Dominion 3

Erev has never ridden for so long, and when he makes his way out of the saddle he walks with bowed legs, his thighs and his ass aching from being on horseback for so long. He doesn't have time to sit and rest, though -- he readies himself among the other servants, helps lay the fire and boil water, makes tea for his highness and then fills a bathtub for him, comes and attends him in the water when he calls for him.

His promotion to the royal retinue is a very new thing, and he isn't used to it, isn't used to being so close to Prince Leas, let alone being permitted to touch him, to wash a sponge down the scarred, muscular planes of his broad back, or massage shampoo into his short, dark hair. He's a big man, big enough that he scarcely fits into the confines of the painfully small metal tub, his knees bent up and poking out, but Erev still works to wash him, to reach in and access his thighs as best he can.

Leas watches him as he does so, slowly extends his legs one by one for Erev to scrub and then rinse, and then each of his arms, leans back so that Erev can wash the rounded swell of his belly.

"Thank you, sire," Erev says once he's finished, and Leas looks at him with that cool expression of his, his eyebrows raising, his head tilting to one side.

"Thank you?" he repeats in tones so mild it's amazing that the words feel as scathing as they do. "For what, boy, the privilege of bathing your prince?"

"... For the promotion to your retinue, sire," Erev says, and Leas huffs out a laugh, and pushes himself up from the water. Erev had been able to see it in the shadow of the water, but on his feet, with the other man being so tall, Erev's not far from face to face with the thing, seeing it half-standing up to rub against the underside of the prince's belly.

It's a large cock, long and thick and with a particularly bulbous head, and Erev is unable not to think about how it would feel in his mouth in the moment, how the heavy head of the prince's cock would feel on his tongue, sinking deeper, filling his throat.

"Warm my bed while I get dry, boy," Leas orders him, and Erev nods his head, walking away from him and musing on the fact that even his royal majesty doesn't call servants boy, not that Erev's heard, anyway. He'd used to be a cleaner in the library, and he recalls his highness seeing him irregularly as he'd passed in and out -- he'd asked for Erev by name, and Erev had been on the staff for the royal quarters only for two days before they came on this journey, and he was ordered to come along.

It seems strange, that he should go from dusting and sweeping to attending the prince's own body, to laying the warmed copper plates under the sheets of his bed to ensure it's appropriately warmed for him. The prince's tent is a thing of beautiful luxury, a full mattress laid out for him, blankets and silken pillows resting atop it, and there are various other luxuries within the space, a rug spread out on the floor, a trunk-wardrobe on its side with his clothes hung up, a mirror, a vanity.

For all these luxuries carried by cart, the prince himself has ridden on horseback and led their parade on the wooded paths -- Erev had been surprised to be permitted his own horse to ride, although the stablemaster had had him ride about a bit at first around the paddock, just to ensure he was able enough to control the horse.

Prince Leas walks into his tent now dry, towelling off his hair, his cock softer now, but not all the way soft, and he stands on the rug, looking at Erev impassively.

"You're dressed," he says, seeming unamused, "and on your feet. Explain."

"Sire?" Erev asks. "I just put the plates under your sheets, they should be -- "

Leas clucks his tongue, and says, "Remove them. I don't want heated pieces of metal to warm me, boy, I ordered you to warm my bed."

Erev stares at him, his lips parted, uncomprehending much as his brain works to process the information. Leas moves past him, pulls out each of the warmed plates and tosses them aside with a clatter, and then unbuckles Erev's belt with strong, confident hands and loosens its band about his tunic, pulling that over his head and throwing it aside with the plates.

Erev stands there dumbly as Leas pushes his trousers down from his hips and shoves him back onto the bed -- Erev falls on his ass and shivers as Leas pulls off his boots, his socks, his breeches. Erev is naked, sitting back on the prince's bed as the big man advances, and he's certain he should say something, but his brain won't quite work enough to manage it.

"Your highness -- "

"How tight is your hole?" Leas asks, and Erev feels as if he's been dipped in hot water as Leas pulls back the sheet and nudges Erev beneath them, pushing him onto his side.

"Your, your highness," Erev stammers out breathlessly, his own cock jumping between his legs as blood rushes downward. He can feel his heart pounding, feel sweat beading on his skin. "I, um -- "

"Doesn't matter," Leas says. "Every boy is tight when I fuck him."

"Is this why you added me to your retinue?"

"Why, because you're going to be tight?" Leas asks, and he leers at him, shows his teeth. As his body settles into bed behind him, Erev feels the heat radiate from his body -- of course he doesn't need a literal bedwarmer, he wanted... "I knew you'd be tight. Look at you, tiny little thing, that narrow little waist, this fat little ass."

His hand claps against Erev's buttcheek, and Erev yelps into a silk pillow that probably costs more than he does -- Leas grips his leg under the knee and hikes it up, and his cock, fat and long and heavy and wet at the head and hot, falls against his thigh, between his cheeks.

