#lee wonho

PROLOGUE: You didn’t expect the pages to start glowing. First mind is usually the right mind and you should have followed yours. But curiosity had gotten the better of you. 

Times had been tough. A lay off at work followed by an eviction notice taped to your apartment door was the perfect recipe for desperation. Plenty of it filled you. 

In less than two weeks, you needed to be out of your complex. Most of your belongings were in boxes. You’d cleared out the place and had every intention of moving all of your things into storage since you didn’t have enough money to pay for a security deposit (and no landlord would accept a newly evicted tenant). In short, you’d resigned yourself to homelessness thanks to your overdrawn bank account. 

While you packed it was all you could think about: how little your life amounted to, how little you owned. 

Pessimistic tears sprang to your eyes as you cleaned out one of the closets in your bedroom. When you reached to the back for the last few items against the wall, a panel came loose. It fell straight out with a soft thud. Great, damaged property. There goes my security deposit.

But something else had fallen too. A book. It was large, and its cover appeared to be made of solid gold. No wonder the panel had fallen down—without the weight of the items you usually kept pressing against the wall, there was nothing to keep it upright.

You jammed the panel in place, then peeled back the book’s heavy front cover. Its design seemed intricate, ancient. The entire face was inlaid with jewels of the finest quality. One alone would probably fetch you enough money for an entire year’s worth of rent. You should’ve tried to pry one of them out, but it was too late for that. Curiosity had taken hold of you. 

The pages of the book began to glow hypnotically as you gazed at them. Faint embers at first, then brighter, bright as the sun almost. You’d never seen anything like it. When the light grew so intense that it felt as though it would blind you, it began to fade. Slowly ebbing away, bit by bit until it was gone. In its wake there remained an inscription. Written in a thick, dark red ink were the words:

“An Emêl-fëy requests an audience,” you said the foreign sentence out loud. As soon as you uttered it, a searing pain throbbed in your left wrist. You stared at it in disbelief, teeth clenched as the inscription Emêl-fëy burned itself into your flesh. “Stop!” you shouted, “Please, make it stop!”

“As you wish, little human.” The pain ended and you whipped your head in the direction of the voice. Standing behind you, right in the center of your bedroom, was the most formidable being you’d ever laid eyes on. You rose from the floor of your closet and cowered against the door frame, leaving the book inside.

“Who a-are you?” you stuttered, trembling. The being came to stand before you. His skin seemed carved of porcelain, and his face, though menacing, was rather beautiful. Your eyes met and you gasped. The color of his irises glowed red, sparkling in their sockets like rubies. He wore robes of deepest black, and atop his head  sat a many horned crown. Midnight black hair rested beneath it. He smiled and revealed a set of long, bone-white fangs.

“You should be flattered that I came when you called, little human. It is the greatest honor to be graced by the presence of the High Daemon Prince of the Seven Hells.”

“I-I didn’t call,” you said.

“But of course you did. The incantation presented itself and you spoke it. You summoned me, Emêl-fëy.”

“That’s not my name.”

“It is now.”

“What does it mean?”

He laughed. “We’ll come to that. What do you desire?”

“I don’t understand.”

“As part of the agreement that binds you to me. What would you have in exchange for becoming my Emêl-fëy?”

Why does he keep saying that word?

You scratched your head and looked around. There was no escape. You wouldn’t make it to the door in time. His legs were too long, and his muscular frame towered over yours. He had to be at least six foot seven in height and you were a lot shorter than that. He'd catch you in an instant if you tried to run.

“Please, I don't understand. I need you to explain.”

He raised a dark brow and sighed. “Very well. Ignorance will cost you. I’ll add it to your debt.”

“My debt?”

“Mm, to be paid in servitude for what all I shall grant you. Consider yourself lucky. I killed the last one that beckoned me. He was not to my tastes. But you…” he dragged a sharp, pointed nail along your jawline, “You I very much like the look of, my little Emêl-fëy. Not just any human can turn the head of an Incubus. We are a race as ancient as time itself. I have seen many wonders. Few have captured my interest as thoroughly as you have.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

He showed his fangs again and your heart raced. “I am the High Daemon Prince Hö-Suk. Now tell me, What would you have of me? I will grant you anything you desire.”

You widened your eyes. “Anything?”

“Do not make me repeat myself, little human.”

Money. You needed money. And a lot of it. You had no job, no place to live anymore. But money would change all of that. “I need wealth,” you said, heart racing. “I want to be rich.”

“Done. I grant you riches.”

Your phone vibrated against your thigh. It was a text from the landlord thanking you for your backed rental payments. But you hadn’t paid her any rent. Not in months. 

