Chapter Text
Torric dropped down to his knees in front of the prince, unbuttoning the front of his tailored trousers not with his hands but nothing but his tongue and teeth, smoothly sliding the woolen fabric down his long, muscular legs, taking his underwear with it.
His hands lightly traced up the prince’s outer thighs, caressing the gentle swell of his ass.
He kissed his way up the prince’s inner thigh, starting at the knee and working his way upwards. Liam’s cock was already hard as it bobbed in the air in front of his face.
Torric lifted his cock just enough for his tongue to easily reach the base of his shaft, running it up his length to his tip, the wet line of his saliva glistening on his skin as his tongue danced across swollen, fevered flesh.
The prince shivered and Torric paused, mouth millimeters from his body, hot breath teasing over his skin, drawing out the moment. Then he welcomed just the tip of him, lips sealing, tongue circling in a practiced spiral that drew a moan from deep in the prince’s throat.
Torric smiled around it and took a little more, eyes up, holding his gaze as he set the rhythm ; slow, controlled, a lesson in patience. A teasing dance of exquisite agony. His head traveling down his shaft in a long, steady claim then back again with a careful drag that left nerves singing, his cock almost breaking free of the velvet prison of his lips.
Almost.
Then he was going deeper again, swallowing his cock whole, his tongue diving into the slit at the center of his swollen head, chasing the first salty drop of precum that oozed from its depths.
Torric sighed in his own pleasure at the taste, the first drop of many. The first taste of many, the first drop of rain that would soon become a flood of passion.
He looked up at the prince, eyes boring into his as he slowly devoured his cock, taking the throbbing member to its hilt and sucking, tongue massaging the underside of his shaft, increasing the pressure of his suction as he slowly withdrew, centimeter by centimeter, dragging out the sensation.
When he had his prince fully trapped within his heated gaze, Torric swallowed, the motion coaxing another helpless sound from the elven prince’s throat. Low and full of need.
One hand steadied his prince, caressing the small of the back; the other cradled between his legs, stroking his balls. A hum vibrated through his throat, a soft cruelty, but oh so sweet before he eased away with a measured breath and continued the slow climb up the twisting path of pleasure to glory.
He knew he had Liam firmly under his spell when the prince’s hands gripped either side of his head, forcing his head down, and then back up at a faster pace, thrusting deep into his throat with a moan.
Torric let him take control, loosening his jaw, adjusting his angle just so, allowing the rhythm’s tempo to go faster, to let the prince go deeper, until it was no longer an act of oral worship but a frenzied face fucking.
All at once Liam’s voice fractured and his knees nearly buckled, his hot seed pouring down Torric’s throat in a steady stream. The former slave drank down every drop with glee, supporting his body as he came, taking everything he gave, swallowing greedily, not releasing him until the shuddering of the prince’s body ran its course. Only then did he ease back by a breath, lips curved in self satisfied triumph.
“That was… wow.” Liam finally spoke, breaking the silence that had grown between them.
“That was just the foreplay my lord. Unless you would prefer to stop without sampling my body?” His tone was teasing, seductive. They both knew that the prince would not be calling a halt to their game any time soon.
“And I can do anything I want to you?”
“It is conceivable that you would undertake an action that I would find objectionable and would make you stop, though unlikely. I don’t know what it would be, but it is possible. That said there is a great deal that you could do to me that I would not stop, and might even enjoy in the right context, that will absolutely get your cock ripped off and shoved down your throat so far you’ll suffocate to death by my guardian.”
“Sooooo yes, within reason?”
Torric smiled. “Yes. Within reason. Just try to stick with things that won’t require a trip to a healer afterwards if you wish to keep all your body parts where they belong and not discover the intricacies of life as an amputee courtesy of an overprotective celestial dragon.”
“Help me undress. The rest of the way.” Liam commanded.”
Torric slid the jacket from his body, then slid his hands under the prince’s dress shirt, eyes closing in his own bliss as they ran over his toned chest.
He carefully unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the sexy expanse of his chest and abs. Torric desperately wanted to trace the paths carved into his stomach with his tongue, but he was no longer in control of the situation.
“Up.” His prince commanded,” opening his arms.
Torric leapt into them without hesitation, jumping into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, arms thrown around his neck, wings flared out behind him for balance.
The prince crossed the room in a few strides, slamming his back against the wall, using it to pin Torric to it.
This time it was the prince’s turn to act as the aggressor, devouring his lips, his mouth. Hungrily plundering his mouth.
Torric moaned, the sound low and full of need.
The prince broke the kiss, nipping at his lower lip. “You taste so sweet.” He murmured, reverent gaze sweeping over his face.
He kissed his way up Torric’s slender throat, lips finding his ear, teeth set against his earlobe. Torric moaned, the sound growing louder and more passionate the harder the prince bit down.
Abruptly the prince released him, sending a shiver down Torric’s spine.
“You like pain?” He asked him, sounding surprised.
“Depends on the pain and location and person inflicting it.”
The prince’s mouth found Torric’s throat; teeth tested tender skin. Torric’s breath hitched and his body went soft, held up only by the wall and Liam’s arms. If he hadn’t been pinned, he would have folded at the knees from the sweet, biting pain.
“You definitely liked that.” Liam murmured, wicked delight lacing his voice.
Torric nodded dumbly, brain still short circuited from the bite.
The prince carried him to the bed, laying him upon it on his back, wings fanned across the large bed.
Liam straddled his waist, looking down at the man underneath him with possession, avarice, and desire. It was a heady bouquet for the slave trained celestial, making his pulse stutter.
The prince’s hands caressed his chest, finding his hard pink nipples and pinching them between forefinger and thumb then twisting.
