[ again and again and again – that is what Louis said.
even in his bed on their wedding night, Louis thinks that Will's appetite may become legendary. the history books do like a good story, they tell of a king's reign, but gossip is always slid between the lines as if the historian penning it could revel in their scandalous knowledge. the king is indeed young, though Louis wonders if his proclivities will dampen at all, even as he gets older. as they both get older, he realizes. that's an odd realization that Will doesn't let him keep for long, wrapping around him like a wanton snake, pulling at his hair and riding his cock.
there's something intoxicating about having Will like this, desperate to press against him, to be as close as possible. it's better than when they fought, when Louis was trying desperately to find some common ground between them, to pull Will into his own ambitions until he was pulled into Will's.
his fingertips trace down Will's ribs, over his hips and rests on his thighs. it's a body that he knows, though it's different, now – his is, too. he knows that Will can feel it. Louis wants to memorize the shape of his new husband, his king, in a way he didn't before he lost himself. ]
Like that, yes ... make me come ...
[ dark lashes fall half-lidded over his eyes, and he leans back on a flat palm to watch Will on top of him, going as deep as he wants. there's something mesmerizing about the way that he moves, and Louis finds himself staring as Will pleasures the two of them, lifting and lowering his hips. for a moment, Louis sways, a soft, low moan on his lips that quivers as it falls between them. whatever words that may have been in him are now lost. a hand grasps Will's thigh, holding it firmly as if he needs to hold on to something, until the friction is too much. his discipline cracks, the ferocity of the heat takes him. the orgasm crawls through him, steeling his hips to the bed and curling his fingers in the sheets.
each time they had met before this, Louis had been much more controlled, but here he allows Will to ride him out. he finds a lewd part of him likes how it looks when he comes in him, how it drips down his thighs, how Will lowers and his loins give in to another pulse, as if he has more to offer. ]
[ Louis gives him what he wants. What he's craved. Lets him feel what he begged for earlier: the satisfaction of having his husband's hot thick cum inside of him, at least until it's dripping out and rolling down his thigh and Louis seems so moved by the sight that his hips buck one last time so that he can surrender one more pump of hot satisfaction for Will to bask in. It's so satisfying; Will knows that feeling well, the delirious ecstasy of having one last drop of cum to offer. Sometimes he even thinks that the second orgasm is even more delicious than the first.
Louis is a vision for Will to feast on in the aftermath, leaning back on his muscular arm, blond waves of hair falling over his pretty alabaster skin in a way that makes Will wish he could claim him, keep him all to himself. His breathless gasps make his chest heave, swelling prettily in a way that almost makes Will want to get his mouth on one of Louis's pretty nipples to tease and suck until he's hard again. (Again: the young king is insatiable.) But this is their wedding night, and he wants to give Louis something more tender, more vulnerable. He wants to make memories that they can both linger on in all the days together that they have to come.
So, after he's done riding out Louis and he can feel that the man is sweetly soft inside of him, his legs coated in his consort's cum, Will flops forward, resting his head against Louis's chest. He hums out a little note of pleased enjoyment, almost like a laugh, letting his satisfaction tingle through him as he rolls his hips in tiny, minute circles, still chasing one more hit of Louis's love — but, in the same vein, he looks up and whispers breathlessly, in the most effortlessly seductive voice: ]
...I can give you that every single night for the rest of our lives.
[ Such confidence. Such radiance. Such a demanding tyrant of a king — ]
And I'll want it every single night, and every single morning, and every single afternoon...
[ before this, in what feels like another life, Louis would clean them both up and Will would leave. their trysts did not last long, just a fleeting snatch enough for Louis to taste him, to get used to his scent, before sending him away to focus purely on his own ambitions. he feels so far away from that right now, as Will, who he's still snug inside of, rests over his collar and lazily starts talking about how easily he'll give affection.
he wonders if he knew this during his time on the Charadrius, that he'd regret it if he had stayed in his grave. he wonders if Will would have offered the same warmth.
it's better not to think of those things. ]
They'll dub you the insatiable sovereign, the lustful King Wilhelm.
[ there's a puff of air that comes out his mouth as he allows the rest of his thoughts to dissipate into the warm air between them. he doesn't think he's ever seen Will this content, smiling and giddy as if their lives were simply perfect, and not tragedy had ever befallen them. it's a sight that moves him, one he thought to see with his own new world that never came to pass, but now is here in this imperfect one.
that's fine, he'll kill anyone who tries to relieve him of it. ]
Perhaps we can change the reputation of the elda to that of ravenous, desire-filled beasts.
[ there's still a pleasant buzz that vibrates through him, relaxes his shoulders and settles his muscles. despite the way he allows himself to sink, with Will on top of him, he feels sharp, as if a fog has cleared. perhaps he needs this – has needed it – as much as Will does. ]
[ Will giggles a little at Louis's joke, draping his arms over his beautiful consort's shoulders as they both settle into a comfortable post-sex glow. The king will surely want more than this, more and more and more than this, but he's feeling the same pleasant buzz that Louis himself is, and they're just so comfortable right now, in this position. Freshly married, both content. Past the end of all their tragedies — if they're lucky.
But Will is very certain that he can meet any challenge head on and emerge victorious. After all, if he could defeat the indomitable will of Louis Guiabern himself, what left does he have to fear? ]
You know, I wouldn't mind that. It beats all the other things they say about us.
[ Between the very intelligent, contented thoughts of his forebrain, and the impossibly lustful, base thoughts of his hindbrain... Will's hindbrain wins out. He gives in once more to his Louis's irresistible beauty — how exquisite he looks, relaxed and at ease with a bright, pleasantly alert sparkle in his brilliant blue eyes that Will has never seen before — and kisses him warmly on the lips. Then down to his neck, sucking lightly on his soft skin. Not hard enough to leave bruises, no. It's just enough to entertain himself a little, to leave wet warm sensation over Louis's skin. Will's lips are so terribly soft when he nibbles and suckles like this. ]
But we'll have to show them just how insatiable I can be... and I want you all to myself.
[ they were past many things, first and foremost, trying to kill one another. there was some satisfaction in that, though, at least for Louis, who had never had an equal until then. now his equal is sprawled over him, vibrating with soft laughter and tracing trails with his mouth across his skin, the battles memories of their shared time together.
Louis raises a hand to rest on the back of Will's head, curling through his short silver hair, and the way a strand in the back seems to stubbornly jut out in the opposite direction as the rest. ]
I pity the soul that decides to be the first to disturb us.
[ after their wedding, Louis had expected at least a couple days of consummation, and he figured that the Partisans will have their own business to attend to in the king's absence. if he were a gambling man, he'd put on Gallica – she'd most likely be the one of the ones that Will would accept an interruption from. ]
For all that you say you wish to claim me, you are rather careful not to leave a mark. How will anyone at court know?
