always the princefucker, never the prince

Then again, I can't remember the last time I knew about a tryst before it was happening. I've gotten rather used to going with the flow, to letting the moment take me away. Knowing about it hours beforehand, having time for the nerves to simmer, is an entirely different matter.

Not that I'm having doubts, not for a second. But I want this to be good. It's taken a while for Gray to soften with me. I want this to be good for them.

A spike of fear digs into me as I raise my hand to knock at their door. What if they changed their mind? What if they close off again, or pretend nothing happened between us? What if they aren't even here?

I swallow my fear and knock.

gray answers far too quickly.

"errant! you really came?" theyre wearing a simple tunic and kettle pants. their hair is loose and draped around their shoulders. in the soft torchlight, their scars are highlighted on their skin.

"Did you doubt me?" I ask with a smile, as if I hadn't just been thinking along the same lines. I expect my heart rate to calm, but it only speeds up at the sight of them, especially dressed down like this. Warm and receptive. And I'm so ready to give.

gray brings to you a bowl of plump red grapes. "i took these from the kitchen. think anyone will notice?" they pluck one from the stem. "here, try one."

they reach under the side table where some cups and utensils are kept. they pour some of the golden mead into two wooden cups and hand one to you.

what do i want?

"errant, i want whatever you are willing give me. ive been unkind to you. if that means all you want is to share a drink with me, i understand. but..." they trail off, looking out the window, where a cool breeze whispers in, sending the sheer curtains billowing.

gray puts their hands on your shoulders and closes the distance between your lips, a distance that feels far to wide to be natural. yes, this is how it should be. you, kissing them, tasting them, taking their breath away.

they lean back and swing a leg over yours to straddle you. with one hand they hold your neck, pulling you closer. the other has reached up between you to deftly free the clasps on the front of their tunic.

I continue a little longer, mapping out their body with my hands, already excited to map it with other things - my eyes, my mouth - but pull my hands back to myself when I feel them relax into it. Gray makes a sound of protest in their throat, and I smirk in spite of myself. So needy, so quickly. I'm going to get too excited myself, if I'm not careful.

I don't take notice of whose tongue begs entrance first, but it is hungrily received, and I feel Gray's arms drape over my shoulders, their hips still teasing me with little movements, just enough to coax me to attention, sending shots of pleasure up my spine. I use one hand to pull them somehow closer, more fully into my arms, into my desire, while the other hand comes back around to their chest, teasing my thumb over a nipple and swallowing the resulting moan. Gods, they taste like sin, like wine and mead and indulgence.

the room isnt large, and they back up 2 steps, unhooking their belt and shedding their tunic. they fall backwards onto the bed as you follow them. you take over, pulling their pants down the rest of the way until they're fully nude under you.

gray is suddenly shy, squeezing their thighs together and crossing their arms over their chest.

"Gray," I say with my mouth is capable of anything but drooling, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

They blink at me, surprised, and I give my head a shake. Let's find some words that make sense, shall we?

"First of all," I begin, bringing one hand to the outside of their arm, "the only version I've ever known of you has been in armour, and that was plenty to make me want you." My fingers trace softly along their skin, not so light as to tease, just enough to soothe, I hope. "Secondly, there's not a single part of you that I don't want to get my mouth on right now, so I will not hear another word denying your beauty, alright?"

Gray gives a reluctant chuckle, face still red and arms still covering themselves, but I think I feel their muscles relax a little.

they speak softly. "im sorry. i havent let many people see my body like this."

you pull both of their arms up to rest above their head, exposing their body further. "no more hiding." you command, holding their hands down to cement your point. gray squeezes your fingers together.

they look away, biting their lip. "yes, errant. please, kiss me more." their legs part, allowing you to draw yourself closer. "kiss me here, please."

"The Death of Théodred" by photographer Lillian Liu

First image:

This is our version of the fallen Prince Theodred on his funeral bier, the last of his house. He met his untimely death after holding the mustered forces of Isengard at bay so they could not cross the Fords of Isen into a weakened Rohan. The battle being a phyrric victory in many ways with too high of a cost, his father King Theoden was then left to bury his only son among the wild Simbelmynë flowers (and thus seeing the end of his line with his own eyes). I am absolutely enamoured with @fellandfair ‘s immaculate attention to detail with costuming, making visuals both believable and rooted in realistic inspiration. It is no small effort to put together a shoot ever- and the team included: @posewigs , who made the hair look incredible, @ian__campbell, who lay uncomfortably on a bier with lumpy shields under his back to model for us, @vkngjewelry ‘s beautiful jewelry to give us that extra bit of detail, and many others to be seen in future images.