Torric threw his head back, eyes shut, and moaning. Fingers were replaced by a hot mouth and a wet tongue that swirled over his nipples. Teeth that nipped at his flesh, biting down and rolling the sensitive nub between them. Slowly teasing licks traced glistening saliva across his skin, every pass drawing a new shudder or gasp.
The sensations drove him wild, low urgent noises of need escaping his throat as Liam mapped his body with hands, tongue and teeth.
His prince was not going to make it so easy on him. He explored Torric’s body with kisses, nipping bites and eager caressing hands. His tongue traced over his skin as the prince found every spot that made him sigh and moan or gasp with pleasure, whole body tightening and beneath him.
The prince never touched his rock hard and aching cock, standing at full mast from his groin, the need to be touched there, caressed, overwhelming.
“Please…” he whimpered.
“Please what?”
“I need you so much it hurts.”
“Then you will have to remain in sweet agony.” The elven man promised him, mouth crushing against his once more, kissing him so roughly that all thoughts blurred and he was one aching ball of want and need.
Torric whimpered, eyes fluttering.
“On your belly. Spread your wings out.” He commanded.
Torric did as he was told, the prince straddling his ass. He squirmed beneath him, the drive to have the prince take him then and there overwhelming.
He gasped when gentle hands traced the outer edge of his lowest set of wings. He froze, breath held as unfamiliar hands stroked across so sensitive feathers
The touch grew more confident as Torric reacted so positively beneath the prince’s hands. Fingers brushing his coverts. He groaned and writhed underneath the prince as he stroked the curve of his wings where they connected to his spine.
“Tell me what you want.” The prince commanded, voice dark and sultry. Velvet over steel. He gasped when the prince’s hand wrapped around the base of his tail, squeezing tight and pulling back
”Oh gods please fuck me.” He moaned. “I need you inside me.” He begged.
Liam stroked his tail in a strong sure grip and he writhed beneath him.
“Please.” He begged again. “Fuck me. I need you.”
Liam rubbed himself against Torric’s ass, making him whimper. “Please.”
An oil slicked finger rubbed his crack, making him shiver again. “Please.”
“Gods I love hearing you beg.” Liam groaned. His finger teased along the rim of Torric's asshole, making him wriggle.
“Please Liam, I need you.”
His oiled finger slipped inside him, Torric’s eyes squeezed shut as he gasped a blissful inhale, Liam’s finger working inside him while the other gripped the base of his tail, stroking it like a cock.
Torric’s breathing sped up as he squirmed on the bed. He should be the one pleasing the prince, but he was captive beneath him, need rippling through his body as the prince teased him and not the other way around.
A second finger slid inside him and Torric moaned louder, the two fingers working across that sweet spot inside him.
The sheet beneath him began to grow slick with his precum as he rubbed ground his hips into the bed, seeking some kind of stimulation. Any kind.
The fingers disappeared from his ass and Torric cried out not from pleasure but in complaint until something larger, more solid replaced them, a heavy weight at the entrance of his ass. Torric pushed back, attempting to spear himself on the other man’s cock in his eagerness.
He shouldn’t be doing this shouldn’t be so aggressive, begging to be fucked, trying to force himself onto the prince’s cock. He couldn’t stop himself. Training be damned.
The prince felt so good. And he felt so good. The sensation of pure worship driving into his body that his prince was generating while he teased him was as stimulating and maddening as the sensations Liam himself was drawing out of him with his hands.
The head of his cock slowly pushed inside him
“Yesssssss.” Torric hissed, reveling in the feeling of his ass being filled by the prince.
Liam stopped when he was fully inside him, holding his position while Torric ground against him, moaning.
The prince’s hands wrapped around each hip, gripping them tightly, using them as anchor points as he thrust into him.
Devotion surged into him as the elven prince rammed his cock hard into his depths, sweet worship plundering his soul as thoroughly as the cock in his ass.
Torric slammed backwards with every thrust of Liam’s cock, the sound of their bodies meeting ringing through the air, a rhythmic beat to the sweet melody of Torric’s moans, sighs and gasps.
Liam’s hands shifted upwards, gripping the base of his lowest set of wings, using them to propel him onward as he had used Torric’s hips.
Torric’s groin tightened the moment the prince’s hands wrapped around him and pulled. Only years of training kept him from cumming then and there.
“Oh fuck,” he whimpered, too lost in the moment to moan, to scream.
“What was that, slave?” Liam purred dangerously, yanking hard on his wings as he thrust sharply.
The denigration made his knees grow weak.
The prince’s accompanying tidal wave of lust, desire for Torric’s body, the prince’s secret thrill at treating a Lumainari so disrespectfully, and pure worship crashing over him in an intoxicating destructive wave that left his body shaking and orgasmic pleasure coursing through him.
Precum flowed freely from his cock, slicking his groin and staining the linens beneath him.
“Harder.” He breathed.
Liam’s hamd released his wing and wrapped in his hair, yanking his head back sharply. “What was that?” He growled. “Slaves don’t make demands.”
“Oh gods.” Torric breathed faintly, ready to burst. Body ached to cum, cock swollen and slick with need. “Harder, please. Oh please. Fuck me. Ruin me.”
Liam yanked savagely on the base of his wings using the leverage, dominant position, and larger body to pound into him, grunting with every thrust. Torric met him thrust for thrust, moan for moan, grunt for grunt.
The moans slowly morphed into his own kind of prayer as the need for release built to a fever pitch.
“Fuck me.” He breathed.
“Use me.” He pleaded.
“Break me.” He moaned.
“Own me.” He whimpered
The eight words became his mantra.
Fuck me. Use me. Break me. Own me.
The prayer of need and desire to prolong the sweet agony where orgasmic pleasure met divine worship and the need to feel utterly owned and dominated.