[ he teases, deliberately trying to stroke that little bit of defiance that he knows sparks within Will. with half-lidded eyes, he draws his hand through the locks of short hair, watching them fall in the spaces between fingers before capturing them again. ]
[ Will giggles, low and sultry at the back of his throat. His dark lashes contrast so prettily against his snow-white hair when he lowers his gaze to Louis's body, warm beneath his own; his expression is greedy, obviously tempted by the bounty of beauty laid out before him. The beauty that is being offered to him — ]
Mmm... do you want me to leave marks?
[ That is the clear intention of Louis's question, of course, and perhaps Will ought to be reminded once more that they are married. Still, he salivates like a hound being offered a glistening roast, tracing his hand down Louis's chest and along his ribcage, really taking him in, despite the fact that he's just finished having him.
Will continues, in a worshipful whisper: ]
Your skin is just so pretty. So pale that I almost want to leave you like this... untouched, unblemished... so pure and lovely that it almost hurts to look at you.
[ He's been very lyrical lately, their young king. Gallica says it's because he's been writing a book, but the truth of the matter is that he's always been lyrical like this, in his heart of hearts, and only now is that lyricism coming to the forefront. His eyes are brilliant blue now, but they almost seem to gleam gold as Will leans in to Louis's neck and murmurs: ]
But then, a different part of me... wants to mark you all over, and leave behind colors that belong to me...
[ A nip follows that remark, punctuated by the hard, bruising, sucking sort of kiss that will leave Louis with hickeys in the morning. Will can't help himself: he gives another, and another, and then another, all mottled along Louis's soft neck; on the other side of his neck, he ventures a bite, hard and passionate, to give him a complete necklace of kingly claims, and he licks the blood off his teeth when he pulls back to admire the effect. ]
[ all that Will needed was a little push – an assurance of consent – that he could use Louis' skin as a canvas. where it's unblemished now, he certainly. had his own share of scrapes and bruises throughout his years as a soldier. there was never anything life threatening, perhaps he had been too good with a sword for his own good – or far too luck in some respects, where he wasn't in others. the echo of strength followed him and struck fear into those who'd cross swords with him, most likely because the ones that came before them were already struck dead.
he wears the blemishes like fine jewelry, sweeping his hair from one side to the other to give Will a fresh canvas. ]
You can allow them to fade and create more at your pleasure.
[ each time Will moves his mouth down his throat, Louis sighs, as if there's some fresh arousal that stirs with him that relaxes his shoulders and helps him sink into the hand holding him up. there's something soothing about the bite of pain mixed with pleasure, the soft sting that is soon tended to by Will's gentle tongue, as if to chase away a wound of his own making.
there are little red marks splotched across his pale skin, red marks blooming, wet and glistening, that will eventually turn purple, then blue, then yellow. Louis is not fragile, not in body nor in spirit, and he likes the little defiant push that Will seems to have when given the chance. there's the satisfying notion that Euchronia's perfect, giving little king, a little demon showing teeth beneath the sheets, but only for him.
when Will leans back, Louis wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. ]
I'll wear them well, then no one can forget.
[ as in, he has no intent on hiding them. he's feared enough that no one will ask, and he'll enjoy the gossip that comes from it. the same thumb traces back under his ear and down his shoulders, along the curve of his spine. Will is soft, always so soft, even at the barest touch. ]
[ He's so, so soft — soft in his skin and his hair and everywhere he's touched. Between his legs, though, Will's getting hard again, and he can feel Louis getting hard again too, snug where he never pulled out of his king. (Though, in a way, even Will's cock is still soft when it's hard; his skin is just so smooth and supple and pliant, smooth like silk even when his cock is engorged. Maybe it's all those bath salts he likes to soak in. Touching him is always such a delicious experience.)
Lustful and triumphant, like the demons the Sanctists like to warn of in their fables, Will smiles with a bright spark in his eyes and a knack for urging Louis towards dizzying relaxation. He rolls his hips again, more confidently this time, relishing in the feeling that he gets when Louis's cock drags along his sweet spot again. Greedy little thing that he is, he urges himself against it again and again and again, openly grinding in a way that probably feels better for him than it might feel for Louis — but he's terribly cute when he does it, with his greedy little mouth reaching down again to leave more sharp, delectably painful hickies going down between Louis's chest. His thumbs brush over Louis's tempting nipples; unable to resist temptation, Will decides to pinch one gently, even as his teeth find more skin to sink into. ]
You're getting hard again.
[ Will is, too, of course, which he soon acknowledges by reaching down between their legs so that he can tug at himself as he slowly starts gyrating his hips into Louis's hardening cock again, urging it towards more heated engorgement. He wants to feel Louis hard inside of him again, hard and aching and full again, so that he can urge his consort into giving him more of what he always craves. It's not long before he's arching backwards again, riding Louis properly, his breath coming faster as he tries to ride Louis slower, in the way that he seemed to like, with that easy steady disciplined rhythm, and a wanton look in his eyes. ]
You like having something to show off, don't you? My consort...
[ the king is usually a selfless little thing, all too willing to inconvenience himself for others. there are sacrifices to be made of a king, but with his consort, he can be selfish – ride him in a way that gives him pleasure. it brings Louis satisfaction to see this greedy, demanding side of his king. ]
Your king consort, my king.
[ he plays with the words on his tongue, sighing as Will eases into a steady pace. for a moment he sways, leaning back against his wrist, but thinks better of it, leaning back until he's flat against the bed. he rests his shoulders back, hair spread around him in messy rings, giving Will a good look at his handiwork from above.
each breath rises and falls in his chest as Will lifts himself, and then lowers again, pressing him deeper inside. soon he's aching again from the throb between his legs, and the sting on his chest that still bear the markings of Will's teeth. ]
Good ...
[ the word comes out as a soft murmur, urging Will's pace. the desire will sink its claws into Will eventually, and his hips will quicken as he rides out the rest of his pleasure. for now, Louis enjoys the closeness, rests his hands on Will's hips, large enough that his fingers sink into his rear. ]
You're being good ...
[ he follows up, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips, as if he knows some sort of secret. ]
[ One's wedding night makes for a fine time to discover new kinks. Will might be discovering some new ones of his own, as he discovers that the low intonation of Louis telling him that he's good, being good only heightens his tension, making the king move faster, more selfishly, until he is fully losing himself to urgent pleasure. It feels so good, so, so good, to not only feel each surging pulse of pleasure that heralds the push and press of Louis's hot cock inside of him, but also know that he's pleasing Louis, he's winning Louis's rare and wondrously arousing praise — ]
Ah — hah, that's — good, I want to be... good...
