Based off of a very heartfelt roleplay between me and my Iceland; IndigoIcelander. (.net/~theoceanmonster) I don't think either of us intended it to go as it did, not bring a bawl fest, but it did and we hope that it has the same effect to you.
I spent 3 hours staring at this story to edit it and make it smoother and grammatically correct. I'm sorry if there are anymore further issues with it; this is what I've done so far.
I hope you enjoy as much as Iceland and I did.
Remember: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters.
Reviews greatly appreciated. Thank you.
Carrying a silver tray into the Prince's room whom he served, Feng set it softly onto the desk and gently began opening the curtains of the room to let in some light. The dim light of late morning lighting upon a Princes face, it gave the young man he served an ethereal glow, a shimmering beauty…
"Are you ready to get up Highness?"
His voice flat lined a little, and he didn't appear partial to whether he wanted the prince up or not.
"I've brought your breakfast. So please wake up..."
Stefan flinched as light was cast upon his face. Inconsiderate he thought with malice, burying himself deeper into the comforters. Not even the smell of tea and something that he couldn't put a name to could rouse the effort to draw back the covers and sit up.
Came his detached voice, laced with irritated fatigue, but he was like this every morning. (So clearly, it wasn't habitual, but more of a tradition.)
Hardly deterred, the Asian brushed back dark locks from his face and stared a moment at the procrastinating prince.
Instead of making the prince get up, he brought the breakfast to the bed. Balancing it on one hip, the other hand pulled the covers back a little and tried sliding the pillow beneath Stefan up so the male would sit up.
"Breakfast in bed... Please Lord, surely you'd like to avoid the berating of your parents yet again? Neither should you be late to studying again."
Stefan flashed a dreary look at the servant- Feng, the one who he had expected to be there. The persistent one, the one that never left him, not mater how cruel he could be. It took the both of them another moment of blanket tugging and eye squinting for Stefan to be bothered to sit up. He stuck his hand out in a thumbs down gesture rather than sticking out his tongue (though both actions were as childish as the other), and simply demanded of his servant to
"Go and close the curtains." without a please, for his eyes refused to adjust to the morning light.
The Asian male was stubborn, and figuring he had himself enough of a victory he settled without pushing it anymore. He set the tray into Stefan's lap, tucked a cloth napkin into whatever night shirt he was wearing and bowed.
"As you command."
He backed away, eyes not leaving the prince a moment before he turned on his heel and went to close only some of the curtains. Slowly Feng was able to ignore anything rude that came out of the Prince, and finding his limits of disobedience and what he could get away with.
"Shall I pick out your attire today as well Your Highness?"
Stefan regarded him for only a moment, which was long enough to say "do as you wish" rather than giving him a clear answer. He honestly didn't care, and he did have some faith that this servant wasn't that incompetent.
He ate slowly, playing with his food and sipping on the familiar orange pekoe tea in favor of eating. (Perhaps it was his disinterest in food that kept his body small and feeble and almost sickly.)
"Are you done yet?" He asked offhandedly, as it was quite clear that he himself was finished.
Surely the male wasn't incompetent, and he trusted his own fashion sense. He'd drawn up to the bed just as soon as the Prince began taking that haughty tone with him again. He set the clothes at the foot of the bed and took the tray to set it on the nightstand. "Yes, I'll dress you now..." He peeled the rest of the covers back off. "Do you need help standing Lord?"
Studying the outfit which had been chosen for him, Stefan swung his legs over the side of the bed. He slowly rose to his feet, staring straight into the other's eyes. "I am perfectly capable of standing." He stated, but seemed to leave out a certain 'I can dress myself'. [Laziness, he would have answered if the servant questioned him, but it usually never came to that.]
Feng drawled, and set about slowly stripping the night clothes from the Prince. Had he not been doing this for a while the actions from him would have been shyer. By now he was used to it and knew how to avert his eyes yet still know his own actions. He carefully folded Stefan into a button up, which he tucked into some trousers that he slid onto the Prince. Then finishing the clothes with a vest and an over-coat with a small tail and tie. Knee socks and dress shoes. It was a very European outfit. "Is the look to your liking?" His gaze flitted over to the full length mirror in the room. "I would hate to have failed your expectations..." (Because it could look different on a body rather then a folded pile.) Honestly though, he didn't care. If he failed, he'd merely try again until the Prince grew tired of playing around with him.
Stefan gazed down at his servant as he clothed him. He was smirking- he too was more than comfortable with such a habitual action. If he wasn't, his skin would still be warm from such rare, physical contact, especially contact from this servant. The light skimming of soft fingers over his skin, it was natural to him now. The prince was no longer able to think about someone else's fingers caressing him, be it by accident or no.
"I don't like it."
He complained, even if he had yet to make a glance towards his reflection. "It doesn't match. Do you expect me to show myself to others in attire such as this, let alone my parents?" And when he knew he wouldn't get the reaction that he wished for: "I would have thought the likes of you would be able to find something suitable." He knew sticking his nose in the air wouldn't help his cause.
Having predicted this was going to happen, sometimes it did and he'd prepared for that by setting aside another outfit in the closet with just a little more color or flare.