Liam yanked his hair one more time, pulling his head back until his lips were even with his ear.
“Who do you belong to?” He demanded dangerously.
“You.” Torric moaned.
“Who’s your master?”
“Youuu.”
“Say it.”
“My master.”
He thrust full strength into his ass.
“Say it again!”
“Master!” Torric shouted.
Liam thrust into him again, one hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard, the other roughly squeezing the most sensitive part of his upper most set of wings, just where the curve started.
“Cum for me!” The prince commanded, “I want to hear my name on your lips.”
“LIAM!” He screamed, the dam inside him bursting as the prince’s hand on his throat tightened.
Hot, sticky cum shot from his swollen cock in a steady stream, orgasmic pleasure surging through his body in a raging tsunami of need, lust, devotion and the joined pleasure of their shared orgasm, auras merging for a shining moment and Liam began unloading in his ass.
Torric collapsed flat on his face into the mattress as Liam’s hand released his throat, his whole body a quivering mess, chest heaving as he floated on a sea of post orgasmic glow.
Liam fell backwards onto the bed into the small amount of space not taken up by Torric’s sprawling wings.
Torric lifted one side of his wings in the air. “Cuddle?” He invited.
The prince did not need a second invitation. He cuddled up against Torric’s body, half laying against his back, face nuzzling the nape of his neck.
Torric draped his wing over the other man, making him stiffen and freeze.
“Relax.” Torric told him. “You won't hurt them. Unless you don’t like the feeling?”
“No. It's like a soft warm blanket and a whole body hug all at once.”
Torric knew the prince couldn’t see his smile since he was facing away from him, but he smiled nonetheless, then let out a very satisfied and content sigh.
“Is something wrong?” Liam asked.
“No, quite the opposite. That was incredible. Not just the sex. But I could feel your emotions. Could feed on how turned on you were and how much you worship me as a Lumimari. That was easily the best sex I’ve had in my life. And not just because it was my first time having sex as a free man.”
The prince kissed the back of his neck, one arm sliding over Torric’s back under his wings. “I am happy to oblige whenever you want.”
“A dangerous offer. Maybe I’ll creep into your bed every might and fuck you all night every night until you collapse from sheer exhaustion. Like the stories of incubi of old from Praetoria.” Torric teased.
“You aren’t upset about the slave-master part?”
Torric laughed. “It was very sexy. Especially because it isn't true. We both know if I wanted you to be my slave you would.”
“In a heartbeat. Though perhaps not publicly. I am a prince, even if I’m not the heir.”
“No promises.” Torric teased. “I wouldn’t mind…. ‘resting’ together again, though.”
“Whenever, wherever, however.” Liam quickly promised.
“First you have to survive Renethera.”
Liam groaned. “Don’t remind me. My father would not save me from her eminence if she decided I was unworthy of you. Nor would the high queen of Solsetheen. Or their imperial majesties who rule all us all and our sister worlds.”
“I think you’ll be fine. She really wants me to get the whole school boy experience. Remember, she said something along the lines of letting the children play in the headmaster’s office. How old is she, anyway?”
“No idea. But she’s lived on Solstheen for the last 500 years or so. If I ask her age she’ll probably squash me like a bug. You she’ll probably answer. The two celestial races that are the smallest population wise are the tigers and the dragons. Finding you is a big deal for a lot of people. She will treat you like a beloved orphan child. From her perspective you are a child. Kind of.
The old ones get weird about age. In some things they’ll treat you an adult, like she’d see nothing wrong with fucking you. Most of them wouldn’t since you consider yourself an adult and the society you grew up in considered you an adult.
In most things,however, and especially when it comes to your safety, they’ll still treat you like a child. You’ll be allowed to exert your independence and offer your opinion, even make mistakes, but they’ll see it as a young child taking his first steps.
Threats to your emotional well being will be treated with just as much ferocity as if I tried to maim your body.
And while the other Luminari would approve of me or someone else close to your age sleeping with you, they absolutely will murder people they thong would be inappropriate. Her eminence, Renethera, is known to be particularly quick to kill and maim in a fit of rage.
They, and she, will draw the line at predation. People within a few hundred years of you in age she’ll be fine with romancing you. Past that it gets real iffy for the safety of your would-be suitors. At least for now.”
“But that’s only for non Luminari?”
“Pretty much. The old ones have established entirely different rules for your people than they expect the rest of the world to abide by. As long as you consider yourself an adult there are a lot of things that will be considered fair game amongst themselves that they will absolutely kill outsiders for doing.”
“Very do as I say, not as I do.”
A System ping showed up on his HUD.
If you are done playing with your new toy, I am hungry. Come to the campus guest quarters.
Renethera was clearly done waiting for him to finish his ‘nap’ with the prince.
Let us clean up and we would be happy to join you for a meal.
“My guardian, as she is fond of calling herself, has decided it is time for us to join her for dinner, so let’s have a quick wash up and dress. She scares the shit out of me and I am 95% sure that if we made her wait long enough she’d retrieve me herself.”
“She would.” Liam confirmed.
They used the private bathroom that came as part of his bedroom, it had both a bathtub like he was used to but also the much more unfamiliar rainshower as those of Solstheen called it. Water fell from a pipe in the ceiling like rain that you clean up in. It was actually really convenient with his wings. Way better than a bath that left him waterlogged and his wings heavy. Especially now that he had three sets growing from his back.
His wings were probably heavier than his body was. Though his skin and bones were very tough and naturally resistant to damage, his bones were also all hollow, as he’d come to learn. Most Luminari bones were. It aided their flight speed and maneuverability.
Waterlogged wings were fucking heavy and he had a real risk of drowning if he was left in deep water for more than a few minutes.