[ For you, he wants to say, but it dies on his lips, suffocated by the thick moan that springs unbidden to Will's soft, rose-bitten lips instead. Will abandons the thought of speaking in favor of bouncing and shaking his hips more, blue eyes half-lidded and shadowed by thick silver lashes, darker at their tips, and how gorgeous Louis looks, his golden hair splayed in a halo around his head, with arousal in his eyes and the part of his lips before he smiles and guides Will with his hands, urging, praising... Will feels himself twitch, feels his cock dribble out the warning signs of his own need, soon to come crashing down around him, surging with tidal force into the blank shore of his pleasure-addled mind... ]
[ it feels good to have no other social barriers between them, not even ones of Louis' own making, instead they have the full pleasure of each other's company. Will rides him like he always seemed like he wanted to in their brief meetings and partings on the Charadrius, held back by both Louis' position and his own (rightful) caution. there's nothing holding the king back now – he has Louis fully, he's now anointed and crowned, and the danger has long passed. Louis finds his breath matching Will's pace as he bounces above him, finding the right rhythm to pleasure them both.
to anchor him, Louis takes his wrists gently, firmly, and holds him steady with one hand. if Will wishes to lose himself in abandon, Louis is inclined to help, as there is a beauty in Will's wilds. it's something Louis always found himself waiting for: Will to cut lose, to drown in pleasure. ]
Can you be good a little longer?
[ his voice is a quiet purr, low in the room around them. ]
Just a little longer. Good ...
[ the heat is rising, and he can feel the warmth pool in his belly, along the wet friction of where they're meeting. Will isn't the only one holding back, as Louis makes an attempt to starve off his orgasm for a little longer to see the way Will's face shifts with pleasure: low eyelids and parted lips, and small, desperate gasps.
he runs his palm from his hip to his rear, as if a sort of gentle coaxing will somehow give him what he wants. ]
[ It's so much. Almost too much. The overload of sensations, Louis's thick cock hilting again and again and again inside of Will, their wild, mingled breaths, the delicious, mad pleasure of claiming his consort — Louis's voice saying, over and over again, that he's good, intoning soft directions that are easy to follow... yes, the more he moves his hips, the more Louis will say he's good.
What could be better than this? There is nothing, nothing about Will that is not bared before Louis in this moment: his nude body, the unabashed pleasure on his face, his half-lidded eyes, clouded with lust, lips parted, heedless of how he looks. His little gasps, his desperate moans — this bounty of little treasures is all for Louis, and now they can both bask in the thrill of losing themselves to glorious ecstasy — ]
[ His consort's voice only heightens Will's pleasure, the grip around his wrists only heightens Will's pleasure, but — it's that single touch, that damnably gentle stroke from his hip to his rear that really sends Will crashing over the edge. He gives in, coming harder than before, seized by an orgasm so potent that it's almost dizzying; he has to collapse against Louis's chest as his body seizes up while he comes, twitching and shuddering richly, with even more intensity than before. He's shaking all through the come-down, panting against Louis's skin, trembling through his thighs.
Oh... if the sex they have is this good every time, Will might be well and truly ruined. ]
[ each breath is paced with Will's movements, steady to make certain he does not release before his king is finished. there's really something lovely about seeing Will like this, unhinged and drowning in his own pleasure, extending the soft curves of his body as if he was swept up in passionate dance. the friction is sweet in contrast to the sting of his neck, both sending a swell of pleasure each time Will drops his hips. there's a little bounce in his hair as it frames his cheeks, soft silver threads that are prone to waves as they get longer, in a mesmerizing movement.
Will loses himself a little further, and Louis feels the hitch in his loins, and the warmth that spreads over his thighs. the wait was worth it, all to see Will shudder and moan and ride him until he's exhausted. through his desire-fueled haze, Louis thinks that he may be able to stay hard for the next round he knows Will is going to want after this. that is, until Will comes, and his insides tighten around him, and in an instant that blindsides him, he releases with an uncharacteristic gasp, filling up his king again with a few pumps. ]
Hah ...
[ he sucks in a breath, steadying Will as he steadies himself. the hand that had cupped his rear slides down to his trembling thighs, either to still him or even enjoy the byproduct of his own making. ]
I don't believe I've ever exhausted you this much. A new victory, perhaps.
[ he talks as if he's testing if he can still speak, to his surprise he can. ]
[ It's so, so satisfying — the rush, the sheer ecstasy, the explosion of feelings that Will could mistake for love if he did not already know in his heart that he is already in love, he's deeply in love, he's lost in the throes of it, a love so deep and overwhelming and all-encompassing that it can erase the countless sins and flaws of his beloved. His beloved, now his husband, wedded in the eyes of god and state. What could be better than this?
Will loses himself to pleasure and he feels Louis lose himself to pleasure and it's impossibly satisfying, impossibly good. He has a sudden and overwhelming suspicion that this is what he's going to chase for the rest of his life, the high of this, the adrenaline, the hit. Louis underneath him, looking so impossibly beautiful, goading him on. He feels the slick wetness between his legs and shudders, moving just slightly, as if his furtive movements could draw it out, give him more, give him more and more and more — ]
I... could say... the same for you...
[ Breathless, Will places one delicate hand on Louis's cheek, framing his face lovingly, the same way Louis's careful fingers are resting on his plush thigh. He feels so triumphant. Like he's finally won. Even on the evening of his coronation, he didn't feel this glorious, this free. What he'd felt then was the solemn knowledge that his country was his birthright and that he would do right by his people. But this, this is for him. That Louis is still alive at all is the product of his own selfishness. This journey was his coming-of-age, and Louis, Louis is his prize for the taking — ]
That was so good...
[ Sultry and breathless, like some succubus from the legends of the ancients, Will giggles, half-drunk on the satisfaction of his orgasm. He's surprised he can still talk, too. He feels dizzy, heady, almost sick with love. ]
I want to see you like this... over and over and over again...
[ they'd both been waiting long enough that Louis almost thought that Will would explode from the tension. in some ways he would've liked to see that, but Will had shown admirable will power throughout their courting, that Louis had to respect it. he gets his prize now, though, all of his prize as much as he wants to indulge, and if anyone deserves the full extent of that sort of indulgence, it's Will. he worked long and hard for this: saved the world, brought Louis back, then allowed him the space to make a decision for himself. at any point it could have gone to an unsalvageable point, but Will earnestly kept his hopes.
and here they were.
it was infectious in some way, Will's bright personality, and being around him so much has made Louis notice that his more nihilistic tendencies didn't feel so heavy. his mood didn't feel so dark. the prospect of affection, the willingness to give it, and Will's non-judgement made him more comfortable with himself in the world than he ever thought he'd be. ]
You've plenty of years to do so, in light of the ceremony.
[ a joke, kind of, and Louis seems to find himself amusing. ]
I'll have to be certain to train myself to maintain some level of victory, 'less you win all the time.
[ and Louis can't have that.
one of his arms loops under Will's elbow and around his waist, resting there for his king to catch his breath. after a moment of his chest rising and falling, he centers himself and pushes himself up on an arm, taking Will upright with him. ]
[ Louis does think he's very amusing, doesn't he? But Will sort of likes that about him; he likes the sense of humor, the boyishness still lingering around the man who often seems as though he had to grow up too quickly. He likes the way that Louis, despite everything, cradles him so gently as he sits up, taking them both with him.