"Please allow me to try again."
He fetched the new outfit with its fancy cuffs and longer dress coat that would make the Prince look even more regal. Slowly he began the process of undressing the Prince once again to please him.
"You better be sorry," The tone of his voice was flat, "It'll be your fault that I'm late for my lessons today. It's always your fault. I hardly have any faith in kinds like you, simply because of your lack of competence." He would have continued his verbal attack if his servant had not arrived at his side, because he always fell silent when he was being dressed (or touched, for that matter).
Feng merely smirked with his eyes, his face a slate as he skimmed the clothes along Stefan's body. The pants were longer and warmer, The undershirt tucked in again, the jacket brushed the back of Stefan's knee's and as of now the Asian was folding the cuffs of the undershirt over the sleeves of the jacket.
"I hope one day I'll be able to do something that is to your liking Highness."
It was the same reply as ever to the verbal beating. Reaching up, he fixed the collar, buttoned a few of the buttons on the jacket over Stefan's stomach and stood back with bowed head.
"Now My lord? Would this choice suffice our taste?"
"Wouldn't you like that to happen."
It was stated in a matter-of-fact tone, not at all like a question. Still, Stefan looking into the mirror, his mouth pressed firmly into a straight line. The silence was long, and he turned at little, looking over his shoulder.
"It's suitable enough."
He took a few steps back over to his bed, leaning against the edge.
"What is my schedule for today, Feng? And if any of it involves seeing my parents, I might as well just go back to sleep."
The male watched quietly with dullness in his eyes while Stefan assessed himself. His eyes followed the man to the bed, looking down at the floor at the affirmative before back up to Stefan. Why say his name with such emphasis? He tilted his head, and ran the schedule through his head.
"Firstly would be your study session of course My Lord. I'm unsure of what you're parents have planned in meeting, just that they may want you to observe how the court works. Then you have your tea time, and a reprieve after. Dinner and a bath then back to bed."
He recited because it never changed. Would Stefan really up and go back to bed after he'd gone through all that trouble to dress him and get him up?
He nodded along to his schedule, clearly inattentive as he stared at his kempt nails tediously.
"How is it that I still have lessons on Sundays, when the rest of the people my age get the day off?"
Stefan pondered out loud, though he'd already had his question answered numerous of times.
"...Even so, can you see to it that the study session lasts until tea time? I'm sure even you can do that much. And if not," He sneered, taking a step towards Feng, "I'll get you fired."
Such an empty threat that was practically worthless after being tossed around so many times. He never acted upon it.
"You are more important then they, so of course you must be taught better." Feng watched Stefan carefully... "And I will be sure your tutor understands you want more time."
Walking to the door and holding it wide open for Stefan, having called his bluff as he always does.
"Please my lord, allow me to fulfill my job and escort you to your destination. I would hate to give you any more reason to fire me..."
It was almost like a game they played, Feng fancied it that way anyways. "I will also have a snack brought into you for time. Will that do?" He bowed by the door for when the Prince would pass. Stefan stepped through the doors that Feng held open for him, holding his chin high until he discovered that there wasn't a person present to even care what he looked like. Stefan relaxed slightly, and began walking with a slow pace, yet still maintained his place in front of him.
The mansion was large, was what Stefan commonly reminded himself of, though the distance between his bedroom and the study in which his tutor would dutifully be awaiting him hadn't changed. (He was very much thankful for the size of the building he refused to call a home. That way, he had a lesser chance of running into his parents.)
Feng had never really liked being put out of place like this, but he was slowly getting used to it. This trailing around behind a snobby Prince and waiting for his every blink and command to please him like a dog. He held back a sigh because he knew his obedience would pay off: and upon approaching the door to the destination he held the door open and once more stood with a bowed head for the snarky prince to pass by. After that moment he sidled up to the tutor, and bending by his ear he whispered something and received a nod in return. The tutor took out and extra folder for an extra subject. Then Feng quickly pulled and held the chair for Stefan to seat himself and be pushed in.
"In an hour or so lord, I will bring a snack for you to break on and then back to studying. Is there something specific you would like?"
He took the seat across from the tutor, allowing Feng to push the seat in. Murmuring a small greeting which was directed towards the tutor, he leaned against the table, studying the covers of the folders. Mathematics and Literature was neatly labeled on the each. He'd rather be doing this than visiting the court, and when that thought crossed his mind, he grimaced. Yet Stefan's expression softened considerably as he listened to the question that Feng had asked him. He gazed away from the two.
"...Salmiak. Semi-soft, of the Djungelvral brand, if you will."
"Of course Lord." Feng gently drew away, watched the two a moment before exiting so quietly his feet padding against the floor couldn't even be heard.
He slinked along the halls and to the kitchen so he could make his request in the name of Stefan. It was often he brought this snack to Stefan during these times. Along with a bland or black tea that wouldn't ruin it's taste. Basically he waited an hour before bringing up the small snack on a small hand held tray. He listened by the door a moment, ear pressed to it nosily. He couldn't discern anything so he rapt politely on it waited a moment then softly opened it. Silently bringing the snack to Stefan and setting it to the side of whatever work he might have had before him. Not speaking a word so he would be less of an interruption. Kept his head bowed and retreated quite a ways back into the room. Present if needed and entertained because he would get the chance to learn at least something by sticking around until ordered to leave.