You checked your bank account. It was in the negative the last time you opened the app. Now, over eight-hundred million dollars sat in the account.

“Holy shit,” you gasped. “Did you do this?” 

The High Daemon nodded, half chuckling. 

In an instant all of your problems had vanished. You could move anywhere you wanted, do anything you desired with your life.

“Onto your hands and knees. Now.”

You looked at the High Daemon Prince with furrowed brows. “Excuse me?”

He grabbed your wrist and smoothed his thumb over the tender flesh, reminding you of the branded inscription. “It will be a long night. One of many as my Emêl-fëy.”

That word again. You tried slipping your hand from his wrist but he refused to let it go. “What does it mean? Emêl-fëy?”

“In your language? Fuck toy. The incantation you spoke was an agreement. I have granted you a desire and in return, you will be mine, little human—little Emêl-fëy. For as long as I want you. And I have an appetite as deep as the oceans for pretty men.” He waved his hand through the air and your clothes disappeared. The next instant something cool and hard slithered between your legs, caressing the back of your thighs. Cupping your buttocks. You peered down and realized it was the High Daemon’s long, thick tail—hairless as a python, smooth and pulsing. 

The High Daemon had shed his clothing too. He was carved of pure muscle—so hard bodied that he appeared to be made of stone. His tail coaxed its way between your cheeks, circling your rosebud. He forced you onto your knees.

“Open your mouth. It is mine to use, little Emêl-fëy.”

His cock was immense. His skin burned as warm as a furnace. You looked up at him and saw a smirk on his plump lips. Something about the sight of it made your cock stiff as a rock. His tail probed your entrance and you opened your mouth to let out a moan. 

As he shoved his tail into your hole, you took the High Daemon’s rigid length to the back of your throat, having little choice in the matter.

“Good boy,” he growled as you sucked him off. “Shall I give you a reward for this?”

Before you could answer, the appendage inside you began to vibrate. Your eyes rolled back as his tail buried itself deep inside you, oscillating against your prostate. “This is the spot, yes?” the High Daemon asked, shoving both his cock and tail deeper inside both your entrances. 

At the back of your throat was his large cock, and stuffed between your tight ring of muscles was the smooth pleasure of his tail, quivering inside your cheeks. Tears spilled from your eyes as he slipped his cock from your mouth and slapped it against your face. “You did not answer me, little human, little Emêl-fëy. You leave me with no option but to punish your insubordination.” 

“Yes, yes it’s the spot.”

“Address me as master, henceforth.”

“Yes master, it’s the…aahh,” his tail went deeper, vibrated harder, you couldn’t speak.

“Too late.”

He yanked the tail from your hole and the force with which it ripped from the space drew out a rope of come. It shot from your tip, long, fast and hard. You whimpered as the jet of milky semen left you. No one had ever made you come that intensely. Your entire body convulsed as the hot streams left you. Your knees would be weak if you weren’t already on them. With a mewl you collapsed to the floor, chest and stomach flush against the carpet as you struggled to regain your breath after the orgasm. The High Daemon seized both of your wrists. 

In an instant, a cord wrapped around them.

“What the—”

“Do not speak unless spoken to. And do not bother trying to free yourself. These knots are forged of darkest Daemon magic. You will not be released unless and until I unbind you.”

The High Daemon lifted your body from the floor.

“Wait, please—”

He clamped a hand over your mouth and sank his fangs into your neck.

“What did I tell you about speaking? About addressing me?”

“Sorry m-master,” you whispered, hands behind your back, chest heaving.

“That is more like it. Quiet now. Only your moans are allowed from this moment on. It is the only sound I wish to hear leave your lips. Is that understood?”

“Yes master.”

“Good boy, good little Emêl-fëy. Now. I am going to make you come for me again. Many times.”

He lowered himself onto the edge of your bed and sat you in his lap. His muscular thighs felt hard as steel beneath yours. In seconds his cock was pressing against your hole, still stretched wide from the girth of his tail. 

His cock gaped you even further.  It was twice the size of what had previously penetrated you and you gasped as it slid inside your opening. You squirmed but he held you still, hands securing your chest and waist as he fucked into you.

Your cock had hardened again in spite of your earlier orgasm. You looked down at it, slapping wildly against your abdomen. The High Daemon’s tail slithered across your body. It wrapped itself around your hard length like a fist, then began stroking. Your head fell back, lolling against the High Daemon’s shoulder as he worked you, pumped you, fucked you.

He kept your body pinned in place while he thrusted his cock in and out of your hole. His length seemed familiar with all your deepest wants. He kept the pace you liked in the back and in the front. The pleasure from each was almost unbearable.

