hidden hand

Lips upon his abs made him tense. Just a hitch, flexing for the man before him. The Lord of the island, on his knees in worship. Collin closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the moment. He wanted nothing more than to take Cristobal, but he let his lust be tempered. No, this needed to last.

It was quite a sight to see Bal pulled down his pants that way, his thick cock resting on warm skin, kissed and caressed. He sighed, pleased, all the while. When it finally happened, his hand went to Bal’s shoulder, squeezing. “Yes,” he whispered, slowly grinning. Who could have imagined that a little diplomatic trip to deal with a magical problem would go this way? Surely not himself. He wanted to thrust forward into Bal’s mouth, but he waited. “Be a good pet,” he growled, “and I’ll give you a treat later.”

Some tinge or aura seemed to hover over their interaction, but Bal pinned it to the work the man did. Another aspect of the darkness that seemed to seep from the man’s pores. But as the mage’s attention curled over him, Bal felt that tinge -- when Collin called him pet, the noble’s eyes flashed in defiance.

With Collin’s girth pulled from his lips, Bal uttered a single syllable. Softly, but heavily, his gaze still unbroken from Collin’s own.

“Don’t.”

“Are you?”  Hugo shrugs with the casualness of youth, “What’s ten years among friends?  I see you more as my friend and my peer than say the Duke of Starfall or Lyonheart.  They’re more of a fatherly age.  You?  You have always struck me as being my equal.  Deserving of courtesy, but not reverence?  A possible partner in crime, less a mentor.  Is that insulting?  I do not mean it to be.”

“To be quite fair, I’m not entirely certain if I am one to wield it or not.  But since my family passed, and since my mourning has ended, things feel different.  As though I no longer have to strain under the same burdens of expectation.”  And then Bal is pressing his hand down on his own, and he turns his face to look into those eyes and he felt a spark course through him.  He smiled playfully as he continues, “perhaps I should buy a pair of bolts, with some silks, and see what your tailor comes up with for me, hmm?”

And just like that, the lord of Sayre was back in the running again. A man like Hugo didn’t come strolling through town just every day. “Your words are a kindness, Duke Santoni. The day you would revere me as an elder would be the death of an amount of my confidence.” Of course, he finished with a grin -- his tone nowhere as serious as his words. Cristóbal had no qualms with hosting the man as a friend and fellow noble, as he’d set out to assist in shopping. But learning he was on the younger noble’s radar once more, well. That wasn’t remiss either.

“The warmth of it. The weight of it. Feeling it there. Knowing it’s there. But also, the moment he lets loose. Feeling him tip over the edge, feeling each pulse and kick of it stretching you wider open as he floods himself deep within you. Then feeling him relax, that long rush of air as his weight settles on top of you. Those last few twitches and shivers.

Willing himself to step back as Cristobal unfastened his pants, Collin grinned, thrilled by the game they had. He enjoyed passion, and lust. Had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed it, in fact. With the war over he was going to have to start spending more time doing things he enjoyed. Like taking handsome men to bed. Though, in this case, that seemed rather unspecific. Still, he grinned at Cristobal’s answer, unfastening his own pants. But rather than push them down he let them rest agonizingly low, not yet revealing anything… but oh so close.

“Then I advise you… to get on your knees.“

His smirk said it all, the delight in his own power, and in Cristobal’s body. He wanted to take the man, quite possibly several times. “I intend to fill you, my friend. But first,” he looked down, indicating that he wanted Bal to to undress him. “Have a taste.”

Now fully exposed, all that black cloth pooled around his feet, the extent of the art across Bal’s chest and across his body was fully visible. But he didn’t give Collin much time to observe. Gaze locked on the mage’s, Bal slowly sank to his knees, his clothing as padding against the floor. “So sweet of you to offer,” he drawled, as he leaned in to press lips against Collin’s firm stomach. A kiss here, a kiss there, the dip of his tongue in Collin’s navel, all just to tease. Bal’s hands remained on the mage’s hips, sliding around to knead covered cheeks as he progressed.

Then he shifted, took the rim of the mage’s pants and undergarments between his teeth, and pulled them down -- so the mage would fall to lay against his forehead, Bal’s cool brown gaze staring up at Collin with that fat cock between his eyes. He knocked up with his nose, mouth opening to pull on his sac, kissing and licking for a bit before pulling back, dragging that length down his face until it laid on his lips.

“Distance definitely affects a lot when it comes to….pretty much everything.” There were benefits and drawbacks to being separated from the rest of the continent. It was a lot tougher to trade back and forth but the products that Medes had to offer were second to none. They were naturally protected by the waters of the sea surrounding them but without the use of portals, intracontinental relations would be next to impossible. Personally, he liked being separated from everyone else but that was just more aligned with his personality than anything else.

“I’ll be sure to send my dad your regards and praise for a job well done.” Even though he would’ve liked to have magical powers, he was no mage. He had no magical abilities as far as he knew. He only had his brain. “I’m not a healer or a mystic. I’m just a regular guy wanting to look at some plants. My dad’s building me a greenhouse in the castle and I wanted to see if I could borrow some seeds to study all the various kinds of plant life Metia has.” It was a simple request for a simplistic young man. “I don’t mind the wait. I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.”