The movement jostles Will, who seems sleepy (temporarily) in the wake of his orgasm; he laughs without the energy or breath to do it, humming faintly against Louis's chest as his body is moved. He has the wherewithal, at least, to trace the shape of a heart with his finger against Louis's chest, right to the side of where his blackened heart still sits. ]
Mmhmhm... where are we going?
[ We, he says, because like hell he'll even let Louis out of this bed for even a moment without also going with him. Well, maybe if it's just to grab some water to drink... ]
[ with the cum and sweat between them, Will kind of sticks to him. it reminds him of the light adhesive meant to stick the top page of a book into the cover, especially when the corners curl up slightly. Will even sticks a little bit when he sits up, pressed up against his chest and at ready to coax Louis back into bed if he must. ]
You're quite demanding, and I'm feeling parched.
[ he did give quite a lot of his fluids to Will, and he's certain Will will want more by the end of the night. ]
For a brief moment, you'll have to allow me some freedom to quench it, hm? 'Less you plan to fall into slumber before our nuptials are adequately consummated.
[ Will is looking droopy, his body recovering from a few good bouts of play certainly has sunk into his bones. they have quite a bit to make up for in their time apart (Will moreso, who had months without him before he brought him back).
yet Louis does not rise, not yet, giving Will a bit more time to stick to him before he gets up. ]
[ Will is droopy, and he greatly enjoyed his dose of Louis's fluids. At the same time, he is still a reasonable young man, and he will relent if it means allowing his sticky, sexy husband a moment to get some water.
Well. "Relent." What Will actually does is this: he lolls against Louis's chest a moment longer, happily sticky — then he lolls down to his husband's breast and gives it a good lick.
Mmm... Louis salts.
Summarily satisfied (?) (...what was that?) (???), Will rolls off of Louis's body and into the bed, a little giggly and silly for it. ]
Delicious Louis...
[ Evidently, the great Count Louis Guiabern has been satisfactorily marinated to the king's pleasure. ]
[ it's a small reprieve, as he's certain Will get his next wind shortly, but enough for him to get some much needed water. the king — the King of Euchronia – licks his tit and then rolls over in boyish giggles. Louis rests a hand on his head and smooths back his messy hair, suddenly, and oddly, realizing that he's never had many moments like this. when was the last time when he was buried in affection enough to leave someone drunk in his company?
Louis slides toward the end of the bed, getting to his feet and giving Will an eyeful of what he never got when they coupled on the Charadrius (but did get in their last battle together). no matter how much of a mess Louis is, he never looks anything but elegant, even the red little marks look good on his collar, a contrast to his pale skin. he wears them like jewelry that hangs just above his black heart as he reaches for the closest robe at the bedside, tying it around his waist and stepping across the room to where a thoughtful servant has placed a pitcher and goblets. there's discarded clothing all over that he carelessly steps over, as if they'll never need them again.
he can observe Will from the table placement, the king stretched out over the sheets, tousled as if he's been in a good fight, slim and nude and slightly shiny from fluids. certainly, he could get used to this. sometimes he feels like a feral animal within a cage of a grand castle, but in this bedroom Will is his – all his, and the two of them are as equal as they are on the battlefield. instead of heading back right away, he admires his new husband and drinks his water as if it were fine wine.
gently, he says: ]
Turn over.
[ it's not exactly a command, but a sort of quiet curiosity, just to see what every side of Will may look like as he is now. ]
[ An eyeful, indeed. Will relishes that eyeful of Louis's assets, leering openly at his new husband as he walks away to fetch some water; in return, Louis turns around and enjoys Will's assets in turn, sipping at his water with the heady confidence of a man more accustomed to harder spirits. The king likes the way he's being admired. He likes knowing that Louis is taking in the way he's rested cutely atop his pillow, belly down on the bed, his plush and shapely rear facing the ceiling, all soft curves open to his touch.
Apparently, though, those curves alone aren't enough. Evidently craving more, Louis tells him to turn over, and Will obeys without a second thought, rolling languidly onto his back, revealing his chest, his slender waist, his hips — his cock, flaccid for the moment. His hair is tousled, flyaways catching the light and curling silver in every wild direction. Feeling very, very pleased with himself, Will goes so far as to pose even more boldly, throwing one arm up over his brow to push his hair back, the other clutching his thigh for visual interest as he parts his legs to reveal his soft hole, still flushed and now leaking some of Louis's spend.
If he had taken Louis up on his offer all those months ago, so far above the reddened skies, his limbs would be blackened, and he would wear a crown of thorns. His serene blue eyes would have turned a dark, anxiety-ridden amber. And he would have still been beautiful like that, too — but there is something exceptionally lovely about the way he bats his lashes now, smooth and soft against the velvet blue cloak of night outside.
Will smiles sweetly, but from his husband's vantage point, and the moonlight illuminating his gentle blue eyes, it might look more like a smirk. If nothing else, he'll seduce his feral Louis back to bed like this. ]
Do you like the view...?
[ His skin gleams faintly with sweat, but even after all they've done, Will still smells sweet — even refreshing, like his bath salts. ]
[ while Louis' plan of becoming king did not pan out, there is a nobility in him that will never shake out. in this moment, he likes knowing the king is his, and that the king will listen to the gentle command to show him his body. there's some primal satisfaction in him that comes from it – that comes from this, really – watching. perhaps losing to Will was not a bad thing, knowing that this was where he was now, knowing that he got this.
Will puts on a show for him, rolling onto his back, stretching the shape of his body and accentuating all of his curves while Louis sips his water. there's a sense of power in this. with a twist of his wrist, Louis rolls the water in the goblet, deliberately resisting the urge to join Will once again in bed. ]
Enough to see more.
[ despite the easy words, it's obvious where his eyes are, half-lidded and sharp with lust. it won't take much to get him back to bed, but he's feeling playful, and he wants a little more of a show.
with one hand he leans back against the table, not quite matching Will's show of seduction, but not leaving much to the imagination as to the curves that are beneath his robes. he may mean to distract Will as much as Will means to seduce him. ]
[ There is something deeply heady, even downright intoxicating, about the electrifying distance between the two of them in this moment. Will gazes at his new husband as if caught in a trance, deep in the throes of young love and madly desirous for it; there's a tension in him that throbs and twitches, hooked on the thought that Louis wants to fuck him right now, too. It feels outrageously thrilling to know that Louis feels the same way — that they are each admiring the other and both are equally eager to devour the other, despite the fact that they were fucking only minutes ago.
Will rests his eyes on Louis's body — on each graceful curve of muscle, with some of the best parts now hidden by the robe loosely wrapped around Louis's waist. He licks his lips, openly salivating over his husband's chest, his waist, his legs, his thighs. In times past, the attraction he felt to Louis was always something shameful which he had to deny in himself; now he can lose himself in it fully, let himself loose to satisfy his wild desires.
