[ Will closes his eyes, leaning into Louis's touch. It doesn't matter to him that the servants may be watching, that others shall surely see. What he wants is right before him, and will be his forevermore. ]
Then... hmm, what else? I know it'd mean an expense, but surely we can do something to make sure that all the people are happy, too...
[ Days later, in his private chambers, Ovis Lydnad Gideaux contemplates his faith.
It is not the first time he has done so since the near-simultaneous deaths of both Sanctifex Forden and Saintess Rella. How strange it all is, he thinks, to have the core tenets of Sanctism so soundly questioned at this point in his life. He thinks of himself as only another lamb among the flock, but somehow, the Church's comings and goings have effectively fallen to him as Sanctiarch. There is even some talk of appointing him as the next Sanctifex after Forden, though he's staunchly refused to allow a vote on such an honor. Only a few years ago, he would have bitten at the chance to be so remembered by his congregation and engraved into the church's history; ambition drove him so blindly then, and he was so full of flaws. Now, he thinks he does not deserve the honor. Indeed, he isn't sure that any in the church now deserve the honor.
Still. He rises to the occasion because his people deserve it from him. The strangest thing of all is that the new king seems to support Gideaux — this despite the fact that Gideaux vividly remembers wishing to cut him dead, and even acting upon it, once or twice in the past. He had thought of the boy then as nothing more than elda spawn from the fires of hell sent to test his Sanctifex and his commitment to the people. Now, somehow, the young man seems to regularly find the nerve to write to him as a friend.
And then King Wilhelm called Gideaux into his office and asked whether or not the Sanctiarch felt comfortable overseeing his wedding ceremony.
He had thoughts on the choice of partner, surely. He had thoughts on the outrageous timing. But even then, Gideaux had thought the king's question odd. Why are you asking me? You are the king, and I am only a humble servant of God. The days when the theocracy controlled the state are behind us now. I am yours to command. He didn't say that. But he thought it.
Still, Will kept asking. "Because of the faith, you know," he'd said, casual as anything. "I just thought I'd check."
Gideaux had felt an odd lump in his throat, one he struggled to swallow down. "The faith is wrong," he'd said. "I have told our believers as much. The faith... is wrong. We were wrong to discriminate against the elda for so many years. I only fear now that it shall take too long to undo the hatred we have sowed and nurtured."
"Well, that's nice to hear," King Wilhelm had said blithely, as if he didn't really care whether or not the Sanctists reformed themselves, but was happy to hear that they would indeed make an attempt. "And what about the other part of this? Do you, ah... mind terribly, that Louis is a clemar?"
"Should it matter?"
"Well, it would make our wedding a mixed-tribe marriage, wouldn't it?"
"Your father before you..." The former warrior monk faltered, then cleared his throat. "I — forgive me. Truly, it is not my place to speak of this. But your father before you was also a clemar, so if you and Count Louis were to bear children, I would assume that they would also present as... clemar..."
A magnificently amused smirk appeared on Will's face. "Is that going to happen?"
Gideaux found himself flushing red in the face, all the way up to his pointed ears and hairless head. "I misspoke," he mumbled, too used to thinking of marriage as something between a man and a woman, "but the point remains. You yourself are... the point remains. Such things are in the past now, I should think. Even in rural Martira, the sanctoress — what was done to her was wrong."
"So you don't have any reservations."
"The faith is wrong," Gideaux repeated, with shame. "I am sorry for what we have done."
"It's not on you to apologize." The king tapped a pen against his desk thoughtfully. "Gideaux?"
"Yes?"
"What if Louis were an elda? Would that bother you?"
Gideaux paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, with a light flutter of his cloak. "Your Majesty," he murmured, "let us dispense with these questions. It matters not whether he is elda, or clemar, or ishkia, or rhoag. I shall be blessed to marry you and your beloved."
Now — as dawn breaks upon a glorious day in the capital — as he walks through the streets and sees its people in raucous celebration, women in their prettiest dresses and men in whatever passes for their best, children shrieking with laughter as they celebrate the marriage of two men they have never met and possibly never will, gossipmongers offering information on this or that for however much reeve they can get for it — as the little mixed-tribe girl from the slums and her paripus mother of no relation offer food to any and all passersby in celebration of the king she loves dearly enough to be a brother — as even the state army soldiers have been sent to distribute loaves of bread and bowls of soup and clean water to the penniless paupers in the slums, the way the saints of yore supposedly gathered their people in times of famine and conjured miracles in the name of God —
— Gideaux finds himself thinking, How wonderful it is to be alive in times like these. And then, What an honor it is to pronounce the union of a king like this.
As he waits in the cathedral for the wedding procession to emerge from the palace, round through the main thoroughfares of Grand Trad — the couple to be married waving from the king's runner, gloriously young and beautiful in the way that all young couples are — Gideaux knows that he has thinly veiled threats from the Princes of Oceana and Montario on his humble desk in the monastery. He knows that the ousted Igniter Consortium Head has called for his immediate resignation. Even so, Gideaux thinks of faith, and time, and the way that history will prove him right. He has the utmost faith that what he is doing is not wrong.
"...I pronounce you king and king consort, in the eyes of God and all Euchronia," he intones, as gracefully as he has ever done anything. "Closurei."
The king leans in and upward for a kiss from his beloved — ]
[ the kiss is firm, less like one they share in unbridled desire and more like sealing of a vow. Louis Guiabern – Louis Charadrius – does not waver in his promises. the cheers of the crowd are all but distant echoes, as was the intensity on his face when he stared at Gideaux from his spot on the altar.
some concessions had to be made, and the church was one of them. Louis was not unaware that their marriage would be seen as illegitimate without the backing of the faith, but there were still deep wounds that became grudges – there's not a part of Louis that would not see the church burn to the ground. there is something satisfying about this though, where the church itself is marrying the two of them, which would have been taboo not even a year prior.
the next kiss is a fuller, not one of a promise, but tinged with passion, uncaring to the onlookers. Gideaux does not expect a kiss past the first, and looks away at the second out of what seems like a privacy offering, where Louis sweeps the king forward by the hips and kisses the corner of his lips, then on the mouth again. the cheer from the crowd erupts in a way he hardly cares about, somewhere away from the altar, off far from the two of them.
the streets are full of color and flowers, voices calling their names, scandalous gossip and opportunists. the good spirits are contagious. it all has a sort of haphazard harmony to it, Louis thinks: the merchants trade their wares, the elda and mustari among them; drunkards roll through the streets by the end of the morning, making progress on the celebratory libations; and the Partisans all play their own parts, all having caught some degree of Will's enthusiasm. really, it's as if all of Grand Trad has caught his enthusiasm, and is quite the sight, indeed.
the party is expected to go on for days, tapering off at the end of the week. not necessarily because of any grand plans made by the king, but the populace's celebrations seem to become a beast all their own. King Wilhelm's reign has been quiet enough since his coronation that everyone seems eager to celebration, as if they could grasp just a bit of the grandeur.
Louis had organized a tournament for the day after the wedding, open to all that would show up to test their skills. it roused his followers and piqued the interest of every passer that had seen his former posters prior to his downfall (though it hardly feels like he had a downfall at all, these days). it would bring opportunity to those who have talent and have not seen it through, it also seemed to rouse interest in the royal army, as if all inspiring to clamor for some of the strength that Count Louis – now the king consort – extrudes. there would be a day or two before he made an appearance, as the preliminaries needed to wrap up before the true tournament began. of course, Louis knew that Will would want him to himself for at least a few days after this, he's come to expect it.
Junah sings in the gardens of the palace, her voice carrying, through some spell, even past its walls. there are plates and plates of food, some the king's favorite dishes, others prepared and overseen by Basilio, who put the menu together himself. there are nobles, familiar faces, friends and honorable guests all mingling around the decorated gardens. there's even a small band of fairies that came from the elda village, giggling and waving at Gallica whenever they found a window to do so.
at the dais is the table for the king and his Partisans, seated there with drinks and small dishes as the guests offered last minute gifts and blessings. Louis now knows to lean partially inward when Will seems to want to share – either a sip of some sweet wine or a small bite of something that seems to please him. ]
They're rather apt on getting your attention.
[ Louis remarks to Gallica, who's floating somewhere between his head and Will's, dressed in white lace for the occasion.
"Don't make me go over there," Gallica puffs out. "They're all really airheaded."
as if in response, Louis tilts his head in, shrinking the space between the three of them and leaning in to kiss Will, forcing Gallica to flit out behind them with a little hey! ]
[ The entire wedding has felt like a dream, to Will.
One major victory, he thinks, is how wonderfully public they've been. They've kissed each other before the eyes of all onlookers, more than once, and still even now, again and again, over the celebratory banquet. Louis keeps leaning in for kisses, for attention, for little bits and pieces of things Will has enjoyed eating: bidou, partridge, a bit of a peach crumble, even some long noodles from Heismay's eugief village. They hadn't really talked about boundaries or what they'd be demonstrating to the public, prior to the wedding, so Will feels aglow. Part of him had wondered if Louis would not want to show such vulnerability to the nation. He needn't have worried; Louis Guiabern fears neither judgment from mortal man nor the divine.
Even the naysayers who put real money on the idea that the wedding was a political stunt have been silenced now. They're the very picture of young love, young and beautiful and besotted with each other, and their good cheer has slowly started to infect the rest of Grand Trad. There's Loveless, loudly and drunkenly erupting in raucous good cheer; there's Catherina, dragging him down from a table and boxing him around the ears, yelling, "You're makin' us paripus look bad, you idiot!" Basilio is laughing; Fidelio looks as though he wants nothing to do with his fellow animal-eared tribesmen. Lady Gruidae is somewhere off to the side, floating on her carpet and watching the paripus brawl with an interest that ill befits her outward "vaunted elder" person.