Second image:

Theodred’s funeral in Tolkien’s universe only serves to highlight the oppressive sense of futility hovering above Rohan during the time of The Lord of the Rings. A land with a weakened king held captive as a puppet, plagued constantly with fearsome raids from the enemy, with the only crown prince and heir falling in a battle intended to wipe out their numbers and morale...the sun would have seemingly set on the people during such a time. And yet, Tolkien shows us that goodness prevails even in times of madness and senseless evil. Here, we have a mourning party depicted- with a mourner central in the scene preparing the body. I feel like she represents the common people of the land. What other characters do you see?

Third image:

Then again, I can't remember the last time I knew about a tryst before it was happening. I've gotten rather used to going with the flow, to letting the moment take me away. Knowing about it hours beforehand, having time for the nerves to simmer, is an entirely different matter.

Not that I'm having doubts, not for a second. But I want this to be good. It's taken a while for Gray to soften with me. I want this to be good for them.

A spike of fear digs into me as I raise my hand to knock at their door. What if they changed their mind? What if they close off again, or pretend nothing happened between us? What if they aren't even here?

I swallow my fear and knock.

gray answers far too quickly.

"errant! you really came?" theyre wearing a simple tunic and kettle pants. their hair is loose and draped around their shoulders. in the soft torchlight, their scars are highlighted on their skin.

"Did you doubt me?" I ask with a smile, as if I hadn't just been thinking along the same lines. I expect my heart rate to calm, but it only speeds up at the sight of them, especially dressed down like this. Warm and receptive. And I'm so ready to give.

gray brings to you a bowl of plump red grapes. "i took these from the kitchen. think anyone will notice?" they pluck one from the stem. "here, try one."

they reach under the side table where some cups and utensils are kept. they pour some of the golden mead into two wooden cups and hand one to you.

what do i want?

"errant, i want whatever you are willing give me. ive been unkind to you. if that means all you want is to share a drink with me, i understand. but..." they trail off, looking out the window, where a cool breeze whispers in, sending the sheer curtains billowing.

gray puts their hands on your shoulders and closes the distance between your lips, a distance that feels far to wide to be natural. yes, this is how it should be. you, kissing them, tasting them, taking their breath away.

they lean back and swing a leg over yours to straddle you. with one hand they hold your neck, pulling you closer. the other has reached up between you to deftly free the clasps on the front of their tunic.

I continue a little longer, mapping out their body with my hands, already excited to map it with other things - my eyes, my mouth - but pull my hands back to myself when I feel them relax into it. Gray makes a sound of protest in their throat, and I smirk in spite of myself. So needy, so quickly. I'm going to get too excited myself, if I'm not careful.

I don't take notice of whose tongue begs entrance first, but it is hungrily received, and I feel Gray's arms drape over my shoulders, their hips still teasing me with little movements, just enough to coax me to attention, sending shots of pleasure up my spine. I use one hand to pull them somehow closer, more fully into my arms, into my desire, while the other hand comes back around to their chest, teasing my thumb over a nipple and swallowing the resulting moan. Gods, they taste like sin, like wine and mead and indulgence.

the room isnt large, and they back up 2 steps, unhooking their belt and shedding their tunic. they fall backwards onto the bed as you follow them. you take over, pulling their pants down the rest of the way until they're fully nude under you.

gray is suddenly shy, squeezing their thighs together and crossing their arms over their chest.

"Gray," I say with my mouth is capable of anything but drooling, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

They blink at me, surprised, and I give my head a shake. Let's find some words that make sense, shall we?

"First of all," I begin, bringing one hand to the outside of their arm, "the only version I've ever known of you has been in armour, and that was plenty to make me want you." My fingers trace softly along their skin, not so light as to tease, just enough to soothe, I hope. "Secondly, there's not a single part of you that I don't want to get my mouth on right now, so I will not hear another word denying your beauty, alright?"