Will touches himself slowly, indulgently. He slides one slim hand down between his pecs towards his groin, and his cock, which is by now stirring with interest. His other hand cups one of his peaked nipples, simply caressing them at first, and then pinching them as he begins to stroke himself in earnest.
He lets his gaze rest on Louis's body the whole time, his lips faintly parted, hips shifting and thrusting into his own hand. What is he thinking of? Only of Louis, of course. How Louis will touch him, ravish him, abandon that goblet of water and fuck him the way he wants, if he just gives enough of a show.
He's very pretty. Slim lithe body bent back against the sheets, gorgeous silver hair curling around his sweet features. Sinking deeper into his fantasies, some of which were happening only scant minutes ago, Will tips his head back against his pillow and strokes himself a little faster, teeth biting into his soft lip as he suppresses a moan from deep in his chest. ]
[ it's something just for him, a moment not meant for anyone else. he had crawled, been corrupted and died for this, but it seems far enough away that it all feels worth it. Will is soft and supple, arching like an animal in the throes of passion, dancing with the shadows. Louis thinks he could get used to this, days of politics (perhaps of battle), and nights of coming back to Will's open arms to bury himself between his legs. he had been trying to find a place in Will's new world, but even if it's his first time within the walls of this bedroom, he feels like he can finally grasp it.
beneath his dark lashes, he keeps his gaze on the young king who's dancing in the sheets, hand between his legs like a picture painted in colors so vivid it could be touched. Louis can feel himself stir again, somewhere in the folds of his robe, brushing up against his thighs. ]
Just like that ...
[ he says lowly with his lips to the goblet, his breath labored. certainly, can Will so easily keep his attention from across the room? it seems as if that's the case. after all, he does not need to divert his infatuation with Will anymore. there's no need to protect himself from it.
as Will wishes, he seems to summon Louis from across the room, who despite feeling quite brimming with desire, strides at an easy pace as if he's enjoying the show far too much for it to end (he is). the goblet clinks against the night table as its set down, and Louis sits on the corner of the bed. he cups his hand along Will's cheek, thumb tracing down his chin and tangling in the loops of silver hair that frame his face. ]
[ Maybe they've finally found it: Louis's place in Will's life. Perhaps it's always been his destiny to be Will's lover. The man certainly seems to thrive on this, patiently taking in the show he requested with a simmering heat, a primal hunger, like that of a beast about to strike. His judgmental, distant gaze, with its brilliant blue-green eyes and dark, thick lashes — it's enough to make Will nervous, like he's a young boy with a crush, aroused and nervous and jumpy, eager to perform for his lover. (Well, he's not all that far from being a young boy with a crush, truthfully, but it is a little funny that he's still nervous when they've already done... what they've done.)
He's leaking pre-cum again by the time Louis comes closer; a trickle of it beads against the king's fingers and slicks up his palm. The wet movements of his hand make soft, sloppy sounds, as if to tempt Louis further towards depravity. Will tilts his head as his face is caressed and his bottom lip is brushed; his hand doesn't stop moving. If anything, it moves faster as he takes in his consort's stunningly beautiful face. The poetry they'll write about him... the poetry he'll write about him... ]
You look even better.
[ It's breathed out, ragged; not wanting to disturb the vision Louis has set up for himself, Will doesn't reach out to his consort, but he allows himself to be touched. His parted lips, the love in his eyes... these are all things for Louis and Louis alone to enjoy. ]
[ gently, he runs his thumb along the curve from his ear to his cheek, over the king's bottom lip to feel his breath against it. Louis takes in Will's body from where he's sitting, allowing his eyes to wander along the swell of his chest and down between his legs, to where he's pleasuring himself. the sight mingled with his scent from their rounds of play. like a dream, he slides closer, the weight on the bed shifting until he's leaning down over his new husband, his blond hair falling like a curtain above him. ]
This close...?
[ he says, letting his words drawl as he presses his thumb between Will's lips and into the warmth of his mouth. ]
Or closer still, perhaps ...
[ his thumb presses down on Will's tongue, into the wet slope he drags it down and back again. that mouth always feels good, pretty when he talks, soft and wet when Louis puts a finger there. there's no move to touch him, not yet, there's something enjoyable about this that Louis finds that he likes, something satisfying in watching the king pant and twist in the sheets. the wetness of his mouth makes him rise beneath his robe, the swell of his cock pleasant and hot against his thigh.
Louis will have him again, but he quite likes him like this, first. ]
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even in his bed on their wedding night, Louis thinks that Will's appetite may become legendary. the history books do like a good story, they tell of a king's reign, but gossip is always slid between the lines as if the historian penning it could revel in their scandalous knowledge. the king is indeed young, though Louis wonders if his proclivities will dampen at all, even as he gets older. as they both get older, he realizes. that's an odd realization that Will doesn't let him keep for long, wrapping around him like a wanton snake, pulling at his hair and riding his cock.
there's something intoxicating about having Will like this, desperate to press against him, to be as close as possible. it's better than when they fought, when Louis was trying desperately to find some common ground between them, to pull Will into his own ambitions until he was pulled into Will's.
his fingertips trace down Will's ribs, over his hips and rests on his thighs. it's a body that he knows, though it's different, now – his is, too. he knows that Will can feel it. Louis wants to memorize the shape of his new husband, his king, in a way he didn't before he lost himself. ]
Like that, yes ... make me come ...
[ dark lashes fall half-lidded over his eyes, and he leans back on a flat palm to watch Will on top of him, going as deep as he wants. there's something mesmerizing about the way that he moves, and Louis finds himself staring as Will pleasures the two of them, lifting and lowering his hips. for a moment, Louis sways, a soft, low moan on his lips that quivers as it falls between them. whatever words that may have been in him are now lost. a hand grasps Will's thigh, holding it firmly as if he needs to hold on to something, until the friction is too much. his discipline cracks, the ferocity of the heat takes him. the orgasm crawls through him, steeling his hips to the bed and curling his fingers in the sheets.
each time they had met before this, Louis had been much more controlled, but here he allows Will to ride him out. he finds a lewd part of him likes how it looks when he comes in him, how it drips down his thighs, how Will lowers and his loins give in to another pulse, as if he has more to offer. ]
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Louis is a vision for Will to feast on in the aftermath, leaning back on his muscular arm, blond waves of hair falling over his pretty alabaster skin in a way that makes Will wish he could claim him, keep him all to himself. His breathless gasps make his chest heave, swelling prettily in a way that almost makes Will want to get his mouth on one of Louis's pretty nipples to tease and suck until he's hard again. (Again: the young king is insatiable.) But this is their wedding night, and he wants to give Louis something more tender, more vulnerable. He wants to make memories that they can both linger on in all the days together that they have to come.
