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Sakai Michiba
Author of 22 Stories |
Author's note: Half of this chapter is located at my livejournal, because it's just pure smut. :3 This was written for an AU Royalty and Nobility challenge.
Warnings: Pony-play, masturbation, AU, "incest," though the characters are not related in this fanfiction, anal sex, and rimming.
Pairings: Regulus/Sirius
And now, Sakai Michiba presents:
The Stableboy
The stables of the Black Palace were located on the southeast corner of the lush grounds, surrounded by a grove of apple trees that opened up into the expansive riding fields, which were fenced in with a tall, white picket fence. The gardeners whitewashed the wooden fence once a week, twice if there was a thunderstorm, and so Prince Regulus Black, who found the stables to be a guilty pleasure, made sure that the gardeners were not whitewashing the day that he donned his riding wear and headed for the southeast corner.
Regulus Black, Prince of Wales, needed to learn to keep away from the stables. Once a week, he made his way down into the paddock and saddled up his personal white stallion, which he had tamed himself two years before. The stallion was gigantic, twenty-four hands at the shoulder with hooves like large saucers, and Prince Regulus made quite a show every week of brushing out the long mane and tail then braiding them painstakingly slowly. Every week, when he reached the end of the rough white plait, he ripped the silken scarf wrapped around his waist in half lengthwise and used each half to tie the knots in place. It seemed strange to him that the scarves tended to disappear each week, and so he had gotten into the habit of bringing a new one each time.
There were several stablemen that were employed in order to care exclusively for the steeds and mares in the stables. It was a part of their job description that they should be discreet, seen as infrequently as possible, though at the same time the horses must be expertly cared for and happy all the time. Regulus always found his stallion to be in fine health; thus, he had never complained once about the hired men. In fact, he had never seen any of them, save for one.
Regulus did not know his name, but he found that to be part of the boy’s charm. He was tall and graceful of limb and stature with black hair that shone fiercely in the sun. His eyes were such a blue that Regulus thought that, if only the boy would meet his gaze instead of throwing himself onto his knees anytime they happened to be in the same room, he would drown in them. His cheekbones could cut diamonds, and his jaw line was rigid and defined. The Prince of Wales wished that he could run his fingers over the light spray of black stubble splattered along that jaw, but he dared not, just in case someone was looking.
Today, however, no one was around when Regulus entered the stable, so he approached his white stallion with a small smile. “Good morning,” he whispered as he stepped close to the tall steed, pressing his cheek against the powerful neck of the horse and closing his eyes. “I hope you’re well…” He could feel the insistent pulse of the animal beating against his skin; with every beat, he felt as though one more royal concern was ripped away from him. His hand slid down the muscular shoulder of the horse, and he felt the ribcage with knowing fingers. “No sores, not a speck of mud on you…That stableboy must have his work cut out for him.”
At that, a black head of hair lifted, surprised, at the sound of the prince’s voice, and he cleared his throat softly. He was already on his knees, and so he bowed his head deeply and whispered, “Forgive me, Your Highness, for not announcing my presence before. I did not realise—” He cut off, not wanting to bore the Prince of Wales, and he flicked his gaze upward, attempting to see if Prince Regulus had even acknowledged his presence. When his eyes met a pair of leather-clad knees, his cheeks lit on fire, and he quickly dropped his gaze again.
It had always been a ridiculous notion, the stableboy’s secret fantasy of riding off on the back of that white stallion, clutching tightly to the waist of the next in line to the throne of England, but it was an image that had been plastered to the back of his eyelids since he had met the Prince of Wales three years previously. He took meticulous care of the Prince’s stallion, untangling his white mane and tail several times a day and brushing the dirt from his coat at least once before he tucked in for the night. He lived in the barn with one other stableman, who was older and slightly insane, and so he was serenaded in his fantasies each night by the old man’s senile babbling and cackling. He felt fingers hovering just centimetres above his hair, and he resisted the urge to tilt his head upward to make contact. He would be hanged for it.