Gray gives a reluctant chuckle, face still red and arms still covering themselves, but I think I feel their muscles relax a little.

I hear footsteps - calm down, I tell myself, you're safe, you're not being hunted anymore - and then there are voices around me, faces peering down at me, a hand on my forehead. Someone shouts for a medic.

Perfume, familiar. My Prince?

@but-a-licentious-prince

I am not the first to reach you, beat here by the Chancellor and a couple others. Your face is pale when I approach, much too pale for someone in the afternoon sun. I place a hand on your head, but in your daze I don’t think you know it’s me.

“Errant?” My voice is quieted by shock, and all but drowned out by someone shouting for a medic.

I look at the man holding you, and his remorseful face tells me he is at least somewhat to blame. Anger begins to well up, pushing the shock of the situation to the wayside.

“Perroy! You said the arrows were safe!” My head snaps to the chancellor, who is directing gearing up to address the concerned guests. “What on Earth happened here?!”

“Explain.”

Brummbär huffed, half-exhausted from the prior events. He knew there would be consequences... he didn't fully expect a prince to demand answers out of him instantaneously, though.

Brummbär pulled a chair to the conversation and sat, groaning as he lowered himself. His body pleaded with him with aches and pangs - truly, he wanted to eat and rest - to be left alone, but that clearly was not going to happen.

Lowering his head to be held in his hands, he sighed

"Look -- neither one of us planned this, he was not intentionally hurt, and he will certainly not die from this. I've already been disqualified, can't you let me swallow my shame in peace?"

The seneschal lifted his head, scoping out the crowd to see if his own prince was nearby... there. Waiting for him at the edge of the crowd.

"Any more questions can be answered by My Liege; I am not speaking on this more or moving until the medics have finished; my duty now is to ensure Sir Errant is well before I can leave this place, and you folk alone -- you won't have to worry about me doing anything more than that."

“It’s not - it’s not his fault,” I manage to say, but it’s weak, and I don’t know if anyone hears it. “Brummbär helped me, it’s not…”

Arms under me, lifting me off the ground, onto something. A stretcher? A cart?

He was intending to keep his distance, allow the medics their work. Though when Brummbär meets his eyes, he knows that isn’t an option. He approaches, cane sinking into the ground as he steadies himself for what will most definitely be a confrontation.

He doesn’t need to see the wound to know what’s happened. Quite frankly, he could tell the moment Brummbär carried the man from the woods. Torn clothing, messily replaced armor, hair wild… he’d seen it all before.

“Now- please.” He says, standing beside Brummbär. He glances to the crowd. Prying eyes and ears, all eager for some sort of information. “We need to let the medics do their work. I’m sure this is a discussion we can have, but it would be best when we have more privacy.”

I rise once more as the other prince approaches and stands over Brummbär. With my back straight and chin raised, I open my mouth to inform him of his seneschal’s misdeed. It is before I can even speak that he cuts me off, suggesting we take this conversation elsewhere. So that’s how it is, then. This must not be the first time this knight has done something of this nature. I place a hand on Errant’s shoulder and whisper to him that I will join him shortly, then allow the healers to cart him away.

“Let us find a more suitable environment, then,” I say, turning to Percival. I give the other prince a single nod, before looking down at the still sitting Brummbär with a pointed gaze.

“And I suggest teaching your knight some etiquette. Should he speak in that manner to a less forgiving royal than I, they may feel it appropriate to have his tongue removed.” I flick my gaze back up to Percival. “Although, I suppose there’s no use wondering from where he learned his flippancy.”

With that, I turn my back and stalk off towards the castle.

Brummbär stayed put, keeping an eye on Errant as he promised -- but he wouldn't let that stray comment towards his Liege land. He began to shout.

"Flippancy‽ You're the only one being insulting, Prince. I did this damage to Errant by mistake -- Imagine what I could do if I intended it! Tsk."

The Seneschal huffed -- he could take insults all day long, but the moment Percival was targeted? He would fight the aggressor tooth and nail if needed.

Brummbär centered himself, directing his attention to Errant's wellbeing.

Then again, I can't remember the last time I knew about a tryst before it was happening. I've gotten rather used to going with the flow, to letting the moment take me away. Knowing about it hours beforehand, having time for the nerves to simmer, is an entirely different matter.