Elsewhere, Edeni has engaged Bardon in conversation; Bardon seems somewhat flustered to be engaged on equal terms with someone he perceives as a graceful leader of his people. Across the way, Alonzo is toying with an elegant pipe between his fingers; he looks vaguely as though he wants to fill it with something and take a drag off of it, but a stern glance from Brigitta (who is entertaining children) stays his hand.
Will turns his gaze back towards Louis and feeds him another bite of apple pie. ]
Sorry, Gallica. You're going to have to get used to it.
[ He kisses a crumb off Louis's bottom lip, ignoring the way his fairy friend groans and slaps her forehead.
"You did something," she says accusingly towards Louis, though there's no real heat to it. "You made him stupid. Although, now that I think about it, I guess he was always kind of stupid..."
Will chuckles softly, not off-put in the least — it's true, he would have been very stupid without Gallica's guidence — but serenely continues: ]
Still, the tournament idea was kind of a surprise. Part of me almost wants to enter it myself... but I guess that wouldn't be very fair.
[ while Louis is never particularly obedient, he seems somewhat content to let Will feed him. it is titillating to him in the way that the king, who has defeated him utterly and completely, is now feeding him. there's a tinge of power to it that thrills him. Louis lounges with his temple to his knuckles, shifting slightly and opening his mouth just enough for Will to feed him.
to Louis, a celebration is a celebration, and this is, to an extent, his as much as it is Will's to drink in and enjoy. there's no need to hide his affection, especially when in contrast to skeptical onlookers and furious naysayers. it's enough for him to know that each time their lips touch that someone is getting mad about it.
he's partially paying attention to the wedding antics playing out in the garden, though his attention is on Will. all and all, Louis seems to enjoy his pie. ]
The king winning the king consort's tournament would stoke the conspiratorial flames of those determined to incite one.
[ though the thought itself amuses him to a degree. ]
During our rivalry, I remember you were among the top ranks in the coliseum. Do you crave a new challenge?
[ (he was keeping tabs on Will at the time, after all.)
it's an honest question – he had heard a lot about Will's climb to popularity, and it wasn't always speeches and kindness. there was a grittiness to it too: dungeons filled with monsters, dragons radiating fear, and humans that ravaged the countryside. Will is no stranger to battle. it's also a funny question, given that Louis is rather well-dressed in wedding robes, with his hair braided and pulled back as he asks it. ]
Well, maybe... but I can't enter the tournament! That wouldn't be fair.
[ It's still mysterious to him, even now, that they play off each other so well now that the kingdom is at peace. They converse so easily, so playfully, and even after all these weeks, Will's fascination with Louis hasn't ebbed in the least. Between each passing visitor and guest come to offer their congratulations and best wishes for the marriage, Will steals glances at his husband as if the sun rises and sets at his word.
Though his adoration doesn't seem to have diminished his own cocky confidence any, as he tilts his head and smirks and says — ]
Because I'd definitely win.
[ Well... he's not wrong.
Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he adds in a whisper: ]
I'm not sure there's a challenge more exciting than dueling you, anyway.
[ well, that is curious. though Will has won – he has become king, tamed dragons, crawled through ancient dungeons and defeated Louis at his worst. yet here he is, mulling over not being able to enter the king consort's tournament, because there's still something within him that craves strength.
Louis sits back, pleased. Will is being cocky, but he's certainly not wrong. the king would win – perhaps there's aspects of Louis' dream yet within the world, though it has mostly died. ]
Is that so?
[ Louis tilts his head, leaning in. his voice is as smooth as silk. as he speaks in gets closer, bridging the space between them. ]
Perhaps I could fulfill that need for you.
[ before Will can respond, Louis sits up and reaches for a piece of bread that's not far from him. there's an aristocrat approaching the dais, some daughter of a lord of a lord sort of thing. she leaves some candied fruit in front of them (which is whisked off by an attendant), and Louis gives his majesty a pointed look before he eats. ]
[ Will craves strength, and excitement, and adventure; he needs romance and fantasy and something to strive for, even as he strives to create a world where no one needs to strive so desperately at all. He craves Louis, too, and that is what has led him here: to this marriage, and to a world where his ideals and Louis's ideals can coexist.
No one ever said that they each needed to destroy the other. That seems a folly imposed onto them by the sins of other men.
Will's eyes lid seductively; he is comfortable with this new distance. He knows that everyone is watching, that the country will hear of this even if they do not see it personally, but he doesn't care. Let them watch. Let them listen. ]
You're going to fulfill a lot of needs for me...
[ Teasing, and quite happily flirting, Will opens his mouth for Louis to put — well, anything in it, really; those candied fruits were tempting, but since they've been whisked away, the king will most certainly accept a bit of his consort's piece of bread instead.
Gallica groans.
"Ugh, you two are just going to flirt all night, aren't you?" the girl grumbles, planting a fairy palm against her fairy forehead. Then she slides off the upside-down teacup she's been sitting on, smoothly sliding into her usual long-legged flying posture. "Forget it. I'm going to go see what Junah and Eupha are up to. Call me back before the knot ceremony!" ]
[ to say that love is a savior never rung true Louis, possibly because after his parents died his life had been so devoid of it that it was hard to imagine that anything could be built on the obscure. if he was asked about a future where his ambitions were thwarted, he would have never conceived that it would end in marriage, only death. he won or he died; that was the promise.
and yet, here he was, leaning in and finding affectionate words for a king who defiantly, desperately saved him. it was not just Will's world that needed building, but pure rejection of the idea of duality. Louis had offered it in his own way, but a world monsters and bloody battle was not made of romance and fantasy.
his new husband is easily malleable, and from his bedroom eyes it's already easy to tell what's on his mind. ]
To think, we've been quite patient.
[ Louis takes a moment to admire him, his eyes closed and his lips parted, but he doesn't feed him just yet. he traces his lip from the center to the corner, as he seems to like to do, enjoying the soft shape before putting a jam-covered piece of sweet bread in his mouth. Gallica's already off before either of them can say anything, both of them a bit too entranced with one another to see her off.
not only did he not believe his the end of his prior ambitions would end in marriage, even less so did Louis Guiabern believe he would be feeding a lover on a flower-covered dais.
he hears someone whistle loudly at them, looking up directly at the noise that seems to be a very intoxicated Loveless. (somewhere in his brain he wonders where in any world that this uncultured half-wit became a candidate.) while he doesn't notice Louis' piercing gaze on him, Catherina picks up on it like a knife is held to Loveless' throat. she drags him down again, elbow around his neck and a curse on her lips.
"Don't pay attention to him, he's just an idiot!"
"Hey, shouldn't you be careful? No fights at the king's wedding!" someone hisses just above a whisper.
Basilio leans forward in his seat, clearly amused.
then Louis gets up and holds up his cup, everyone stills, as if holding their breath. ]
Come now, a wedding without a few good scuffles would turn out rather dull. A round for the winner.
[ it goes over well enough, with Loveless tumbling to the floor with a laugh that will surely be a few nasty bruises come tomorrow morning. it seems to put some ease to the room that felt that their way of celebrating may not be appropriate – well, times are different, now. ]
[ Louis ends the tumult in the way that only Louis Guiabern can: with an inimitable, sparkling charisma, a dignity that could never be stripped from him no matter the circumstances. He proposes a toast, claims absolutely no offense at Loveless's inebriated attempts to ruin his own wedding. He is, in other words, eminently likable, and no one at the party could possibly love him more than his own husband, who is giggling in the seat by his side past a mouthful of jam and bread.
Will can see on the faces of the guests who only know Louis by name and reputation, and never by his person, that all are somewhat impressed and astounded that the man is infinitely more relaxed than they expected him to be.
...Soon, everything settles again. Catherina is soon triumphantly enjoying the alcohol she earned as being the "winner" of the wedding brawls. Strohl seems to have found himself holding court amidst a gaggle of admirers; he looks flustered enough that Hulkenberg soon stages an operation to extract him from the crowd of noble daughters he seems to have somehow attracted. Even Eupha is tittering on a bench somewhere, swaying in the way she only gets when she's more than just slightly inebriated; fortunately, Edeni is soon by her side offering her water.
So it goes.
When the banquet has slowly come to a close and the woman who runs the castle kitchens darts out briefly to curtsy at her king before rushing back in to the fray, Will knows it is almost time to bring the festivities to an end. He turns and smiles at his beloved, his new life partner, rising to his feet and holding one hand out towards his impossibly perfect consort. ]
[ the day is long and the festivities are vast. it's been quite a while since there's been a royal wedding, and this is the first one many have seen in their lifetimes. it's even rarer due to the elda that now occupies the throne (or eldas, to those who know).
while the guests finish their food and drink, both Will and Louis are whisked away to freshen up. there are a few outer layers that need to be changed, both of them need their hair attended to, and a breather to use the facilities before the next ceremony. Louis is somewhat used to this – court celebrations had always been long, and never entirely about person they're being thrown for, but certainly about spectacle. he's very good at spectacle. it's refreshing to see Will make it his own in all the small ways that he's excited, despite who wants to see them paraded, at the end of the day, it is theirs to claim.
they manage to sneak in another kiss before they leave to stand in front of Lady Gruidae, who awaits them in the garden under a flowered archway. this ceremony is far smaller, given the reasoning for it, but the Partisans are there, and quite a few of the elda from the village have shown up. Louis has more respect for the traditions of the elda than that of the church, and there is some private satisfaction in bringing them out of hiding and into the heart of Euchronia. to all there, the king is elda and the consort is clemar, but there are a few among the crowd that know the truth, that Lady Gruidae is marrying two elda.
she says something from the pages of a book that's tied back to ritual, knots their conjoined hands with ribbon at each passage. Louis isn't paying attention to her, his half-lidded eyes fixed on Will, who looks as if he has energy to spare. as each knot is tied, it reminds him of all the pain and joy it took them to get here – each one is a time when they met and parted, or when they tried to kill each other, or when they passed in the night, some nuance in their ideals not allowing them partnership.
there are drinks and snacks when it finishes, and they're sat at a table where some of the elda from the village offer their congratulations. somewhere between one person and the next, Louis tucks a white flower behind Will's ear before sitting back in satisfaction as the next person takes his attention. ]
[ Will looks up as the white flower is tucked into his hair; his gaze softens when it occurs to him what Louis has done. For all that he says he distanced himself from the elda, Will thinks, that quiet village really did live forever on in his heart.