Regulus paused, his fingers almost touching the top of the stableboy’s head, and he gritted his teeth together before his fingers descended those daring inches and brushed against sweat-dampened black strands. It was almost a caress, and he heard the boy’s—he could hardly call him a boy; he was probably older than Regulus was by at least a year—breath hitch in his throat before his fingers clenched in that hair and he jerked that fistful of hair back so the boy would look him in the eyes. “You,” Regulus hissed, and he frowned as the hired boy automatically shifted his gaze away. “Look me in the eye.” His tone was stony, unwavering, and when, a moment later, those blue eyes flicked up to meet his, Regulus stared fiercely into them. “Tell me your name.”
The stableboy’s heart leapt into his throat when he was forced to meet the prince’s eyes, and his mouth dropped open slightly from the force of his head being held back. He was dressed simply in dirty white canvas trousers and no shirt at all, as it had been discarded in the heat of the morning. He was fit from stable work, his skin bronzed from the sun, and he thought it must be a trick of the light, but it seemed for a moment as though the piercing gaze of the prince traversed his muscular frame before meeting his gaze again. “Y-Your Highness,” he gasped, and he took a deep breath. “It’s Sirius, Your Highness.” A light sheen of sweat broke out over his chest and stomach, beading in the dark trail of coarse fur leading from his bellybutton into the canvas trousers. He swallowed convulsively as the fingers in his hair loosened their hold.
The corner of Regulus’s mouth twitched, and his fingers spread-eagled in that dirty hair, sifting it between them, and he slid his fingers to the back of the boy’s head. “I see you often, Sirius,” he stated regally, though it was in a very quiet tone. He could not afford anyone overhearing his conversation with the lowly stableboy. “All the other stablemen hide from me, you know. Why are you so different?” It was not a question he wanted answered, and this must have been obvious, for Sirius merely drew his bottom lip nervously between his teeth. “Do you watch me, stableboy? Do you watch me ride my stallion?”
“You ride magnificently, Your Highness,” Sirius breathed shakily, unable to stop it, but the words did not seem to displease the prince, so he continued. “You have excellent posture and unrivalled control over the animal. No one else could ride him like you can, Your Highness, not with your power and control and grip…” The older he got, the more he found himself staring more at Prince Regulus’s thighs—how they clutched the stallion when he rode bareback, how they flexed and tensed in their leather prison—and the more he found himself dreaming of them. The prince’s eyes unmistakably raked over him again, and he squirmed slightly under the other’s gaze as the prince’s hand slipped around the back of his head and lifted upward. He was dragged onto his knees, and he averted his eyes again out of shyness, but he found himself face-to-face with Prince Regulus’s crotch. It brought a familiar stirring to Sirius’s loins, and he felt heat in his cheeks as he cursed those canvas trousers for their special ability of giving everything away. He could only hope the Prince of Wales did not look, and he did his best to keep him from doing so by looking up and meeting the other’s eyes again.
“I do, do I?” Regulus whispered, and he moved his hand beneath Sirius’s chin. The stubble was rough against his fingers, and he smiled very lightly before he tilted the boy’s chin upward so far that he forced Sirius to his feet. Sirius nodded almost frantically; he could smell Prince Regulus’s breath, scented heavily of mint, and he grunted softly, involuntarily, as the prince’s hand seemed to come out of nowhere and plant itself firmly on his sweaty lower back before pulling their bodies together. “We’re alone, I trust?”
Sirius gulped and nodded, not sure where to put his hands. Prince Regulus’s were now both on his back, his fingertips dipping half a centimetre into the hem of the canvas around his waist. He settled on resting his hands on the prince’s biceps, positive that his heartbeat was echoing in the spacious barn, and he wanted to die. The prince knew he was aroused now, there was no doubt, and he began to chew of his lower lip again. “Stop that.” Regulus’s left hand shot up and tugged the abused lip from between the other’s teeth, and he slid the pad of his thumb over the moist skin. Sirius shivered in his hold, and the hand that had been lifted ran slowly back down to Sirius’s lower back. His palm slid over every muscle, savouring the swell and decline of each mound; he could feel the stableboy melting against him. “When’s the last time someone touched you?” Regulus hissed against Sirius’s ear, suddenly pressing flush against him, and his right hand slid down completely into those trousers. There was nothing underneath, and he gripped a firm buttock in his hand. “When’s the last time you took these trousers off for anyone?”
