[ A soft note of interest escapes Aether's throat as the prince's fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of his dancer's skirt. He wants more, higher, those fingers sliding up up up until they've pulled all of his white fabric and gold jewelry off — but the dancer tries his best not to be impatient as he maintains his same steady pace, rolling and bucking his hips against Alhaitham's. Each crest of his little waves is met with warmth from Alhaitham's body, and the dancer purrs a little as the friction between their bodies begins to heat his senses.
Nothing in the firmament ever felt as dangerous as this. Mortal pleasures were worth the fall.
The prince's assent makes Aether gently touch his jaw with both hands, caressing him, touching him, kissing him ever so gently on his lips. The feather-light kiss is at odds with the pulsing heat between their legs, but Aether soon deepens it, claiming him more fervently. The thought that Alhaitham has agreed to marry him has filled him with possessive affection. My king, he murmurs softly, almost inaudibly, between kisses. He presses the soft warmth between his legs more fervently against Alhaitham's slowly-flourishing cock.
Aether is yielding, soft. He promises pleasure beyond mortal fantasies, but Alhaitham has known and tasted of it already. Tonight, he will claim more. ]
Then will you grant it? My wish?
[ The warmth between Aether's legs is beginning to promise more. By the softness of it, the feel of it, the prince will surely know: his dancer is getting wet, hopelessly eager. Hooked on his body in a way that divine creatures, in the stories, ought to be resistant to. But then, has there ever been any guarantee that Aether isn't a demon instead? ]
In turn, I will grant you yours. You need but name it, and I will give it to you.
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Nothing in the firmament ever felt as dangerous as this. Mortal pleasures were worth the fall.
The prince's assent makes Aether gently touch his jaw with both hands, caressing him, touching him, kissing him ever so gently on his lips. The feather-light kiss is at odds with the pulsing heat between their legs, but Aether soon deepens it, claiming him more fervently. The thought that Alhaitham has agreed to marry him has filled him with possessive affection. My king, he murmurs softly, almost inaudibly, between kisses. He presses the soft warmth between his legs more fervently against Alhaitham's slowly-flourishing cock.
Aether is yielding, soft. He promises pleasure beyond mortal fantasies, but Alhaitham has known and tasted of it already. Tonight, he will claim more. ]
Then will you grant it? My wish?
[ The warmth between Aether's legs is beginning to promise more. By the softness of it, the feel of it, the prince will surely know: his dancer is getting wet, hopelessly eager. Hooked on his body in a way that divine creatures, in the stories, ought to be resistant to. But then, has there ever been any guarantee that Aether isn't a demon instead? ]
In turn, I will grant you yours. You need but name it, and I will give it to you.