Stefan turned to the door when it made an audible noise, altering him that approximately an hour into the lesson had passed. He watched the Asian, habitually biting his knuckle, as he placed the tray in front of him. "Thank you," He murmured, gingerly lifting a piece of liquorice with his index finger and thumb. There wasn't a need to study it, but to savor the deliciously acquired taste.
As Stefan consumed the treat at a snail's pace (and ended up disregarding the tea until it was much too cold to drink) while the rest of the lesson went on as it normally would. It had to have been more then a few hours, the snack all gone and tea cup neglected, the lesson progressing as he always did. Soon it was time to go, and his tea time and reprieve arrived.
Though he began to head to his room, because he knew his intentions wouldn't be questioned.
Feng stood at attention the whole time, his eyes half lidded until he sensed the movement. He lifted his head a little just as he was passed. He glanced momentarily at the tray left on the desk and the tutor cleaning up. Another servant would be by to clean that up eventually; so he forgot about it and trailed after Stefan unquestioningly.
"Was the study and timing to your liking Lord?"
He asked after a moment, to fill the void and satisfy him to know he had pleased that elegant boy.
There was a notable pause between Feng's question and Stefan's response, which turned into a simple "Yes, it was." He tugged at the tie around his neck as the door of his bedchamber was opened for him. He wordlessly, and quite quickly, took a seat on the chair placed by the window, and gazed out onto the elaborately decorated gardens.
"You'll stay, won't you?"
Stefan questioned after he had heard a scuffle of movement from behind him. He knew he would not leave (an act of trust and love) him. There was just a need of reassurance.
Stepping into the room, Feng didn't advance much further into it but enough to close the door and put space between he and it.
"Don't I always Lord?"
Feng flicked his eyes from the window and onto the frame of Stefan, he tilted his head. Advancing on Stefan even more, "Would you like to take your bath now?"
Stefan glanced at Feng from the corner of his eye, nodding, "Yes, I would."
It was odd and uncharacteristic, to have a bath at such time of the day. He stood, chair soundlessly brushing against the carpet, which was a noise much more comforting than a rough scraping, as it was moved backwards.
There was, again, a silence, and then a throat cleared.
"Well, get a move on and draw the bath for me."
Feng made a noise in the back of his throat as he bowed and escorted himself into the room just off of the Princes room. It was larger then need be, and luxurious to the max. Kneeling by the large claw footed bathtub he began drawing the water through the age old pipes. He made it hot and relaxing and gently popped open a soft scented bottle of homemade bubble bath. A few drops filled the top of the water with a layer of white and soft scented bubbles. He stood, watched the water gain height and then turned to Stefan.
"I would undress you now? Highness?"
"Mmm. Yes, Feng, you would."
Stefan didn't see the point in being asked such obvious questions. He thought it was instinctual now. Stepping over to the bath tub, he allowed his servant to strip him down until the only thing he was wearing was his skin, though the exposure didn't bother him, he noticed (as usual) when he lowered himself into the warm water.
A satisfied sigh escaped his lips, relaxing as he gently scrubbed away the unnoticeable layer of filth off of his skin with the soft puff and soap. Soon enough, he was finished, and he carefully rose out of the waters, waiting for Feng to bring him a towel.
Silent and immobile as he watched and waited for Stefan to finish the process. This was the time that he was able to take a liberty or two without being noticed, though such dishonesty had to have been seen by now. He averted his eyes, just before Stefan stood; he'd stood as well to fetch the towel. Approaching the tub he stretched the fluffy towel out and wrapped it around Stefan's body and hiding everything away.
"You're satisfied now?"
He tilted his head, pulled his arms away and this time led him back into the room. From the closet he pulled out a long night shirt and trousers to dress the young man in and put him to bed.
Was all that Stefan managed to say as he trailed along behind him, droplets of water caressing the length of his body before making the carpet beneath his feet dampen. He watched carefully, from his room, as Feng went into the closet to retrieve his night wear.
"...Don't mention them again." He stated, tightly tucking his towel around him so he didn't have to hold it up. "Those people you call my parents. Don't ever call them that, and make sure that I have to see them the least amount of times required. Do this, or else I'll-" Have you fired. He didn't need to finish that. He never needed to finish that, because he knew Feng knew.
Approaching slowly the night clothes in hand, he watched Stefan and appeared interested in the new request. The corner of Feng's lip flitted up momentarily; and he tilted his head to the side before he was a blank slate again. "Of course, Highness." Reaching out he tucked his fingers into the towel and worked it lose from how it'd been tucked. "I'll dress you now... "
Before he could work the towel away from his body, Stefan grabbed his wrist.
"You care about me more than they do."
His voice was stern, almost demanding. "I know it's your job, but you probably do. They're just obligated to be my parents. They didn't have a choice. They were stuck with me."
Feng didn't have a choice- he wasn't oblivious to that. (But perhaps, in his mind, Feng could have chosen to switch his job with someone else.) "Am I right?"
