by Megan Derr
Lyle brushed a soft kiss across his mouth, then drew back enough to say, "All I ever saw was a beautiful, determined and outgoing young man who could have the world, and would never want to settle for a boring, predictable professor already quite set in his ways."
"You're a fool," Eustace said, and kissed him again, while also driving him back, until Lyle broke away with a yelp as he toppled down onto his sofa. Before Lyle could recover, Eustace was straddling him and diving right back into feasting at his mouth.
Lyle had only had one other lover of note, and even he had never shown half the enthusiasm that Eustace put into a single kiss. It was heady. Enthralling. Lyle was never letting Eustace escape.
When they drew apart to catch their breath, Lyle nearly came right then and there at the sight of Eustace's flushed face, mussed hair, the well-used lips that were entirely Lyle's doing. "I can't believe you want me."
"Lyle, I've been half in love with you since the night you saved me, and wholly in love since not long after that. How could I not be?"
"How could you, is the question I always asked myself over the years, and I could never devise an answer."
Eustace kissed him, soft and sweet and devastating. "You have a heart of sunshine, you're brilliant and funny, the entire student body worships you… I could go on for ages, you nitwit. You're my dearest friend, even when you were being a jealous ass."
Lyle winced. "I am sorry. I should have believed you. But it seemed wholly logical in my head that you would fall for someone as compelling and beautiful as Sorrel."
"Only if I wanted to get frostbite," Eustace replied, and nuzzled against him. "I want you, nitwit. Just you."
"You have me."
Eustace's eyes glittered. "Not yet I don't." He squirmed from Lyle's lap, leaving him aching and groaning, and sank to his knees in front of him. Lyle's breath lodged in his throat as Eustace's deft, elegant fingers worked at the fastenings of his breeches. He'd watched Eustace's hands more times than he could count, as he rolled dice or played with his beloved cards, or sometimes toyed with a coin, rolling and spinning and catching it.
He never thought he'd see those same hands pulling out his cock, stroking and teasing it, until Lyle was so hard he hurt. "Not that I'm complaining, but aren't we going rather fast?"
"I've waited a long damn time for this," Eustace said. "I'm not waiting one second more." With that, he dropped his mouth over Lyle's cock, suckling briefly at the tip before taking him deeper, until he touched the back of Eustace's throat. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked in earnest, tongue rubbing wonderfully over ever bit it could reach.
Lyle's ability to think vanished entirely. All he could do was comb through Eustace's hair, mussing it completely, and work his hips gently, fucking into that hot, eager mouth, moaning Eustace's name between bouts of showering praise over him. For that mouth. Those lust-bright eyes. The eagerness and talent. How absolutely beautiful he was, especially right then, on his knees, mouth stuffed full, the world reduced to just the two of them and all the pleasure they could give each other.
He came groaning Eustace's name, spilling down his throat, fingers sunk into his hair. When Eustace finally pulled away, gently suckling as he went, Lyle could have come again. If he'd thought Eustace mussed from his kisses was arousing, it had nothing on Eustace utterly wrecked from sucking him, face red from exertion, smeared with spit and come, lips so swollen he half-feared they were bruised.
Lyle shoved him to the floor, made quick work of his breeches, and finally got hold of Eustace's cock. "I fervently hope you'll be willing to fuck me at a later time. For now my hand will have to suffice."
Eustace just moaned and thrust up into his touch, one arm draped over his eyes, the other scrabbling at the carpet for purchase as he moved in time with Lyle's firm strokes. He wished he'd thought to bring lubricant of some sort, but hadn't even dreamed they would go this far so immediately. So he made do with what he had available. Thankfully, Eustace seemed disinclined to complain.
It took only moments for him to come, spilling over Lyle's hand warm and sticky. Watching his face as he came was a gift from the divine. Lyle wanted to see it again and again. "You're even more beautiful when I have you under me."
"Wait until you get me naked," Eustace said with a smile, the words coming out between soft pants. "Though I'm looking forward to having you under me while I make you scream."
