More Imperial Consort Ben - 3
I'm allergic to long posts, so I'm continuing from here
In the Emperor's absence, Ben becomes acquainted with his closest handservants.
He still doesn't trust her, but he allows Phasma's touch to wander further, then more purposefully ignite certain desires within him. She brings him to climax on more than one occasion.
Dopheld is gentler and quieter, almost shy in his touches. Where Phasma is teasing and playful, Dopheld is all sincere sweetness. Ben has never dreamt of kissing Phasma, but he does place a soft kiss to Dopheld's lips once.
"I urge you not to waste your time on pleasing me, Your Majesty."
"Nonsense," Ben murmurs and kisses him again. "Though you serve me, I would not have the balance between us be unequal. It is not a waste."
"But it is a waste, Your Majesty," Dopheld insists, eyes round in earnest. "I had such essense taken from me when I was a boy. I have no desires such as yours."
A eunuch, then. Ben sighs heavily and reclines on the bed. No men around to truly fill the gap the Emperor has left. He really is cruel and clever, and he seems to mean every word of what he said that night.
Dopheld's hand finds its way back to Ben's thigh, carefully tracing up the slit in his long skirt.
"Do you still want me to help you tonight?"
"Oh, Dopheld," Ben murmurs, grabbing him by the hand to pull him onto his lap. He's still hard, but he doesn't care much for it anymore. "Do you know what it means to want?"
No, not restless. Hungry? Tired? Empty?
He still sits with the Emperor at dinner, still engages in proper conversation and the correct touches, but it just makes him angry.
He hates looking at that stupid crown, the stupid hair it rests on that frames the stupid face that asked him, 'Do you know what it means to want?'
He thinks, this is it, this must be it. I want him.
He also thinks, this can't be it. This can't be all it means to want. Is wanting just being angry all the time?
So he waits, just as his husband instructed.
"These are really piling up, you know."
"I apologize for wasting your time, Your Majesty. However, something must be done with all of this. It can't stay in this closet forever."
"And then explain to His Majesty the Emperor why so much finery has been discared?"
Ben huffs petulantly. He hasn't looked at a single one of the gifts since his husband told him to fuck off. Phasma just wants this closet to be cleaned periodically.
"Find a bigger closet," he tells her.
Ben keeps doubting himself. What does it mean to want?
Later, when he's informed by a runner that the Emperor is in the infirmary, and a knot forms in his stomach, he thinks he might have figured it out.
But no, that was just the Byrabian Crab he'd had for lunch. The Emperor was fine; he just had too much drink.
It was at a rather boring affair, actually, that Ben began to suspect he may finally know what it means to want.
Some high general and his wife are visiting for the day. He's in time-sensitive talks with the Emperor, something about a military strike somewhere. Or threatening one, maybe. It hasn't held Ben's interest long enough for him to figure out exactly what's going on.
The general paces the room -- one of the libraries, with real books -- while the Emperor stands at the window that looks out over Ben's garden.
"It should be easier, now, if we play our cards right," the old man says.
"I expect nothing less than full cooperation. We have the money and the firepower."
"Of course," he agrees. "All it takes is expressing to them that we know what they need. Carefully. And now that you control the Hydian Way, I think we can do that without words."
Ben's eyes shoot to his husband's tall form, silhouetted against the daylight. He turns around as if he somehow knew he was being closely examined. There's something proud and leering in his eyes.
He's truly something to be feared, Ben is starkly reminded. He's strong and clever, and he never told him about this campaign and victory. He is truly a player. Ben can admire that, but...
"You control the Hydian Way?" Ben's voice brings everything to a stop. It vaguely registers that he just interrogated the Emperor and cast him in a shameful light. His husband glances carefully over at his general before sliding smoothly back to Ben.
"Forgive my not telling you. I've been gone too long on business," he apologizes, more for the small audience than for his consort. His words sound sincere, but his eyes are tricky. "We'll soon be reacquainted."