Muddy eyes flicked from the hand that had snagged his wrist, back into the stern face of the Prince. His eyes twinkled slightly with something unknown as he reached up with his other hand and twirled a locked of damp hair around his forefinger. Be damned if Stefan allowed him to get away with that action, but reprimands from him were never harsh... No, they were empty and just a show they were both used to in the play.
"You're always right."
He released the lock, and found the palm of his hand pressed softly against his jaw. "Highness..." He murmured low, and with Stefan's wrist still on his own he gave another tug of the towel that pulled it loose and let it fall to the ground.
Stefan leaned into Feng's hand, staring at him with alert eyes. Stefan moved considerably closer, yet kept his eyes open, concentrated upon the other's face, as his lips pressed awfully close to his lips, the corner and just a mere brush.
"I've never kissed anyone before. Anyone that counted, at least."
He admitted shamelessly, because his inexperience was the least of his worries (along with the very apparent nudity, which he could frankly care less about).
His brows furrowed quick to become demanding and cold.
"Kiss me back, Feng." He said after planting another kiss on the opposite cheek.
Feng remained still through out the process; his eyes followed each movement of Stefan, though he knew that he had been the one to start it. He was intrigued by the action; and just how much trouble and potential his next actions could hold.
"Yes... My Lord..."
He whispered, that hand on Stefan's cheek guiding him forward so that their lips could meet completely, daringly his other hand drew slightly across a pale bare hip. A nudge brought them closer together. And after applying just a little more pressure to the kiss and a subtle lick to the soft bottom lip he pulled back. His eyes flicked across Stefan's face to gauge the next reactions.
Was a first kiss supposed to be sinful? (and blasphemous and disgraceful and he was on the verge of tears because of how wonderful and comforting it felt.) A foreign, rosy color spread over his cheeks, and he struggled to keep his eyes stern as he gazed into Feng's deep eyes. It was only when his eyes fluttered shut like a butterfly's wings that he tasted soothing flesh beneath his lips.
His fingertips trailed up Feng's clothed chest, and he hoped that his touch set the Asian's skin on fire just as Feng had set his aflame.
"Say my name," Stefan murmured against that pair of lips.
With Stefan pressed against him, and just breaking from a short kiss, was this something he'd be willing to die for? He questioned what kind of trial that he, as a minority from some territory taken over would be given. Feng's eyes darkened, and did indeed feel a tingling down his chest and stomach from under those digits.
"Stefan..." He spoke as commanded, quietly and carefully under his breath. Pressing the palm of his hand against the small of Stefan's back and trying to pull him closer; into his arms. His light touches moving up the royal spine.
The room looked almost immorally celestial, basking in the dim light cast by Máni and his followers. Would they- flustered, and yet so disgusted -not turn away from his window? Stefan's hands continued their journey, cascading across Feng's chest before grasping his firm shoulders. All was silent, yet music resounded in Stefan's ears- the unclear crescendo of a harpsichord, playing the exhausted, strained love song.
"Better," was his only, muffled reply, as his mouth was coaxed open.
Instinct made it impossible for Feng to control himself as he captured parted lips in his own. Without permission he tasted deeper into the orifice with a quick and fleet swipe of his tongue. The backwards movement of his head was swift, as though he were taken aback or more; holding back.
"Highness... You should either tell me to stop now or I will no longer be able to control the beast that I have been named to be by such nobility..." He murmured low, his voice lilted though his mask did not crack.
The dulcet, restless notes of a violin quartet joined the euphonic melody of his thoughts.
"I see not a beast," Stefan replied, he breathing quickly paced as his arms snaked past Feng's delectable neck, lazily perching over his back. There was a break- a deceptive cadence -and he cast his gaze away.
"But, perhaps you are, if you don't go forward with this. You're selling me a dream, and I'm demanding it without pay."
Looking down upon the prince so close to him, didn't his pale taught skin look like a canvas? Feng drew firm and hot fingers softly from Stefan's hips and up his sides; over ribs until he circled both arms tight around the middle of the Prince's back. Tightly he drew him flush against his body, took a step forward and forced Stefan back a step. The bed would be pressing against the Princes calves in that case.
"I hope you know what you're pining for Prince. Because if you want it so bad I will give it to you."
It was just another nudge forward and he was lying on top of the Prince whom he'd tipped over onto the soft mattress, his clothed form against Stefan's naked one. Leaing up he felt him self settle between thighs and leaned down on those lips.
"Would a Prince submit to his servant?"
Kissing him, demanding compliance in it as he took the bottom between his teeth, slipped his tongue along it and when he released it delved it into Stefan's mouth but did not pull back this time.
A sharp noise escaped his lips as he was gently tipped over, the vivacious music of his heart blooming as his back fell upon the silken sheets. His clearly clouded eyes watched Feng, and Stefan could have sworn that he let the whole world melt away just to listen. Their strings' melodies blended together, flowing smoothly as Stefan's fingertips tapped against Feng's protruding shoulder blades, mimicking the harpsichord that played in the background.
"Please," escaped from his lips, before their lips met once again.
