The Blue Prince

Thankfully, Gerulf was not affected so much by alcohol that he had a hangover the following day, though admittedly he hadn’t partaken of quite as great a quantity as his fellow card players. Thus he was clear headed enough to spend the morning doing his duty to his correspondence. His pay packet was cheeringly healthy, despite it only covering half a week, and he was able to send out money to cover an odd couple of bills he still owed from when he was living at Mrs Bell’s. He hated owing money, so it felt good to get that off his shoulders.

Mrs Burry, or at least he assumed it had been her, had slipped a folded edition of the news sheet under his door, so he spent some time reading it thoroughly. Nothing much had happened in the city since he’d been ensconced in the Prince’s House, but happily whoever was in charge of writing the sheet had made that sound as exciting as humanly possible.

With so little to do, he found the days seemed to move far too quickly. Zita brought his lunch and laughed at him when he startled and had to look to his watch to confirm that it was indeed early afternoon, and by the time he had finished eating, the low wintery light and the angle at which his window sat conspired to make him feel like it was bearing on evening. Feeling slightly depressed by this, he was glad when a brisk rap sounded at his door. The volume of the knock told him it wasn’t Zita or Mrs Burry and the lack of skinny toffee-noses barging into his room informed him it wasn’t Armas either, so he rose and answered. A slight, middle aged man, looking completely at home in his ornate livery, stood at attention in the quiet corridor. He made a small nod of greeting, which Gerulf returned.

“I am Aldric, Her Grace Lady Adara’s steward,” he said in a clipped voice. “Miss Tynne wishes to speak with you, Mr Gerulf, if you’ve time.”

Gerulf turned to pick up his jacket. “I’m happy to make time for Miss Tynne, Mr Aldric,” he replied. “Where might she wish me to meet her?”

“She is awaiting you in the garden, near the fountain.”

Gerulf nodded and pulled on his coat, then followed Aldric out of the Prince’s House and towards the palace, turning away from the scullery door to follow a narrow path that skirted the upper lawn of the palace gardens. After a few hundred yards, the path widened and turned to bisect the vast, smooth lawn, taking them down a gentle slope towards a paved, circular area with a fountain at its centre. There was hardly a soul about, and Gerulf could easily spot Miss Tynne’s small figure, swaddled in a dark green cloak, perched on a stone bench. Aldric paused, and turned to Gerulf with a questioning look. Gerulf nodded an affirmative; he was fine on his own from here, and Aldric turned back towards the palace with a polite “Good day.”

There was a harsh bite in the air today, the pale clouds hanging low and foreboding over the expanse of the delicately cultivated gardens. The chilly air was still and moist, stinging against Gerulf’s face as he walked. Why on earth would a delicate young lady choose this place to meet on such a day?

As he approached, Miss Tynne turned to look at him, her cheeks and the tip of her nose bright pink and her mouth turned up in a ready smile.

“Ah, hello! Thank you for coming,” she said smiling. Gerulf stood before her and made a polite bow.

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Tynne. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” She gestured for him to sit beside her, and he did, grateful for the protective barrier of his dense coat between the stone seat and his backside. Miss Tynne’s outfit was all smooth wool and sleek fur trim, covering all of her but her bright, round face, like the sun peeping through clouds. The idea made him smile.

“I wanted to talk to you about a few things. You don’t mind do you? I was rather worried, and you seem such a nice gentleman.”

“I don’t know that I’d call myself a gentleman Miss,” Gerulf replied, somewhat uncomfortably, “but I’ll do what I may to help ease your worries. May I assume you’re concerned for His Majesty?”

She sighed dramatically and stared at the fountain. The surging water was sluggish, probably due to the cold, loudly showering down into the elaborately carved stone basin beneath it. Miss Tynne tilted her head as she stared at it, her eyes artfully wide.

“We’ve known each other since we were children, and he’s always been...withdrawn. But lately, maybe even the last year or more, it seems he doesn’t even make an effort to talk to anyone. He just lets other people come to him. Would you agree, or am I worrying over nothing?”

“Well,” Gerulf replied, “It’s true I’ve not seen any evidence that his Majesty pursues human contact, at least not beyond quite a formal level. But it seems that he is not entirely closed off. I know he converses with his man, Armas. And he appears to truly appreciate your mother’s visits.”

Miss Tynne sighed and nodded again, brushing an escaped lock of hair back underneath her hood. “I worry that, some day, he’s going to let all of his...his fear and everything else build up until he cuts himself off, out of sheer convenience. It would be just like him!” She looked sidelong at Gerulf. “I suppose that the fact he hired you goes someway to disproving that though, yes?”