“M-master I’m going to c—”

“Come? Not yet. You do not have my permission.”

“Master?” 

“Only after I have filled you.”

“Yes… master, but—”

“Silence. I will hear no bargaining. Only moans.”

You shut your eyes. He was bringing you dangerously close to the brink of climax. A few more strokes from that tail of his and you’d shoot like a fountain. How could he expect you to resist coming when he fucked like a god?

You tried to obey his orders, but his tail constricted even tighter around you. It gained speed and stroked your cock with an unrelenting rhythm. And to make matters more precarious, you were stuffed full of him. With each stroke he ran his cock through you like a sword, from base to tip. He fucked you faster, and a bead of slick spilled from your head. You fought against the restraints that tied your hands as your peak began to build. If you had access to your fingers, you could pry his tail off your cock and reduce some of the pleasure he was giving you.

But it was impossible to drive back the sensation of orgasm when he was fucking you so expertly. The high washed over you like a wave and you moaned.

You lost your load in a thick hot rope. It covered your chest, and trickled onto the High Daemon’s tail and thigh. He growled, wrapping a hand around your throat. The strangling made you come even harder.

“You disobeyed my commands, Emêl-fëy. I said only after I have filled you and yet…” his tail unraveled itself from your softening cock. This orgasm left you weaker than the last but the High Daemon didn’t care. He laid you on the bed and rolled you onto your side. “I shall have to punish you again.”

“Master, please.”

The same magical restraints that had bound your wrists now secured your ankles. He’d linked them together, tying you like a hog to be roasted on the spit.

“You will learn to follow orders, little human. And if I ruin you during the process, all the better.”

He laid you on your stomach and mounted you like a knight mounts a horse. Now both his cock and tail were inside you. Working you to an ecstasy you were sure would wreck you beyond repair. Nothing existed except the pleasure. You forgot your name, your age. You forgot about the High Daemon riding you. All you could see were stars as the tail vibrated in the depths of your hole alongside the cock this hadean prince of the underworld had stuffed there.

For the third time in one night, you hardened again, feeling the beginnings of another round of shooting ropes. But you didn’t have to hold them off this time.

Hot semen filled you as the High Daemon emptied himself inside you. The feeling alone triggered your release. Your cock was trapped between the mattress and your stomach but that didn’t stop you from soiling it with your come. A harsh grunt escaped the High Daemon, drowning out your shrill moans as your third orgasm rippled through you.

While you shuddered there, the bonds on your wrists and ankles disappeared. You rolled onto your back and tried to recover.

“Good little Emêl-fëy,” the High Daemon said, running his hands along your slick abdomen, “You took me well. That little hole of yours is…exquisite. Quite rare for a human to withstand the stamina of an Incubus as ancient and strong as I. You quenched but an inkling of my thirst—my lust, but I can already tell that you will make a fine servant. Soon you will learn my tastes.”

In a flash he dressed himself again. 

“Master,” was the only word you could manage.

“Find yourself a better dwelling. You have riches now with which to do so. When I return again to fuck you senseless, I expect to be met with luxury as fine as the orgasms I have given you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“Good.”

The High Daemon Prince of the Seven Hells disappeared like mist and you let out a contented sigh, still feeling tender and sensitive from being used so extensively. Despite the brand on your wrist, and the agreement of indefinite servitude, you smiled. Three orgasms and being the High Daemon’s Emêl-fëy was a small price to pay for becoming a millionaire. Already, you were craving another high, another night spent serving your new master.

“Bi_sexiboi93! Thanks for that generous donation. Much appreciated babe.”

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face at the sound of your username leaving Bunny_hunk_lee’s lips. You never missed a stream and tonight’s was spectacular. You shared an orgasm—through the screen of course.

Bunny_hunk_lee toweled the cum off his abs with a smirk and the sight alone was enough to push you over the edge once more. But you controlled yourself, and instead sent him another donation—double the amount of the last one. “Whoa, thanks again Bi_sexiboi93. You really love me don’t you baby?”

He spoke like this to all of his subscribers—it was nothing special, you knew well. But that didn’t stop the heat from spreading through you at the mention—at the acknowledgement.

After flexing his triceps and giving his cum-slick cock a few more pulls, Bunny_hunk_lee ended the stream. You sighed and cleaned yourself up, then slipped in bed, pulling out your phone for one last doom scroll before resting.