Not that I'm having doubts, not for a second. But I want this to be good. It's taken a while for Gray to soften with me. I want this to be good for them.

A spike of fear digs into me as I raise my hand to knock at their door. What if they changed their mind? What if they close off again, or pretend nothing happened between us? What if they aren't even here?

I swallow my fear and knock.

gray answers far too quickly.

"errant! you really came?" theyre wearing a simple tunic and kettle pants. their hair is loose and draped around their shoulders. in the soft torchlight, their scars are highlighted on their skin.

"Did you doubt me?" I ask with a smile, as if I hadn't just been thinking along the same lines. I expect my heart rate to calm, but it only speeds up at the sight of them, especially dressed down like this. Warm and receptive. And I'm so ready to give.

gray brings to you a bowl of plump red grapes. "i took these from the kitchen. think anyone will notice?" they pluck one from the stem. "here, try one."

they reach under the side table where some cups and utensils are kept. they pour some of the golden mead into two wooden cups and hand one to you.

what do i want?

"errant, i want whatever you are willing give me. ive been unkind to you. if that means all you want is to share a drink with me, i understand. but..." they trail off, looking out the window, where a cool breeze whispers in, sending the sheer curtains billowing.

gray puts their hands on your shoulders and closes the distance between your lips, a distance that feels far to wide to be natural. yes, this is how it should be. you, kissing them, tasting them, taking their breath away.

they lean back and swing a leg over yours to straddle you. with one hand they hold your neck, pulling you closer. the other has reached up between you to deftly free the clasps on the front of their tunic.

I continue a little longer, mapping out their body with my hands, already excited to map it with other things - my eyes, my mouth - but pull my hands back to myself when I feel them relax into it. Gray makes a sound of protest in their throat, and I smirk in spite of myself. So needy, so quickly. I'm going to get too excited myself, if I'm not careful.

I don't take notice of whose tongue begs entrance first, but it is hungrily received, and I feel Gray's arms drape over my shoulders, their hips still teasing me with little movements, just enough to coax me to attention, sending shots of pleasure up my spine. I use one hand to pull them somehow closer, more fully into my arms, into my desire, while the other hand comes back around to their chest, teasing my thumb over a nipple and swallowing the resulting moan. Gods, they taste like sin, like wine and mead and indulgence.

Then again, I can't remember the last time I knew about a tryst before it was happening. I've gotten rather used to going with the flow, to letting the moment take me away. Knowing about it hours beforehand, having time for the nerves to simmer, is an entirely different matter.

Not that I'm having doubts, not for a second. But I want this to be good. It's taken a while for Gray to soften with me. I want this to be good for them.

A spike of fear digs into me as I raise my hand to knock at their door. What if they changed their mind? What if they close off again, or pretend nothing happened between us? What if they aren't even here?

I swallow my fear and knock.

gray answers far too quickly.

"errant! you really came?" theyre wearing a simple tunic and kettle pants. their hair is loose and draped around their shoulders. in the soft torchlight, their scars are highlighted on their skin.

"Did you doubt me?" I ask with a smile, as if I hadn't just been thinking along the same lines. I expect my heart rate to calm, but it only speeds up at the sight of them, especially dressed down like this. Warm and receptive. And I'm so ready to give.

gray brings to you a bowl of plump red grapes. "i took these from the kitchen. think anyone will notice?" they pluck one from the stem. "here, try one."

they reach under the side table where some cups and utensils are kept. they pour some of the golden mead into two wooden cups and hand one to you.

what do i want?

"errant, i want whatever you are willing give me. ive been unkind to you. if that means all you want is to share a drink with me, i understand. but..." they trail off, looking out the window, where a cool breeze whispers in, sending the sheer curtains billowing.

gray puts their hands on your shoulders and closes the distance between your lips, a distance that feels far to wide to be natural. yes, this is how it should be. you, kissing them, tasting them, taking their breath away.

they lean back and swing a leg over yours to straddle you. with one hand they hold your neck, pulling you closer. the other has reached up between you to deftly free the clasps on the front of their tunic.

I continue a little longer, mapping out their body with my hands, already excited to map it with other things - my eyes, my mouth - but pull my hands back to myself when I feel them relax into it. Gray makes a sound of protest in their throat, and I smirk in spite of myself. So needy, so quickly. I'm going to get too excited myself, if I'm not careful.