They have had the marriage that Will's mother and father were never able to have — not that they were not married in their own quiet way, but Hythlodaeus V never enjoyed a public wedding celebrated by the kingdom and blessed by the church, and in history's eyes, he died loveless and alone. The secrets of those white royal flowers are theirs to bear, now, and Will swears solemnly in his own heart that he will give the pure white blossoms a better legacy.
At last, the wedding festivities come to an official close. The celebrations will no doubt continue throughout the week, as holidays have been called for nearly every industry to be found in Grand Trad, but even the kings of Euchronia must sleep, and the party has lasted long enough. To bring things to an end, the kingdom's foremost songstress has arranged for a special performance: the gorgeous sound of Junah's voice rings out over the eaves of the city, reaching every corner, every window, every shaded alley.
Will is still humming her song by the time the king and his consort retire, at last, to their bedchamber — the one they will share for the rest of their lives, barring temporary emergency, cozy naps in the garden, or gauntlet runner adventure.
It's strange to think that he was sick in this same bed only not too long ago. Even stranger, now, to think that the selfsame Louis he once swore to kill was there tending to him, and is now his lawfully wedded husband. His gaze softens as he looks up at Louis, reaches up to touch his face. The action jostles Will's royal cloak from his shoulders; it crumples heavily onto the floor. ]
...My consort.
[ He pays the fallen garment no mind as he caresses Louis's fine cheekbone with his thumb. ]
[ there are still well wishes and congratulations and they retire, it's already late into the evening, and the two of them have been up well before dawn. Louis still seems amenable, awake and unbothered.
still, the quiet feels nice.
there's no chatter to drown out the sound of the door clicking shut, or an echo of laughter so loud that he needs to lean closer to Will to hear his voice. it's just quiet; just the two of them. after loyalty, betrayal, death and ambition, here they were. there was always an intimacy that Louis felt when they fought, as if everyone else around the two of them faded away, and it was just the sound of their swords clashing. he feels that now, too.
Louis is impressed with Will's discipline, he half expected to be pressed into the frame of their door before they managed to get through it. the king has been quiet patient for someone who was at the door of the Charadrius not two days after their first tryst.
his expression softens somewhat as Will reaches for his cheek. ]
Moreso then I've been in a while.
[ that is the truth of it. Louis has been less troubled, and he doesn't know if it's because his ambitions have crumbled and he is no longer a slave to them, or if being by Will has made him content. it could be something with their magla, but he hasn't let his thoughts linger too much on it, perhaps one day he will.
when the cloak hits the ground, his eyes follow it, and he reaches forward to tuck his fingers in the loose hem holding Will's jacket together before tugging him forward. ]
[ Will is only too happy to surrender, for once. He was being patient just in case Louis needed that patience, needed to pull himself together into a reality that is not the one he desired but may be the one he needed — but he reminds himself that Louis, too, was impatient to fall into the king's bed once more.
The naysayers shall finally speak truth: Louis Guiabern will seduce the king tonight, less with honeyed words and his beautiful face, and more through the blazing resonance of their own hearts. As Will leans up to kiss him, it occurs to him that he truly has no doubts that this man, this man is his fated lover. Archenemy, archdemon, fellow elda spurned by the world and its cruel machinations, now turned husband and beloved — what more can Will ask for but the prospect of a life with Louis by his side?
As they kiss, Will works on Louis's clothing, too. He's almost loath to disturb the man's beautiful hairstyle, the way it's been artfully tousled and braided for the occasion — but he's generous about sliding Louis's collar open once he has the buttons loose, all the better for him to see the man's flawless body. When Louis moves to strip Will of his clothing in turn, the young king complies, shedding his layers, baring himself before his consort. ]
Louis...
[ They hardly need words, in this moment. Only emotion, raw and painful, exuding from the both of them in waves of powerful magla, taut enough to each affect the other. ]
[ the touch of their mouths is heady, slow but heated, as if trying to press deeper rather than faster. to his surprise there's less impatience and more bottomless desire, as if something has grabbed him by the collar as he stands at the edge of a great precipice.
between now and the last time they had been in each other's bed, Louis had tried to kill will, and Will had come close to killing Louis, Louis had exploited him and tried to turn him into a human, Will had blindly blamed Louis for the Prince's condition, and then Louis tried to end the world. there had been a lot between them, pain and suffering, a clash of ambitions, and the struggle for a better world where they could only see one another. back then Will had blue hair, and their coupling had been entwine with power games.
there are no struggles as Will takes off his clothes, slides his hands against his skin and eventually bears his heart. he doesn't stop him. they are a far reach from what they had been a year ago – months ago – before Will decided to bring him back. it's possible that spell Will used had somehow entwined them in some way, or they were already that way, perhaps. Louis chases each touch with another kiss, pulling Will in by the waist and finding the soft spot beneath his jaw and then down his throat. there's so much clothing to take off, a layer of a vests and overcoats and cloaks, some neatly tied together with ribbon or some royal sigil that Louis discards with the rest of it.
after what seems like too much pulling and disrobing, he's finally sliding a warm hand over Will's bare skin, cupping the small of his back in his hand. it traces down his rear, over the shape of his thighs. a thumb presses against one of soft circle on his chest. there's the sudden desire to touch Will everywhere, but they have the rest of the night, and at least a day or two before they're beckoned back to the world of politics. ]
[ They've coupled before, in what was then inadvisable trysts more so than indulgent lovemaking. They've fucked before, too — though even then, Will feels, it was never about conquest or pride so much as it was about connection and a need for physical intimacy. Now, they have all the time in the world to explore each others' bodies, and nothing else required from them but to be in love with each other, and Will finds himself wishing that every evening could be like this.
He's hungry and he wants, he wants he wants he wants, but there's something good about letting Louis set the tone and the pace of their pleasure, tonight. In times past, something about the man was always distant, restrained; even in the throes of pleasure, Louis seemed as though he could not fully be himself, perhaps because that was indeed truly the case, so long as Will had no idea that he was a fellow elda in search of an equality he could call his own. Now — now, it finally feels as though Louis is letting himself desire more than just desire.
Was he ever so assertive before this? Even when Will showed up in his office, needy — even when Louis pinned him to a shelf and kissed him fiercely — was Louis ever quite like this? This unrestrained, this wanton?
Will shivers slightly, sensitive, as his husband's warm hands slide over his bare skin, claiming him; just one of Louis's palms feels large enough to settle on Will's pert ass and squeeze it firmly. The other hand, more exploratory, teases Will's chest; the young king jerks a little, arms tensing around Louis's shoulders. Perhaps he likes that sort of touch more than he himself has been aware. ]
You're so...
[ He feels dizzy already, swimming in lust. Louis has never been so needy.
Will leans up again, lips greedy for Louis's. When they kiss, he makes a point of stroking one of Louis's horns, feather-light with his fingertips at first, and then a little harder, raking one nail along the sensitive base. ]
[ is there anything left to concern himself over? they're no longer rivals in the way that they had been, and under the layers of violence and fascination, Louis had wanted a camaraderie with Will. it came out in little ways, but it was there, shining through during their clashes. before this moment, there was a time he was unsure of how to accept what he wanted – or even come to terms that he wanted it at all.
there's a pleasant huff that comes out of his mouth as Will touches his horn. ]
You're still fascinated, aren't you?
[ he sounds amused, and as if in retaliation, he gently pinches Will's nipple between his fingers. it's sweet how he's already stiff with want under his touch – well, it has been a while, Louis figures. it feels almost as if they were different people, then.
leaning down with his hair brushing over his shoulder and against Will's cheek, he hovers just above his ear to whisper. ]
Take them off at your leisure.
[ his last piece of clothing.
Louis had always struggled with his loneliness, because he never quite learned how to deal with it, as if connection somehow always alluded him. still, he doesn't feel as if it comes easily to him, but perhaps it comes more easily with Will, now. perhaps being with Will was less an indulgence and more a need.
Will's so lively under each touch, shifting beneath it and shivering when he likes something. they never really had that sort of luxury before, and Louis seems to want to use this to his full advantage – there must be plenty of things that Will likes, and he will find them. ]
[ Will manages to breathe these words out before those damnable fingers tease out a gasp from him instead; he's deliciously sensitive in his nipples, it would seem, so much so that his cock is already just as ruddy and peaked as his pretty little nipples are, and his breath is starting to come uneven in his chest. Swallowing hard on his sense of dizzying arousal, Will does as he's invited to, and lowers his hands so that he can slowly pull off Louis's last article of clothing — his underwear, against which his cock is already straining.