A new post from Bunny_hunk_lee appeared on your feed. He was wearing the same clothes he had on during the stream, except it was daytime. He must have snapped it beforehand. It was a shot of him face down on his bed, in a hoodie and shorts—plump muscular ass taking up most of the frame. You commented: wish i was under you👅

Already drowsy from the orgasm, sleep came as easily as breathing, and you drifted.

The next morning, you woke twenty minutes after your alarm had gone off, and that meant that you had to rush through your shower and breakfast to avoid being late for work. Thankfully you made it there in time for the weekly meeting. When it was done, you caught up on some emails and before long, your lunch hour rolled around. You took it at your desk and whipped out your phone while you ate.

You nearly choked as the notifications filled your screen. Bunny_hunk_lee replied to your comment: oh yeah? What state you live in babe?

He had liked all six of the photos on your profile grid. Most were selfies you’d taken at the gym and a few blurry food pics. Your heart began pumping faster when you saw the icon indicating two unread messages from him in your inbox.

ur hot.

wanna bottom for me on OF?

You stared at the words with your mouth hanging open. You typed out four replies, deleting each one. Your initial reactions were too cringey to send. As you tried for a fifth time, a green dot appeared next to his profile pic. Then:

typing…

Fuck. Why was your heart beating so fast? Before you could steel yourself, another message popped up.

forgot to add, it’s for pre-recorded content, not a stream so can blur ur face

Anonymity and a chance to be with him? Who could ask for anything more? You took a deep breath and wrote:

I’m down. When and where?

Your hands were shaking as you exchanged messages back and forth, arranging the time and place for the shoot. He sent you his health details and a clean STD panel. You did the same, luckily having just gotten your results back from your last physical a few days ago. The timing was perfect. And you even lived near his address. All this time, he was just a twenty minute drive from your apartment. 

The rest of the day was a blur. Hell, the rest of the week. You were riding on a high—one you didn’t want to come down from. The man you’ve been jacking off to every night not only thinks you’re hot, but he wants to fuck you too. You could hardly believe it. 

Later, he went live and you tried watching the stream but found that it made you jitter with nerves and so for the first time in two years, you skipped it.

When the day of the scheduled hook-up finally arrived, you could hardly take steady breaths. You wished the drive up to his place took longer so you could gather yourself. But you were there in a flash.

Once you showed up, he stood on the other side of the door, smiling down at you. He was taller than you by more than just a few inches. You hadn’t expected that. In person his muscles were more defined—his complexion even richer. 

“Don’t look so nervous—I won’t bite until you ask me to, come on in.”

He opened the door wide and you slipped past him with a shy chuckle, catching a whiff of his cologne. Tom Ford, expensive stuff.

“Nice place,” you said, taking inventory of his spacious, luxury condo.

“Thanks. Bedroom’s just through there. Need anything before we get going. Water? Bathroom?”

You shook your head and made for the room. It was three times the size of yours. A camera was pointed at the bed. He came in and stood behind it, fiddling with the settings before peeling off his shirt.

“Should I take mine off too?” you asked.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, baby. Speaking of comfort, got any boundaries? Anything off limits?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” you blurted out in excitement before thinking. He chuckled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He stepped from behind the camera and began palming your cock over your jeans, breathing minty breath over you all the while. He had you out of your clothes in seconds. 

“You gonna be a good bottom and stay hard for me the whole time?” he whispered as he gripped you, sliding his hand from base to tip and back again. You nodded, unable to find the words to form a reply. A small, helpless whimper escaped you as he tipped your head to the side and kissed the length of your neck. He made his way to your mouth. His tongue swirled around yours, warm and soft between your lips. The embrace was so intense that you had to pull away to catch your breath. As you panted, he put a hand on your shoulder, urging you onto your knees. He reached inside his pants and his thick cock sprang free. Quickly he took hold of it, slapping it against your face.

“Open your mouth for me,” he cooed, bottom lip caught between his teeth while he stared down at you. His head fell back as you swallowed him. “Just like that,” he added, groaning and fisting your hair. He let you give him head for as long as you wanted, praising you the whole time. The taste of his clean skin had you leaking onto the hardwood floors. He noticed the growing micro pool of it as he pulled you to your feet. “Crawl on the bed, all fours, ass to the camera. Gonna spread that hole and get you dripping even more.”

Once you assumed the position he’d asked of you, he struck an open palm across both of your ass cheeks. You gasped at the sting, then moaned long and hard as his tongue circled your entrance. He ate you for what felt like ages, teasing you here and there with tugs and strokes. You almost came as he pumped your rock hard cock from behind. Suddenly you jerked with the beginning of what would have been the most intense release of your life, but he abruptly drew back, sensing your orgasm and robbing you of it.