I find myself staring, not because of this knowledge, but because there’s something else. A memory, gnawing at the corners of my mind. A face like his, but hidden behind swirling hair. A burning in my lungs. Soft fingers on my face as I cough.

I go up to the man before I can second guess myself, bowing my head when his eyes land on me. “Your Highness,” I say, “Sir Errant, at your service. I’m terribly sorry, but have we met before? You seem familiar, somehow.”

Prince Finton is feeling overwhelmed.

Well, it is a free day after all. The fellow could be anywhere. It is just so inconvenient trying to court the interest of free-willed beings; maybe he had better give it up as a bad job.

He leans against the fountain and watches the passers-by moodily. The rippling of the nearby water is both a comfort and a tantalising mockery.

And then, suddenly. Apropos of nothing - there the knight is. Large as life and twice as beautiful. Walking right up to Finton.

"...have we met before...?"

A moment of shock, first. And then a feeling of sudden triumph curls in Finton's belly, hot and dark. Yes. He knows what to do with this.

He pushes away from the wall with a slow smile.

"Oh, you dear sweet thing. You remember me, don't you?"

He carefully tucks Errant's hair behind his ear on one side, stepping in closer so their tunics almost brush against each other. He lowers his voice.

"And I certainly remember you. I never forget a pretty face. I'm so glad to see you recovered from your ordeal. It would be a shame to let one such as you sink into the briny depths."

I search to connect him to the memory he speaks of, because things are beginning to make sense. Of course I remember him from my near-brush with drowning, this man is of the sea. It makes my stomach drop to realize I had been saved by someone so auspicious.

He catches Errant's hips, gently, and begins walking forward with slow, deliberate steps. Errant passes from sunshine into shadow, and feels his back bump against a wall. Finton leans in to whisper in his ear.

"Would you like to need rescuing again, little knight? Hm?" He catches Errant's earlobe between sharp teeth, and nibbles it carefully. "Don't worry. You won't drown this time. You'll only want to."

He pulls back to savor the sight of those wide eyes staring at him. "Of course, we must be careful. I would not wish to ensorcel you, after having gone to such lengths to save you. And in certain circumstances, it is very easy for that to happen by accident. With me, you must not let your wanting turn into achieving, sweet thing, or you will be lost to all sense thereafter."

“Your Highness,” I gasp, trying not to squirm in his hold. His proposition is… more than enticing. Nigh irresistible, really. But the real danger of what he offers gives me pause. I am not the most practiced when it comes to holding back my body’s desires, as is obvious already. If I accept his offer, if he really pushes the way he threatens to, I might lose my sanity just with wanting, whether I give in to temptation or not.

Then again, can I stand to pass this up?

“P-Prince Finton…”

“Yes, little knight?”

"Your room," he says decisively. "You will not wish to be navigating the corridors exposed to countless eyes when I am done with you. You will be quite the desperate sight so it will be best if you have a little privacy in which to recover yourself, yes?"

He bends his head to kiss the side of Errant's throat, intending to make it brief. But he finds he can't help lingering over the soft, warm flesh. He murmurs appreciatively and tightens his grip on Errant's hips as his lips part, and the kiss becomes a gentle sucking, teeth grazing lightly. The knight is delicious. It is only after a great many seconds and with no small effort that Finton makes himself stop and take a step back.

His eyes meet Errant's again, and now they are dark and hungry.

Prince Finton’s mouth is on mine almost before the door to my room is shut behind us, and I blindly fumble to lock it without breaking the kiss. I’m pressed against the door, gasping when I feel his teeth on my lips, sharper than is strictly natural.

“My prince,” I manage to say, but it comes out like a moan and I actually have to push him back to get him to stop. “Just - just allow me a moment.”

His brow draws. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I answer truthfully, “but I need your word on something.”

“On what, my knight?”

He is no bewitched sailor. He knows what I can do, and he brought me here anyway. He asks only for a promise - when I could so easily lie -

Finton rubs at his forehead with the knuckle of his thumb, then drops the hand to Errant's shoulder, firm and steady.

"Yes." His voice is low. "You have my word. Much as I will soon crave the chance to devour you whole, sweet knight, I think..."