So, after he's done riding out Louis and he can feel that the man is sweetly soft inside of him, his legs coated in his consort's cum, Will flops forward, resting his head against Louis's chest. He hums out a little note of pleased enjoyment, almost like a laugh, letting his satisfaction tingle through him as he rolls his hips in tiny, minute circles, still chasing one more hit of Louis's love — but, in the same vein, he looks up and whispers breathlessly, in the most effortlessly seductive voice: ]
...I can give you that every single night for the rest of our lives.
[ Such confidence. Such radiance. Such a demanding tyrant of a king — ]
And I'll want it every single night, and every single morning, and every single afternoon...
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he wonders if he knew this during his time on the Charadrius, that he'd regret it if he had stayed in his grave. he wonders if Will would have offered the same warmth.
it's better not to think of those things. ]
They'll dub you the insatiable sovereign, the lustful King Wilhelm.
[ there's a puff of air that comes out his mouth as he allows the rest of his thoughts to dissipate into the warm air between them. he doesn't think he's ever seen Will this content, smiling and giddy as if their lives were simply perfect, and not tragedy had ever befallen them. it's a sight that moves him, one he thought to see with his own new world that never came to pass, but now is here in this imperfect one.
that's fine, he'll kill anyone who tries to relieve him of it. ]
Perhaps we can change the reputation of the elda to that of ravenous, desire-filled beasts.
[ there's still a pleasant buzz that vibrates through him, relaxes his shoulders and settles his muscles. despite the way he allows himself to sink, with Will on top of him, he feels sharp, as if a fog has cleared. perhaps he needs this – has needed it – as much as Will does. ]
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But Will is very certain that he can meet any challenge head on and emerge victorious. After all, if he could defeat the indomitable will of Louis Guiabern himself, what left does he have to fear? ]
You know, I wouldn't mind that. It beats all the other things they say about us.
[ Between the very intelligent, contented thoughts of his forebrain, and the impossibly lustful, base thoughts of his hindbrain... Will's hindbrain wins out. He gives in once more to his Louis's irresistible beauty — how exquisite he looks, relaxed and at ease with a bright, pleasantly alert sparkle in his brilliant blue eyes that Will has never seen before — and kisses him warmly on the lips. Then down to his neck, sucking lightly on his soft skin. Not hard enough to leave bruises, no. It's just enough to entertain himself a little, to leave wet warm sensation over Louis's skin. Will's lips are so terribly soft when he nibbles and suckles like this. ]
But we'll have to show them just how insatiable I can be... and I want you all to myself.
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Louis raises a hand to rest on the back of Will's head, curling through his short silver hair, and the way a strand in the back seems to stubbornly jut out in the opposite direction as the rest. ]
I pity the soul that decides to be the first to disturb us.
[ after their wedding, Louis had expected at least a couple days of consummation, and he figured that the Partisans will have their own business to attend to in the king's absence. if he were a gambling man, he'd put on Gallica – she'd most likely be the one of the ones that Will would accept an interruption from. ]
For all that you say you wish to claim me, you are rather careful not to leave a mark. How will anyone at court know?
[ he teases, deliberately trying to stroke that little bit of defiance that he knows sparks within Will. with half-lidded eyes, he draws his hand through the locks of short hair, watching them fall in the spaces between fingers before capturing them again. ]
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Mmm... do you want me to leave marks?
[ That is the clear intention of Louis's question, of course, and perhaps Will ought to be reminded once more that they are married. Still, he salivates like a hound being offered a glistening roast, tracing his hand down Louis's chest and along his ribcage, really taking him in, despite the fact that he's just finished having him.
Will continues, in a worshipful whisper: ]
Your skin is just so pretty. So pale that I almost want to leave you like this... untouched, unblemished... so pure and lovely that it almost hurts to look at you.
[ He's been very lyrical lately, their young king. Gallica says it's because he's been writing a book, but the truth of the matter is that he's always been lyrical like this, in his heart of hearts, and only now is that lyricism coming to the forefront. His eyes are brilliant blue now, but they almost seem to gleam gold as Will leans in to Louis's neck and murmurs: ]
But then, a different part of me... wants to mark you all over, and leave behind colors that belong to me...
[ A nip follows that remark, punctuated by the hard, bruising, sucking sort of kiss that will leave Louis with hickeys in the morning. Will can't help himself: he gives another, and another, and then another, all mottled along Louis's soft neck; on the other side of his neck, he ventures a bite, hard and passionate, to give him a complete necklace of kingly claims, and he licks the blood off his teeth when he pulls back to admire the effect. ]
You're mine...
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he wears the blemishes like fine jewelry, sweeping his hair from one side to the other to give Will a fresh canvas. ]
You can allow them to fade and create more at your pleasure.
[ each time Will moves his mouth down his throat, Louis sighs, as if there's some fresh arousal that stirs with him that relaxes his shoulders and helps him sink into the hand holding him up. there's something soothing about the bite of pain mixed with pleasure, the soft sting that is soon tended to by Will's gentle tongue, as if to chase away a wound of his own making.
there are little red marks splotched across his pale skin, red marks blooming, wet and glistening, that will eventually turn purple, then blue, then yellow. Louis is not fragile, not in body nor in spirit, and he likes the little defiant push that Will seems to have when given the chance. there's the satisfying notion that Euchronia's perfect, giving little king, a little demon showing teeth beneath the sheets, but only for him.
when Will leans back, Louis wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. ]
I'll wear them well, then no one can forget.
[ as in, he has no intent on hiding them. he's feared enough that no one will ask, and he'll enjoy the gossip that comes from it. the same thumb traces back under his ear and down his shoulders, along the curve of his spine. Will is soft, always so soft, even at the barest touch. ]
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Lustful and triumphant, like the demons the Sanctists like to warn of in their fables, Will smiles with a bright spark in his eyes and a knack for urging Louis towards dizzying relaxation. He rolls his hips again, more confidently this time, relishing in the feeling that he gets when Louis's cock drags along his sweet spot again. Greedy little thing that he is, he urges himself against it again and again and again, openly grinding in a way that probably feels better for him than it might feel for Louis — but he's terribly cute when he does it, with his greedy little mouth reaching down again to leave more sharp, delectably painful hickies going down between Louis's chest. His thumbs brush over Louis's tempting nipples; unable to resist temptation, Will decides to pinch one gently, even as his teeth find more skin to sink into. ]
You're getting hard again.
[ Will is, too, of course, which he soon acknowledges by reaching down between their legs so that he can tug at himself as he slowly starts gyrating his hips into Louis's hardening cock again, urging it towards more heated engorgement. He wants to feel Louis hard inside of him again, hard and aching and full again, so that he can urge his consort into giving him more of what he always craves. It's not long before he's arching backwards again, riding Louis properly, his breath coming faster as he tries to ride Louis slower, in the way that he seemed to like, with that easy steady disciplined rhythm, and a wanton look in his eyes. ]
You like having something to show off, don't you? My consort...
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Your king consort, my king.