“Not yet, baby. Haven’t even given you my pipe. You want it don’t you?” You nodded, then he chuckled and slapped your ass cheeks again, driving away the sensation of your building orgasm and somehow, making you even harder than you had been. 

He took a break from spanking you to adjust the camera angle, leaving you feeling bare and exposed without the warmth of his body near yours. When he returned, you looked over your shoulder at him and caught a glimpse of his sculpted body. He was like an Adonis carving as he hovered over you. He winked before depositing a generous stream of lube onto your hole, spreading it around with his finger. He pushed one inside and you arched as it slid in.

“You’re tighter than I’m used to. I’ll take it slow,” he said.

He was true to his word, and took his time entering you. The stretch was like nothing you’d ever felt before. He had you fisting the sheets, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as he gave you deep strokes. 

Over and over again, he buried his length inside you. Sounds of him pounding you echoed throughout the space. It went on for long, glorious moments. Soon, he slowed his pace, and the tip of his cock curved against your prostate as his balls hit your ass. He lingered there, grinding. The motion made your eyes roll back while he pressed himself deeper, rubbing his engorged head against your spot and making you leak all over his clean sheets. It took you a moment to realize he was getting close. He emptied a hot burst of cum inside you the next instant, prompting your release. It swept over you like a storm—you weathered it beneath him, ass stuffed full of his cock. 

The ropes came one after another, followed by sharp cries. You shuddered there under all his weight, until he wrapped his arms around your waist and chest, then lifted you off the bed. You hadn’t realized how much stronger he was than you. It was like you weighed nothing to him, despite being pretty stocky and muscular yourself.

“What are you doing?” you asked through heavy breaths as he lowered you onto his lap, both of you were at the edge of the bed now, facing the camera.

“Buying time,” he whispered into your ear, “No one’s ever made me cum that fast.”

Before you could beg him to give you a minute or two to recover from your high, his hand was around your softening, sensitive cock. He pumped hard. You shrieked, bucking and jerking against his firm body. He stilled you with even harder strokes and you stopped fighting as a strange sensation overtook you. 

Before long something began building up—a sharp pressure, not unlike the feeling of almost pissing your pants.

“Please s-stop,” you begged between shivers and breaths. “Feels like I’m gonna—gonna—”

“Piss all over yourself and my floor?” he asked, pumping you even harder, “I know—that’s what I’m betting on. It'll look great on camera.”

Your eyes rolled back for the second time in one night as he pinned you tighter against him, one hand stroking you, the other cupping your balls—which were empty. It was your bladder that wasn’t.

“B-but—”

“Shhhh, it’ll feel good. Even better than the orgasm I just gave you, and you'll probably cum a little more beforehand too. I Promise. Just relax, let it happen. You’ll see, there’s nothing like it.”

You were too overstimulated to protest—to speak—to do anything outside of let your body be led by his influence. He guided you along the path of your second high. You didn’t think it was possible to feel anything as intense as the orgasm you just had. You were wrong. You came again somehow, just like he said you would.

Then, without warning, he slipped a finger inside you. You clenched around it uncontrollably and braced yourself against him as the contents of your bladder came gushing out, hard and fast like a fountain. He milked you for every drop as you squealed and writhed in his lap with your back against his chest, panting and on the verge of collapse.

“That’s it sexy. Let it all out for me like a good bottom.”

More tight-fisted strokes sent you arching and spraying. You had never felt anything like this. The floor beneath you was soaked. Both of you were drenched now. He didn’t seem to mind, and pressed kisses into your neck. The wetter you made the place, the more he praised you. You poured like a water hose for a full thirty seconds (you watched the recording once it was posted and timed it).

When at last he drained you of everything, you lay sprawled on the bed, limp and tender as a noodle. He helped you clean yourself, then lay beside you.

“Fuck that was good,” he said, tucking both hands behind his head. “You down for another round. Maybe later this week?”

You rolled onto your side and rested your head on his chest. He stroked your back. 

“Yeah,” you said, “I’d love that.”

An attempt had been made on your life but you were only vaguely aware of this as the haziness in your head cleared. The aftertaste of the poisoned wine overpowered rational thought. But you didn’t need to use your mind, not with Lieutenant Lee standing watch. He was somewhere near, hovering in the margins of your vision. You couldn’t yet see him but you’d recognize his scent under any circumstance, even semi-conscious you could make out the soft notes of jasmine and hyacinth. 

Among all your royal guards, he prided himself on hygiene and appearance the most. While others of your high garrison wasted their coin on gambling and drink, Lieutenant Lee preferred spending his stipend on finer things: the most luxurious imported silks, perfumed oils, cultural enrichment lessons.

