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Devos, on the other hand, wore clothing of a more simple, fitted, and duller hue. He had chosen a mixture of brown and beige, two colors which did not have any business making any man look good, but managed to do so anyway. As much as Devos might have been attempting to avoid any accusations of being overly ostentatious, his attire was exquisite nonetheless. Every stitch was perfect, every seam even. The hemming alone could have inspired a sonnet. Hems, hems everywhere. Even in his attempt to be unassuming, he was a walking embodiment of the concept of refinement.
“Of course, at once,” Sebastian smirked, already working on the fastening of his waistcoat.
“Allow me to help you, sire.”
Devos crossed the room and began to help Sebastian disrobe. The tailor’s fingers were agile, and his mouth was eager. The moment Sebastian’s flesh was exposed, Davos was working down his body, lips and tongue paying homage to the future monarch of Force.
Leaning back against a wall and letting the young man before him do his carnal work, Sebastian wondered what Sir Lucan would think if he could see him. The knight was never terribly far from the young prince’s mind, even when in dalliance with Davos. The two of them had never pretended they were engaging in a great love affair. This was a matter of meeting mutual needs.
Would he be disgusted? Possibly. Maybe even probably.
But in these moments, where lust charged through Sebastian’s body and his brain and made it impossible for him to think in the usual ways, he liked to imagine that Lucan might desire him.
It was always Sir Lucan he thought of when he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Always. From the moment he first laid eyes on the man he had been hopelessly, utterly enchanted.
Devos’ mouth was wrapped around Sebastian’s cock, but his eyes were closed. He was imagining someone else too, and Sebastian did not mind. He also did not ask. Their respective crushes were a personal matter. Living in Castle Force meant keeping one’s mind like a personal vault.
It was about physical release. Nothing else.
It was wrong. It was dangerous.
It was hot.
In all Sebastian’s fantasies about his knight, he found himself face down and filled, the powerful, muscular beast of a man above him claiming his ass with rough and dominant thrusts. The more twisted his imagination the better.
He enacted much of what he wanted on the lithe and willing tailor, reaching down to grip Davos by his glossy dark hair. Davos was just as helpless in his grasp as he would be in Lucan’s. He would be just as willing. Just as sexually submissive. He would give himself over entirely to the powerful knight, and he would be given no choice in the matter.
The young prince had a commanding presence in such times. Outside this room, people thought him hapless and ineffectual. When his passions were aroused, sides of the prince emerged seen nowhere else.
Down on his knees, Davos pulled back and looked up at him with an expression in his gaze that Sebastian had come to recognize. It was something of a pre-orgasmic habit, though a very strange one.
“What?” He growled the word, hearing his voice raspier and deeper than usual. Sex transformed him. He wasn’t the only one to notice. The expression on Davos’ face told him that the tailor saw it too.
“Your eye is doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what?
“Glowing. Red. And…”
He knew what Davos was going to say. He said it almost every time.
“Horns. Or, one horn. I see it like it is coming out of your head. I….”
It was classic projection, of course. They both knew what they were doing was wrong. According to everybody in the castle, a man lying with a man was a deep and abiding sin. Demonic, even.
Devos had a great imagination. It enabled him to create the most incredible pieces of clothing anybody in Force had ever seen. Orders came in from other royal houses as well quite frequently. He was a treasure, this tailor. One of the rare gems in the crown of a kingdom regarded as being a dwindling military power.
“If I am a demon, then perhaps you ought to do as I say, lest I damn you,” Sebastian growled, leaning into the role. He did not mind playing the bad guy.
He pulled Davos’ mouth deeper on his cock, holding him down until he felt the beginning of panicked struggle. He let him go just before it would became unbearable for the tailor.
“You’re evil,” Davos grinned up at him once he’d sucked a few deep breaths in between gorgeously swollen lips.
Davos might be the only person in the palace who appreciated Sebastian for who he was. Maybe he imagined horns and such from time to time, but there was nothing but hunger in his gaze.