The silent plea rang in his ears clearly when all else about him did not. Everything in him to his core narrowed on the sinewy body that he molested beneath him. The sweet mouth he plundered bloomed colors in his cheek, a fresh red that had not been there for years. His eyes drew half shut; he kissed and bit those lips till they became swollen and pouting at the treatment. He leaned up, though kept his head bowed over Stefan's so he could still taste him constantly. Feng used his hot hands to warm the rest of the Prince up, they roamed shamelessly along the plain of his chest, ghost down pert nubs and over a taught stomach and slid about to hold onto either hip. His thumb pressed over the bones, rubbed and pulled up to connect their hips without harshness; without it yet that is. The Prince need say no more because he'd bring him the sinful pleasure.
The kiss was pulled away from, only long enough to breathe Feng's name (an octave higher than he would have liked) and arch into him, writhing beneath him with want and desire and need.
Under his hands, his body, every nerve in Stefan's body chorused. His fingers clutched the fabric of Feng's clothing, the playful tune of the harpsichord falling into unpredictable chaos, and a feeble moan is muffled and silenced by his servant's curious tongue. This only left him craving more and more and oh please, deus, more.
Feng fancied in his mind that he could hear those pleas, something silent that goaded him on more and more. The craving to do and give more; it had to be the Prince calling to him somehow. He leaned up and away from Stefan, looking down at him with dark lusting eyes as he drank in the pale form. Slowly he undid the clasps of his duangua and pulled it from his chest and arms to pile onto the floor. He was toned, honey colored and when he leaned down and pressed their skin together; it was like a perfect compliment. His stomach muscles fluttered when he found their hips connecting again, his breath caught only briefly.
"Would you, a Prince submit to the likes of me? Your servant?" He asked; voice husky as he lifts his hips off of Stefan and a hand beneath him began to loosen his trousers. "I would have you, completely..."
With their limbs entangled in a flurry of desire, the hands of the flushed Nordic invaded Feng's body. A drunken longing was more effective than alcohol; he discovered (not even one iota of loneliness lingered in his destitute palms).
The celestial timpani of his heart tore at his ribcage, but Stefan's voice was quiet, rushed, as if he was afraid of it falling into falsetto.
"For I am one of my kind; a kind so savage enough to pillage and rape for power. A kind that is no more valuable than yours."
Heat flared up in the areas touched so desperately. "Then I will have your blood and body for my own."
Preamble aside as the last string to his trousers loosened, and leaning up on knees slid them from his narrow waist with anything else under them. They were kicked off, with his shoes, also in a rushed manner like Stefan's speaking. Revealing himself naked, muscles lining his from thinly and tense underneath his skin as he bent his form back over Stefan's. His dictator and his highness, currently his fixation as well since he'd come to this job. He was not shy as he lowered himself to seat back on the prince; his hardness pressed against Stefan, sliding up against it as he bowed his head and settled his lips on Stefan's neck. Kissing down until he felt a beating pulse there, his teeth scrapped against the skin and suckled.
He would have sworn at the celestial voyeurs that spied through his window, yet a hymn of broken pleas split past his lips when they parted, so unfamiliar to the foreign touches, kisses, attention. A rush of passion coursed through him, and under Feng's body, he didn't feel quite like himself. Stefan returned the favor, one hand gently pulling at his hair while the other gripped onto a warm arm.
This would be an ordeal Feng knew the two of them would carry for the rest of their lives. No matter should he be killed for this infidelity, or his Prince dispose of him or actually fire him as he always bluffs. This Asian wanted to give his Highness the show that he'd wanted, he wanted to make it well worth it and unforgettable to the both of them.
He felt his heart quicken, the sounds emanating called to him, asked him to do the unspeakable. He pressed a finger against Stefan's lips, traced the delicate curve before pushing it past and into the orifice; pressing down on the tongue and caressing it like his tongue had done moments before. He watched with interest as for now he forced the prince to wet his finger, the kind of show that potential turned him on.
His form was dampened by bath water and sweat, but just knowing and feeling Feng's body press down against him was almost enough to drive him to the brink of sanity. Yet, when he had tasted Feng's skin inside of his mouth (and most definitely not the skin that he would have expected), he grew confused. It was odd and the cadence was deceptive once again. Perhaps it was just his complete lack of experience, yet Stefan was quite docile, and a purr was conjured from the back of his throat. He flicked his tongue around and against the digit, obedient enough to only scrap his teeth up and down Feng's finger, rather than bite it and shout at him to stop trying to make him gag. (This was supposed to be sensual, and an action such as that would definitely ruin the heat.)
Voyeurism seemed to kick in and ignite him as he watched and felt what Stefan did to just his finger. What would it be like, if it were something else that were laid in this boys mouth? His body racked with a round of shudders, and he pulled his finger wet and slick from the crevice with a gentle 'pop' sound. Curiously he licked the soaked digit, and laid eyes back on the prince; smothering and wanting. Reaching down he did press the numeral against the tip of Stefan's organ. Down it slide over a smooth sac and pressed against an entirely different orifice it'd just been in. But it wasn't just the finger that went down; so had his head. His hot tongue caressing and teeth leaving small marks on the pale chest he'd described as a canvas. Over his stomach, where his tongue delved into a small naval and that finger of his ghosted circles in that vital area...
