148 » but all this world is like a tale we hear

[perusing]

[ Ever since Aether arrived, the palace has been abuzz with curious chatter. It began with his background — could this beautiful youth be of royal blood himself, a distant kingdom's long lost heir to the throne, abducted from his homeland? — and like parched wanderers stumbling upon a lush oasis at last, gossiping tongues lapped up the mystery to spin into fanciful stories. Soon, they came to circle connected questions: how did Aether win Prince Alhaitham's favor, and so quickly at that? Less politely: what goes on behind closed doors now, night after night?

After all, so the whole of Sumeru knows, the prince is notoriously and unrepentantly difficult, albeit never in ways that would cost him his birthright. Though he gives neither the king nor their subjects reason to despair overmuch, he is said to prefer the company of books to that of humans, lacking a future ruler's manner. That is, he does nothing that tarnishes the royal family's name, and the people have no cause to fear the years ahead, but what sort of leader is a man so uninterested in power and prestige? Prince Alhaitham has all but stated just that outright, from his refusal to engage with anything that he deems needless ceremony to his apparent reluctance to entertain even a political marriage while it serves no purpose better achieved by other means. He may not shirk his duties, but nothing kindles ambition or desire in his heart, it seems, save the prospect of expanding the borders of Sumeru's already vast library.

Were he not born a prince, he might have joined the scribes. As a prince, someone else in his place might aspire to become a philosopher king, at the least.

Why, then, was he the one to bring Aether to the palace like a new acquisition added to the library's collection of texts? To the outside world, he appears to be thoroughly taken with the young man, uncharacteristically lavishing so much attention on him.

Some of the whispers decide that Aether's beauty makes him an otherworldly being capable of enchanting mortal men and robbing even the most rational among them of all reason. Others simply call him a cunning actor in a wider plot, here to pursue an unknown objective. Perhaps he will reveal himself as a spy or a thief, nothing more.

No one considers innocuous possibilities.

The talk has reached Alhaitham's ears, too, but he leaves it alone — intervening to silence speculation is a waste of time, and besides, keeping his unexpected chosen companion close ensures that someone watches Aether's movements as it is. Thus far, he can conclude that he hasn't made a mistake. What the rest of the palace believes won't sway him.

Tonight, the twentieth night, the recent routine continues. The prince and his companion have dined together, and they settle to while away another evening not only by making full use of the bath and the bed, but with tales offered like tribute, akin to a handful of pages turned at a time.

Standing behind Aether, near the arch of the window overlooking a view of the city far below, Alhaitham lets his hands come to rest on the smaller man's slim shoulders, warm and steady. ]

What do you have for me, Aether?

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[perusing]

[ In its simplest form, their story might be told with their hands, linking the past and the future — the touches they've exchanged, and the ones they have yet to experience. That story is one of mutual desire unfolding in the discoveries made whilst they come to know each other's bodies, limitless. With Aether in his hold, Alhaitham's hands have a generous selection from which they might choose.

He hums again, low into Aether's ear, as if weighing these new options, even as he splays his fingers against Aether's abdomen, completing the embrace. Tilting his head brings Aether's mouth within easy reach, and a tug pulling Aether's hips back towards Alhaitham's own signals approval for the contact where their bodies meet. Alhaitham is human; Aether's proximity punctuates what his presence promises, spurring on human instincts, the beginnings of arousal.

Their past. Their future. It's an interesting invitation, enticing as only Aether himself is. ]

Go ahead — I'm listening.

[ As long as Aether's otherworldly composure withstands every prediction of his that comes true. Did he foresee that Alhaitham's hands would adjust their placement, lifting him from the ground to seat him with the prince upon the divan behind them? That they would hold him perched atop Alhaitham's thighs, the plush curve of his rear nestled in the prince's lap? ]

Tell me all of it, including my plans for you tonight.

[ Or Aether's plans, some might argue — the machinations of a manipulator, mortal or immortal, a snake that has slithered his way into the palace, Sumeru soon under his thumb. The odd tale speaks of jinn bestowing their favor upon those they judge worthy, but far more contain warnings, recounting the fate of doomed dynasties.