[ he plays with the words on his tongue, sighing as Will eases into a steady pace. for a moment he sways, leaning back against his wrist, but thinks better of it, leaning back until he's flat against the bed. he rests his shoulders back, hair spread around him in messy rings, giving Will a good look at his handiwork from above.
each breath rises and falls in his chest as Will lifts himself, and then lowers again, pressing him deeper inside. soon he's aching again from the throb between his legs, and the sting on his chest that still bear the markings of Will's teeth. ]
Good ...
[ the word comes out as a soft murmur, urging Will's pace. the desire will sink its claws into Will eventually, and his hips will quicken as he rides out the rest of his pleasure. for now, Louis enjoys the closeness, rests his hands on Will's hips, large enough that his fingers sink into his rear. ]
You're being good ...
[ he follows up, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips, as if he knows some sort of secret. ]
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Ah — hah, that's — good, I want to be... good...
[ For you, he wants to say, but it dies on his lips, suffocated by the thick moan that springs unbidden to Will's soft, rose-bitten lips instead. Will abandons the thought of speaking in favor of bouncing and shaking his hips more, blue eyes half-lidded and shadowed by thick silver lashes, darker at their tips, and how gorgeous Louis looks, his golden hair splayed in a halo around his head, with arousal in his eyes and the part of his lips before he smiles and guides Will with his hands, urging, praising... Will feels himself twitch, feels his cock dribble out the warning signs of his own need, soon to come crashing down around him, surging with tidal force into the blank shore of his pleasure-addled mind... ]
Want to be good... for you... ah, Louis —
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to anchor him, Louis takes his wrists gently, firmly, and holds him steady with one hand. if Will wishes to lose himself in abandon, Louis is inclined to help, as there is a beauty in Will's wilds. it's something Louis always found himself waiting for: Will to cut lose, to drown in pleasure. ]
Can you be good a little longer?
[ his voice is a quiet purr, low in the room around them. ]
Just a little longer. Good ...
[ the heat is rising, and he can feel the warmth pool in his belly, along the wet friction of where they're meeting. Will isn't the only one holding back, as Louis makes an attempt to starve off his orgasm for a little longer to see the way Will's face shifts with pleasure: low eyelids and parted lips, and small, desperate gasps.
he runs his palm from his hip to his rear, as if a sort of gentle coaxing will somehow give him what he wants. ]
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What could be better than this? There is nothing, nothing about Will that is not bared before Louis in this moment: his nude body, the unabashed pleasure on his face, his half-lidded eyes, clouded with lust, lips parted, heedless of how he looks. His little gasps, his desperate moans — this bounty of little treasures is all for Louis, and now they can both bask in the thrill of losing themselves to glorious ecstasy — ]
Mmmnh — ah, ah — oh, mmnh, Louis, Louis, Louis... ah —
[ His consort's voice only heightens Will's pleasure, the grip around his wrists only heightens Will's pleasure, but — it's that single touch, that damnably gentle stroke from his hip to his rear that really sends Will crashing over the edge. He gives in, coming harder than before, seized by an orgasm so potent that it's almost dizzying; he has to collapse against Louis's chest as his body seizes up while he comes, twitching and shuddering richly, with even more intensity than before. He's shaking all through the come-down, panting against Louis's skin, trembling through his thighs.
Oh... if the sex they have is this good every time, Will might be well and truly ruined. ]
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Will loses himself a little further, and Louis feels the hitch in his loins, and the warmth that spreads over his thighs. the wait was worth it, all to see Will shudder and moan and ride him until he's exhausted. through his desire-fueled haze, Louis thinks that he may be able to stay hard for the next round he knows Will is going to want after this. that is, until Will comes, and his insides tighten around him, and in an instant that blindsides him, he releases with an uncharacteristic gasp, filling up his king again with a few pumps. ]
Hah ...
[ he sucks in a breath, steadying Will as he steadies himself. the hand that had cupped his rear slides down to his trembling thighs, either to still him or even enjoy the byproduct of his own making. ]
I don't believe I've ever exhausted you this much. A new victory, perhaps.
[ he talks as if he's testing if he can still speak, to his surprise he can. ]
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Will loses himself to pleasure and he feels Louis lose himself to pleasure and it's impossibly satisfying, impossibly good. He has a sudden and overwhelming suspicion that this is what he's going to chase for the rest of his life, the high of this, the adrenaline, the hit. Louis underneath him, looking so impossibly beautiful, goading him on. He feels the slick wetness between his legs and shudders, moving just slightly, as if his furtive movements could draw it out, give him more, give him more and more and more — ]
I... could say... the same for you...
[ Breathless, Will places one delicate hand on Louis's cheek, framing his face lovingly, the same way Louis's careful fingers are resting on his plush thigh. He feels so triumphant. Like he's finally won. Even on the evening of his coronation, he didn't feel this glorious, this free. What he'd felt then was the solemn knowledge that his country was his birthright and that he would do right by his people. But this, this is for him. That Louis is still alive at all is the product of his own selfishness. This journey was his coming-of-age, and Louis, Louis is his prize for the taking — ]
That was so good...
[ Sultry and breathless, like some succubus from the legends of the ancients, Will giggles, half-drunk on the satisfaction of his orgasm. He's surprised he can still talk, too. He feels dizzy, heady, almost sick with love. ]
I want to see you like this... over and over and over again...
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and here they were.
it was infectious in some way, Will's bright personality, and being around him so much has made Louis notice that his more nihilistic tendencies didn't feel so heavy. his mood didn't feel so dark. the prospect of affection, the willingness to give it, and Will's non-judgement made him more comfortable with himself in the world than he ever thought he'd be. ]
You've plenty of years to do so, in light of the ceremony.
[ a joke, kind of, and Louis seems to find himself amusing. ]
I'll have to be certain to train myself to maintain some level of victory, 'less you win all the time.
[ and Louis can't have that.
one of his arms loops under Will's elbow and around his waist, resting there for his king to catch his breath. after a moment of his chest rising and falling, he centers himself and pushes himself up on an arm, taking Will upright with him. ]
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The movement jostles Will, who seems sleepy (temporarily) in the wake of his orgasm; he laughs without the energy or breath to do it, humming faintly against Louis's chest as his body is moved. He has the wherewithal, at least, to trace the shape of a heart with his finger against Louis's chest, right to the side of where his blackened heart still sits. ]
Mmhmhm... where are we going?
[ We, he says, because like hell he'll even let Louis out of this bed for even a moment without also going with him. Well, maybe if it's just to grab some water to drink... ]
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You're quite demanding, and I'm feeling parched.
[ he did give quite a lot of his fluids to Will, and he's certain Will will want more by the end of the night. ]
For a brief moment, you'll have to allow me some freedom to quench it, hm? 'Less you plan to fall into slumber before our nuptials are adequately consummated.
[ Will is looking droopy, his body recovering from a few good bouts of play certainly has sunk into his bones. they have quite a bit to make up for in their time apart (Will moreso, who had months without him before he brought him back).
yet Louis does not rise, not yet, giving Will a bit more time to stick to him before he gets up. ]
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Well. "Relent." What Will actually does is this: he lolls against Louis's chest a moment longer, happily sticky — then he lolls down to his husband's breast and gives it a good lick.
