heart(ache)

Stop holding hands. Stop singing your praises. Stop telling him he’s the only one. Maybe I’m the jealous type.

I feel trapped in this cycle standing without you near my side. The only time we get together is for me to escort you. But you don’t say anything to me and I stand there aching, aching for you. Aching for anything to drop my walls down, feeling them crumble around as I worship nothing but you.

But I stand my guard. I watch those balls. Feasting in a separate hall. I never fight, I don’t have energy to brawl. But when I see that smug fucking Prince gods all I wish is that I could rip out his throat, dropping it at your feet, and ask how well I did.

But it doesn't mean the prince can't touch. He'll brush a hand against their arm any time he passes them, coax them far too close when he needs to say something, tell them to stand and watch over him as he changes and bathes for extra protection, keeping eye contact as he steps into his bath, bare and beautiful, but infuriatingly untouchable.

When the knight has had enough and they can't take the teasing any longer, they'd hatch a plan. They'd beg the prince for just one night, just one, and they'd let it go. It was all they needed. Amused, the prince would agree, but tell them they get only one night.

The knight would be called into the prince's rooms that night, and find the prince lounging in bed. He'd stand and ask them to help him undress, and they'd pull off the prince's silk clothes with trembling, nervous hands, dragging their fingers against his soft skin in wonder. They'd ask for permission to touch him properly, and he'd allow it with a laugh, spreading his legs and coaxing them closer.

The knight would take such care of their prince, mouth slow, fingers gentle, right up until they've got him sunk on their strap. Then their calloused hands would dig into his hips, their thrusts suddenly much faster, his gasps and moans at their chance in pace making them even more desperate. They'd press his face into his pillows, keep him in place, fucking him into the sheets, far rougher than a prince should be handled, but they can't find it in them to worry. If this was the only night they fully planned to take it, and use their prince like the precious prize he was.

And they aren't going to stop when it's so clear the prince loves it. They've watched him for so long, they know what he likes. His face is wet with tears and his fingers fist the sheets but he's begging them for more, back arching when they give it to him. He trembles at their touch, but he never tells them to stop so they use him till they're both too worn out to move.

When morning comes, the knight will assume their usual position, only to find out the prince has changed his mind. He tells them that he wants them every night, that he's craving their touch. But they'd just smile and tell him they only agreed to one night and that's all he's going to get. It's not their fault the prince underestimated them.

But they know he's not going to be able to get off alone after their night together and no one else was going to make him forget. He'd be desperately wanting their touch, the same way the knight had for so long.

It is my duty, as I understand, to make sure not a single thing happens to you that they don’t want happening to their precious heir.

Of course I’m going to wince when even those whom I do owe everything in life to, speak at you with an overbearing volume.

I grit my teeth when you are in the courtyard practicing as you’ve been bade to do. When a kinsman or someone of less note goes a little too hard.

My skin begins to boil, and my heart feels as if it bleeds when not a scratch is seen upon my mortal flesh. This armor is overbearing. Constricting like a python around the heart which does bear you so much, and would bear you even more if I could.

I think far too oft’ what I would do if I could punish all those who touched you when I had to bar even the faintest of grazes against your porcelain frame. Even the thought of you sends me into a place to which I cannot speak in anything less than commands to that of the royal personage. Truly what monster am I?

I see those of injustice and I know so clearly how I would punish them for hurting my ward, my protectee, my love…

I am your knight. And I am yours to command. And in turn you are mine to control. You are mine to press my hands too firmly on your shattering porcelain skin. You are mine to be rough with. You are mine to use. You are mine to bear with all that I should have in mind for you. You are mine.

He likes to watch them at their drills, sitting on the grass with a book and a glass of wine like he is at the opera. He doesn’t know how to fight but he likes to watch the bouts.

One day, a newer knight is brought low by the older knight instructing him, blood pouring out of his nose. The prince watches with fascination to see the older man pull him back up and have him turn his face up to stem the flow.

“There’s a lad,” he says with a surprising softness. “You won’t forget to block next time.”

“N-no sir,” the young man says, eyes wide, and stumbles out of the practice area.