Sayre might know a thing or two about separation, though not to the degree of Medes’ numerous islands. Bal nodded his thanks to the prince accepting his compliment, then moved to continue the conversation in an active direction. “A regular prince wanting to look at the unique ecology of the island of Sayre,” the noble corrected. “Your status colors everything you do, whether you’d like it to or not.” He had to disguise a smirk, unable to stop himself from dispensing what sounded like a lesson.

“Actually, if you would like...” He paused, considering. Was this too demanding, or above his station? “I’ve some meetings with the farmers and commoners of Fyremill to attend to, and your presence as both a student of the court and a foreign representative might be beneficial to us both.” His own education began rather early, but he was also a firstborn. What were the odds the fifth prince of Medes had been brought into court proceedings? “If you’re interested, that is, Prince Xavion.”

“Do you think he could keep up with me?”  Hugo grins as they begin to walk away from the merchant to go shopping elsewhere, “As fond as I am of sampling a fine older vintage, I fear that they often don’t have the stamina of young men like us, my good friend.”  

Oh, Hugo while completely oblivious to some things, like when a man was interested in him, he could tell with ease when he might have offended another.  And seeing the flinch at his comment about young men, twisted him a bit.  Looking at Bal, he knew the man was a few years his senior.  What, maybe 3?  Five at the maximum.  Did the men of Casther resist the effects of time better than others?  

“As a Sollian raised by the sea, I am used to showing off all the time that my family demanded I spend on drills.  In particular my arms,”  Hugo gestures to the sleeveless tunic he wears, that does indeed show off his arms.  The gesture is made without intention, simply demonstration.  “But I’ve veered away from lace for fear that it suggested roles I wasn’t comfortable with.  If you take my meaning, but these here, they have a somewhat, masculine feel to them?  Is that right?”

“Young men like us?” Bal repeated, brows climbing. Pivoting as they walked, Bal almost glided backwards, looking over at Hugo as they moved through the markets. “You understand that I’m...I would swear at least ten years your senior?” Perhaps it’d be noted in the sharpness of his jaw, the tension of his shoulders, little notes that would paint him elder than the mid-twenties he appeared.

Only now realizing that he neglected to introduce himself to the Lord of Sayre, that might’ve been considered lacking in manners. “How rude of me, I’ve yet to introduce myself,” Despite being one that didn’t particularly need an introduction, his father raised him better than that. Whoever visited Valtolia would know of him, that was beside the point. “Asher Remes, Knight of Valtolia.” His current position in Valtolia was protector of his sibling, Aurora, but as of late, he thought of expanding, either to lay down his sword to be around for the son he never knew he had or advance in his brother’s army, claiming a higher ranking. His articulation reminded him of those Nobles in Valtolia he had no choice but to be around. An eloquent speech he couldn’t begin to understand or repeat verbatim. From what he assumed in so many words, Cristobal invited him to Greenstone Keep for a drink. “Lead the way, Lord.” Part of him wanted Cristobal to guide him just to sneak a quick peak of his ass beneath the fitted clothing. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed another’s company that was’t his own family. 

Cristóbal’s education was likely rooted in what the Valtolians left behind, their ownership of both Casther and Sayre long in the past, but the cultural influences remained. The lord could’ve commented that he knew who Asher was through that face and body alone, but such comments were for behind closed doors. Instead, he grinned softly, wickedness somewhat contained behind closed lips, and nodded. 

As requested, Bal took the lead to guide the knight to his home -- not that the other would get lost, as the castle stood proudly over the other buildings around it. As he walked, his dark tunic would likely lift on the occasional step, revealing just how closely the fitted black pants would hug under the curve of each cheek. Breaking the silence, Bal turned to glance behind him. “Am I correct in assuming your work in guarding the noble who visited me earlier is all but concluded?” So we won’t be interrupted, he didn’t add.

“If anyone were to handle men of our…gravity, it would be the High Advisor.”

“You make me curious how these two dear friends of mine would get along. Would Collin handle me and another man?

Let’s just say…I’m fairly certain that yes, he would.

Whether or not he and Hugo would be curious to continue the conversation would require their input. We’re not performers for a noble rumor mill to feast upon. We’re men with connections, relationships, friendships. If Hugo and I did share Collin, it’s just as like you would never get to see it.

But you might hear it, if you’re in the castle.”

“If there’s room for us, and if we’ve any interest in you.This pending on the answer from my… ‘best friend’, as you so worded it.”

“My questions are on love, wedlock, and the weight of my house. Perhaps they mistook which ones they were sending where  – though I would admit, now I’m curious how you compare to the rest of your kingdom.

“It’s not honor. It’s stability. The house stands for the island of Sayre and her people. While I would enjoy a degree of…personal investment…in the man I am to be with, I will not use the funds of the house to ‘save’ a family from their past or present misfortunes.

It is possible to marry a less socially elevated man without buying his name and family into nobility. Positions within my court – working positions, could be offered. Wages earned, rather than coin given. 

“If they continue to hide their face, would you join me in the East Solan Baths instead, to soften the blow?