Sumeru, at least, has seen undisrupted prosperity in recent days. ]

[ironwind]

[ Settling into Alhaitham's lap, Aether smiles. The weight of Alhaitham's hands upon his thighs is a pleasurable thing, an addiction that he has yet to shake. He wants them on his hips, his sides, his chest, his back. He wants them wrapped around his neck as the prince claims what is his by contract.

He never thought he would allow himself to become so deeply entwined with a fleeting mortal soul. ]

You're aching to touch me.

[ His voice, his intonation — he's like something out of a dream as he rolls his hips into Alhaitham's own, undulating like the ocean tides, more enchanting than any of the women available to the prince, seductive in a way that the servant-girls and dancers and concubines around him could simply never be. Each word he speaks brings the soft heat between his legs ever closer, pressed harder against Alhaitham's burgeoning interest. ]

You've tasted me before, but still, it's not enough. You need me again, laid out beneath you. Cajoling you, seducing you. Licking the wine out of your mouth. You'll have your hands all over me, claiming the territory that is by right yours. You're an avaricious man, my master... You won't rest until I'm consumed by lust for you and you alone. Hooked on your mortal pleasures. Tethered to you by ecstasy.

[ Softening just slightly, the traveler reaches out and cradles Alhaitham's face, very delicately, in his hands. His fingers barely make contact, but they ghost over the scribe's lips, touching them, caressing them. A lover's ardent affection. A guardian's tender touch. The rapturous expression on his face — it is nothing less than love. ]

One day, when you are known as a hero-king and I am a mere footnote in your history... when the people sing your name... I want to be known as Alhaitham's bride and not his favorite concubine.

[perusing]

[ Alhaitham's lips part as Aether's touch passes across them; a whisper of breath brushes against Aether's fingertips, hinting at the anticipation of what is to come. The taste of Aether's mouth and more, again and again, his bare skin warm against Alhaitham's, their bodies joined in another now-familiar dance. All of it beckons in Aether's words and caresses, promised only to the man he calls his master. All of it is theirs to savor.

And contrary to the speculations, Alhaitham's mind is his own, and he sees no reason to decline all that Aether offers him. ]

A hero-king?

[ Leaning back upon their shared seat takes Aether with him, closer, heat caught between them. The prince's hands travel down his companion's sides, past his hips to his thighs, where Alhaitham's fingers breach the hem of the thin layer of cloth draped about Aether's form.

Alhaitham's gaze is steady on Aether's features, on Aether alone, as if an enchantment woven has him firmly in its grasp. ]

It would be troublesome, if the people don't wait until I'm no longer alive to hear it. But I realize that simple peace and prosperity won't satisfy their thirst for heroic tales.

[ His body meets Aether's rocking, receptive unlike the seashore's stone cliffs that yield but slowly to the tides. ]

Your wish is easier to fulfill, Aether.

[ironwind]

[ 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.

[perusing]

[ They have time, tonight and every night to come, plenty of occasions to indulge in each other over and over as they please, but Aether's fervor is enticing, too, and Alhaitham has no qualms about matching it. His body knows Aether's, craves Aether's, just as Aether knows and craves his prince's body, so why shouldn't they enjoy each other to the fullest? Their exchange is steady, still, back and forth, but the push and pull of it crests higher.

For each murmured my king, each press of Aether's soft lips slotting their mouths together, steadily hungrier, Alhaitham rolls his hips into the promising heat of Aether's body, upward to grind against that familiar warmth between Aether's legs. His dancer welcomes it, he knows. Aether has him fully hard soon enough, and his hands squeeze Aether's thighs in encouragement, a palpable answer on its own. His tongue busies itself with Aether's for the moment, tasting him.

They have time, but it would feel good to have Aether laid out beneath him, his hands all over Aether, to sheathe himself deep inside of Aether, the two of them becoming one a thousand times over, and fuck him into the divan, into ectasy. Alhaitham's fingers, trailing up warm skin to seize Aether by the hips, give Aether another tug to pull him closer once more, downward in Alhaitham's lap. ]

Granting your wish grants mine: I want you. Now, and tomorrow, and beyond that.