    “My lord, you must take water, and quickly. These foreign poisons are known to cripple if not properly flushed out of one’s system.” Lee had whispered these words to you in hushed tones, spoken in the Knight's Tongue—the formal language of those devoted in service to you. It was wise of him to speak it in the presence of so many foreigners, all of them now potential enemies, assailants. It was wiser still of Lieutenant Lee to have been so wary of this gala. Wary enough to have insisted you take an Immunity Tonic before leaving the palace. He had slipped it into your hands whilst dressing you, despite your protests. You had fussed and whined for you knew it to be bitter and unnecessary but he said nothing, merely stood resolute, brow quirked in that stoic, insufferable way of his. He’d aimed one of his cold glares at you until you’d forced it all down, wincing at the strong medicinal taste. You had cursed him then but gods you were grateful for it now. His paranoia had saved your life. 

He stared down at you, cool and collected despite the chaos in the dining hall. Wide-eyed dignitaries and princes were scrambling in panic but Lieutenant Lee was unfazed as he tended to you, gently pressing the rim of a chalice to your lips, urging you to sip. You drank, and the water went to work at once, clearing your head, bringing you back to yourself. When the cup had been drained, you rose to your feet, somewhat unsteady as you gazed upon the sea of stunned faces.

“The prince is alive! Oh thank the—” you put your hand up to silence the baron, the sound of his voice was high and grating. Your ears couldn’t handle it. Nor could your eyes endure the pompous sight of him—dressed in loud, clashing colors of every print imaginable.You shut them, pinching the bridge of your nose as you leaned against Lieutenant Lee for support.

“Ready the horses,” commanded Lieutenant Lee, taking you by the arm and leading you away from the loud baron, who insisted upon shouting apologies at your back. It had been his gala, and you’d attended only at the bequest of your title. As crown prince and next in line for the throne, you could not dismiss the invitation of courtiers, no matter how lowly you deemed them.

Back at the palace, in your quarters, Lieutenant Lee tended to you, drawing your bath and laying out your night clothes. You had servants for this but he had not trusted you to be alone with anyone but him given your state, and had sent them away. A show of his fealty. 

He peeled off your clothing with gentle hands. You stood naked and trembling before him. Shy, for he was fully dressed and resplendent in the gold and crimson uniform of a high ranking vassal. But he kept his eyes on yours, they did not dip any lower as he led you to the bath.

“I have compiled a list of possible assailants,” he said as he smoothed cleansing oils across your chest.

“Oh? Already?”

“Mmm.” You fought to keep from shuddering at this reply, it was a low rumble in his throat. A grunt really. There was something sinful about it and you felt a searing heat rush to your lower extremities. The water was opaque with suds from the cleansing oils, bless the gods. What rose underneath it could be seen by none, and felt only by you.

    “Is the baron among your suspects?” you asked, shrinking from his soft touches, they were beginning to drive you mad.

    “Of course. I’m calling a formal inquisition at first light. Your royal guard will be battle ready from here until the end of it—until whoever is responsible for this is caught.”

    “Full armor? Really Lieutenant, is that necessary? I’m fine, I’m alright, not even a scratch on me.” You meant this as a joke but he merely glared at you as he lifted your arm, rubbing circles under it—you felt the heat of him even through the washcloth.

    “I am the head of your garrison. I do not take assassination attempts lightly.”

    “What of jokes? Can you take them lightly, or at all?”

    He responded with another of his lewd grunts, licking his lips this time, dark eyes fixed on his task. Gods you were going to lose a load and soil the water. It was a small mercy that he was fully clothed, that you could not see his bare and chiseled form as he saw yours, here and now. Why did he have to be this way? So gods damned alluring and unattainable and—

    No. No, no, no, no,no. You mustn't do this.

    “Are you alright my lord?”

    “What?”

    “You look like you’re in pain.” 

    “Oh, I’m—fine, I’m—”

    “Come, you must rest now. The night has worn on you.”

    You did not protest, and were in fact grateful to have been given an out.

****

The following morning you rose early, before the servants even. You had not slept well and headed for the temple to pray to the goddess for strength. You made a modest offering at her alter and left, nearly colliding with Lieutenant Lee as you stepped over the threshold. Of course he had followed you, why in heavens did you think you could escape his notice? He was something to behold in his armor. All of the skin and carved muscle you couldn’t see the night before was now on full display. Silver plates adorned his ivory skin and his dark hair gleamed like a lake at midnight reflecting the moon. He bowed, sword dangling from his hip—a warrior.

