#poweir

[sirenoire]

" so your sister's fiance dies and your first thought is to send her to solitary confinement? " yes, it's an over exaggeration, but the sizes of their houses is guaranteed smaller than a jail cell!

[sirenoire]

" is your brother ever joining? or did he send you and the little one away thinking this is summer camp."

[kingdomcrows]

[ @poweir sent in: 47. for lucy - ft . dealer's choice. ]

this, if found out, would cause commotion. two crowned princes, laid naked and bare, devouring one another as if the hunger has taken hold to the point that nothing and no one else matters. that's lust, lucealyx thinks, all consuming.

they're both young men, survivors of the war, and destined for the throned. they're allowed to be consumed, allowed to do as they please within reason.

lucealyx's breath hitches as edric pryor, crowned prince of bergia, licks a stripe along the tight rim of his hole. the prince's hand wraps around his cock, hanging hard as stone, between his legs and strokes him as he does it. "fuck." lucealyx moans out low, like his throat is full of gravel. he rolls his hips back, hands fisted into the prince's sheets as he spreads himself open for the prince.

one feast for the other to devour before lucealyx's own hunger gets the best of him.

[courtiings]

@poweir

Yuzef, obviously, put out feelers to his fellow Masters of Coin once Aegonia opened itself back up to the whole of Metia. He wanted to become familiar with every councilman he could find, but his direct counterparts took precedence.

The first of them to get back to him? Lucien Remes, from Valtolia. After weeks of back and forth communication, they'd finally arranged to meet in person in Argos, ahead of the events of the colosseum. Just a private, one-on-one mind meld. Nothing more, nothing less...

"So I finally meet my fellow Coinmaster," Yuzef says, greeting the other man with a firm, impressive handshake. "So great to finally make your acquaintance, Lord Remes. I've been looking forward to this for so, so long... our correspondence has been the highlight of my weeks since we first contacted one another. How are you doing? Can I fetch you something to drink before we sit? My servants can get you anything you'd like, no hassle—"

[courtiings]

@poweir [ for lian ]

Alphaeus most certainly did not want to compete in the colosseum games. He abhorred violence, and would have much rather spent his time in Argonia doing literally anything else.

(This seemed to be one major point of distinction between he and his father, and his brothers for that matter as well.)

There was, however, one fighter he held some interest in. The one he ran into a bit earlier, while he trained for the event. Tried as he might, he could not get the handsomely threatening (and threateningly handsome) man out of his head. The way he so easily attacked the sandbags, wielding his weapons as though they were tools of his trade, sweat glistening down his muscular physique—

And then Alfi slams into another person, seemingly also en route to their designated seats. Typical clumsy Alfi.

"Oh, I am so sorry—" he says, immediately apologizing. "I am such an fool, I should have seen you coming... are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

[kingdomcrows]

where: themys, argonia. whom: @poweir [ darian ]

while he's not known the knight of casther, at least on a friendly basis, he knows of him. kovider, beneath the colosseum, where some of the others that would be fighting have gathered to await their turn for glory in the sand pits. kovider is dressed in his medesian clothes, golden orange and black, strung over his shoulders, golden choker around his throat. his hair is dampened from the heat and no weapons hang on his hips. he does not need them, after all.

seeing the castherian man, a man from where he was told he was born but has no true connection to, he looks at him and then the men around them. "do you know your opponent yet?" he asks him, arms folding over his chest. "hearing the crowd cheering gets the adrenaline going, doesn't it? makes my body feel alive."

[courtiings]

@poweir: “ get on your knees and beg. ”

Rayne enjoyed younger men. What they lacked in tact and expertise, perhaps, they more than made up for in enthusiasm. All that hot, red blood pumping through their virile veins, muscles bulging and pricks standing at full attention... it reminded them of Lord Auridon in his prime, when they first met. Rayne didn't like to admit it, but that was the first they they'd ever truly felt passion for another person. Perhaps even the last time as well.

But this wasn't passion. It was lust.

Quite some time ago, long before he ascended to his title of coinmaster, Rayne and Lucien formed an instant connection upon the latter's official debut in Valtolian society. They saw the rising lord as a potential model for their then-adolescent son; so quietly strong and clever.

But more important, the young man proved himself to be an excellent fuck.

They met at semi-occasional interval throughout the year, enjoying one another's company on an intellectual level before then proceeding to the bedroom... if, as in cases like these, they ever even made it that far.

"You want me to get on my knees and beg for you, ser...?" Rayne smirks, entertained by Lucien's initiative to show some dominance. No man could truly overpower Rayne —except perhaps their late husband, and even then— but they liked Lucien enough to entertain the possibility.

"Alright," Rayne says, leaving a coquettish little kiss to the younger man's lips, then unbuttoning his shirt and continuing the act as more and more of Lucien's toned chest revealed itself to the laird. When Rayne finally arrived to the ground, knees planted firmly on the ground, they look up at Lucien with hungry, desperate eyes, hands clasped at Lucien's belt.

"Please, ser..." they begin, in a desperately pleading voice they knew would drive Lucien crazy, rubbing the growing tent as it appeared inside the young man's pants right before them. "I want your cock, so, so badly... I will simply die if you do not give it to me, in my mouth, in my hands, inside my tight little cunt—"

"Don't you want me to make you feel divine, ser...?"

[courtiings]

@poweir

With all on his mind, especially after the events that transpired in Valtolia, to say Alphaeus felt plagued would have been an understatement. Worrying about his future in terms of marriage was one thing, saying nothing of now also having to be afraid for his mortality...

He wanted to talk with his mother. He always knew what to say in times like these. Even more so than Aurelius did. Such was a queen's lot in life — being fiercely eloquent and sensitive in ways their husbands needn't.

Finding Sorian in his bedchambers, where he —what else— primped and preened himself in front of a vanity, Alfi knocked gently, hovering at the door.

"Mother," Alfi begins, "can you tell me the story of how you met father again? I know you are likely bored of it by now, but... I want to hear it. Since I am to be married soon enough myself, and..."

"I am afraid I will be miserable with whichever man I am arranged to be with. I want to know I will be alright, as you were..."