These rainshowers were far superior when it came to how much water got trapped between the triple layers of heavy feathers when his wings were folded and tucked tight against his back to not drag on the ground.
“Since you messed them up you get to set my feathers to rights, by the way.” Torric informed the prince with a bravado that was absolutely false.
A slave ordering around a prince? A month ago if he’d done that he would have been flogged. At best. Still, Renethera’s earlier lesson rang in his thoughts. Luminari don’t ask, they command.
“And after you set my wings to rights you’ll set to right what will arise after you fix my feathers.”
“Absolutely.”
They didn’t rush through their rainshower, but they didn't linger either.
Someone had delivered three packages to the front room of his suite while they’d been occupied. One was school uniforms, one was clothing, and the smallest was shoes.
He changed into his new uniform feeling more proud of wearing the university colors and crest than the expensive tailored clothes from Tordil. The uniform meant he belonged somewhere. To something. And not as property, but by choice.
Just like it meant something to him to get to choose to have sex with someone, not just choosing to have sex at all, but who he would fuck as well, and not the person he was assigned to practice with or his teacher, or his master when he’d been about to have one in truth and not pretend. Like what he’d done with Liam
That his first choice had been a prince was an extra special bonus, but not intentional. He’d wanted the prince before he knew he was a prince.
There was a ridiculous number of students crammed into the common room of their dorm, all of whom went dead silent when he appeared, the prince of Solstheen in tow.
He stopped, looking around at the other students. Most of them were elves, but not all of them were Sol'feyran. There was a good number of beastkin as well. A handful of what he assumed to be demons.
“I want to greet you, my fellow classmates. Within these walls I am told that rank is not supposed to matter. I want to embody that ideal while I am here. Of course, her eminence is lurking on campus so I’d be cautious about going overboard. I might not care but she might.
So please, call me Torric. I am not from this world, so I do not know your customs. Please forgive me if I say something insensitive or accidentally inappropriate or do not understand something. This world is very foreign to me and its cultures alien to how I was raised.”
Liam hooked his arm through Torric’s and started dragging him through the common room, a buzz of excitement swelling behind them.
The prince didn’t stop until they made it to the building meant for guests of the university. Renethera was on the top floor in another suite that was bigger on the inside.
A table had been set up with dozens of covered dishes sitting upon it, and three place settings. A man in a servant’s uniform bearing the crest of the university on his breast stood next to the table.
At Renethera’s direction Torric sat at the head of the table, while she sat to his right and Liam sat to his left.
Some of the trays of covered dishes smelled absolutely amazing, others not at all, and some of it was just... meh.
The servant began serving food from specific platters to each of them. He quickly realized the dishes made with food from hisnofferings were what smelled so good and the food made of Renethera’s offerings did not smell appetizing, while Liam’s food smelled bland.
“Did Liam get served intentionally substandard food?” He asked.
“No. His food is of excellent quality and was made by the same team of chefs that made your food, but with normal ingredients. He cannot benefit from sacrificial offerings made to you any more than I can. Or you can benefit from my offerings.”
“I see. Then I won’t complain.”
“While you can eat normal food, you’ll gain far more from sacrificial offerings over mortal fare. And eating offerings meant for other Luminari can actually make you sick.”
“Which is why it smells bad to me?”
“Yes, and why yours smells bad to me. You can eat in the cafeteria if you want, but you will also have permission to eat in the prefect and school officer’s cafeteria as well. I advise you to eat there so that you’ll be disturbed less often during your meals.
She drummed her finger tips on the table as if in thought. “Find an assistant among your classmates to help you adjust and act as a body servant. And body guard. Not that you need protection but because you’ll need someone to keep people from annoying you. I won’t be following you to your classes.
Not the prince. It would reflect poorly upon his majesty to be acting as an assistant. Even as an assistant for a Luminari. I’ve heard you’ve spent the day establishing yourselves as quite close. That is fine for now, and will actually reflect well upon the prince and his family.”
“As for you, boy.” She leveled a steely gaze upon the prince. “There are ground rules for you to be the special….friend of my ward.”
Liam paled slightly and nodded.
“You break his heart, I break yours.”
“Renethera!” Torric growled, outraged. “We aren’t even in a relationship. We’re just scratching an itch.”
“You might be scratching an itch, child. Boy. Is it a mere itch for you?”
Liam shook his head emphatically. “I want to serve his eminence however I may. If he wishes to take his pleasure in my body even better. To imagine a Luminari is taking an interest of any kind in me is beyond anything I could dream of.”
“And how does being a known bedmate of a Luminari benefit you?” Renethera pressed. “Answer fully and honestly. I want my ward to understand this.”
“It will put me in contention for the throne. Strong contention if I prove to be more than a passing dalliance, provided I never publicly fall out of favor with his eminence. It will make me more popular among the nobility, student body, and the common citizenry of Solstheen.
People will be more likely to be nice to me, more than normal considering I am a prince already. Even other royal and noble factions will be hesitant to strike at me while I am a public bedmate of a Luminari.
My parents will likely increase my allowance, and send me gifts as reward for attracting his eminence’s attention. They’ll likely order me to try to get included in his Eminence’s dive team and become a permanent part of his harem.”
“My harem?” Torric asked, feeling strange at the notion. Polygamy was not a new concept to him. It was very common in Praetoria. The notion of him having a harem, however, was not one that he had ever considered.
“Obviously.” Renethera replied as if it was a given. “All Luminari have harems. You will be required to have children by your elders. Already another of our number is out searching for other celestial tigers to come to take over your instruction.”
“You are not my permanent guardian?”
“No. But it may take time to find another tiger. Until then I have taken the responsibility. Urdmoggra and Behumet are long standing allies. If the situation were reversed you would be expected to do as I have and take in the young dragon.
Now how does it feel to know how this boy will benefit from being in your bed?”