Each little bite and lick and suck sent jolts through his body, and when Feng dangled his desire in front of him, his body trembled, his legs spread outwards in the slightest, and a shaking groan fell off his tongue.
"I can't take this any longer." was really the only thing, the only beg, that he coherently spoke, over the low cellos that began playing a soft, perverse tune.
Against that flesh he kissed and teased between mouth, teeth and tongue, his hot breath touched and smiled for him where his lips could not. The motion of Stefan opening farther for him drove him further forward. His finger pushed harder against the entrance, but would not enter.
"Yes you can, and you will."
His tone was not insolent, more or less asking for him to wait and be strong because he wanted to tease his Highness more.
"Allow me my fun and my pleasure to taste..." And maybe, just a hint of the tip of his finger pushed in, he made slow and gentle circular motions.
The tip of his hot damp tongue folded over the males weeping member. The muscle mimicked the movement of his finger just around the head of Stefan.
From the depths of his vocal cords, Stefan let out some sort of aggressive snarl, impatient. That was how he was, spoiled from having been waited on hand and foot his entire life, and very unaccustomed to not getting his way. He knew complaining about it wouldn't do him any good. This was the rare time where he had lost his control over his servant, the rare time where he was powerless over him.
Oh, deus, what a wonderful loss of power, a lovely prelude, a toe-curling progression. All he could do was lie there in eager bliss and enjoy, and he basked in every moment of it.
Momentarily he pulled back from his treat, glanced up Stefan's body and drunk in the sight of that bliss and felt it seep into his blood and force him to progress. His head bowed back to work, soft lips wrapping around the shaft and pulling it into his velvety and hot mouth. Part way he let it slide in, would wrap his tongue around and suck while pulling his head back. Then dive it back in, and repeat the motion. However his actions did not stop there, sadistically or not he decided to push his teasing finger in and it buried itself to the first knuckle. The finger crooked and rubbed against the walls, wiggled and twisted as he tried to ease him looser. Deftly he began those circular motions again, would pull out and sink his finger back in but even further this time. Buried to the last knuckle and unyieldingly would pumping it in and out because that had been what Stefan had wanted.
Stefan's initial gasp had slurred into a harmonious moan as Feng's wet lips enveloped him, sucking and licking with such a skilled mouth that Stefan (if he could create an intelligible thought) could have sworn that his servant had done this erotic, filthy, divine act before. But his wanton servant seemed so ubiquitous that Stefan could not have been made mad. His fingers, entangled in Feng's dark hair, curled inwards, whimpering vocals humming delicato from his chest, slowly accrescendo-ing with the music as Feng's finger, which he wished oh deus something else, something more!, worked at him.
Releasing the silky length from his mouth, he roved his tongue up and down the shaft, his tongue would hit the tip right as his finger would thrust back in; his pace long having gotten to something normal that could supply more pleasure then the pace before; he wasn't being as careful now. So when his tongue would slide gracefully down, his finger would pull out. Rinse wash repeat . He pulled back, licked his lips like a lion after having a meal.
"Was there something you wanted to say? Highness?" Was he teasing him? Feng was only male, of course he wanted Stefan to ask it of him...
Trying to have a conversation while Feng's lone finger continued to taunt him, slowly loosening his entrance, made him want to scream, though that was obviously and completely out of the question. (Forget about what they would do to Feng; what would they do to him? Disown and kill him for bringing shame to the family?)
"Aren't you having enough fun, Feng?" His voice, warm and irritated, quivered, and it took much of his self control to keep him from shouting.
"Won't you hurry up? You know impatient I-" A forzando (suddenly loud, accented) gasp tumbled out of his throat as Feng managed to hit that spot.
"Ah... There it is..." The way he spoke, low and evenly and without rush. The countenance of ability to go this way for a long time, however he knew he could not. His finger stilled on where he knew it to be, slowly nudging it again before wigging the tip of his finger up and down in that spot. "Here? I want to make sure for when I take you and make you mine."
Stefan purred (a noise that even he himself didn't know could come out of his mouth) as Feng petted him, rushing a nod as his hips, eager and early, buckled. An orchestra of heavenly spirits continued a neglected, affectionate tune,
"Please!" I want it, take me, consume me, oh deus please, please, now!
Taking in that body flushed and hot against his skin, that face and those deep eyes that bore into his own. Feng swallowed heavily, and his finger slipped from Stefan's hole easily.
"I could not turn you away..."
He murmured on a patient breath, which he knew would be cracked as their hips met and he'd sunk into the sinful heat before him. He hooked a hand beneath Stefan's knee and pulled it up, his other hand pushed against the other thigh to spread him out more and leave nothing for him to hide. He crawled forward on his knees, and let go of the thigh; with a steady hand on his organ he guided himself flush against the pucker.
"I won't stop, not matter what. I would have you, all of you."
His hips lulled forward, the tip pushed against the hole before he felt it give way and swallow the hard tip. But he did not stop, not even to let him get used to what was already in. He pushed forward, grit his teeth as he forced himself completely in; their hips meeting and his own breath coming out in rasps.