Hearing the sound of Louis's undergarments hit the floor — seeing the familiar shape and girth of Louis's cock again — that alone is enough to make Will moan appreciatively as he takes Louis's cock in hand, feeling its heft, its warmth against his palm. ]
You... you're so beautiful.
[ It's not as though it's his first time with Louis's cock, not by a long shot — but the way he's focused on it right now almost makes it seem like it is. He tugs at it, slow and steady, just enough to stimulate — but his eyes are fixed only on Louis's face, seeking his reactions, his pleasure. ]
So eager for me... and only me...
[ Will their loneliness be sated if they tangle their limbs together? Will that connection burn brighter if Will turns his face upward to kiss Louis again? All things that he wonders to himself; all questions that he wants answered. Kissing, tugging slowly at Louis's cock. So fascinated. ]
I love it. I love you.
[ He reminds himself, with glee, that this is only the first of thousands of nights he will spend with his husband. ]
[ they've never really been in a quiet place before to meet, their affection spotted between missions and battles. it seems like a novelty, something new in their relationship that it does make it feel fresh. there's no underlying tension as Will puts his hands where ever he pleases, stripping Louis of the rest of it and tossing it somewhere to the floor where it doesn't matter anymore. there's no need for it, Will has seen all of him: the good things, the bad things, the wretched loneliness that wrecked him on the inside.
the light touch is comfort, a heady pleasure that isn't too overstimulating, but enough to allow him to enjoy it without anything looming in the back of his brain. it's as if Will is getting reacquainted with his body on new terms, more equal ones then they were on before. ]
You and only you for quite some time.
[ it's an easy remark, but true. ever since that fated day Louis met Will outside the Charadrius, it's been that way. he hasn't take his eyes off of him, even in his madness. ]
And yet in every circumstance you've had saintly patience. Not even once have you shown up at my door. It must have been difficult for you.
[ but Louis understands, he knows what Will has done for his comfort as he grappled with the meaning of this new existence.
as much as Louis loathes to take Will's hand away from his hard cock, he also would rather the two of them be somewhere that would make touching and kissing all the easier. like he's done before, he slides an arm just beneath Will's rear and hefts him up enough to carry him over to the bed.
down, down Will goes, and Louis pushes his shoulder into the sheets, his hair draped to the side like a curtain. he kisses his temple, his cheek, and then down his neck before his tongue teases one of those stiff nipples. ]
It feels good, hm? That such reservations can now be damned.
[ (there is the possibility that they will be disturbed, but Louis knows where his sword is and he will have no mercy if an assassin surprises them on their wedding night.) ]
[ Will is somewhat flustered, defending himself — of course he'd wanted to sneak down to Louis's quarters and beg the man for some love and attention, just the same way he'd done at least a half-dozen times before, when he was on the Charadrius — but that wouldn't have been the most fair and patient thing to do after requesting the man's hand in marriage, and he'd wanted to at least give Louis the space to truly think about whether or not being the king's consort was something that he wanted.
On some level, he knows that Louis knows this, too — but being teased for it just makes him so embarrassed! Oh, he was such a slut, going to Louis Guiabern's office to seduce him at every turn, and if the people knew that that was how their romance started...
...He can't get too lost in his thoughts, of course. Not when his beautiful consort is picking him up and then putting him down on the bed, prowling on top of him, obscenely sensual and somehow feline in the way he lowers his mouth and licks at one of Will's nipples until the king whimpers.
Will already feels aroused beyond belief — who wouldn't be flustered with Louis Guiabern's long-lashed eyes boring deep into their soul? — but he takes a moment just to look at his husband's beautiful face. Just to take him, drink him in. How beautiful he looks, his hair all to one side like this. Kissing him, loving him.
For a moment, Will just catches his breath, feeling dizzy with love. ]
[ what sweet little words come out of Will's mouth, talking about need and love and how lucky he is to have him. in some ways, Louis feels like he still doesn't know what to do with such colorful emotions – anything that had been given to him since he was a child had been earned. the we're lucky to have you, recruit had come after victorious missions, or battles won as Louis stood covered in the blood of the crown's enemies.
Will doesn't ask anything of him; perhaps that's part of what took him so long to process all of this. he's not certain how he earned this, or if it was something this was meant to be earned. how does someone like him receive such a soft type of love?
giving the stiff circle on his chest another lap of his tongue before leaving it to the chill, he crawls up enough until he can press his forehead to Will's, framing him in his horns. Will is pretty like this, with his hair spread over the bed, pink mouth open in a pant and heavy lashes over pale, liquid blue eyes. Louis had always found him desirable in the way he wondered what each soft curve of his body felt like, even after he had traced it over a hundred times.
what does he say? what does he feel, in this moment? ]
Let me show you how much I missed you when I was gone.
[ his hand slides down Will's center, tracing the line of his belly and dipping into his navel, just as it had when he was sick. this time he doesn't stop, instead going lower, lower, lower. a hand roves over those curves he likes so much, dipping between his legs and running his thumb up the inside of his thigh before finally touching between his them. he takes his cock in his hand, his fingers running circles along the wet tip.
Louis has noticed how aroused his new husband is already, and they've hardly gotten started. ]
[ Will really is so pretty, at his wit's end like this. To think that the lustful minx that once sat in Louis's lap and proudly, arrogantly claimed that he could make the man come whenever he wanted could look like this: pillowed out on the silken sheets, sweet and soft and impossibly sensitive, moaning and shivering with each simple stroke of his cock. It's arousing just to look at him, to see how these gentle touches are affecting him so blatantly.
(He'd known. Even then. That the real reason Louis sent him away was not to pursue the Drakodios — not only that, at least — but because he himself seemed to realize that bedding Will would be his undoing. Will knew, even then. That they were both guilty of opening up too much to the other. That this was inevitable, in its own way.)
And yet — hints of that minx still remain. He does nothing to muffle his moans; each of them only encourage more of Louis's touches. He throws his arms around Louis's shoulders, pulling him, making sure he knows how loved he is, how wanted. Will isn't something he needs to earn, but something that will be his, from here on out, and for every day of their lives. ]
Louis... I'm gonna come...
[ He doesn't, though, despite saying that he will. Not yet, not so soon, with such gentle touches. But he looks as if he's close, wavering prettily, lips parted as if to invite more of Louis's kisses. His skin is so sinfully soft, every bit as soft as it always was when Will was in his lap.
He feels so good, wavering on the edge, and all because his beautiful husband pushed him down and touched him a little. ]
[ at the time that he had met Will, he never thought he'd meet an elda with the same inclinations as he had. it threw him off-guard, even Fidelio had noticed his recklessness. of course, Louis was always one who was confident in his own power, and never afraid of his own death.
Will's limbs tangle around him, skin against skin, grasping against him with fingertips pressed into his back. as the king commands his body downward, he complies, kissing his open mouth with his own and filling it with his tongue. when he pulls back it's never that far, content to keep the heat between them, trailing soft, possessive kisses from his chin to his temple. there's something satisfying about pressing Will into the sheets, letting them both sink into the bed together. ]
You don't need to hold back anymore. Come as much as you like.
[ they have all night; a thousand days more; the rest of their lives. Will had waited so long, and he was so, so very patient, it seems cruel to make him wait any longer. ]
I'll make you come again, and again ...
[ it's not the same arrogant tone that Will had once boldly used in lustful challenge – it's softer, more patient drawl, with same warmth he had when he had thrown Will a soiree. Louis can fully wrap an arm around his back and to his chest, limbs entwine like snakes. smooth fingers gently pinch a once neglected nipple, giving it the same service as the other. more pointedly, Louis rubs his thumb against the slit at the tip of his sensitive cock, teasing it and smudging precum over the head, slick and hot to the touch.
he wants to see more of that expression, with his parted lips and wet mouth, mewling with pleasure. there's something captivating about it, perhaps knowing that this is the king, and this is how he looks when Louis touches him. ]
[ He needs so little encouraging to succumb to Louis's gentle, patient strokes. Everything is just too sensual in the moment: his husband's hair tickling his neck, deep voice gone soft and warm like golden honey in his ear, feather-light kisses all over his face — just the sight of him, glimpses of his pretty lips and jawline moving over Will's body — and, oh, that steady tugging and pulling and rubbing and smearing over his hot, hard cock —
How could he possibly resist? The sinfully perfect demon on top of him is promising to make him come again and again, and even King Wilhelm is only a man like all other men, in the end. It feels so good to give in to his consort's ministrations, coming hard and without hesitation right into Louis's hold; his mind goes wonderfully blank, in that beautiful way he only feels when Louis is the one touching him, tending to him, bringing him pleasure. Will is shaking as he comes down from the high, slim body arched in surrender, nipples peaked and pointed from the way Louis has tugged at them.
The look in his pretty blue eyes is blissful and blank; the royal seed staining Louis's fingers, thick and rich in a way that belies the way he's been waiting for Louis all this time. ]
Ah... oh, Louis...
[ Calling his name, so softly and desperately, as if offering a prayer to the one man who knows him best. ]
So good...
[ Blearily, Will reaches out to stroke his fingers down Louis's jawline. ]
I'm fine, you can... keep going...
[ There's a touch of desperation underlying his voice that gives away what his real game is, here. Oh, no, this isn't about him being "fine" — this is about him wanting. Craving. Needing to make up for all those days he didn't come down to Louis's room to paw at him after he'd just gotten out of the bath, even though he would have been well within his rights to, as the country's king. Making him come once won't be enough to satisfy him, not at all — though he is, unmistakably, satisfied. ]
[ so much brimming desire for such a small thing, Louis hardly knows how he kept it all in. he may have a short stature, but Will is relentless when it comes to the pursuit of something that he wants, and he knows that there is much, much more to come.
the arm around Will's shoulders turns him inward for a kiss, light, but promising, as if he's bringing him back from that blissful look. Will has a regal way about him, but Louis thinks he looks especially kingly with his clothes off, arched in his hands with his hair spilling behind him. something divine for him to devour. ]
Oh? I wonder how many times it will take to sate you.