Sirius’s eyes were squeezed tightly closed now, and he was not sure when his hands had made their way to the prince’s chest. His cock was throbbing between them, compressed between their tightly-pressed bodies, and he wished more than anything that the prince would become aroused, too, so he would not be so embarrassed. “I-I haven’t, Your Highness,” he gasped softly, and when he felt the prince’s lips on his ear, he leaned completely against him. “Your Highness…” This was whispered against the prince’s clothed shoulder, and he shuddered as his arse was squeezed again. “Is this okay?”
Regulus’s fingers slipped around to untie the knotted string at the front of the trousers, and he caught the article of clothing a moment before it pooled at Sirius’s feet. Instead of letting them freely fall, he eased them down over Sirius’s hips, and Sirius whimpered very softly as the warm morning air caressed his bobbing erection. The trousers finally fell, and he jerked back a little to meet the prince’s eyes. The look shared between them was indescribably intense, though it was Sirius who broke the gaze, and he looked around wildly, searching for somewhere they could get comfortable, somewhere they could escape the openness of the middle of the barn. There was a large haystack in one stall, and he gestured toward it with a quick motion of his head. Regulus nodded, and he pulled Sirius into the stall, closing the door before he pushed the nude stableboy down into the scratchy hay. He crouched low over him, the supple, worked leather of his outfit snagging a few pieces of the straw as he stared into the other’s face. “You want me to touch you, Sirius?”
“Your Highness, I could only hope,” Sirius gasped, and he spread his legs wantonly as a soft, uncalloused hand slipped between them. Fingers ghosted over his arousal and slipped downward to cup his testicles, causing a few drops of pre-come to leak from the head of Sirius’s cock, and Regulus grinned at him before he withdrew his hand. Sirius whimpered softly before he was being kissed by the Prince of Wales, his lips descending on those of the stableboy, and Sirius opened his mouth against Regulus’s. Sirius was very inexperienced, and so he allowed the prince to lead, his tongue mimicking the other’s movements, and he arched his back against the haystack when a teasing hand ran over his thighs.
Regulus suddenly lifted himself off of the stableboy, hearing footsteps, and he looked, panicked, out of the stable door. “It’s only the old man,” he sighed, and he looked back over to Sirius, who was doing his best to hide himself. Regulus’s eyebrows knitted and he thought carefully for a few moments before he gestured to Sirius. “I’ll get your trousers, but I need to go. If you keep taking care of my stallion the way you have been, I will be back.”
He was just beginning to drift off to sleep, half-buried in the warm straw, when he felt warm hands on his face, pushing his hair back, and his eyes shot open. It was very dark in this part of the hay loft, especially since there was no sun shining through the doorway at the far end, and so he squinted up, expecting the old man. “What?” he growled, but then there were lips, familiar lips, pressed against his, and he gasped into the prince’s mouth. Where had he come from? Why had he not heard him climbing the ladder into the loft? He decided suddenly that it did not matter, and his arms wrapped around the prince, his anger ebbing away as he felt the soft leather clothing him. “Your Highness, you’ve come…”
“Not yet,” Regulus hissed in Sirius’s ear, and Sirius shivered as he felt those hands on his trousers again. He lifted his hips, the stiff straw beneath his nude arse making him whimper softly when his trousers were removed, and the prince’s hand shoved his shirt up high on his torso before he leaned down to kiss his chest. “Did I have you concerned? You must forgive me…Affairs of the state needed to be tended to…”
“Not at all,” Sirius breathed, and he slipped his hands from Regulus’s back to his chest. “If I may, Your Highness?” If his erection had been prominent before, it was nothing until the prince nodded, and Sirius’s hands immediately began undoing the many clasps and buttons of the leather wrapping the object of his desire. He fumbled with the locks and clasps until the prince pushed his hands impatiently away and undressed himself. Sirius cursed the dim light, wanting to see Regulus in his full glory, but there was no use complaining even if he had wanted to. The prince moved over him, pressing naked into Sirius’s body, and Sirius moaned gently when lips attached to his neck and began to suckle a path downward.
For the rest of this fanfiction, please visit my livejournal at sakaim(.)livejournal(.)com--remove the parentheses.
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