The king has an unusual name inspired by a famous mathematician. If you're the kind who likes to know exactly how every word you see is pronounced, Euthor is pronounced Oy-You-Thur.
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Parker's hand rested heavily on the hilt of his sword. The blade was carefully sheathed in a leather scabbard, and the polish on the hilt was dulled away by Parker's hand. The High Guard stood solemnly by his king's side, surveying the crowds around them.
Parker never particularly cared for watching tournaments, but they pleased Euthor very much, so the High Guard took his place next to the king and took his job seriously. The blonde glance over at his king, gaze softening when he saw the lax curve of Euthor's shoulders shaking with triumphant laughter.
Below, the sons of the great families of Decia fenced in the ring. Parker was unamused by their green postures and their inexperienced jabs. A hard man of 24 winters, Parker could've fenced better than that as a boy still clutching at his mother's skirts.
"Parker." The voice of his king snapped the blonde back to attention. Euthor was what mattered.
"Yes, sire?" The High Guard's voice was low and steady. Parker's eyes traced the curves of Euthor's lips.
The king's mouth curled up in a smirk. "This is the last match for today."
Parker's eyes widened and excitement stirred in the pit of his stomach. "Would his Majesty like to vacate the premises prematurely?"
"Nothing about me is premature." Euthor raised an eyebrow at the High Guard. "But yes, I'd like to head up to my room for a moment." The king winked.
Parker clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword, knuckles white with effort. "Of course. Shall I accompany you?"
Euthor stood up. "I thought you'd never ask."
The crowd erupted in cheers as the fight ended below. Parker didn't care to see the victor; he offered his stiff arm to the king. The High Guard's breath came out of his nose in tight gusts, the effort of controlling his arousal almost too much to bear.
Euthor rose from his seat and grabbed Parker's bicep with a long-fingered hand. The High Guard's muscles tightened. The king leaned in close to Parker's ear. "Don't keep me waiting."
Parker did not hesitate to set a quick pace towards the stairs that exited the viewing tower. He brushed passed snot-nosed rich children and their equally snobbish parents. The elite of Decia parted for their king as his High Guard led him on such a determined path.
Euthor tripped, 'accidentally,' he would claim later, and fell into Parker. The king's hand hooked securely into the waist of Parker's trousers.
The High Guard yelped in surprise, steadying the king with a hand on his hip. Euthor laughed. "Honestly, Parker, you're impatient."
The High Guard's face flushed red and he all but yanked the king towards the stairs. Euthor followed smugly.
Halfway down the steps, Parker abruptly stopped and shoved Euthor against the stair railing. His hands were shaking as he held his king there, breathing puffing out of his mouth wildly. "Permission, sir." His voice was tighter than a cable stretched too thin.
Euthor chuckled. "And if I don't give it to you?"
Parker's jaw clenched. "I'll do my time for disobeying." He said through gritted teeth.
Euthor's breath quivered between them. "I'll punish you." His voice dropped to a low, grating whisper.
Parker grabbed a fistful of the king's lapel. "Permission." He asked again, his voice sharper still.
Euthor closed his eyes, pale skin sliding over the leafy green of his irises. "Granted."
The blonde attacked his king's lips fiercely, wasting no time taking Euthor's bottom lip in his teeth and grating them across the soft, plump flesh. One hand gripping the king's lapel, the other tangled in his dark hair, Parker pulled Euthor into his body. The High Guard guided his knee between the king's, putting gentle but constant pressure on the king's swelling erection.