His brow creases as he fumbles, trying to find his way along a wholly unfamiliar line of thought.

"I think perhaps I would not like to have you for one of the mindless creatures who trail in my wake. It seems a waste, somehow, when you are so lovely just as you are."

He seems momentarily confused at having expressed such a sentiment, but then shakes it off, leaning in to murmur against Errant's soft, hot mouth.

"So, it is as you say. You must tell me when you can take no more of my pleasures without succumbing to them. And then I shall remove myself, even if you change your mind and beg me to stay and continue."

While Errant grabs at the sheets to steady himself, Finton drags his own shirt over his head, discarding it with a flick to one side. He has the powerful shoulders of a swimmer. Before the garment hits the floor he is surging forward, straddling Errant's lap, tackling him backwards with the force of a hungry kiss. With a soft Oomph the knight's back hits the bed, his honeyed tresses scattering every which way.

Finton swallows the involuntary exhale with triumphant delight. He pulls back, flashes a grin full of too-sharp teeth, then shoves the hem of Errant's shirt up and sinks those teeth into the man's abs. Not hard enough to draw blood, but leaving behind a bright pink mark with each bite.

He's so pretty from this angle, too. Finton above me, on top of me, his hair spilling onto my abdomen as he bites and sucks, his tongue hot and starving.

I have to arch my back to get the shirt off and the movement sends me even more firmly into the prince's hold, and I'm wracked with a shudder that would be more suited to electrocution than the touch of a lover. His teeth, his lips, his tongue. His hands. His hands. Gripping and pulling at my waist and hips and his teeth are in my navel and gods, I'm so sensitive, I'm so sensitive, please -

"Sweet thing," he murmurs, and presses a light kiss to Errant's navel. "You really mean it, don't you. That's adorable." He begins unlacing the man's breeches with deft fingers. "Well, then. I shall just have to be very gentle with you, so you don't go plummeting overboard before you know what's happening."

The breeches comes off, along with the boots, and land on the floor. The braies follow. Finton takes a moment to smirk appreciatively at the sight of Errant dishevelled on the bed, naked as sin and twice as beautiful. Every part of him looking suddenly shy, except one.

"Now give me your hands," he says firmly, taking them. "If you're going to babble like that again, I certainly want to hear it." He settles himself on his elbows between Errant's thighs, nudging them upward and apart, and gripping the knight's hands at either side, so Errant's arms are pulled taut. He dips his head to lick a soft, gentle stripe up that yearning cock from base to tip. By Neptune, the man tastes divine.

"Now," he purrs happily. "I'm going to do this ever so slowly, and ever so gently. And that way, there can't possibly be any danger, can there. I'm going to pleasure you so carefully, you can just lie here and float on it for hours before you start to get caught in the final riptide. All you have to do is lie still and make pretty noises for me. Do you think you can manage that?"

The thought trails off, and I let it. Finton doesn't push for clarification, alternating between teasing my length with his tongue and pressing kisses into my thighs. He does keep it slow, and gradually I start to calm down, my heart rate settling as I sink into bliss. His hands on mine are clearly there to keep me pinned, but his thumbs rub soothing patterns on my skin.

When my moans recede into soft, pleased sighs, Finton shifts his attentions, shuffling forwards a bit until his shoulders hit my thighs, and pressing a long, slow kiss to the tip of my member. My next moan is preceded by a little gasp, feeling myself twitch under his lips. I hear him hum in approval before one of his hands leaves mine to rest on my hip, curling around towards my center. I expect to feel his grip on my cock, but instead his fingers just brush my pelvis in a way that probably isn't mean to be teasing, but makes me whimper anyway.

"Now isn't that interesting?" he muses softly. "That was a beautiful little sound, sweet knight. And such an insistent twitch. I wonder how I might make your body do that again, hm?"

His fingers at Errant's hip twitch, and the skin beneath trembles in response. A little huff of air escapes the knight's nostrils, his lips pressed tight together. Finton's eyes gleam.

"Oh, darling. I see how it is. You are very sensitive, aren't you. In all manner of delightful ways."

Another hot press of his tongue on my length, the only firm touch he's giving me right now. "Finton..." I whimper, before my eyes fly open and I backpedal. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"