“If I had been purchased as his bed slave I would be benefiting from his status in his stead. How is this any different?” He asked philosophically.
“And you, princeling, how do you feel knowing his eminence feels thus about you?”
“I told him however, wherever, any way he wants it. I meant it.” Liam replied earnestly.
“He’s your toy for now, child.” Renethera told him, looking between him and the prince. “But if I think he is going to bite you I will remove the threat. Do you understand?"
“Yes ma’am.” Torric replied meekly.
“Princeling do you understand?”
“Yes, eminence.”
“I will not be following my charge around campus. You will help him find an assistant and make friends. You aren’t allowed to leave the campus with him without my express knowledge and permission for any reason.”
“Yes, Eminence.”
After they finished their meal, during which the prince was incredibly tense, Liam led him out of the guest center and not back to their dorms like he expected, but to the big club building that he had been given a tour through earlier.
He led them to a smaller club room on the 2nd floor, which had several book cases lining the walls of the main room, and two doors leading to secondary rooms that Torric didn't know the uses of.
There were almost a dozen students lounging inside on couches, reading books, and otherwise relaxing. Students that jumped to their feet when they entered, backs of their fingers touching their foreheads as they bowed.
“This is the butler’s club.” Liam introduced. “Everyone here is training to be the best butler they can be for their future master. And not master as in slave. Traditionally they'd expect wages and what not but since you are the one in need…”
“We would never charge his eminence for our service, pardon me for speaking out of turn.” A beastkin growled. He looked like a jackal.
“No need to apologize. And I will 100% be paying wages. How else will you afford to eat and all that?”
“His eminence has been instructed to find an assistant for his time on campus by her eminence” Liam explained. “I thought of you all immediately.”
“We are honored by your consideration, your majesty, eminence.” The jackal replied, bowing again.
“I thought this was a dungeon school. Why are you training to be butlers at a dungeon school?” Torric said with a frown.
“Many powerful individuals become divers. They’ll need competent assistants who can follow them into the depths and not be a liability.” The jackal answered.
“Oh, that makes sense. Thank you for explaining. What is your name?”
“Houron Kess.” The jackal student answered. “I’m the club president. This is -”
“Meidron Vell.” One of the other students interrupted smoothly, stepping forward. He had skin that was a deep crimson, verging on black it so dark. Golden horns sprouted from his head, curving straight back over his head in single points. He held out his hand, palm tilted up in proper supplication.
His face bore the distinct angular cheekbones that he was used to seeing on other Sol’Feyra. A thin barbed prehensile tail curled behind him and he had an undeniable sex appeal that drew him in.
“Meidron is half incubus.” Houron explained, pushing him back. “Ignore the charm and avoid shaking his hand. That’s how he ensnares you.”
“Like I would ensnare a Luminari.” Meidron retorted, rolling his golden eyes.
Another, this time an actual elf, was introduced as Alaire Sen. Alaire was only one of two elves to be there. Almost everyone else was some flavor of beastkin, aside from Meidron, Alaire, the other Sol’Feyran, Nidriel, and another race of elves entirely, Kisentiel, who was one of the Aluvian elves from another world entirely.
Aluvia was much more tropical, and the elves who called it home all apparently had rich golden brown skin and amber yellow eyes. Kisentiel’s ears were still pointed, but they weren’t nearly as long and tapered as the paler skinned Sol’Feyrans.
Houron’s ears tipped forward, once again, twitching excitedly. “How exactly may we serve you, Your Eminence?”
Torric glanced at Liam, then back to the room. “Renethera wants me to choose a bodyguard-cum-assistant. A gatekeeper of sorts. Not because I need a blade at my back, but because I’ll need someone to keep people from touching my back and pestering me constantly. But I also want them to be my friend, not just a servant.”
He took a breath to steady himself. Letting the Renethera’s lesson beat through him: Luminari don’t ask. They command. “I need three strengths for mt assistant: steadiness, gatekeeping, and the courage to tell me no. If you’re interested, I’ll test you.”
“Test us. We will meet your standard, eminence.“ Houron answered, tail swishing eagerly.
Good.” Torric pointed to the open door, channeling his inner Remethera. “First: the hallway will fill within a minute of word getting out I’m here. Houron, you're the gatekeeper. Keep curiosity seekers from becoming a nuisance.”
“Alaire-” he turned to the elf with ink-smudged fingers “I need a schedule drafted: four classes this term, his majesty can tell you which they are. I need shrine hours a few times a week so I’m not constantly harassed for Blessings on campus or in the streets. Also, add daily meditation to the schedule and ensure to keep room for additional tutoring for me.
Triskiel I need standing meal arrangements in the prefects’ hall. I supposedly have some kind of personal chef to handle meals using sacrificial offerings.
Meidron-etiquette. Write what people may call me and where. Procedures for how to approach without overwhelming me.”
“Kierstan please arrange for an evening snack to be delivered to my room before curfew. I’d like some sort of soft cheese mixed with savory herbs and paired with jellied fruit meant to be served on a nice crusty bread. Maybe some olives too. A dessert made with a light sponge or a light flaky crust. I particularly like citrus.
When all four of you have completed your tasks you’ll have to duel his majesty to prove your martial capabilities. You'll all five assist me tonight while I socialize and prepare for bed, then I’ll discuss your performances with his highness before we go to sleep. Return to my room before breakfast tomorrow and I’ll tell you who will be my assistant.”
The four named candidates immediately scattered to their assigned tasks while Torric and the prince lounged on the vacated couches.
“So I’m dueling in your honor now?”
“Are you sure that is the bit you should be focusing on?” Torric teased.
“What should I be focusing on if not the four fights you just signed me up for?”