Lyle groaned, cock trying to twitch back to life. "I'm going to need more time if you want a rise out of me."
"Well what say we get naked and climb into bed in the meantime?" Eustace asked, and climbed to his feet. What a sight that was—disheveled clothes, face and hair still a complete mess, cock shamelessly hanging out. Lyle's cock twitched again, and he thought it might not take that long at all for him to ready for a second round.
He climbed to his own feet and stripped off his shirt, then sat to work on his shoes and stockings. By the time he'd risen to strip off his breeches and smallclothes, Eustace was already delightfully naked, and more beautiful than all of Lyle's illicit imaginings.
Stepping close, he ran a hand along Eustace's chest, smooth and toned, nothing at all like his own soft, slightly squishy frame, the result of spending more time with books or at his desk and lectures halls than doing anything healthful. "You're more beautiful than I can find words to describe." He couldn't believe this was real.
But there was no denying the heat of Eustace's mouth as he drew Lyle into a kiss, the warm press of his body as he held Lyle tight. The huskiness of his voice, and the lust in his eyes as he said, "Take me to bed, professor."
"No, do not start that," Lyle said, shoving him away before turning and heading off to his bedroom.
Snickering followed him, and there was a quick pinch to his ass that made Lyle yelp. "But professor, I'm eager for whatever instruction you're willing to provide."
"Stop it!" Lyle said, torn between laughter and groaning. "You'll just make it worse when the invariable rumors of what we did while you were still a student begin." He reeled Eustace in and deposited him on the bed before getting the half-empty jar from his bedside table and climbing into bed himself.
Eustace gazed at him through his lashes, contriving the most ridiculous pout. "As you wish, professor."
Lyle swatted his thigh, leaving a faint handprint, making Eustace jump—and his cock twitch. Lyle's brow quirked. "Just misbehaving for the discipline, are you? Eager to be a bad student?"
"Maybe some other time," Eustace said, turning red. "But if I can't make professor/student jokes, neither can you. Now come here."
Lyle swatted him again, this time on the ass, just because he could, then let a flushed and embarrassed Eustace drag him into bed and distract him. "I suppose I can allow it from time to time. Try to be a good student for now and fuck me."
"Yes, professor," Eustace said, a wicked gleam in his eye. He'd cleaned his face at some point, though his lips were still red and swollen, and his hair a hopeless tangle.
To Lyle's delight and dismay, Eustace only sort of obeyed, putting his mouth to every bit of Lyle's skin he could easily reach, leaving a mark low on his throat where no one would see it, but Lyle would certainly feel it as his clothes rubbed against it.
He kissed Lyle's arms, nipped and licked his chest, put teeth to one hipbone and dragged them across his stomach. Then he pressed a single, teasing kiss to Lyle's hard cock before shifting attention to the soft, inner skin of his thighs, where he left more marks that would be sure to torment him later.
"You're a brat," Lyle gasped out as Eustace finally turned back to his cock.
"I am going to indulge in as many of my fantasies as I possibly can, before you realize you could do better and change your mind."
"I could not do better if a king offered me his whole kingdom," Lyle said, and groaned as Eustace licked a strip up the length of his cock. "Fuck me, now. I want to come with you inside me."
Eustace groaned and grabbed his cock. "Don't say stuff like that." He s
natched up the jar Lyle had left nearby and hastily slicked himself before working one slick finger into Lyle's hole.
"Just fuck me, I can take it," Lyle said. "I'm well-used to availing myself of sexual devices."
That got him another of those long groans, muffled as Eustace buried his head in the hollow of Lyle's throat, a full-body shudder running through him, cock jerking against Lyle's skin. He drew back after a moment, kissed Lyle hard, leaving his lips throbbing, and then slowly slid inside him. It stretched and burned in the best way, exactly as Lyle liked it, but a thousand times better because it was Eustace rather than one of his toys.
He held on tight, wrapping his arms around Eustace, clinging to his sweaty back, panting and pleading as Eustace thrust into him over and over, needing release but wanting the moment to last forever.