[ Louis strokes him lazily, as if he's trying to urge every last drop from the king's cock. his fingers rest when he goes soft again, slick with cum and resting just above his thigh without a care to how sticky he may get. ]
Two times more? Five times?
[ there's a tease to his voice, playful in tone. ]
Rest, and then touch yourself for me.
[ he rests his head carefully against the bed, as his horns are still attached to his head. they'll come off eventually, but there's no need to rush. he knows that Will likes them.
there's something thrilling about the prospect of having a show when he's this close to the king, their bodies pressed together in some places, hair twine together in others. Louis has his arm slung beneath him, ready to pull him closer whenever he likes. ]
[ At least seven, Will wants to say as a joke. (It's not a joke.) He sinks into Louis's kiss gratefully. The young king really is beautiful like this, all silver hair and lovely blue eyes, still full of vivid purity despite basking deep in sexual pleasure. How many times has Louis had him before? Yet somehow he still manages to look innocent, pillowed out against the sheets, tan skin contrasting wonderfully against the white fabric. He looks like something that Louis could defile, all smooth supple body, glazed slightly with cum where Louis's hand is resting near his hip.
For a moment, Will just breathes slowly and quietly, indulgent in the come-down, tingling pleasantly through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He turns his head to kiss Louis one more time, slow and sweet, luxuriating in how good he feels, how boneless. His newly-wedded husband's warmth and tender attention. The feeling of his firm, well-developed body against Will's soft, slender one is impossibly intoxicating.
For a long time now, Louis has not had eyes for anyone in the world save Will. Being the subject of that intense focus is overwhelming at times, but so satisfying, too.
Will does like the horns. Very much. He knows full well that his husband is another elda like himself — but even so, he likes the horns. He eyes them greedily as he seems to just stop and take in Louis, the whole of him, how beautiful he is, how attentive. Features more divine than any other man's, as if some great enemy of the Sanctist God thought it would be laughable to make him so beautiful as to tempt others toward damnation.
Mine, Will thinks.
When he feels like his cock might be able to stir once more, Will reaches down between his legs and tugs lazily at it until it slowly hardens, flourishing under his light touch. He seems to need a firmer touch with himself than he needs with Louis; in their previous trysts it was as though he only needed the lightest touch from Louis's palm to get going, but now he rubs himself vigorously, eagerly. The formerly sweet, undefiled prince is quickly growing into a more lecherous king by the minute.
Gazing lovingly into Louis's eyes, Will pleasures himself until his erection is full and hard once more, as if the sight of his consort's body in the nude is all he needs to spur his imagination onward. ]
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no subject
Then... hmm, what else? I know it'd mean an expense, but surely we can do something to make sure that all the people are happy, too...
[ Days later, in his private chambers, Ovis Lydnad Gideaux contemplates his faith.
It is not the first time he has done so since the near-simultaneous deaths of both Sanctifex Forden and Saintess Rella. How strange it all is, he thinks, to have the core tenets of Sanctism so soundly questioned at this point in his life. He thinks of himself as only another lamb among the flock, but somehow, the Church's comings and goings have effectively fallen to him as Sanctiarch. There is even some talk of appointing him as the next Sanctifex after Forden, though he's staunchly refused to allow a vote on such an honor. Only a few years ago, he would have bitten at the chance to be so remembered by his congregation and engraved into the church's history; ambition drove him so blindly then, and he was so full of flaws. Now, he thinks he does not deserve the honor. Indeed, he isn't sure that any in the church now deserve the honor.
Still. He rises to the occasion because his people deserve it from him. The strangest thing of all is that the new king seems to support Gideaux — this despite the fact that Gideaux vividly remembers wishing to cut him dead, and even acting upon it, once or twice in the past. He had thought of the boy then as nothing more than elda spawn from the fires of hell sent to test his Sanctifex and his commitment to the people. Now, somehow, the young man seems to regularly find the nerve to write to him as a friend.
And then King Wilhelm called Gideaux into his office and asked whether or not the Sanctiarch felt comfortable overseeing his wedding ceremony.
He had thoughts on the choice of partner, surely. He had thoughts on the outrageous timing. But even then, Gideaux had thought the king's question odd. Why are you asking me? You are the king, and I am only a humble servant of God. The days when the theocracy controlled the state are behind us now. I am yours to command. He didn't say that. But he thought it.
Still, Will kept asking. "Because of the faith, you know," he'd said, casual as anything. "I just thought I'd check."
Gideaux had felt an odd lump in his throat, one he struggled to swallow down. "The faith is wrong," he'd said. "I have told our believers as much. The faith... is wrong. We were wrong to discriminate against the elda for so many years. I only fear now that it shall take too long to undo the hatred we have sowed and nurtured."
"Well, that's nice to hear," King Wilhelm had said blithely, as if he didn't really care whether or not the Sanctists reformed themselves, but was happy to hear that they would indeed make an attempt. "And what about the other part of this? Do you, ah... mind terribly, that Louis is a clemar?"
"Should it matter?"
"Well, it would make our wedding a mixed-tribe marriage, wouldn't it?"
"Your father before you..." The former warrior monk faltered, then cleared his throat. "I — forgive me. Truly, it is not my place to speak of this. But your father before you was also a clemar, so if you and Count Louis were to bear children, I would assume that they would also present as... clemar..."
A magnificently amused smirk appeared on Will's face. "Is that going to happen?"
Gideaux found himself flushing red in the face, all the way up to his pointed ears and hairless head. "I misspoke," he mumbled, too used to thinking of marriage as something between a man and a woman, "but the point remains. You yourself are... the point remains. Such things are in the past now, I should think. Even in rural Martira, the sanctoress — what was done to her was wrong."
"So you don't have any reservations."
"The faith is wrong," Gideaux repeated, with shame. "I am sorry for what we have done."
"It's not on you to apologize." The king tapped a pen against his desk thoughtfully. "Gideaux?"
"Yes?"
"What if Louis were an elda? Would that bother you?"
Gideaux paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, with a light flutter of his cloak. "Your Majesty," he murmured, "let us dispense with these questions. It matters not whether he is elda, or clemar, or ishkia, or rhoag. I shall be blessed to marry you and your beloved."
Now — as dawn breaks upon a glorious day in the capital — as he walks through the streets and sees its people in raucous celebration, women in their prettiest dresses and men in whatever passes for their best, children shrieking with laughter as they celebrate the marriage of two men they have never met and possibly never will, gossipmongers offering information on this or that for however much reeve they can get for it — as the little mixed-tribe girl from the slums and her paripus mother of no relation offer food to any and all passersby in celebration of the king she loves dearly enough to be a brother — as even the state army soldiers have been sent to distribute loaves of bread and bowls of soup and clean water to the penniless paupers in the slums, the way the saints of yore supposedly gathered their people in times of famine and conjured miracles in the name of God —
— Gideaux finds himself thinking, How wonderful it is to be alive in times like these. And then, What an honor it is to pronounce the union of a king like this.
As he waits in the cathedral for the wedding procession to emerge from the palace, round through the main thoroughfares of Grand Trad — the couple to be married waving from the king's runner, gloriously young and beautiful in the way that all young couples are — Gideaux knows that he has thinly veiled threats from the Princes of Oceana and Montario on his humble desk in the monastery. He knows that the ousted Igniter Consortium Head has called for his immediate resignation. Even so, Gideaux thinks of faith, and time, and the way that history will prove him right. He has the utmost faith that what he is doing is not wrong.
"...I pronounce you king and king consort, in the eyes of God and all Euchronia," he intones, as gracefully as he has ever done anything. "Closurei."
The king leans in and upward for a kiss from his beloved — ]
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some concessions had to be made, and the church was one of them. Louis was not unaware that their marriage would be seen as illegitimate without the backing of the faith, but there were still deep wounds that became grudges – there's not a part of Louis that would not see the church burn to the ground. there is something satisfying about this though, where the church itself is marrying the two of them, which would have been taboo not even a year prior.
the next kiss is a fuller, not one of a promise, but tinged with passion, uncaring to the onlookers. Gideaux does not expect a kiss past the first, and looks away at the second out of what seems like a privacy offering, where Louis sweeps the king forward by the hips and kisses the corner of his lips, then on the mouth again. the cheer from the crowd erupts in a way he hardly cares about, somewhere away from the altar, off far from the two of them.
the streets are full of color and flowers, voices calling their names, scandalous gossip and opportunists. the good spirits are contagious. it all has a sort of haphazard harmony to it, Louis thinks: the merchants trade their wares, the elda and mustari among them; drunkards roll through the streets by the end of the morning, making progress on the celebratory libations; and the Partisans all play their own parts, all having caught some degree of Will's enthusiasm. really, it's as if all of Grand Trad has caught his enthusiasm, and is quite the sight, indeed.
the party is expected to go on for days, tapering off at the end of the week. not necessarily because of any grand plans made by the king, but the populace's celebrations seem to become a beast all their own. King Wilhelm's reign has been quiet enough since his coronation that everyone seems eager to celebration, as if they could grasp just a bit of the grandeur.