It's half as thick around as his thigh, and Leas nudges his huge cockhead against Erev's hole, against the tight pucker, and Erev whimpers.

"Sire, please -- "

"Calm down, boy, I'm not going to just fuck you dry," Leas says, and laughs. "I'm not in a habit of breaking a toy the moment I have it in hand."

"I'm not a toy," Erev says breathlessly, and Leas just looks at him with his dark amber eyes, and shoves him onto his back, nudging his thighs apart.

"You are here at my pleasure," Leas rumbles as he reaches into the drawer of the nightstand, "and for my pleasure. I will use you as and when I please -- as much as I please. You will attend me in my bath, you will warm my bed, and you will be a sleeve for my cock. Understand, boy?"

Erev's cock jumps between them, pre spurting against his belly, and Leas laughs from his belly as he pours oil over his fingers and rubs it messily between his ass cheeks, up and under his bollocks, and Erev grunts at the massage against his prostate through the flesh, at the heat of Leas' fingertips, the strength of them.

"How long since last a man fucked you, boy?" Leas asks.

Erev's breath catches in his throat. "A few months," he says. "Before I worked in the palace."

"Worked in a brothel then, did you?" Leas asks.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Erev demands, the words coming out harsher than he means them to, and Leas plunges two thick fingers into his ass all at once, and Erev bites himself off with a howl. His head falls back into the silk pillows, and he knows how he looks, has been fucked in front of a mirror before and made to see how his face contorts with pleasure, how obviously the blush shows across his cheeks and the upper part of his chest, how his toes curl, how his fingers grip at the sheets and his back arches.

Leas is grinning down at him and showing his teeth, which are particularly sharp at the incisor, and with his yellow eyes catching the lamplight in the tent like this, there's something bestial to him, something animal that makes Erev shudder.

"What did you just say to me, boy?" Leas asks, and as he asks the question he slowly manipulates the fingers plunged into Erev's asshole, rubbing deliberately and concentratedly at the underside of his cock through the skin, making dull stars burst behind his eyes at the direct stimulation to his prostate.

Leas keeps it up, and Erev's thighs tremble, his body squirming in place against his will as his balls twitch and his sac draws up, but he doesn't actually come -- pre leaks out of him and fucking drips out of the hard head of his cock as he whimpers and tries to keep his concentration.

Leas' expression is smug as he asks, "Is that how you speak to your prince?"

"You said, ungh, ah, you asked if I worked in a brothel -- "

"You're as pretty as a whore, and more eager without the coin," Leas says, still rubbing in fine, focused circles that make Erev feel like his skull is going to explode, like his heart is going to burst right out of his chest. "What's unreasonable about that question, boy?"

"Siiire," Erev whines, gasping in a breath that makes his lungs feel like they're burning, and Leas hikes him up with one arm banded around his belly, leaving Erev upside down, his head back on the mattress and his thighs spread, his legs falling over Leas' shoulders and his back resting against Leas' belly. "Sire, I ca --, ungh, I can't, sire, I can't, I can't -- "

"Of course you can," Leas says, and as he continues to rub those blinding circles into Erev's prostate, too much, milking it like he's trying to squeeze juice out of a fruit, and Erev's cock drips down his belly, drips onto his own face. "You'll take whatever I give you, and serve as the royal cocksleeve, if that's what I wish of you. I'll fuck you, hand you off to my father, my uncles, my knights, my guards -- the stallions in the royal stable, if it suits me."

Erev's never been so horny in his fucking life, feels like his ears are on fire they're burning with so much blood and heat, there's some of his own precome spattered on his chin, his cock and his prostate and his drawn-tight balls ache, and then Leas tugs him by the bollocks with his spare hand, tipping his cock up, and swallows it down his throat.

Erev screams so loudly he feels like something's going to split in his throat, his ears ringing, his heels pressing hard into Prince Leas' back as his back arches and his head presses down into the mattress. Leas' big mouth has encapsulated his cock, surrounded him in tight, wet heat as his cock slides over Leas' tongue and then rubs against the back of the bigger man's throat, and his fingers just keep fucking circling his prostate, just keep --

The dull fireworks exploding behind his eyes abruptly become far less dull, the explosion bright and blinding and fantastic, and he's left wailing as he scrambles at the sheets, his royal highness swallowing around and tonguing at his cock as he mercilessly rubs and plays with Erev's prostate like he really is little more than a royal toy.

It goes on for longer than he ever could have been prepared for, for so long he feels as if his brain is melting inside his skull, tears dripping down not onto his cheeks but onto the tops of his eyes and up his forehead because of the position he's in, and Leas doesn't pull back until Erev's cock is halfway to soft on his tongue.

Erev stares up at him dizzily through teary, bleary eyes.

"I'm going to fuck you now, boy," Leas tells him softly. "And you're going to take every inch."

"You could," Erev manages to say breathlessly, his head spinning, dizziness hitting him as Leas slowly eases him down into a lying position instead of holding him upside-fucking-down, "you could ask. Instead of just, just telling me how you're going to, what you're going to -- you don't own me."