Between thrusts, Eustace gasped out, "I want to do this every day. Fifty times a day."
Lyle laughed, but it turned into a shout as Eustace thrust into him one last time, hard and deep, and his climax rushed over him. He only barely felt it as Eustace followed shortly after, and was still catching his breath when Eustace pulled out and rolled to sprawl out beside him.
"So do I pass muster, professor?" Eustace asked.
"Stop that, I'm serious," Lyle said with a groan, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "You're such a brat, how did I forget that?"
"You were distracted, I'd wager." Eustace rolled over to sprawl on Lyle's chest. "So am I finally able to tell the world that you're my lover?"
"Most certainly," Lyle said, and kissed him softly before settling in for a nap.
Beloved Regent
THE ENGINEERED THRONE
Vellem picked up his coffee and sighed at himself when it proved to still be empty. You'd think by the third time he'd remember that, but this was four and he'd probably hit six before he got it through his head.
Normally there were servants ghosting about, keeping his desk ordered and his coffee filled, their ability to go about silent and unseen vastly outstripping his best scouting teams. Right then, though, everyone was busy preparing for the arrival of Princess Akari, and frankly with that weighing constantly at the back of his mind, Vellem preferred to be left alone.
Even if it meant he kept running out of coffee.
Sighing, he gave up on the letter he'd been attempting to write and pushed away from his desk, stretching and groaning as he stood. Rubbing at his stiff neck, he grabbed up his empty cup and headed off to the antechamber in search of a refill.
But when he stepped through the door, he was greeted not with the sight of clerks, but all four of his generals, who'd clearly been on their way into the office. Vellem's brows rose. "Why do I sense an ambush?"
Malla grinned and replied, "Because you're a veteran who knows what he's about."
"I don't think I ever actually was discharged," Vellem replied. "Can I refill my coffee before you full troublemakers foist your mischief upon me?"
"I suppose we'll allow it," drawled Desten.
His remaining two generals, Carmen and Ordan, made a feeble attempt at muffling their snickers.
Vellem rolled his eyes, went over to the clerk's desk, and thanked her as she refilled his mug from the pot she kept behind the desk. "Come on, then. Bev, see we're not disturbed until these miscreants leave."
"Yes, Majesty," she replied with a laugh.
In his office, vacant save for himself and a couple of secretaries not commandeered by Perdith as he focused on the pending royal visit, he leaned against his desk, set his coffee aside after a couple of generous swallows, and folded his arms across his chest. "Let's have it, then."
Malla stepped forward and offered a small packet of papers, affixed with the royal seal and Perdith's elegant signature. "His Majesty says he is happy to make this official, but only with your approval/permission. So we have come to bully you into doing our bidding. Majesty."
Vellem's brows rose as he took the papers and started skimming—then stopped and went back to read it properly. His eyes widened, and he didn't even bother to finish reading the royal order before tossing it on his desk. "Absolutely not."
That got him a chorus of protests like he'd just told all the enlisted their leave was canceled indefinitely.
"Enough, enough," Vellem said, holding up his hands.
Malla pouted at him, like she was girl instead of his best and most ruthless general. "But you have to agree. We've been working on this for ages, and it would mean the world to us and the rest of the army."
Vellem groaned. "I do not want a military medal named after my ridiculous epithet."
"But it would be so inspiring, empowering. It would mean so much to so many," Desten said.
Carmen added, "You have to stop acting like you don't know you're looked on as a hero by everyone—military and civilian, titled and common, native and foreign—for your actions after the Tragedy. People want to honor you, and see that what you did lives on, becomes inspiration for others to always aim to act with the same—"
"Stop it," Vellem hissed, face hot. "I didn't do anything special. I acted as anyone would in my position. I had duties and responsibilities and I worked to fulfill them, that's all."