Louis had organized a tournament for the day after the wedding, open to all that would show up to test their skills. it roused his followers and piqued the interest of every passer that had seen his former posters prior to his downfall (though it hardly feels like he had a downfall at all, these days). it would bring opportunity to those who have talent and have not seen it through, it also seemed to rouse interest in the royal army, as if all inspiring to clamor for some of the strength that Count Louis – now the king consort – extrudes. there would be a day or two before he made an appearance, as the preliminaries needed to wrap up before the true tournament began. of course, Louis knew that Will would want him to himself for at least a few days after this, he's come to expect it.
Junah sings in the gardens of the palace, her voice carrying, through some spell, even past its walls. there are plates and plates of food, some the king's favorite dishes, others prepared and overseen by Basilio, who put the menu together himself. there are nobles, familiar faces, friends and honorable guests all mingling around the decorated gardens. there's even a small band of fairies that came from the elda village, giggling and waving at Gallica whenever they found a window to do so.
at the dais is the table for the king and his Partisans, seated there with drinks and small dishes as the guests offered last minute gifts and blessings. Louis now knows to lean partially inward when Will seems to want to share – either a sip of some sweet wine or a small bite of something that seems to please him. ]
They're rather apt on getting your attention.
[ Louis remarks to Gallica, who's floating somewhere between his head and Will's, dressed in white lace for the occasion.
"Don't make me go over there," Gallica puffs out. "They're all really airheaded."
as if in response, Louis tilts his head in, shrinking the space between the three of them and leaning in to kiss Will, forcing Gallica to flit out behind them with a little hey! ]
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One major victory, he thinks, is how wonderfully public they've been. They've kissed each other before the eyes of all onlookers, more than once, and still even now, again and again, over the celebratory banquet. Louis keeps leaning in for kisses, for attention, for little bits and pieces of things Will has enjoyed eating: bidou, partridge, a bit of a peach crumble, even some long noodles from Heismay's eugief village. They hadn't really talked about boundaries or what they'd be demonstrating to the public, prior to the wedding, so Will feels aglow. Part of him had wondered if Louis would not want to show such vulnerability to the nation. He needn't have worried; Louis Guiabern fears neither judgment from mortal man nor the divine.
Even the naysayers who put real money on the idea that the wedding was a political stunt have been silenced now. They're the very picture of young love, young and beautiful and besotted with each other, and their good cheer has slowly started to infect the rest of Grand Trad. There's Loveless, loudly and drunkenly erupting in raucous good cheer; there's Catherina, dragging him down from a table and boxing him around the ears, yelling, "You're makin' us paripus look bad, you idiot!" Basilio is laughing; Fidelio looks as though he wants nothing to do with his fellow animal-eared tribesmen. Lady Gruidae is somewhere off to the side, floating on her carpet and watching the paripus brawl with an interest that ill befits her outward "vaunted elder" person.
Elsewhere, Edeni has engaged Bardon in conversation; Bardon seems somewhat flustered to be engaged on equal terms with someone he perceives as a graceful leader of his people. Across the way, Alonzo is toying with an elegant pipe between his fingers; he looks vaguely as though he wants to fill it with something and take a drag off of it, but a stern glance from Brigitta (who is entertaining children) stays his hand.
Will turns his gaze back towards Louis and feeds him another bite of apple pie. ]
Sorry, Gallica. You're going to have to get used to it.
[ He kisses a crumb off Louis's bottom lip, ignoring the way his fairy friend groans and slaps her forehead.
"You did something," she says accusingly towards Louis, though there's no real heat to it. "You made him stupid. Although, now that I think about it, I guess he was always kind of stupid..."
Will chuckles softly, not off-put in the least — it's true, he would have been very stupid without Gallica's guidence — but serenely continues: ]
Still, the tournament idea was kind of a surprise. Part of me almost wants to enter it myself... but I guess that wouldn't be very fair.
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to Louis, a celebration is a celebration, and this is, to an extent, his as much as it is Will's to drink in and enjoy. there's no need to hide his affection, especially when in contrast to skeptical onlookers and furious naysayers. it's enough for him to know that each time their lips touch that someone is getting mad about it.
he's partially paying attention to the wedding antics playing out in the garden, though his attention is on Will. all and all, Louis seems to enjoy his pie. ]
The king winning the king consort's tournament would stoke the conspiratorial flames of those determined to incite one.
[ though the thought itself amuses him to a degree. ]
During our rivalry, I remember you were among the top ranks in the coliseum. Do you crave a new challenge?
[ (he was keeping tabs on Will at the time, after all.)
it's an honest question – he had heard a lot about Will's climb to popularity, and it wasn't always speeches and kindness. there was a grittiness to it too: dungeons filled with monsters, dragons radiating fear, and humans that ravaged the countryside. Will is no stranger to battle. it's also a funny question, given that Louis is rather well-dressed in wedding robes, with his hair braided and pulled back as he asks it. ]
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[ It's still mysterious to him, even now, that they play off each other so well now that the kingdom is at peace. They converse so easily, so playfully, and even after all these weeks, Will's fascination with Louis hasn't ebbed in the least. Between each passing visitor and guest come to offer their congratulations and best wishes for the marriage, Will steals glances at his husband as if the sun rises and sets at his word.
Though his adoration doesn't seem to have diminished his own cocky confidence any, as he tilts his head and smirks and says — ]
Because I'd definitely win.
[ Well... he's not wrong.
Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he adds in a whisper: ]
I'm not sure there's a challenge more exciting than dueling you, anyway.
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Louis sits back, pleased. Will is being cocky, but he's certainly not wrong. the king would win – perhaps there's aspects of Louis' dream yet within the world, though it has mostly died. ]
Is that so?
[ Louis tilts his head, leaning in. his voice is as smooth as silk. as he speaks in gets closer, bridging the space between them. ]
Perhaps I could fulfill that need for you.
[ before Will can respond, Louis sits up and reaches for a piece of bread that's not far from him. there's an aristocrat approaching the dais, some daughter of a lord of a lord sort of thing. she leaves some candied fruit in front of them (which is whisked off by an attendant), and Louis gives his majesty a pointed look before he eats. ]
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No one ever said that they each needed to destroy the other. That seems a folly imposed onto them by the sins of other men.
Will's eyes lid seductively; he is comfortable with this new distance. He knows that everyone is watching, that the country will hear of this even if they do not see it personally, but he doesn't care. Let them watch. Let them listen. ]
You're going to fulfill a lot of needs for me...
[ Teasing, and quite happily flirting, Will opens his mouth for Louis to put — well, anything in it, really; those candied fruits were tempting, but since they've been whisked away, the king will most certainly accept a bit of his consort's piece of bread instead.
Gallica groans.
"Ugh, you two are just going to flirt all night, aren't you?" the girl grumbles, planting a fairy palm against her fairy forehead. Then she slides off the upside-down teacup she's been sitting on, smoothly sliding into her usual long-legged flying posture. "Forget it. I'm going to go see what Junah and Eupha are up to. Call me back before the knot ceremony!" ]
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and yet, here he was, leaning in and finding affectionate words for a king who defiantly, desperately saved him. it was not just Will's world that needed building, but pure rejection of the idea of duality. Louis had offered it in his own way, but a world monsters and bloody battle was not made of romance and fantasy.
his new husband is easily malleable, and from his bedroom eyes it's already easy to tell what's on his mind. ]
To think, we've been quite patient.
[ Louis takes a moment to admire him, his eyes closed and his lips parted, but he doesn't feed him just yet. he traces his lip from the center to the corner, as he seems to like to do, enjoying the soft shape before putting a jam-covered piece of sweet bread in his mouth. Gallica's already off before either of them can say anything, both of them a bit too entranced with one another to see her off.
not only did he not believe his the end of his prior ambitions would end in marriage, even less so did Louis Guiabern believe he would be feeding a lover on a flower-covered dais.
he hears someone whistle loudly at them, looking up directly at the noise that seems to be a very intoxicated Loveless. (somewhere in his brain he wonders where in any world that this uncultured half-wit became a candidate.) while he doesn't notice Louis' piercing gaze on him, Catherina picks up on it like a knife is held to Loveless' throat. she drags him down again, elbow around his neck and a curse on her lips.
"Don't pay attention to him, he's just an idiot!"
"Hey, shouldn't you be careful? No fights at the king's wedding!" someone hisses just above a whisper.
Basilio leans forward in his seat, clearly amused.
then Louis gets up and holds up his cup, everyone stills, as if holding their breath. ]
Come now, a wedding without a few good scuffles would turn out rather dull. A round for the winner.
[ it goes over well enough, with Loveless tumbling to the floor with a laugh that will surely be a few nasty bruises come tomorrow morning. it seems to put some ease to the room that felt that their way of celebrating may not be appropriate – well, times are different, now. ]
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Will can see on the faces of the guests who only know Louis by name and reputation, and never by his person, that all are somewhat impressed and astounded that the man is infinitely more relaxed than they expected him to be.
...Soon, everything settles again. Catherina is soon triumphantly enjoying the alcohol she earned as being the "winner" of the wedding brawls. Strohl seems to have found himself holding court amidst a gaggle of admirers; he looks flustered enough that Hulkenberg soon stages an operation to extract him from the crowd of noble daughters he seems to have somehow attracted. Even Eupha is tittering on a bench somewhere, swaying in the way she only gets when she's more than just slightly inebriated; fortunately, Edeni is soon by her side offering her water.
So it goes.
When the banquet has slowly come to a close and the woman who runs the castle kitchens darts out briefly to curtsy at her king before rushing back in to the fray, Will knows it is almost time to bring the festivities to an end. He turns and smiles at his beloved, his new life partner, rising to his feet and holding one hand out towards his impossibly perfect consort. ]
Shall we?
[ His voice softens, and he smiles. ]
...My love.