"I own everything in the bounds of this kingdom," Leas tells him mildly, his hands stroking down the inside of Erev's thighs, feeling slightly ticklish as he pushes him back up the bed, lays Erev's head on pillows again. His neck twinges from the position he'd just been in. "I can fuck any boy or girl I like -- have them fucked by anyone else I like, any beast, monster, automaton, for my pleasure. I have done -- I will continue to do so."

"You're not -- you don't own me because you're my prince," Erev growls out.

Leas laughs. "Don't I, boy?" he asks, and in one motion lines up his cock with Erev's asshole, and sinks it inside him.

The breath is punched out of him, Leas' cock feeling as though it's filled him to the brim in one motion, feeling as if it's pushed half of his organs out of the way to make room, rearranged his guts. He can't breathe. His brain isn't working, the cogs not turning, and he stares helplessly up at Leas' smug, possessive face, at his self-assuredness, at his easy sense of territory and his utter certainty that he owns Erev, heart and soul and holes, and Erev can do nothing to change his mind, because he does.

"Sire," Erev whispers, and Leas grins down savagely at him, and begins to thrust.

Erev feels like a ragdoll as Leas powerfully thrusts his hips forward and sheaths his cock hard and deep within him, his hands gripping tightly at the meat of Erev's thighs and encouraging him to hook his feet around Leas' body. He tries desperately to do it, to pull Leas deeper into him, to shift his position on the bed, to manufacture some semblance of control over the way in which he's being used, but it's pointless -- Leas controls every facet of the way they're joined, Erev's position, the depth of his prick in Erev's ass, Erev's job, Erev's life.

"I'm yours," he says faintly, and Leas laughs as he continues to fuck him, dragging Erev down onto his cock at the same time as he thrusts down into him, and fuck, but the sensations are overwhelming.

Erev already feels wrung dry, his balls feeling more empty than they ever have in his life, and every thrust of Leas' huge cock feels as if it's cleaving him open, shoving his cheeks apart, forcing his hole to open up. He can feel the plunge of his huge cockhead in him, feel the press of Leas' fingertips into the meat of his thighs, no doubt leaving bruises -- the prince's signature on him, his mark on him.

"You're mine," Leas agrees, and his hands slide from Erev's thighs up to his waist, and grip him around his middle. Erev stares down at the prince's thumbs either side of his navel, so ridiculously disproportionate, Leas' body so much bigger than his own, his hands all but spanning the breadth of Erev's middle, holding him -- and sliding him up and down his cock as though he really is little more than a sleeve for him to use.

Erev gives himself over to it, feels as if he's floating somewhere in the void as his eyes flutter closed and the world seems to narrow down to that fine, dark point, a black sky filled with the starry scatter of the sensation against his prostate, a ghost of the dull and yet agonising fireworks from before. He feels nothing but Leas' hands, Leas' belly against his soft but desperate to harden again cock, Leas' cock driving into him, the muscles of Leas' thighs as he works inside him, the slap of their flesh together, of Leas' heavy balls against his cheeks.

When Leas finally comes it's with a primal growl, and he cuts off the sound with a bite against the lower part of Erev's throat, and Erev arches into the pierce of his teeth and the press of them into his flesh.

He really has marked him, Erev realises faintly. Leas' teeth marks are hard-imprinted into the base of his throat, visible to everyone who might look their way. Erev wonders if everyone knows, if everyone knows why he was promoted to this position, if it was the first thought they all had, if people have been laughing, thinking about it, thinking about him in Prince Leas' bed, of Leas' cock in him.

Erev feels as though he's left wide open as Leas pulls away, and he stays sprawled in bed on his back with his legs and arms spreadeagled on the bed, resting in his own sweat, feeling his own come spattered all over him, drying on his belly, on his chin, his neck -- he can feel Leas' come inside him, feel the hot pool of it deep in his arse.

"Who should I call in next, boy?" Leas asks as he wipes a cloth over himself, wipes off his prick in the way he might wipe off any other weapon of his, after drills or training. "The guard, an uncle or a cousin or two? My horse?"

Erev stares up at him, feels the heat prickling over his skin, and then asks in a voice that comes out fainter than he means it to, "You really need to share me out to other cocks to feel as though you command me, sire? Need your horse to make a bitch of me, because you lack the follow-through to manage yourself?"

For all his voice has come out soft and thready, the words have more than the desired effect -- Prince Leas' eyes flare bright with flame as he rounds on Erev, his lips curling back in something between a snarl and another grin.

"You think I can't handle you myself, boy?" he asks harshly, and Erev moans as Leas lands on top of him again, flipping him onto his belly this time. "I'll show you precisely what dominion I have over you -- "

"Yes, sire," he gasps out as Leas this time tongues into his sloppy, used hole, "yes, yes, yes --!"

He feels as though he may well faint, may well fall headfirst into that desperate void, and there's a glory in it, in being of such service to his prince's desire.