    At the morning meal he had tasters sample your food for poisons before allowing you to eat. The baron’s son had journeyed overnight and joined you for the meal, bearing gifts of honeyed wine and laurels in apology. He was called Evander and had at one time, wanted your hand in marriage. But you had little in common and the union would have benefited him more than you. There was also the case of his dull personality and appearance—he wasn’t at all your type. Despite this, you still gave him your audience. After having eaten, the two of you strolled through the court gardens, the afternoon sun lending its summer warmth.

    “I must once more apologize for what transpired at Father’s gala,” said Evander as the pair of you waded through a winding path of lilies.

    “You needn’t. I’m alright.”

    “That lieutenant of yours,” Evander paused and threw a sidelong glance over his shoulder at Lee as he trailed behind you, “such quick thinking to have saved you like that.”

    “Mm, I’m lucky to have him.”

    “Indeed,” muttered Evander.

    “Luckier still that of all the nobility present that night, mine was the only meal to have been tampered with.” You regretted saying this, but much as you'd tried, you couldn’t help feeling jaded and indignant. Evander stiffened at this speculative slight.

    “You’re angry. And rightfully so. But you don’t know how embarrassing this is for us, our family. Falling out of favor like this, it’s worse honestly than swallowing poison.”

    “Is that so?” you quipped, barely suppressing a scoff.

    “We’ve lost the trust of every nobility in the province.”

    You rolled your eyes. “Some might say that is what you deserve.” Evander made a choked sound and stopped walking. More regret—it seemed a dearest companion of yours this day. “Listen,” you continued, “I’ve no ill will towards you. You’ve requested an audience and I’ve obliged. Surely this will be enough to lend back some of your credibility once word spreads of your being here.”

    “I—I suppose but—”

    “My lord, you are expected in the drawing room for the oversight and signature of imported goods.” This was Lieutenant Lee. He stood beckoning you with that quirked brow of his—an expression he put on when trying to be authoritative. It worked and you went to him at once, offering a half-hearted farewell to Evander.

    “You’re welcome to the east wing, stay as long as you need,” you called to him over your shoulder as you walked off.

    The remainder of the day was filled with the usual tedium of princely duties. You performed dull tasks, one after another until night crept upon you. After a supper surrounded by Evander and his consorts in waiting, you found yourself alone again, undressing before Lieutenant Lee.

“Why do you insist on this? My servants will start a riot. They will think they are being displaced of their duties, turned out of the palace,” you huffed. Lieutenant Lee ignored you, stripping off your undergarment with the indifference of one changing a bedsheet. You wished you could do the same thing to him, and stood imagining yourself freeing him of his armor, running your hands along his stiff and bulging...

    “In nudity you are most vulnerable. I don’t trust you under the watch of anyone but me. They are not as thorough as I am. They cannot protect you in an ambush.”

    “Gods you’re overestimating my enemies. Whoever they may be, they’re cowards. They had to employ wines and posions to do the work of ending me. Couldn't even put steel to flesh like real men.” Lieutenant Lee chuckled at this and your heart quickened. That sound. Fuck, that beautiful sound. It did things to you, and when you were out of your clothes, you rushed to the bath, concealing yourself in the water. 

He cleaned you with the same tenderness he had the night prior, sliding his large hands up and down the length of your torso, across the span of your chest. He did you the courtesy of letting you cleanse your privates on your own, but this did little to ease you—his presence alone was enough to send the blood pumping to your head—the one that didn’t do your thinking.

    When you were clean, he fetched a cloth. You rose, shielding your steadily growing length from him. If he had noticed a change in you, he said nothing, merely covered you and led you back to your quarters. Then left you to stand guard outside your door.

    There was a vial of oil stowed in your bedside table. You seized it and lay on your back. He was all you could think of as you worked to quell the aching throb between your legs.

The following day went much the same as the previous, and the next, and the next, and the one after. As did the nights. Each bath with him drove you a touch madder than the last. Not only for being so near to him, for breathing in the sultry scent of his perfumed sweat, but for the way he was so utterly unmoved by you, as if you were but a fixture on the wall, or a piece of furniture strewn about the palace. Something there and nothing more. You were certain he felt no throbbing, no ache or raging want to press his skin against yours. 

Every one of your guards had a rumor or more about their escapades. They were all of them highly desirable men and women, selected for their skill, their charm, their devotion. Sarafine had seduced every maiden in the court with her sweet tongue and flowing braids. She had even tempted you. Maxim had wooed both men and women, sometimes even stealing away married nobles from their wives or husbands. There was sordid talk of almost all your garrison, save for Lieutenant Lee. It was as if he was made of stone.