"No, Majesty," Ordan said quietly, her voice quiet but forceful. "You could have run back to Belemere. You could have ensured that Perdith never woke up. Become a tyrant. Sold us out to literally any other country on the continent. We were vulnerable in a thousand ways, one step away from falling apart and being conquered, and were very literally saved by a man who barely knew our customs and was enduring pain and tragedies of his own. Maybe to you it's just 'what anyone would have done' but that only speaks further to your character, to the depths of your heart. Many people in your position would have acted very differently—selfishly."
"I wasn't entirely selfless you know," Vellem replied. "Let's be honest: there was nothing for me to return to in Belemere, not really. My best chance at the life I wanted was right here, even if it came with more responsibility than I'd been prepared for. Hardly altruistic."
"Oh, quit it," Malla said. "You were regarded highly in Belemere, and you're regarded even more highly here. Since I doubt you'll ever let anyone build a statue of you—"
"Absolutely not!" Vellem said, terror and mortification sliding down his spine. He just wanted to be a good consort, prove himself worthy every day to be at Perdith's side and care for all the people relying on him. "If you ever dare suggest such a thing I will put you in stone shoes, Lain, do you understand me?"
Malla and the others just laughed.
Carmen was still grinning as the laughter faded. "I would just like to point out that nobody needs your permission to commission a statue of you. So if you sign those papers and let us do this one small thing, then we promise no statues will go up until after you're ashes in the wind. If you keep being stubborn…"
Vellem groaned, but he knew a defeat when he saw one. Going around his desk, he sat down, opened his bottom drawer, and poured himself a generous swallow of the bottle of good whiskey he kept there to enjoy at the end of particularly trying days.
He drank it one smooth shot, then dragged the papers over and read them over again, sighing heavily. "I really don't like this, miscreants."
They all smiled like children trying to assure their father they would never, ever get into mischief, they promised. Malla said, "But it will make your subjects happy, Your Majesty, and we all know that's your greatest weakness. After our king, anyway."
Vellem gave them a look, sighed heavily, and finally signed the papers, pressing his seal as Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Army and Navy of Tallideth, making it official that the highest possible medal that a soldier could receive for valor and gallantry in the line of duty was the Royal Medal of the Unbreakable Soldier.
"There," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a husband to go berate for being party to this."
Their snickering followed him out of the office, leaving Vellem rolling his eyes, but also wi
th a smile tugging at his mouth. In the antechamber, he motioned to some of the stationed guards. "I am going in search of my husband, if you would not mind keeping me company."
He would never grow entirely used to the need for bodyguards, but he couldn't deny that he had an extensive history of attempted assassinations.
The bodyguards fell in around and behind him, one several paces ahead to clear the way when necessary.
Thankfully, it wasn't hard to find Perdith, who was in the new, still un-used ballroom, which was awaiting a special commemoration ball taking place in a few days—the other reason for the chaos, since the ball was just two days before the arrival of Princess Akari.
"A word with my husband, please," Vellem said as he reached the cluster of people that perpetually surrounded Perdith these days, a combination of secretaries, clerks, nobles wanting his attention, and staff needing his attention. When a few looked like they wanted to protest, Vellem gave them the look that sent soldiers scurrying.
The ballroom was cleared of all but the two of them in a matter of minutes. Perdith chuckled softly as the closing of the door echoed through the vast, empty space.
It had been beautifully rebuilt, all white, cream, and blue, with a rainbow mosaic in the floor and a painting over the royal dais—designed to be open beneath so nothing could be hidden beneath it again—that was a memorial to the fallen. Perdith had named it after his sister, the late crown princess, and the entire new east wing after his mother. The new garden was named after his nieces and nephews who'd been killed in the blast. Even now, Vellem couldn't think about it too hard or he'd still get angry that anyone would do something like that to children.
"What word would you like to have with me?" Perdith asked, twining arms around his neck and tilting his head in an invitation older than time.
Vellem accepted it gladly, sliding arms around Perdith's trim waist and bending down slightly to kiss that soft, warm mouth he knew as well as his own. He could live a thousand years and never grow tired of kissing Perdith.