“The fact that you’d be in my bed tonight helping decide my butler… after they helped me prepare for bed.”
“What does that have to do with- oh. Oh!” The prince’s eyes widened as he realized that Torric had casually announced the prince would be spending the night in his bed.
Torric laughed, not just at the crimson flush creeping up the face of the prince sitting with him as it was about the fact that he was sitting here teasing a prince at all.
Once the five returned from their individual tasks, or in the case of Houron, once Torric was ready to leave since he was playing door guard they traipsed out to one of the training arenas that was available for student use.
The arena floor glowed from the illumination of countless mage lights. The first of the two suns had set, leaving the world bathed in a reddish glow that made Torric think of home, of the red skies of Praetoria that he had grown up beneath.Students were packing into the stands shoulder to shoulder, an air of excitement pervading the space.
Torric and Liam lounged on a bench in the very front of the arena sands where the five competitors were to compete, round robin style. Each of the five would face the others until one stood victorious. They would then fight the prince as final proof of skill.
The five butler candidates stepped into the ring. Houron squared his jackal-shouldered frame like a fortress. Alaire lifted his slim blade in a duelist’s salute. Triskiel cracked his neck and rolled his massive shoulders. Kierstan clutched his practice sword tight, sweat already on his brow. And Meidron, golden horns glinting the magelights, barbed tail twitching lazily, smiled like the duels to take place were nothing more than a lover’s dance.
The crowd around them hushed expectantly.. The first bout began.
–
Houron advanced towards the incubus with heavy steps, guard steady. Meidron circled around him, golden eyes gleaming.
The jackal struck first, with a powerful downward chop of his scimitar.
Meidron slid aside like smoke, tail brushing across Houron’s wrist and yanking his attack off balance. The jackal snarled, shaking off the distraction.
Another clash steel on steel, sparks snapping. Houron’s strength was overwhelming, but Meidron didn’t just move and dodge, he flowed through the space like water.
A high feint followed by a low sweep, then suddenly Meidron’s tail hooked Houron’s ankle.
The much heavier beastkin crashed into the sand of the arena floor, growling. Before he could rise, Meidron’s short sword hovered just over his throat.
“Yield,” Meidron purred.
Houron slapped the ground in frustration.
—
Alaire circled around Kisentiel, paired daggers versus a quarter staff. Sol’Feyran Alaire versus Aluvian Kistentiel.
The Sol’Feyran was relentless in his attacks, blades flashing through the air in silver arcs almost too fast to see, driving Kisentiel backwards one step at a time. One blocked attack at a time.
Desperate, Kisentiel threw a fistfull of sand in Alaire’s eyes, making the crowd gasp and Alaire swear.
Alaire staggered, trying to clear the sand from his eyes as Kisentiel pressed forward, his staff coming down hard on the other man’s shoulder and forcing him to drop one of his two blades.
Enraged, Alaire swiftly recovered, sweeping the other man’s legs out from under him and planting his blade with the tip resting directly over the other’s heart, poised to pierce but not actually breaking skin.
—
The thinner and more agile Meidron seemed to be at a serious disadvantage for his next fight, this time against a type of bull headed beastkin known as a minotaur who easily towered over him and outweighed him-by a lot.
Torric had never before seen a minotaur, and they were certainly massive if Triskiel was an accurate representation of his people. He towered a full head and shoulders over even the naturally tall elves, and his build was beyond impressive.
If it weren’t for his bull-like head he would have been the perfect representation of masculine beauty on Praetoria. Tall. Muscular. Strong.
The bull-beastkin roared and charged towards his opponent like a battering ram. Meidron only smiled, stepping back, back, always just out of reach, teasing the minotaur with glancing blows and swats with the flat of his blades, always too nimble to be caught. He was clearly dodging with the intent of enraging his competitor further and further with each missed blow, each return swipe that landed.
Triskiel swung his war maul; heavy blows, each one kicking up sand when it impacted with the ground and not the nimble incubus. Meidron ducked under his strike, rolled, and lashed his barbed tail across the man’s eyes.
Blinded, Triskiel staggered, just in time for Meidron’s blade to kiss his ribs.
The brute cursed and threw his weapon down. Meidron bowed with exaggerated flourish to the crowd, who erupted in cheers.
—
It was Alaire who fought Houron next. Paired serrated daggers versus single curved scimitar. A duel of precision and patience.
Alaire eventually stole the advantage, pressing forward with flurries of sharp thrusts. Initially Houron absorbed each one. Deflecting. Blocking, grounded and solid as stone.
Like stone he ended up not adapting to the elven warrior’s fluid feints and sharp slashes. Endurance could only take him so far.
Alaire feinted once, twice, then slipped inside his guard, blade pressed to the jackal’s exposed throat.
Houron yielded and the watching crowd murmured. He had lost twice now. And Alaire had won twice. The club leader was fast falling out of the competition while his second in command was rising above him
—
Kistentiel was clearly nervous as he came up against Meidron, something the half incubus was very clearly prepared to take advantage of. Meidron had won twice to his once, something clearly weighing on his psyche.
The elf waited for Meidron to approach as the attacker.
“Clever boy,” Meidron purred. “Making me come to you. After all, you have reach.”
He feinted a blow, tricking the elf into overextending himself trying to deflect it, stepping inside his reach in an instant.
“But your nerves betray you.” He drove the hilt of his short sword into Kistentiel’s stomach, making the elven man collapse inward with a grunt.
Kistentiel tried to turn the move into a lunge that morphed into a desperado thrust. It wasn’t enough and Meidron only grinned as his weapon only grazed his side.
His tail snapped back as he nimbly dodged the desperate attack, wrapping around his leg and yanking it out from under him. In a blink the incubus was on his back, riding him to the ground.
