certain slaves were hand-picked to suit the tastes of the royal line, trained and cultivated for years upon years to be presented for a First Night. He felt sure that there was one such here, a young man with creamy skin, softly tumbled curls of a honeyed hue, and a limber yet simple posture. Even prostrate, his loveliness was evident. All that was known of Damen's preferences seemed to be combined in this one youth.

"Erasmus," Nereus said, and Damen looked guiltily at him, forced himself not to look at Laurent. He hadn't realized he'd been staring. "I have never seen one so eager to serve."

"Indeed? Erasmus, did you hope to be chosen tonight?"

Addressed directly, the boy raised his head, flushing all over, eyelids drooping respectfully downward, but everything about him blooming under the attention. He looked very much like an Akielon interpretation of Laurent's beauty. He knelt in front of the others, lips parted in a bow as rosy as his fair cheeks. "Exalted, this slave is beneath your attention." He was too well-trained to look at the King, but it would be obvious to all the Akielons watching that he'd been cultivated to the King's exact tastes.

It would be cruel to turn him away. But Damen knew Laurent was watching to see what he would do. Testing him.

Several moments passed. Nereus shifted on his feet, awaiting the King's pleasure. Damen thought rapidly, judging what would be kindest to all concerned.

Finally he spoke, looking first at Laurent. "Tonight belongs to our husband. But Erasmus may attend us at the entertainments this evening, if he wishes." He nodded at the kneeling young man. "Join us?"

There would be no First Night for Erasmus tonight, but he would have the honor of serving the King, at least.

It was, by a significant margin, the most excruciating dinner that Laurent had ever endured.

He felt half sick with jealousy and disgust at the slave by Damen's side. A human crafted to have no thought in his head but Damen's pleasure. Designed to Damen's tastes.

A miserable part of Laurent hated that most of all, the knowledge that this was what Damen wanted, and that Laurent was the one who was only the pale, frigid interpretation of Damen's preferences.

The only way he could function at all was to utterly ignore the presence of Damen's slave. He focused his attention on his own, treating him the way that the Veretians treated their pets. They did not bother to converse, as Laurent's conversation was expected other places around the table, but he accepted the food that the slave offered him, and he offered morsels in return.

He could not entirely ignore Erasmus, and every soft murmur from him sent agony through Laurent.

When Laurent couldn't stand it any longer, he leaned in toward Damen, catching his husband's lips in a kiss and lingering there, signaling to Damen and to the rest of the world that he wanted to be taken back to their private chambers.

The change between them was palpable.

Damen was not in any doubt as to why. Laurent's disgust was well known to him, though his own state of confliction was much more mild. Slaves had been a daily part of Damen's life for twenty-five years; it still felt like a normal state to him, except when his thoughts flickered back to Laurent's story this morning.

Still, he curled his fingers under the table as he watched the attention Laurent was paying to the boy who looked like him. There were no more flirtations with Damen, no coy glances or kisses the way he'd been at breakfast. His chest burned to claim Laurent's full focus once more, to slide a possessive arm around him and declare his own wishes with his body.

Hadn't he been plain about it? Hadn't he openly declared that Laurent would have the exclusive right to his bed tonight? But it had been for naught. He felt sick, knowing what was to come if they did share a bed, the agonizing game of reconciliation and affection and repulsion, in that order. He thought longingly of Laurent opening for him as Erasmus undoubtedly would, yielding to him, trembling under his claiming touches, lavishing him with soft kisses afterwards and not just before.

Beside him, he could feel the quiet longing in Erasmus' body for those things, the wistfulness with which his fingers left whisper-kisses across Damen's lips as he offered him bites to eat, the utter sweetness of his submission. On any other night of Damen's life, the conclusion of that evening would have been inevitable.

The message in Laurent's actions was clear. Its future outcome was entirely unknown.

It took all of Damen's will-power to accept the farce of Laurent's affection and deny himself the sweet certainty that Erasmus' would have brought him. The cruelest irony was that it was Laurent's that he wanted.