The prince nearly forgets it, until he is wandering the gardens behind the barracks and finds the older knight with the young man bent over under him, thick cock dripping against his exposed ass. He gasps before he can stop himself, and they both look up, meeting his gaze.

But now it's a daily occurrence, whether you are on duty or not. He tracks you down in the midst of changing into your armour, making it take twice as long as you need to get him off first. Wanders in during your rest, practically wakes you for it. Like an animal in heat, seeking your touch at every opportunity.

but you can't help it, can you? your knight bends you over your bed and all you do is wiggle your hips against their fat cock as they grind against you, moan for them, your toes curling in your slippers. they finger you from behind, leaning over your back so they can whisper quiet praise into your ear as you whine from their huge fingers thrusting in and out of you. your cock is throbbing with need, sorely neglected...

then, when your knight finally removes their armor and leans over you on the bed, they growl into your ear, "beg for it, prince." you can feel the heat of their heavy cock against your thigh, and it makes you feel light-headed: so much so that you can only whimper. "beg," they snap again, "tell me how bad you need my cock inside you." they begin to grind up against your thigh, and the movement of their hips thrusting against yours - but not inside, you feel so empty, not inside - rocks you against the bed.

finally you sputter out, "please, please fuck me..." your knight laughs at you, a laugh so mean you feel like you're withering beneath it. they spank your sensitive little cunt once, twice, and each time you cry out so loud there's not a chance nobody heard you. then they press the red, flared head of their cock against your hole and push in. it hurts at first, the thickest part of them meeting the tightest part of you, and then there's a soft little pop and they slide a few inches inside.

you feel their cock, so hard, dripping precum, practically scraping your walls as they push all the way in, pressing up against the very deepest point of you. already your eyes roll back into your head, the sheer size of your knight pushing all the coherent thoughts out of your head - they wouldn't even have to fuck you with how big they are; your hole fluttering around their cock feels good enough as is.

but then they lean over you and begin to fuck you, hard, fast, their gloved hand sneaking between your legs to jerk at your cock. the first time you cum, you scream, slick beginning to slide down the insides of your thighs.. your knight forces your head into the pillows and just keeps going harder, so rough with your oversensitive little cock, so brutal with their thrusts.

then they lean over you again, their sheer weight keeping you pressed into the mattress. "i'm gonna cum," they whisper into your ear, "soil your sweet innocence, fill up your hole..." the thought makes your cock throb, and before you know it, you cum around their swollen dick - and that's all the stimulation they need to cum alongside you, thrusting so very hard into you, fucking you through the best orgasm you've ever had.

you lie panting on the bed, blissed out, sweat rolling down your back. then, your knight, still buried deep inside, leans over you and whispers, "do you think we're even close to being done?"

hhholyy fuck

I want the entire court to want me, to be oh so desperate to unlock the greatest treasure the kingdom has to offer... I want to *make* them want me. Oh I look so innocent and pretty don't I? Even as I give the lords and ladies of my father's court glimpses of something more. That wonderous secret between my porcelain thighs that no one dares to speak of aloud, but all whisper about in the dark.

And then you. You, my stalwart knight, my guardian. You see the lust in the eyes of the perverted pigs that surround me. You see how my father exploits my attractiveness for the nobility. It fills you with a persistent, murderous rage... especially seeing how dangerously coy I play.

It's all for you. All of it, every giggle, every scandalous peek, all to fuel your anger and your lust. I want you to need me. Do whatever it takes to protect me from those disgusting animals that would DARE lay their hands on a *prince.* *Your* prince.

And one day... I'll let you have me. Pull out your cock, the key to my lock, containing the most precious treasure of all: my tight boypussy, perfect, untouched, virgin. Your prize.

Violate it. Use that lowborn cock to sully my body in the most primal way, make me *yours.* Pin me down and rut me like a fucking animal, assault me like you did countless armies in your golden years on the frontlines, conquer me.

And halfway through I beg you, needy, but deadly serious: "Kill my father. Take the throne and make me yours forever. Seal our union in his blood."

Patient knight who holds his tongue until they’re alone and fucks the attitude out of him