Cleric/prince Will X Paladin Mike AU
Ignore how terrible this is, but when i have an idea i need to execute it
Will doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on these firm leather couches for. All he knows is that they’re hurting his ass. Mike - no - Will’s Paladin, is sitting beside him, his head laying ever so gracefully on the table in front of him. His soft black hair falls around his shoulders, wisps of it falling onto his face, where freckles are scattered, as if Will flicked his paint brush onto his Paladin’s face. Will can feel deep brown eyes lingering on him, looking Will up and down like he’s an artwork to be admired. Will cocks his head slightly down in the Paladin’s direction, raising his brow.
“What are you looking at, Sir?” Will questions quietly. Mike gives him a small grin.
“What does it look like, my Lord?” He asks, his words slurring. Will can feel his cheeks flush with embarrassment. What a stupid question to ask. The answer was so daringly obvious.
Rolling his eyes, Will puts his focus back on the party happening in front of him. In the background of all the commotion, Will can hear light classical music playing that seems to pique Mike’s drunken interest. He’s tapping his fingers on the table to the melody. Will watches as those around them find partners and take to the dance floor, swaying and twirling rhythmically along with the music.
Will knew letting Mike drink was a bad idea, and he should have learnt that from the last time Mike had gotten drunk. The lingering taste of whiskey hits Will like a freight train. His hand reaches for his lips, remembering when soft, gentle ones were on his. The ghost touch of hands around Will’s waist and his own in someone else's hair, tugging at it as their hands worshipped Will’s body like he was a god.
The memory crashes around him at the sound of light rustling. Will quickly shifts his head to where his Paladin had once lain his head, now desolate. Instead, Mike is now standing in front of Will, stretching out his hand. Will can help but direct his gaze to Mike’s beautiful face.
“Come.” Mike mouths. Part of Will knew that he shouldn’t take Mike’s hand, refuse to be seen with him as more than Prince and Paladin in such a public space. But another part of Will, the part that yearned to relive that moment from months ago, riddled with curiosity, wanted to take Mike’s hand and never let it go. To hold it close to his heart and tell Mike that he was all Will wanted, all that he needed. And, of course, that fragment of Will’s heart is the one that he decides to follow.
Will takes his outstretched hand hesitantly. Mike pulls him up, his calloused hand gripping Will’s with such forbearance that it shocks Will. How could he have so much restraint when all Will could think of was when those same, calloused hands had gripped his hips and pulled him close?
A small gasp escapes Will as Mike pulls him along, guiding Will to the centre of the ballroom, right under the exceedingly large crystal chandelier. Mike gives Will a drunken smile as he pulls him closer to his chest. Will’s mind races as his Paladin leans in, pulling his face down to Will’s ear before whispering, “Dance with me.”
Mike places his hands on Will’s waist, holding him firmly. Copying the people around them, Will place his hands on Mike’s armoured shoulders. Will doesn't dare to look at Mike’s face as they sway to the light hum of the piano, instead opting to look at the marbled floor.
This is so wrong. So wrong. A Paladin and a Prince shouldn’t dance together. The only dance that either of them should be executing is through battle. Mike’s grip tightens. It’s unsettling.
Will knows that this isn’t right, but he just can't help himself. The desolate place in his heart reserved for Mike yearns for its spot to be filled with touches like these, with Mike’s delicate touch on ivory skin, even if it's hidden beneath fabric.
“Are you okay, Mike – Sir?” The question lingers between them, neither of them daring to address that none of this is okay, that none of it should even be considered. The only response that Will manages to receive is the tightening grip of Mike’s toughened hands around his waist. Will looks up to get a visual of Mike, to try and picture what he’s thinking, what he’s aiming to achieve, but his face is unreadable. Well, maybe not. He’s clearly drunk. Maybe even a little ecstatic.
Mike is already looking down at Will when they make eye contact, smiling that big, stupid grin of his. Will’s knees go weak, and his lips part in a way that almost looks like Will wants to kiss him. Almost.
His deep hazel eyes bore into Will’s own, and WilI swears that he feels his heart skip a beat. No, I can’t be thinking like this! He’s my Paladin. He works for me.
As if the world can read my mind, Jane shows up to dissipate the moment.
“Mike, why don’t you come dance with me? The Queen requires her son’s assistance,” She gestures to Will.
Jane steps closer to Mike, giving Will a look that says, you know you can’t do this. Mike’s grip loosens on Will, and he takes the opportunity to stumble backwards, away from Mike and his addicting touch. He makes his way to the edge of the ballroom. He knows Joyce doesn't need him, it’s just a ploy to take Will away from mike, just as he had reluctantly told her to do just nights before.
Will watches as Jane takes Mike’s shoulders and attempts to sway his body to the music. Despite her protests, Mike stays as still as a rock. She edges her face closer to his, and she says something that Will can’t make out from a distance. Mike shakes his head and mumbles something inaudible, but Will can tell just from the look on Jane’s face that she isn’t impressed. She glances over her shoulder, looking directly at Will with a look of sympathy, before letting go of Mike’s shoulders, shaking her head, taking a step back, and walking off without another word. The Paladin is left standing in the middle of the ballroom alone.
It’s only a matter of time before Mike’s compelling aura sets back into Will, so he uses Mike’s desolation as a chance to get back to his chamber. Just as he turns to leave, Will hears a hard voice calling his name. “Will.”
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