Gerulf smiled encouragingly at her, though he wasn’t entirely convinced, not after becoming used to the Prince’s austere manner and lack of interest in him outside the bedroom. And what did she mean by his fear?

“Why did he hire you, Mr Gerulf?” she asked. “Oh wait! That sounded terrible! I only meant why did he pick you instead of one of the others, that’s all!”

“Don’t worry Miss Tynne, I understood your meaning perfectly well.” What to tell her though? He couldn’t tell a lady that he was hired because he’d dared to fuck the Prince so deeply that it made him scream. “I-”

“I suppose it’s because you’re so big, isn’t it?” she said ingenuously, making Gerulf flinch. “At least, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as tall as you. He’s always liked tall men. And you look like you’ve got quite big muscles as well. Were you in a circus before?”

For a moment, Gerulf was quite taken aback by her insouciant, innocent questions. Then, somewhat impressed; it must be quite a feat to be both innocent and well liked in the spiteful, political world of a royal court.

“No, Miss, I wasn’t. I was a soldier for many years.”

“Ah, I see! How wonderfully useful you must have been! Do you have any exciting stories?” She turned on the seat to face him, her eyes alight and her pink face glowing.

How could he turn her down? So he told her a few choice tales, or the more tame ones, at least. He told her about the last days of the war in Holn before the border was moved back, when he was a new recruit, and all about the first unit he’d been with. He told her about the endless patrols with Captain Galen during the more peaceful years, dealing with civilian trouble and minor scuffles in Nerim’s allying countries, which they got sent to deal with. She listened to it all with wide eyes, one dainty, gloved hand raised to her face, so she could place it over her mouth when each tale called for a show of surprise or horror.

He was just telling her the story of a mine collapse in the Uan region of Inian, when she stopped him to ask a question for the first time.

“Is that where you were injured? That’s what that mark on your face is from yes? An injury rather than a birth mark?”

Reflexively, Gerulf reached up to touch his cheek before replying. “It was due to an injury, yes. But not in the mines. Miss Tynne, what do you know of the nation of Whara?”

Her expressive face showed unease, for once. “I know that there was some dreadful trouble there not very long ago. A revolution, yes? A neighbouring country stepped in and helped the revolt for fear that the ruler would attack them. That must have made it so much worse!”

How much to tell her? Best to leave out the truly gory details.
“The government of Merca did step in to help the rebels, yes. But in truth I feel they were right in doing so. The ruler, the Potentate of Whara had assassinated something in the region of four hundred people to get to his position, and reintroduced slavery and a monetary justice system to what had been a peaceful and progressive nation. He’d been pressing at the borders of Merca for some years, it was only a matter of time before he started trying to reach out in other directions.”

“And Merca shares borders with some of the nations in the Empire. I see,” Miss Tynne replied, her voice fainter than usual. “I try to keep up with these things, really. But I hadn’t realised it was that bad.”

“Few did. No reason to cause a panic, not when the Potentate’s armies were so poorly organised. He caused a great deal of suffering, but didn’t have the resources to be a...a conqueror. We were sent because of the Empire’s good relationship with the ruler of Merca, to help out. It was decided that we would be kept away from the serious combat, as the situation was so politically tense, and so we were sent to help peaceful civilians escape the country, particularly the families of those involved in the rebellion. People were so frightened...everywhere we went there were pitch battles in the streets. It was hard to tell who was our ally and who wasn’t.”

“And your scar?”

“Well, there was a ghetto, an area in the capital city where people were effectively kept prisoners, though nobody in the government would call it that. The people there were part of a pacifist religious group, the same religion as about half of the population of Merca are a part. They had refused to convert to the Potentate’s faith and so were trapped there. We were instructed to help them escape, but as we got close the local military had already started barricading everyone in and setting fires. We broke through the barricade and started moving people through the gap, but some were trapped. A couple of my men and I went into one house where we thought there were people hiding in a cellar, and there were...but there was also a fuel store down there. The house collapsed when the fuel ignited, all the civilians got out alright, but two of my men were killed in the blast and I was struck by a burning wooden beam...broke my shoulder and scorched my skin.”

He sighed; the memory still had the power to make him feel weak, even after so much time had passed. Poor Urs, who’d been so young. And poor Conor; even though it hadn’t been anything akin to a romance, Gerulf always held onto some small feeling for his lovers, and that death continued to haunt him.

Miss Tynne’s hand was pressed so firmly over her mouth that the skin around her fingertips had begun to whiten. “How terrible,” she said faintly, then turned to stare at the fountain. Gerulf wondered if he should apologise for upsetting her, but wasn’t sure if she’d take offense.

Her gloved hand reached out and touched the back of his fingers, a gentle, conciliatory gesture from a young woman who didn’t what to say. Nice, Gerulf thought, that she had at least made the attempt. Minutes passed in silence, until she spoke again.