****

Nearly a fortnight had passed and Evander had still not left the palace. Lieutenant Lee was deep in the inquisition all the while. He had ruled out many of his suspects and you were growing weary of seeing Evander sulk about the courtyards. You had resolved to confront him in private, and managed to sneak away from Lieutenant Lee’s prying eyes long enough to practice what you’d say to Evander aloud. You sequestered yourself in the great palace library, where no ears could overhear you. It was quiet, and carried the soothing smell of old pages. It was everything you needed. So silent and familiar it was, that you did not even notice the figure that crept behind you until their hands were wrapped around your throat. You felt the blade against your neck and panic overcame you.

    “The baron sends his regards, and his sympathy for not ensuring your demise at the gala, it would have been a cleaner death than this.”

    There was nothing you could do but pray to the goddess for a swift end. Whoever this was, had caught you completely off guard. You clamped your eyes shut, and braced for the pain. 

But it did not come. 

There was a loud shriek and the harsh sounds of fists against flesh, against jaws. You turned and saw Lieutenant Lee, panting over your attacker, sword drawn and already at his neck. You recognized the man as one of Evander’s consorts—a lord in waiting. 

Lieutenant Lee did not relent his assault, even when the man was bloodied and beaten delirious. The rest of your royal garrison came in and carried him off so that you did not have to look upon him. 

A short while later, Evander was jailed and a warrant of arrest was dispatched for his father, the baron. If you had been killed, your sister would be next in line for the throne—next in line to be courted by another of the baron's power hungry sons. The nerve of them, of Evander, after all the courtesy you had shown.

    You could think of nothing but the injustice, and the fact that Lieutenant Lee had not said a word to you for the remainder of the day. He must have been angry with you for trying to shirk him. Even so, he had still sent the servants away, despite the fact that he had vanquished the threat upon your life. He bathed you in his normal, stoic fashion, but you flinched from him as he brought the cloth to your neck. A flashback of the attack had taken over you.

    “You are still shaken,” he said, lowering the cloth.

    “I’m alright. Or I will be, in time.”

    He said nothing more and carried on in his usual way. 

In your chamber he lingered, drying your hair with a cloth and checking the small cut on your neck where the blade had dug in. He spread a healing, herbal balm on it. Your eyes met, and held as the pad of his finger worked it in. 

    “Th-thank you, for saving my—my—”

    “You are my prince. It is my duty, my honor. I need no thanks.”

    Something possessed you in that moment—perhaps it was the memory of him fighting so valiantly to save your life. Or the conviction in his declaration. Whatever it was stirred you to action and you did not think, you did not hesitate. Your lips were on his in an instant, eager hands slipping under the armor that kept him from you. 

He did not stop you from this, he simply stood still, and let you do as you wanted. You took liberty with this allowance, and a grunt escaped him as you palmed his length. It doubled in size with a few hard circles rubbed against it and this is when he stopped you. Swatting your hand away and lifting you—lifting you! 

You nearly gasped as he carried you to the bed, as his hands worked to shed you of your robes. Those hands which had grazed you so many times. Touching you without feeling you. Now they aimed to please you. He reached, and took you in his large palm, stroking until you were hard as stone in his grasp—it took mere seconds.

    “Oil, is there any here?” he whispered, breathing the words into your mouth between kisses. You snatched it from your bedside table and pressed it into his palm. He took his time sliding into your entrance with his rigid length. There was so much of him to take. 

You had never imagined he would be such a gentle lover.

    “You will tell me if it hurts my lord?” he cooed as he eased himself inside you. You nodded, already lying to him. It hurt but you wanted the pain, you wanted it because he was giving it to you.

    “Don’t stop,” you said, breathless. He did not stop. Pleasure danced across his features as he buried himself inside you. He was so handsome under its influence. His strokes were long, deep. He told you of your beauty with each one, of your tightness, of the way you clenched around him, of how he longed to be the only one to feel the depths of you each night. Was this the same man who had guarded you day after day? Cold and unyielding as a marble sculpture. He was nothing like that now, as the heat of him filled you, as he pumped your stiff cock and fed you his length until you met your release. Warm ropes painted your abdomen. More painted your stretched and pulsing entrance as he spilled his warmth inside you. You went on this way for hours, and lost count of how many loads you lost to his oil-slick pulls, his ardent pumps. Until finally he collapsed on top of you, grunting with the vestiges of his high. You kissed him, holding his face with both hands.

    “I did not think you desired me,” you said.

    A chuckle, breathy and spent.

    “Of course I do. I am sworn to you. You are my prince—my heart.”