ulysses lowered his head, a raised brow and a smirk on his lips. amare was... intriguing, sweet as the apple cider his father had favored, and he was all too enchanted with ulysses though he could not fairly say which side of him enticed the hand of the king. "suppose i am to blame for that, aren't i?"
was it the gold, the influence, the seat in blacktyde? amare had prestige, yes, but his father... was it the challenge? the thrill? was it perchance himself? his size, his charm, his wit. the question remained unanswered so far.
he licked his lips, "have i scared away your other suitors?" the notion hardly displeased him. they had no formal commitment, no attachment of legal bind, only flirtations, only wooing, yet it pleased him; the notion of a claim over lord il mare.
"an old widower like me?" he chuckles, all too close to amare's ear, "why, you must think too highly of me, kind sir." his hands were not shy, the way his body glued itself to amare's, finding the nearest corner to give them the barest illusion of privacy. he did not truly wish to ruin his reputation, or cause any rumors to grow more than they should.
"on that we agree," he said, low with how close they were, hardly need for more, "war is lucrative, but it makes life hard to enjoy. and we..." he lets his lips brush amare's, "we deserve to enjoy life to the fullest, don't we amare?"
he did not yet kiss him, but their bodies were entangled, their breaths mingled, their eyes locked in an intimate encounter. he could devour amare without laying a hand on him, could set the place on fire simply staring into his eyes across the ballroom as they were wont to do.
he could fuck him right here and let valtolia see how it was done. yet he could not promise him marriage... and that might be exactly what was required of him.