“Yield.” The elven man announced, face pressed into the sand but otherwise unharmed.
Meidron stood and stalked forward to stand in front of Torric and Liam in the stands, bowing to Torric with a flirtatious flourish and a cheeky wink.
—
Alaire stepped up to fight Triskiel. The minotaur’s tail slashed behind him as a hooved foot stomped and pawed at the ground. He’d lost every fight he’d participated in so far, and it was clearly beginning to piss him off. That Alaire had won all his fights so far clearly made things worse.
The elven warrior had his measure, however.
Within seconds the minotaur was disarmed, maul flying towards the watching crowd.
A crackling red lightning bolt knocked the maul from the air, sending it spinning in a different direction. All eyes went to the incubus who had summoned the bolt, who gave a mocking bow.
“You’re welcome.” He smirked, winking at Torric, who colored faintly.
—
The last match that mattered, Meidron versus Alaire. Both undefeated so far. Similar fighting styles, Alaire duel wielded matching daggers while Meidron used matching short swords.
If they used the same weapons Alaire would have had the better reach, being taller than Meidron and with slightly longer arms. Meidron’s short swords made up the difference in arm length, however, and his speed more than edged out the elf.
Steel rang on steel in rapid succession. Alaire’s thrusts were perfection, but Meidron fought like chaos itself. Every feint too fast, every grin too distracting. His footwork was absolutely flawless. His tail swept sand into Alaire’s eyes, his golden gaze locked on Alaire’s face with infuriating charm.
Alaire pressed too hard, lunging forward with a surge of furious power. Meidron spun aside, tail hooking his ankle. The elf crashed to the ground.
In an instant, Meidron’s blade hovered at his throat.
“Yield,” Meidron whispered.
Alaire spat gritty sand out of his mouth. “Yield.”
—
“And now you only have to fight one person, not five.” Torric teased the prince as he began to prepare for his fight against Meidron.
“What happens if I lose?”
“I will take you to bed tonight and console you.”
“And if I win?”
“I take you to bed and we celebrate.”
“So either way you’re taking me to bed?” The prince asked, pausing as he buckled on his pauldrons.
“Yes.” Torric replied, taking up the task the prince had stopped. “Unless you’d prefer to sleep alone tonight?”
Liam curled his arm around his waist, possessively pulling Torric hard against his body. “Now you’re inviting me for the entire night?”
“I don’t like sleeping alone.” Torric replied as if that answered everything. “Unless you want me to make a night in my bed the winning condition for the duel between you and Meidron?”
“Oh I like that.” Meidron’s voice purred behind them.
Torric had meant it to tease the prince but now that the incubus had heard him it seemed cruel to deny him.
“Alright.” Torric replied, a teasing, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Winner gets to sleep in my bed tonight. No maiming. No cheap shots, either. I want a clean fight.”
The arena was electric as the two combatants faced off. The crowd was pressed tight around the sand ring, whispering feverishly, and betting just as feverishly, about which of the two would win.
Torric’s decree, the winner gets to sleep in his bed that night, hung in the air like thunder before a storm.
Liam stood in the fighting circle, greatsword gleaming under the mage-lights, his armor strapped tight, and eyes burning with jealous devotion. Beside him, Meidron rolled his shoulders, twin short swords flashing wickedly, golden eyes glinting as though Torric’s promise had already been his.
They faced each other, both bowing their heads not to one another, but to Torric, seated outside the arena circle like a god on a throne.
“Begin.” His voice rang out.
Liam strode forward first, greatsword raised high. Each swing came like a stormwind, broad arcs that whistled through the air with crushing force.
Meidron danced back from the swinging blows, laughing as he dodged, twin blades flickering through the air like silver fireflies. He sidestepped, ducked, and slid beneath the cleaving arcs, his tail stirring sand into small whirlwinds.
The prince pressed harder, driving the incubus across the arena sand step by step, sword smacking the sand where Meidron had been a heartbeat earlier. The crowd roared with every missed strike, torn between awe at Liam’s power and Meidron’s speed.
Torric wasn’t sure who to cheer for. He knew how good Liam felt in bed, but his body craved the incubus like a drug, even though he’d never once tasted him.
Meidron finally lunged in, taking the offense for the first time, short swords striking in a flurry. Left, right, high, low, feint, step, strike, dodge, sweep. Sparks flew as Liam’s greatsword swept down to block, steel scraping across steel.
The prince countered a lightning fast strike with a brutal shoulder slam, sending the incubus staggering backwards across the arena sand.
“He’s mine,” Liam snarled, voice thick with possession, gaze flicking to the watching Torric.
Meidron’s answering smile was all sin and promise. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t yield my god so easily. Besides, you’ve had him for what, a day? One night in my arms and you will be swiftly forgotten.”
They clashed again. Liam’s sword carving through the air in wide, powerful circles.
Meidron slipped into the openings, his twin blades slashing through the air with the speed of a striking viper. One sword scored across Liam’s pauldron, carving a groove in the protective metal. Another struck sparks from his greaves.
The prince gritted his teeth, swinging harder, faster, his strikes growing more desperate.
“And now you only have to fight one person, not five.” Torric teased the prince as he began to prepare for his fight against Meidron.
“What happens if I lose?”
“I will take you to bed tonight and console you.”
“And if I win?”
“I take you to bed and we celebrate.”
“So either way you’re taking me to bed?” The prince asked, pausing as he buckled on his pauldrons.
“Yes.” Torric replied, taking up the task the prince had stopped. “Unless you’d prefer to sleep alone tonight?”
Liam curled his arm around his waist, possessively pulling Torric hard against his body. “Now you’re inviting me for the entire night?”
“I don’t like sleeping alone.” Torric replied as if that answered everything. “Unless you want me to make a night in my bed the winning condition for the duel between you and Meidron?”