Mmm... Louis salts.
Summarily satisfied (?) (...what was that?) (???), Will rolls off of Louis's body and into the bed, a little giggly and silly for it. ]
Delicious Louis...
[ Evidently, the great Count Louis Guiabern has been satisfactorily marinated to the king's pleasure. ]
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Louis slides toward the end of the bed, getting to his feet and giving Will an eyeful of what he never got when they coupled on the Charadrius (but did get in their last battle together). no matter how much of a mess Louis is, he never looks anything but elegant, even the red little marks look good on his collar, a contrast to his pale skin. he wears them like jewelry that hangs just above his black heart as he reaches for the closest robe at the bedside, tying it around his waist and stepping across the room to where a thoughtful servant has placed a pitcher and goblets. there's discarded clothing all over that he carelessly steps over, as if they'll never need them again.
he can observe Will from the table placement, the king stretched out over the sheets, tousled as if he's been in a good fight, slim and nude and slightly shiny from fluids. certainly, he could get used to this. sometimes he feels like a feral animal within a cage of a grand castle, but in this bedroom Will is his – all his, and the two of them are as equal as they are on the battlefield. instead of heading back right away, he admires his new husband and drinks his water as if it were fine wine.
gently, he says: ]
Turn over.
[ it's not exactly a command, but a sort of quiet curiosity, just to see what every side of Will may look like as he is now. ]
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Apparently, though, those curves alone aren't enough. Evidently craving more, Louis tells him to turn over, and Will obeys without a second thought, rolling languidly onto his back, revealing his chest, his slender waist, his hips — his cock, flaccid for the moment. His hair is tousled, flyaways catching the light and curling silver in every wild direction. Feeling very, very pleased with himself, Will goes so far as to pose even more boldly, throwing one arm up over his brow to push his hair back, the other clutching his thigh for visual interest as he parts his legs to reveal his soft hole, still flushed and now leaking some of Louis's spend.
If he had taken Louis up on his offer all those months ago, so far above the reddened skies, his limbs would be blackened, and he would wear a crown of thorns. His serene blue eyes would have turned a dark, anxiety-ridden amber. And he would have still been beautiful like that, too — but there is something exceptionally lovely about the way he bats his lashes now, smooth and soft against the velvet blue cloak of night outside.
Will smiles sweetly, but from his husband's vantage point, and the moonlight illuminating his gentle blue eyes, it might look more like a smirk. If nothing else, he'll seduce his feral Louis back to bed like this. ]
Do you like the view...?
[ His skin gleams faintly with sweat, but even after all they've done, Will still smells sweet — even refreshing, like his bath salts. ]
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Will puts on a show for him, rolling onto his back, stretching the shape of his body and accentuating all of his curves while Louis sips his water. there's a sense of power in this. with a twist of his wrist, Louis rolls the water in the goblet, deliberately resisting the urge to join Will once again in bed. ]
Enough to see more.
[ despite the easy words, it's obvious where his eyes are, half-lidded and sharp with lust. it won't take much to get him back to bed, but he's feeling playful, and he wants a little more of a show.
with one hand he leans back against the table, not quite matching Will's show of seduction, but not leaving much to the imagination as to the curves that are beneath his robes. he may mean to distract Will as much as Will means to seduce him. ]
Go on, show me.
[ he smiles when he puts his lips to his cup. ]
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Will rests his eyes on Louis's body — on each graceful curve of muscle, with some of the best parts now hidden by the robe loosely wrapped around Louis's waist. He licks his lips, openly salivating over his husband's chest, his waist, his legs, his thighs. In times past, the attraction he felt to Louis was always something shameful which he had to deny in himself; now he can lose himself in it fully, let himself loose to satisfy his wild desires.
Will touches himself slowly, indulgently. He slides one slim hand down between his pecs towards his groin, and his cock, which is by now stirring with interest. His other hand cups one of his peaked nipples, simply caressing them at first, and then pinching them as he begins to stroke himself in earnest.
He lets his gaze rest on Louis's body the whole time, his lips faintly parted, hips shifting and thrusting into his own hand. What is he thinking of? Only of Louis, of course. How Louis will touch him, ravish him, abandon that goblet of water and fuck him the way he wants, if he just gives enough of a show.
He's very pretty. Slim lithe body bent back against the sheets, gorgeous silver hair curling around his sweet features. Sinking deeper into his fantasies, some of which were happening only scant minutes ago, Will tips his head back against his pillow and strokes himself a little faster, teeth biting into his soft lip as he suppresses a moan from deep in his chest. ]
Mmm... like this...?
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beneath his dark lashes, he keeps his gaze on the young king who's dancing in the sheets, hand between his legs like a picture painted in colors so vivid it could be touched. Louis can feel himself stir again, somewhere in the folds of his robe, brushing up against his thighs. ]
Just like that ...
[ he says lowly with his lips to the goblet, his breath labored. certainly, can Will so easily keep his attention from across the room? it seems as if that's the case. after all, he does not need to divert his infatuation with Will anymore. there's no need to protect himself from it.
as Will wishes, he seems to summon Louis from across the room, who despite feeling quite brimming with desire, strides at an easy pace as if he's enjoying the show far too much for it to end (he is). the goblet clinks against the night table as its set down, and Louis sits on the corner of the bed. he cups his hand along Will's cheek, thumb tracing down his chin and tangling in the loops of silver hair that frame his face. ]
You look good ...
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He's leaking pre-cum again by the time Louis comes closer; a trickle of it beads against the king's fingers and slicks up his palm. The wet movements of his hand make soft, sloppy sounds, as if to tempt Louis further towards depravity. Will tilts his head as his face is caressed and his bottom lip is brushed; his hand doesn't stop moving. If anything, it moves faster as he takes in his consort's stunningly beautiful face. The poetry they'll write about him... the poetry he'll write about him... ]
You look even better.
[ It's breathed out, ragged; not wanting to disturb the vision Louis has set up for himself, Will doesn't reach out to his consort, but he allows himself to be touched. His parted lips, the love in his eyes... these are all things for Louis and Louis alone to enjoy. ]
Come closer, Louis...
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This close...?
[ he says, letting his words drawl as he presses his thumb between Will's lips and into the warmth of his mouth. ]
Or closer still, perhaps ...
[ his thumb presses down on Will's tongue, into the wet slope he drags it down and back again. that mouth always feels good, pretty when he talks, soft and wet when Louis puts a finger there. there's no move to touch him, not yet, there's something enjoyable about this that Louis finds that he likes, something satisfying in watching the king pant and twist in the sheets. the wetness of his mouth makes him rise beneath his robe, the swell of his cock pleasant and hot against his thigh.
Louis will have him again, but he quite likes him like this, first. ]
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