There was a transition, from a soft pianissimo, to a jagged forte possible. Stefan's vision blurred, a hot white flashing in front of his eyes as his hands managed to find a part of Feng's body to clutch onto. It was expressionism at it's finest- the orchestra falling into a united melody, the kind of music that would make skin crawl and breath hitch and angels weep.
Sheer euphoria filled him, and a spill of unarticulated words and 'Feng's poured out of his mouth, a falsetto in his voice returning.
Sheathed and hot all over, Feng remained paused and in deep concentration over what his next move was. Stefan was a Prince, not just anyone he would have met on the streets and he would be treated with care during this intimate act. Feng rolled his hips into Stefan's in a grinding motion. Gently he let Stefan's leg down that he'd been holding up, keeping it propped on the bed though, and spread out.
He informed him then placed his hands on slim hips and drew himself back, though not all the way. Dreadfully slowly would he then slip himself in. He could feel his length drag along inside of Stefan and he gritted his teeth; tight, it was so tight, hot and wet.
"I feel... At any moment I could lose control."
He had to inform him, worried as he was he didn't not want to surprise him. He did it again; pulled out agonizingly slow and then back in. This pace, it was his compensation for not preparing him like he should have.
He couldn't possibly reply to whatever mumbled bunch of words it was that Feng had spoken, so Stefan swallowed and gasped, muscles contracting around Feng and tossing his spinning head back. It was torturously slow, painful, but feeling Feng inside him was nothing like he imagined it.
(And, perhaps, the experience was made all more pleasurable at the mere risk factor. At any moment, a maid could walk in to clean up discarded materials and discover such a shock, and the thought of that happening just made him more excited and flushed.)
The way Stefan would clench down on him on and off would freeze him up and he would groan. Already his stoic face seemed to be contorted into one that was able to show pleasure now. Lips slightly parted to allow quick breath through as he exerted himself. The muscles in his thighs and calves working and flexing as he would draw himself in and out. Faster, he needed to go faster... So he did, there was none of that pausing anymore and the pace became something steady; something for him to moan to.
"Stefan..." He leaned back over as each stroke were long and even like an expert would wield his brush over fine canvas. Already it seemed he was painting Stefan's vision anyways; much like his own was. And the Prince himself, he was so desirable with his head tossed back in the throws of their sex.
"You're so beautiful..."
He couldn't keep those words in his mouth, he leaned down atop him and their stomachs pressed together, trapping Stefan's member between their bodies and rubbing against it with each pump. And he kissed the crevice of his neck, the junction between his neck and shoulder.
He was speaking. Stefan heard Feng's lightweight tone, but he couldn't understand him. His face contorted, and tears gathered in the crevices of his eyes because, oh god, it hurt, but it was wonderful and perfect and faster, pretissimo! His mouth formed an 'O' shape as a soundless (as to not interrupt the music) moan tumbled off of his tongue, making him want more of his servant.
Quiet chant-like phrases- in a foreign language that he knew Feng wouldn't understand -escaped though his lips, broken from squeezing in between moans and audible 'more's.
Instinctually he knew he shouldn't give what was being demanded of him. More? To go fast, and to go harder on this prince whose virginity and purity he held in the palm of his hand. That flower would set in a vase for him to gaze at for a very long time.
"More..." His voice fell out in a breathy cascade, and he started to obey the command. He released Stefan's hip and placed it on the bed beside them, fingers tight in the sheets and he used to as leverage to help him thrust in. The bed, large and heavy seemed to move with each thrust forward... And Stefan, although on the verge of screaming in ecstasy, told him how good it felt, and proved to him that it didn't hurt in the slightest (though it very much did) by grinding his hips into Feng's as he filled him over and over again. But then he did happily scream a fermata-ed moan. The vivacious orchestra continued to play forte possible, presto, and his body trembled as his muscles contracted and he dug his nails into wet skin and fabric.
The nails that dug into him wrung from him a throaty moan, and he responded with energy to the scream, to the praise. His blood boiled to the head that was washed over him as he continued to sheath himself so deep into Stefan repeatedly. In his incoherent mind he knew what he needed to find. That hand left over on a pale hip pulled it up, and he drove himself further forward; further down. He wanted constant screams to leak from that gaping mouth, the moans were pretty but the screams were beautiful.
Stefan had tipped over the edge of sanity into an ocean of euphoric frenzy, and Feng was clearly lost as well, but he adored such a love affair. They both worshipped it. He aimlessly reached out, grasping the back of Feng's head and clumsily pulling him into a kiss, crushing their lips together for only a moment, until... until... Until he tossed his head back, his body arching upward as his starry eyes shot open and screamed (a real, ear-piercing scream this time, nothing feeble or even unsure.) The music was crescendoing, climaxing, but volume was dangerous. Nevertheless, he didn't care, because it was him and he never cared and it felt so good.
In this muddled brain of his, how else could he maximize this experience? Thinking was of no use but what ever animal instinct he had left he did not trust. Stefan was a field he did not want to carelessly plow. Between their bodies he reached and seized the handful tightly of a weeping shaft. His hand seemed to time it to each powerful thrust he aimed inside Stefan. Each drive he wanted to hit that spot deep within that boy and make him scream his name.