“Oh I like that.” Meidron’s voice purred behind them.
Torric had meant it to tease the prince but now that the incubus had heard him it seemed cruel to deny him.
“Alright.” Torric replied, a teasing, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Winner gets to sleep in my bed tonight. No maiming. No cheap shots, either. I want a clean fight.”
The arena was electric as the two combatants faced off. The crowd was pressed tight around the sand ring, whispering feverishly, and betting just as feverishly, about which of the two would win.
Torric’s decree, the winner gets to sleep in his bed that night, hung in the air like thunder before a storm.
Liam stood in the fighting circle, greatsword gleaming under the mage-lights, his armor strapped tight, and eyes burning with jealous devotion. Beside him, Meidron rolled his shoulders, twin short swords flashing wickedly, golden eyes glinting as though Torric’s promise had already been his.
They faced each other, both bowing their heads not to one another, but to Torric, seated outside the arena circle like a god on a throne.
“Begin.” His voice rang out.
Liam strode forward first, greatsword raised high. Each swing came like a stormwind, broad arcs that whistled through the air with crushing force.
Meidron danced back from the swinging blows, laughing as he dodged, twin blades flickering through the air like silver fireflies. He sidestepped, ducked, and slid beneath the cleaving arcs, his tail stirring sand into small whirlwinds.
The prince pressed harder, driving the incubus across the arena sand step by step, sword smacking the sand where Meidron had been a heartbeat earlier. The crowd roared with every missed strike, torn between awe at Liam’s power and Meidron’s speed.
Torric wasn’t sure who to cheer for. He knew how good Liam felt in bed, but his body craved the incubus like a drug, even though he’d never once tasted him.
Meidron finally lunged in, taking the offense for the first time, short swords striking in a flurry. Left, right, high, low, feint, step, strike, dodge, sweep. Sparks flew as Liam’s greatsword swept down to block, steel scraping across steel.
The prince countered a lightning fast strike with a brutal shoulder slam, sending the incubus staggering backwards across the arena sand.
“He’s mine,” Liam snarled, voice thick with possession, gaze flicking to the watching Torric.
Meidron’s answering smile was all sin and promise. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t yield my god so easily. Besides, you’ve had him for what, a day? One night in my arms and you will be swiftly forgotten.”
They clashed again. Liam’s sword carving through the air in wide, powerful circles.
Meidron slipped into the openings, his twin blades slashing through the air with the speed of a striking viper. One sword scored across Liam’s pauldron, carving a groove in the protective metal. Another struck sparks from his greaves.
The prince gritted his teeth, swinging harder, faster, his strikes growing more desperate. The clash of steel rang even sharper, louder, and more ferocious in the air.
Liam drove forward, sweat rolling down his temples, every swing fueled by devotion and possessive fury, he clearly was not going to give uo hisnplace in Torric’s bed easily. His greatsword hit like thunder, heavy, relentless, shoving Meidron back step by step.
But the incubus never stopped smiling, no matter how many blows landed. Not that many did.
Every time the blade came crashing down, the incubus was already gone, sliding to the side, ducking low, or spinning away in a flurry of motion too quick to follow. His twin swords darted in to score stinging strikes across armor, finding weak points in joints, slashes shallow but stacking, death by a thousand cut. Sparks showered across the arena sand.
Liam roared, twisting his blade in a brutal arc meant to end the fight before it could continue on. The incubus had to be tiring after four fights, he was far fresher.
Meidron twisted with the greatsword, one of his short swords sliding along the steel to redirect, the other flicking in and carving across the prince’s thigh. Blood blossomed bright red against polished armor. The crowd gasped as Liam faltered.
Systematically, Meidron pressed the wound, short blades moving faster and faster, their rhythm hypnotic. He cut at straps, joints, weak points, wearing the prince down with surgical precision. His golden eyes never left Torric’s, as though offering each strike was a gift to the Luminari.
Liam’s chest was heaving, as he tried for one last desperate overhead blow, putting all his weight into the strike. Meidron surged in, faster than the eye could follow. His left blade hooked the greatsword aside. His right pressed cold and sharp against the prince’s throat.
The arena went utterly silent.
Then Torric’s voice, smooth as velvet, carried across the circle:
“You’ve lost, your highness.”
The prince’s knuckles whitened on his hilt, pride warring with obedience. His jaw clenched. Finally, he dropped his sword into the sand.
The crowd erupted.
Meidron withdrew his blade with a flourish, tail flicking smugly behind him as he bowed, not to Liam, but low and lingering toward Torric. “Your bed is mine tonight.”
Liam’s glare could have scorched stone, but Torric only smiled, a wicked, knowing curve of his lips. Both men had fought like zealots for him, and in that moment, seated like a god upon his throne, he reveled in the worship, the devotion of both men swirling through the air, a head incense only he could smell.
"Yes, my bed is yours. Tonight, and tonight alone. Your performance will decide if you get another night."
Torric beckoned the prince over, stroking his cheek. "Don't worry, sweet prince. You will forever be the first to enter my bed in Solstheen. The first person to enter my bed as a freed man and not a slave. Meidron will have to work very hard to supplant your place permenently."
He looked at the crowd of assembled students, a smile playing over his lips at the miniature melodrama that had just played out in front of the student body. "I do believe that it is almost time for curfew. I don't want any of you to get into trouble. Or me. Have a pleasant evening. Meidron, would you be so kind as to escort me to my bedroom? And your highness, I expect you to join me for breakfast. Alone. As I will be. One and a half hours before the first class of the day."
Liam's eyes lit up. "As you desire, eminence."
Torric presemted his arm to the incubus. "Shall we go, my lord?"
"Absolutely, eminence." He replied, taking Torric's arm.