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while the guests finish their food and drink, both Will and Louis are whisked away to freshen up. there are a few outer layers that need to be changed, both of them need their hair attended to, and a breather to use the facilities before the next ceremony. Louis is somewhat used to this – court celebrations had always been long, and never entirely about person they're being thrown for, but certainly about spectacle. he's very good at spectacle. it's refreshing to see Will make it his own in all the small ways that he's excited, despite who wants to see them paraded, at the end of the day, it is theirs to claim.
they manage to sneak in another kiss before they leave to stand in front of Lady Gruidae, who awaits them in the garden under a flowered archway. this ceremony is far smaller, given the reasoning for it, but the Partisans are there, and quite a few of the elda from the village have shown up. Louis has more respect for the traditions of the elda than that of the church, and there is some private satisfaction in bringing them out of hiding and into the heart of Euchronia. to all there, the king is elda and the consort is clemar, but there are a few among the crowd that know the truth, that Lady Gruidae is marrying two elda.
she says something from the pages of a book that's tied back to ritual, knots their conjoined hands with ribbon at each passage. Louis isn't paying attention to her, his half-lidded eyes fixed on Will, who looks as if he has energy to spare. as each knot is tied, it reminds him of all the pain and joy it took them to get here – each one is a time when they met and parted, or when they tried to kill each other, or when they passed in the night, some nuance in their ideals not allowing them partnership.
there are drinks and snacks when it finishes, and they're sat at a table where some of the elda from the village offer their congratulations. somewhere between one person and the next, Louis tucks a white flower behind Will's ear before sitting back in satisfaction as the next person takes his attention. ]
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They have had the marriage that Will's mother and father were never able to have — not that they were not married in their own quiet way, but Hythlodaeus V never enjoyed a public wedding celebrated by the kingdom and blessed by the church, and in history's eyes, he died loveless and alone. The secrets of those white royal flowers are theirs to bear, now, and Will swears solemnly in his own heart that he will give the pure white blossoms a better legacy.
At last, the wedding festivities come to an official close. The celebrations will no doubt continue throughout the week, as holidays have been called for nearly every industry to be found in Grand Trad, but even the kings of Euchronia must sleep, and the party has lasted long enough. To bring things to an end, the kingdom's foremost songstress has arranged for a special performance: the gorgeous sound of Junah's voice rings out over the eaves of the city, reaching every corner, every window, every shaded alley.
Will is still humming her song by the time the king and his consort retire, at last, to their bedchamber — the one they will share for the rest of their lives, barring temporary emergency, cozy naps in the garden, or gauntlet runner adventure.
It's strange to think that he was sick in this same bed only not too long ago. Even stranger, now, to think that the selfsame Louis he once swore to kill was there tending to him, and is now his lawfully wedded husband. His gaze softens as he looks up at Louis, reaches up to touch his face. The action jostles Will's royal cloak from his shoulders; it crumples heavily onto the floor. ]
...My consort.
[ He pays the fallen garment no mind as he caresses Louis's fine cheekbone with his thumb. ]
Are you happy?
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still, the quiet feels nice.
there's no chatter to drown out the sound of the door clicking shut, or an echo of laughter so loud that he needs to lean closer to Will to hear his voice. it's just quiet; just the two of them. after loyalty, betrayal, death and ambition, here they were. there was always an intimacy that Louis felt when they fought, as if everyone else around the two of them faded away, and it was just the sound of their swords clashing. he feels that now, too.
Louis is impressed with Will's discipline, he half expected to be pressed into the frame of their door before they managed to get through it. the king has been quiet patient for someone who was at the door of the Charadrius not two days after their first tryst.
his expression softens somewhat as Will reaches for his cheek. ]
Moreso then I've been in a while.
[ that is the truth of it. Louis has been less troubled, and he doesn't know if it's because his ambitions have crumbled and he is no longer a slave to them, or if being by Will has made him content. it could be something with their magla, but he hasn't let his thoughts linger too much on it, perhaps one day he will.
when the cloak hits the ground, his eyes follow it, and he reaches forward to tuck his fingers in the loose hem holding Will's jacket together before tugging him forward. ]
... Come here.
[ his voice gets lower. ]
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The naysayers shall finally speak truth: Louis Guiabern will seduce the king tonight, less with honeyed words and his beautiful face, and more through the blazing resonance of their own hearts. As Will leans up to kiss him, it occurs to him that he truly has no doubts that this man, this man is his fated lover. Archenemy, archdemon, fellow elda spurned by the world and its cruel machinations, now turned husband and beloved — what more can Will ask for but the prospect of a life with Louis by his side?
As they kiss, Will works on Louis's clothing, too. He's almost loath to disturb the man's beautiful hairstyle, the way it's been artfully tousled and braided for the occasion — but he's generous about sliding Louis's collar open once he has the buttons loose, all the better for him to see the man's flawless body. When Louis moves to strip Will of his clothing in turn, the young king complies, shedding his layers, baring himself before his consort. ]
Louis...
[ They hardly need words, in this moment. Only emotion, raw and painful, exuding from the both of them in waves of powerful magla, taut enough to each affect the other. ]
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between now and the last time they had been in each other's bed, Louis had tried to kill will, and Will had come close to killing Louis, Louis had exploited him and tried to turn him into a human, Will had blindly blamed Louis for the Prince's condition, and then Louis tried to end the world. there had been a lot between them, pain and suffering, a clash of ambitions, and the struggle for a better world where they could only see one another. back then Will had blue hair, and their coupling had been entwine with power games.
there are no struggles as Will takes off his clothes, slides his hands against his skin and eventually bears his heart. he doesn't stop him. they are a far reach from what they had been a year ago – months ago – before Will decided to bring him back. it's possible that spell Will used had somehow entwined them in some way, or they were already that way, perhaps. Louis chases each touch with another kiss, pulling Will in by the waist and finding the soft spot beneath his jaw and then down his throat. there's so much clothing to take off, a layer of a vests and overcoats and cloaks, some neatly tied together with ribbon or some royal sigil that Louis discards with the rest of it.
after what seems like too much pulling and disrobing, he's finally sliding a warm hand over Will's bare skin, cupping the small of his back in his hand. it traces down his rear, over the shape of his thighs. a thumb presses against one of soft circle on his chest. there's the sudden desire to touch Will everywhere, but they have the rest of the night, and at least a day or two before they're beckoned back to the world of politics. ]
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He's hungry and he wants, he wants he wants he wants, but there's something good about letting Louis set the tone and the pace of their pleasure, tonight. In times past, something about the man was always distant, restrained; even in the throes of pleasure, Louis seemed as though he could not fully be himself, perhaps because that was indeed truly the case, so long as Will had no idea that he was a fellow elda in search of an equality he could call his own. Now — now, it finally feels as though Louis is letting himself desire more than just desire.
Was he ever so assertive before this? Even when Will showed up in his office, needy — even when Louis pinned him to a shelf and kissed him fiercely — was Louis ever quite like this? This unrestrained, this wanton?
Will shivers slightly, sensitive, as his husband's warm hands slide over his bare skin, claiming him; just one of Louis's palms feels large enough to settle on Will's pert ass and squeeze it firmly. The other hand, more exploratory, teases Will's chest; the young king jerks a little, arms tensing around Louis's shoulders. Perhaps he likes that sort of touch more than he himself has been aware. ]
You're so...
[ He feels dizzy already, swimming in lust. Louis has never been so needy.
Will leans up again, lips greedy for Louis's. When they kiss, he makes a point of stroking one of Louis's horns, feather-light with his fingertips at first, and then a little harder, raking one nail along the sensitive base. ]
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there's a pleasant huff that comes out of his mouth as Will touches his horn. ]
You're still fascinated, aren't you?
[ he sounds amused, and as if in retaliation, he gently pinches Will's nipple between his fingers. it's sweet how he's already stiff with want under his touch – well, it has been a while, Louis figures. it feels almost as if they were different people, then.
leaning down with his hair brushing over his shoulder and against Will's cheek, he hovers just above his ear to whisper. ]
Take them off at your leisure.
[ his last piece of clothing.
Louis had always struggled with his loneliness, because he never quite learned how to deal with it, as if connection somehow always alluded him. still, he doesn't feel as if it comes easily to him, but perhaps it comes more easily with Will, now. perhaps being with Will was less an indulgence and more a need.
Will's so lively under each touch, shifting beneath it and shivering when he likes something. they never really had that sort of luxury before, and Louis seems to want to use this to his full advantage – there must be plenty of things that Will likes, and he will find them. ]
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[ Will manages to breathe these words out before those damnable fingers tease out a gasp from him instead; he's deliciously sensitive in his nipples, it would seem, so much so that his cock is already just as ruddy and peaked as his pretty little nipples are, and his breath is starting to come uneven in his chest. Swallowing hard on his sense of dizzying arousal, Will does as he's invited to, and lowers his hands so that he can slowly pull off Louis's last article of clothing — his underwear, against which his cock is already straining.
Hearing the sound of Louis's undergarments hit the floor — seeing the familiar shape and girth of Louis's cock again — that alone is enough to make Will moan appreciatively as he takes Louis's cock in hand, feeling its heft, its warmth against his palm. ]
You... you're so beautiful.
[ It's not as though it's his first time with Louis's cock, not by a long shot — but the way he's focused on it right now almost makes it seem like it is. He tugs at it, slow and steady, just enough to stimulate — but his eyes are fixed only on Louis's face, seeking his reactions, his pleasure. ]
So eager for me... and only me...