And when Feng most obviously discovered that certain spot, that certain aroused gland, that he had been craving, Stefan couldn't control himself. He trembled quite violently, tremors making every inch of his body quake. "F..." He panted, until his servant had done just enough to push him over the edge, and his forzando voice screamed "Feng!"
White spilled onto his chest, white like the winter snow, falling on flushed ivory skin. He panted, still moaning along with the rhythm of Feng's thrusts, though the music had immediately seized when he had come. Feeling that tremmering body beneath his own, within his grasp gave him a power he knew he'd never hold again. He clung to that last string of his sanity, here with Stefan where he was not a servant, but a man and a loved one at that. Perhaps he could fancy himself loved all the way to the gallows.
He moaned low and resonate, his hips making that final thrust forward as he rode on his own orgasm and watched the climax of their orchestra come to an end with his seed spilling hard and fast deep within. The semen that coated his hand where he'd been stroking was warm, and it had helped him come to his end, that and the breathy moans and screams, ah, and the name that had left his Princes lips... He kissed his lips, so softly and so sweetly.
"I wish I could call you mine for all eternity." His arms shook on where he held himself up over Stefan.
Pleasure continued to pulse through his body as Stefan slid his arms around Feng's shoulders, crying out in pleasure a final time before he calmed. Still, there was nothing, not a thing except him and Feng. He pulled him closer, pressing their sex-stained bodies together despite his shaking arms, and smiled delicately at his servant, his desire, his lover.
"Isn't that a wonderful thought?" He asked, his voice pausing to swallow and pant. "Yes, it would be quite magical, I suppose. I... I don't think I mind... Being yours, that is."
Pushing him off only so he could lay on his side and rest against Feng, Stefan's eyes fluttered closed, kissing every inch of skin that he could reach without moving. Never had he felt himself to be so alive.
"...We could run. Fast and far- we could sneak out in the night and take the horses and run." It was a rash decision in other's eyes, but Stefan thought it was a brilliant idea. "I wouldn't have to see them in my life, not again. And you and I could be free without them."
If whatever gods were watching, he prayed feverently to be heard; to allow him to keep this man, and this man to keep him. The evidence for their deed and acts spread upon them both, and he caressed the sweat stained ivory lad, his fingers resting on his shoulders and he laid the barest kiss upon his lips.
"Being free... And being free with you... I hope I get to entertain that thought till the day I die."
Being loved, and loving someone; a feeling if ever he had felt one though he hadn't felt many. "I... - " The door opened, and his gaze locked onto Stefan's. So quickly? Someone must have passed by, and... Why did he have to be ripped away so soon? Their plans, the ones they were about to make for their happy ending.
He reached out as he was torn from the bed and out of the hold of the Prince. The gods had not been listening to their heathen creation, and yet he did not fight back.
"I would take my love of you to the gallows Stefan, but I would not have you come with me." They'd suspected all along...
Stefan's world came to a halt, his eyes desperate as he watched Feng being torn from his loving grasp into the cold hands of the guards. He, despite the pain, jolted forward, screaming 'no' quite heroically, yet pathetically tumbled to his knees in front of the ground where Feng stood, without a struggle. A strange, new wetness stained his cheeks quickly as he was grabbed by a dangerously strong man and forced to his feet again and stand, even with his trembling legs.
"Unhand me!" He demanded, though he quickly realized that this guard wouldn't easily comply with his snapped request. Surely the wouldn't do anything to harm even a hair on his head. Would they?
He glanced back at Feng, attempting to jump forward again to help him, to save him, to do anything.
"T-This isn't supposed to happen!" He shouted, through the tears that choked him, "You're not supposed to do this! You're not allowed to leave me! I never said you could!" His pleading to deter Feng's (unavoidable) death didn't deteriorate the stubborn, devilish demons that were holding them back.
"Why aren't you putting up a fight?" He screamed, continuing, "Didn't it... Don't you want to be with me? Because I want to be with you!" His voice cracked, breaking into a sob,
"I love you!"
He would soon realize how hard it would be, living with the guilt and regret and the emptiness.
"S-stefan!" He did struggle after that, though it was only to struggle from those grips against the door so he could look at him just a bit longer. He didn't want Stefan to see him in a pitiful state, to remember him writhing in the ground and dragged away by his hair. He was a man, a proud one and though a servant he would not let the love of his life and soon death see him any differently.
"Don't be so angry with me Highness." His nails digging against the frame of the door, and really the attempt to be rid of him was half-assed for now.
"For all eternity I will be with you, forever in all its meaning Stefan. I never stopped loving you since the day I began taking care of you. The moment I laid eyes on you and now I can die happy."
And for the first time in his life since his capture; he smiled. It was small, but it was there and it was just for his Prince.
"I said I would never leave your side, and I won't. My angel or my devil will be there to protect you. And soon we'll be together again. I promise. I love you…"
And the wood splintered as he was torn away. They'd grace him with a poor robe from his homeland and leave him to hang on the gallows till he died. And soon he knew he'd see Stefan, his Prince who he would serve; dead or alive.