His arms encircled his husband, tightened around him. He stood up, bringing Laurent with him, their mouths still twined, Damen's hand curled behind Laurent's neck. There was no need to announce this time. They could go as they liked, and everybody would know why.

Keeping an arm around Laurent's waist, as he had last night, Damen turned to descend. His heart ached for the hopeful young man who had served him all evening as he thanked him for his attendance and dismissed him. Erasmus might have looked forward to this night for half of his life. But what else could he do, if he had even the slightest chance to win Laurent's heart?

Laurent felt as though he was in a daze. He returned the kisses, feeling sick with each one, and went with Damen back to their rooms, unspeaking, trailed politely by the two puzzled slaves.

The moment they were safely through the door, Laurent snarled and shoved away from Damen, pacing to the center of the antechamber for the space and air he needed. His skin was crawling. "Sit," he snapped, voice sharp and hands shaking, though he fisted them to hide it. "All three of you. Separately."

Pacing back and forth as he recovered himself, Laurent swept a table clear of ornamentation as he passed, leaving shattered crystal and tattered flowers in the wake of his temper.

After a minute he sat, glaring down Isander with an icy fury that made the poor boy tremble and look around himself in confusion.

He was going about this all wrong.

Laurent dropped his face into his hand, taking a moment to compose himself back into the sensible and commanding prince who could handle this situation. "Forgive me, Isander," he said, gently. "I have a visceral dislike for the practice of slavery, under any conditions. From this moment, you may consider yourself freed." Laurent lifted a finger to forestall any objection. "Don't react. Listen. These are your options. If you would like to be apprenticed or trained for any profession, I will cover the full cost of your training. Anything you would like to study, you may. Or, if you would prefer to capitalize upon the training you've already received, you may open a salon as a courtesan. I understand that courtesans are not uncommon in Akielos, and many of them are very highly paid and sought-after. If that is your preference, I will again cover the cost of you establishing yourself. Or, if you'd like, you may remain in my personal retinue as a servant. You will be paid a generous wage, and provided ample time to yourself to rest and spend leisure time. You do not have to decide immedaitely. If you prefer to think about what sort of education you'd like to pursue, you may take as much time as you like, and I will consider you a servant in my household until you make up your mind. Is that all quite clear?"

It was the first time Damen had ever been spoken to in such a fashion. His pride flared, and anger for the way Laurent was taking out his fit of temper on their innocent slaves boiled hot and stormy.

He did not sit. Laurent's violent pacing kept his focus. At the sweeping gesture, he moved instinctively in the path of the flying ornaments lest they hurtle at Erasmus or Isander. "Remember yourself," Damen said with steel in his voice. They were not alone; Laurent had chosen to bring these boys into the web of their discord, and the submissive slaves were ill-prepared to deal with such abuse.

The sudden snap back to abject kindness, to opportunities afforded to only the most beloved and dutiful of slaves, left him in a state of shock. He took a careful seat. His eyes never left Laurent.

Isander looked terrified, and the shock on his face was understandable to Damen. When had anyone ever heard of a bed slave being treated this way? The poor youth stammered for an answer. "E-exalted, this slave lives for your wishes. All is clear." He did not look as though a single bit of it was clear.

Damen thought carefully. Laurent had forced his hand, going about it this way. He nodded at Erasmus. "You will be given the same choices, of course. Whatever you wish for most, the resources of the Crown will make possible." His voice softened as he added, "If it is possible." He knew how extensively these hand-chosen slaves were groomed for one master. Erasmus would have been trained in the specific art of pleasuring Damianos. If that was what his heart desired most...Damen knew that was going to be a problem.

Erasmus made a similar reply, flushing beautifully, lashes sweeping over his silk-smooth cheeks as he expressed his gratitude and wish for service. Damen wondered what the two of them were thinking, how long it had been since they had dreamt of anything but their future master's pleasure.

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is this some kind of orgasm trick are you an orgasm sorcerer

Warlock cum laude

if laurent will behave himself... well let's not cast any bets

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Poor Laurent

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