[ Will their loneliness be sated if they tangle their limbs together? Will that connection burn brighter if Will turns his face upward to kiss Louis again? All things that he wonders to himself; all questions that he wants answered. Kissing, tugging slowly at Louis's cock. So fascinated. ]
I love it. I love you.
[ He reminds himself, with glee, that this is only the first of thousands of nights he will spend with his husband. ]
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the light touch is comfort, a heady pleasure that isn't too overstimulating, but enough to allow him to enjoy it without anything looming in the back of his brain. it's as if Will is getting reacquainted with his body on new terms, more equal ones then they were on before. ]
You and only you for quite some time.
[ it's an easy remark, but true. ever since that fated day Louis met Will outside the Charadrius, it's been that way. he hasn't take his eyes off of him, even in his madness. ]
And yet in every circumstance you've had saintly patience. Not even once have you shown up at my door. It must have been difficult for you.
[ but Louis understands, he knows what Will has done for his comfort as he grappled with the meaning of this new existence.
as much as Louis loathes to take Will's hand away from his hard cock, he also would rather the two of them be somewhere that would make touching and kissing all the easier. like he's done before, he slides an arm just beneath Will's rear and hefts him up enough to carry him over to the bed.
down, down Will goes, and Louis pushes his shoulder into the sheets, his hair draped to the side like a curtain. he kisses his temple, his cheek, and then down his neck before his tongue teases one of those stiff nipples. ]
It feels good, hm? That such reservations can now be damned.
[ (there is the possibility that they will be disturbed, but Louis knows where his sword is and he will have no mercy if an assassin surprises them on their wedding night.) ]
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[ Will is somewhat flustered, defending himself — of course he'd wanted to sneak down to Louis's quarters and beg the man for some love and attention, just the same way he'd done at least a half-dozen times before, when he was on the Charadrius — but that wouldn't have been the most fair and patient thing to do after requesting the man's hand in marriage, and he'd wanted to at least give Louis the space to truly think about whether or not being the king's consort was something that he wanted.
On some level, he knows that Louis knows this, too — but being teased for it just makes him so embarrassed! Oh, he was such a slut, going to Louis Guiabern's office to seduce him at every turn, and if the people knew that that was how their romance started...
...He can't get too lost in his thoughts, of course. Not when his beautiful consort is picking him up and then putting him down on the bed, prowling on top of him, obscenely sensual and somehow feline in the way he lowers his mouth and licks at one of Will's nipples until the king whimpers.
Will already feels aroused beyond belief — who wouldn't be flustered with Louis Guiabern's long-lashed eyes boring deep into their soul? — but he takes a moment just to look at his husband's beautiful face. Just to take him, drink him in. How beautiful he looks, his hair all to one side like this. Kissing him, loving him.
For a moment, Will just catches his breath, feeling dizzy with love. ]
Louis, I'm so lucky to have you...
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Will doesn't ask anything of him; perhaps that's part of what took him so long to process all of this. he's not certain how he earned this, or if it was something this was meant to be earned. how does someone like him receive such a soft type of love?
giving the stiff circle on his chest another lap of his tongue before leaving it to the chill, he crawls up enough until he can press his forehead to Will's, framing him in his horns. Will is pretty like this, with his hair spread over the bed, pink mouth open in a pant and heavy lashes over pale, liquid blue eyes. Louis had always found him desirable in the way he wondered what each soft curve of his body felt like, even after he had traced it over a hundred times.
what does he say? what does he feel, in this moment? ]
Let me show you how much I missed you when I was gone.
[ his hand slides down Will's center, tracing the line of his belly and dipping into his navel, just as it had when he was sick. this time he doesn't stop, instead going lower, lower, lower. a hand roves over those curves he likes so much, dipping between his legs and running his thumb up the inside of his thigh before finally touching between his them. he takes his cock in his hand, his fingers running circles along the wet tip.
Louis has noticed how aroused his new husband is already, and they've hardly gotten started. ]
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(He'd known. Even then. That the real reason Louis sent him away was not to pursue the Drakodios — not only that, at least — but because he himself seemed to realize that bedding Will would be his undoing. Will knew, even then. That they were both guilty of opening up too much to the other. That this was inevitable, in its own way.)
And yet — hints of that minx still remain. He does nothing to muffle his moans; each of them only encourage more of Louis's touches. He throws his arms around Louis's shoulders, pulling him, making sure he knows how loved he is, how wanted. Will isn't something he needs to earn, but something that will be his, from here on out, and for every day of their lives. ]
Louis... I'm gonna come...
[ He doesn't, though, despite saying that he will. Not yet, not so soon, with such gentle touches. But he looks as if he's close, wavering prettily, lips parted as if to invite more of Louis's kisses. His skin is so sinfully soft, every bit as soft as it always was when Will was in his lap.
He feels so good, wavering on the edge, and all because his beautiful husband pushed him down and touched him a little. ]
I'm gonna... ah...
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Will's limbs tangle around him, skin against skin, grasping against him with fingertips pressed into his back. as the king commands his body downward, he complies, kissing his open mouth with his own and filling it with his tongue. when he pulls back it's never that far, content to keep the heat between them, trailing soft, possessive kisses from his chin to his temple. there's something satisfying about pressing Will into the sheets, letting them both sink into the bed together. ]
You don't need to hold back anymore. Come as much as you like.
[ they have all night; a thousand days more; the rest of their lives. Will had waited so long, and he was so, so very patient, it seems cruel to make him wait any longer. ]
I'll make you come again, and again ...
[ it's not the same arrogant tone that Will had once boldly used in lustful challenge – it's softer, more patient drawl, with same warmth he had when he had thrown Will a soiree. Louis can fully wrap an arm around his back and to his chest, limbs entwine like snakes. smooth fingers gently pinch a once neglected nipple, giving it the same service as the other. more pointedly, Louis rubs his thumb against the slit at the tip of his sensitive cock, teasing it and smudging precum over the head, slick and hot to the touch.
he wants to see more of that expression, with his parted lips and wet mouth, mewling with pleasure. there's something captivating about it, perhaps knowing that this is the king, and this is how he looks when Louis touches him. ]
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How could he possibly resist? The sinfully perfect demon on top of him is promising to make him come again and again, and even King Wilhelm is only a man like all other men, in the end. It feels so good to give in to his consort's ministrations, coming hard and without hesitation right into Louis's hold; his mind goes wonderfully blank, in that beautiful way he only feels when Louis is the one touching him, tending to him, bringing him pleasure. Will is shaking as he comes down from the high, slim body arched in surrender, nipples peaked and pointed from the way Louis has tugged at them.
The look in his pretty blue eyes is blissful and blank; the royal seed staining Louis's fingers, thick and rich in a way that belies the way he's been waiting for Louis all this time. ]
Ah... oh, Louis...
[ Calling his name, so softly and desperately, as if offering a prayer to the one man who knows him best. ]
So good...
[ Blearily, Will reaches out to stroke his fingers down Louis's jawline. ]
I'm fine, you can... keep going...
[ There's a touch of desperation underlying his voice that gives away what his real game is, here. Oh, no, this isn't about him being "fine" — this is about him wanting. Craving. Needing to make up for all those days he didn't come down to Louis's room to paw at him after he'd just gotten out of the bath, even though he would have been well within his rights to, as the country's king. Making him come once won't be enough to satisfy him, not at all — though he is, unmistakably, satisfied. ]
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the arm around Will's shoulders turns him inward for a kiss, light, but promising, as if he's bringing him back from that blissful look. Will has a regal way about him, but Louis thinks he looks especially kingly with his clothes off, arched in his hands with his hair spilling behind him. something divine for him to devour. ]
Oh? I wonder how many times it will take to sate you.
[ Louis strokes him lazily, as if he's trying to urge every last drop from the king's cock. his fingers rest when he goes soft again, slick with cum and resting just above his thigh without a care to how sticky he may get. ]
Two times more? Five times?
[ there's a tease to his voice, playful in tone. ]
Rest, and then touch yourself for me.
[ he rests his head carefully against the bed, as his horns are still attached to his head. they'll come off eventually, but there's no need to rush. he knows that Will likes them.
there's something thrilling about the prospect of having a show when he's this close to the king, their bodies pressed together in some places, hair twine together in others. Louis has his arm slung beneath him, ready to pull him closer whenever he likes. ]
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For a moment, Will just breathes slowly and quietly, indulgent in the come-down, tingling pleasantly through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He turns his head to kiss Louis one more time, slow and sweet, luxuriating in how good he feels, how boneless. His newly-wedded husband's warmth and tender attention. The feeling of his firm, well-developed body against Will's soft, slender one is impossibly intoxicating.
For a long time now, Louis has not had eyes for anyone in the world save Will. Being the subject of that intense focus is overwhelming at times, but so satisfying, too.
Will does like the horns. Very much. He knows full well that his husband is another elda like himself — but even so, he likes the horns. He eyes them greedily as he seems to just stop and take in Louis, the whole of him, how beautiful he is, how attentive. Features more divine than any other man's, as if some great enemy of the Sanctist God thought it would be laughable to make him so beautiful as to tempt others toward damnation.
Mine, Will thinks.
When he feels like his cock might be able to stir once more, Will reaches down between his legs and tugs lazily at it until it slowly hardens, flourishing under his light touch. He seems to need a firmer touch with himself than he needs with Louis; in their previous trysts it was as though he only needed the lightest touch from Louis's palm to get going, but now he rubs himself vigorously, eagerly. The formerly sweet, undefiled prince is quickly growing into a more lecherous king by the minute.
Gazing lovingly into Louis's eyes, Will pleasures himself until his erection is full and hard once more, as if the sight of his consort's body in the nude is all he needs to spur his imagination onward. ]
Do you like to watch...?
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