[ Alhaitham voices it between their kisses, barely drawing away from Aether's reddened lips. Neither of them will rest, both of them hooked on the pleasure, and despite Alhaitham's reputation, he won't sit back while Aether rides him. ]

[ironwind]

[ Alhaitham's hunger is growing ever more fervent, and Aether is beginning to find himself caught in its sway. The hands on his thighs, the hardness rubbing into his own, teasing him, trapping a moan at the back of his throat until a fresh roll of Alhaitham's hips coaxes it out of him — Aether feels heat stirring low in his belly, driving him to newer and more desecrated ends.

The dancer shivers, surrendering to baser impulses. No celestial indulgence from beyond the stars ever felt quite like this. ]

An easy wish to fulfill... ah...

[ Being the target of Alhaitham's undivided focus, feeling pinned down by those startling turquoise eyes — it's an unrivaled experience, uniquely thrilling each and every time it happens.

The palace whispers claim that Aether has enchanted the prince, but the reality is that the celestial being is the one who feels ensnared. With a soft gasp, Aether finds himself pulled into Alhaitham's lap proper, blessed by friction intense enough to make his world spin and his thighs tremble. The storyteller attempts to stifle another moan, to no avail: another thrust from Alhaitham's strong hips sends pleasure ricocheting between Aether's pussy and his cock, an tantalizing mix of sensations — something that only Alhaitham has given him, and that only Alhaitham will ever give him. ]

You are so tempting... My king, my gorgeous sinner...

[ With his eyes fixed on Alhaitham's, Aether reaches towards his groin, where his panties have been secured via a side-tie that sits high on his hips. He undoes these, lets the garment fall between their legs once it's undone; the fabric shines with moisture, tangible proof that Aether's arousal has been earned more than twice over by his prince. ]

How was I ever meant to resist you?

[perusing]

[ The truth is that as far as Alhaitham is concerned, his wishes have already been granted. A simple, comfortable, predictable life — even within the constraints of his role as Sumeru's future king, he manages to enjoy just that, and Aether at his side fits there perfectly. Aether's presence is what he wants, which goes beyond the fact that dealing with concubines and marriage to foster alliances would be a hassle for Alhaitham himself and everyone else alike, beyond having Aether's body all to himself night after night. Aether is anything but a mere footnote, now or in the future.

Of course, it also suits Alhaitham perfectly to have Aether where his beautiful dancer is right now. He watches Aether unabashedly, tracking every movement, following Aether's fingers as they pull the ties of his undergarments loose. Aether is as wet as Alhaitham knew he would be, and the prince's mouth curves into a smile, satisfied. He rubs his thumbs against the dip of Aether's sides. ]

Why should you? Because of your nature? That didn't dissuade me from wanting you.

[ And with Aether straddling him, flushed and slick, Alhaitham leans in again to claim another kiss before any answer comes. It takes little effort to free his own cock from his robe, to lift Aether enough to align himself with Aether's entrance and draw him back down, pressing past his pliant inner walls, deeper until Aether is seated in his lap once more. ]

[ironwind]

[ As always, Alhaitham has a certain knack for taking Aether's breath away. The divine creature lets out a shuddering breath as his master's cock breaches him, pushes in, deeper, until all of his senses are awash with pressure and pleasure alike. Every single one of their unions feels as sinful as the last, the way his prince and future king knows exactly how to play upon his body as one might play an instrument.

Pretty immortal though he is, even Aether is only another man with base impulses in the end. He's so eager that he himself shifts his hips, guiding Alhaitham's cock to where he wants it, such that each thrust makes him throb between his legs and pleasure swims behind his eyelids when he closes them and rocks to the rhythm of his own needs. So good, each and every time. To think that even angels would be susceptible to mortal lust. ]

My nature... as the kind of thing that should bring you to ruin, you mean?

[ Aether laughs a little breathlessly. He, too, knows the tales of what happens between jinn and the men unfortunate enough to fall in love with them. Nearly all these stories end in tragedy, but they — he has already foreseen it — they will not fall into those pitfalls that befell lesser men, and more impulsive jinn. Smirking faintly, though his expressing is suffused only with dreamy desire, Aether positions himself as something Alhaitham can ruin, open to his attention, to his desires and his needs. ]

What I've always loved about you is that you play such dangerous games.

[ A breath, a lusty sigh. A lover's quiet plea. ]

Show me. How you want me. I love it, the way you want me...