“It’s not a terribly ugly scar, at least,” she said in a calm tone, firmly setting their conversation back on more comfortable ground. “And it didn’t touch your eye, so that’s something.”

“Quite true.”

“Does it ever hurt you?”

“Hardly ever miss, the skin’s quite tough.” No need to tell her that sitting out in the cold made the whole side of his face ache.

Suddenly, she turned on the bench and gestured, smilingly, for him to face her. He did, and she whisked off one little glove to reach up and touch the scar. Her fingers were surprisingly warm, for all that her gloves were so thin.

“Oh, it’s soft!” she declared happily, lightly pressing her fingers against the flesh just above his cheekbone. “I thought it would feel like nasty old leather or something.”

Gerulf chuckled and turned his face further so she could put her whole palm against his cheek. She giggled.

“You know, it rather suits you. I mean, I don’t mean to upset you, but you’ve a quite...ordinary sort of face. Not ugly, but not really notable. The scar makes you look dashing.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“Sorry, was that terribly rude of me?” she asked, snatching her hand back all of a sudden.

Gerulf shook his head. “I understand your meaning Miss, don’t worry. I was always plain looking before.”

She smiled. “Some people have some very silly ideas about beauty though, don’t they. I mean, Mihai obviously thinks that you’re handsome, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

Gerulf rather doubted that particular string of logic given how little interest the Prince took in his face, but didn’t see any point in telling her so.

“And there are people who say that I’m pretty, but I don’t see it. I’ve got a squashy nose and entirely too much chin.”

“I wouldn’t say that at all, Miss,” Gerulf said quickly. “You’ve a very elegant face.” That earned him a beaming smile, though he didn’t really feel that she’d been fishing for a compliment. Elegant was always a good word to use with women though. He didn’t know much about women, but he knew ‘elegant’.

“I don’t compare to some ladies though,” she continued. “I don’t mind it, I’d rather be happy than be beautiful and have to get married to some awful old lecher just because he had money. No, I can think of far better examples of beauty. Look at Rin!”

Gerulf thought back to the seamstress, her gentle composure and the grace of her movements. Even if her face had been as plain and scarred as his, she would have been an enviable beauty. “She’s a very striking young woman, Miss, that’s for certain. Have the two of you been friends for very long?”

“Oh yes, ages. Well, it feels like ages, though really she’s only been at the Palace for three and a bit years. She’s all the way from Gimon, you know! She travelled for eight weeks to get here, all because the Queen saw a lady from Rin’s home city wearing a dress that she’d made, and said it was so lovely that she wanted to employ the seamstress who did it. And she sent for her, just like that!”

“She was happy to come?” Gerulf asked.

“Oh yes. That’s how we first realised we’d get along so well, really. We got talking and it turned out that she was supposed to get married to one of her father’s friends, but she didn’t like him at all. He wasn’t going to let her carry on with making clothes, which would have been terrible.” She ran a fold of her perfectly cut winter skirt through her fingers, smiling at the feel of the fabric. “Rin is an artist. She loves her work, and it makes so many people happy. I always feel a little bit honoured to be wearing clothes that she’s made for me.”

Gerulf could only nod his head, unsure of what to say.

“Even though she came from so far away,” Miss Tynne continued, her voice suddenly soft, “from such a different culture to me, the more time we spent together the more we found we had in common. I adore Mihai, I truly do, for so much of my life he was my only friend...but Rin is my best friend. I often feel guilty for spending less time with him, but I can’t bear to be away from her for too long.”

Several odds and ends of information that had been scattered in Gerulf’s mind since his visit to the seamstress’ work room two days ago, neatly coalesced and became a whole, precise fact.

“You’re in love with her,” he stated, quietly.

Miss Tynne startled and abruptly sat bolt upright, glancing worriedly around her to see if anyone was listening. Gerulf suddenly felt awful.

“Ach, I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “There’s nobody around, don’t worry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“It was...truly that obvious?” she asked him worriedly.

“I suppose...to an observant person, one who was looking at things from an outside perspective, possibly. But I don’t think many would realise.”

She stared evenly at his face for long moments, her eyes searching and assessing, finding what he didn’t know. But he was sure he’d been forgiven when her smile reappeared.

“Nobody knows,” she hissed, mischievously. “Not even Mihai, though I’ll tell him when I have the chance.”

“Does she know?” Gerulf asked, half expecting to hear a sob story.

“Well goodness, she’d better had! We’ve been lovers for nearly two years!” Miss Tynne abruptly burst into delighted giggles at the look of surprise on Gerulf’s face.

“This is the trick with the Palace,” she told him, glancing around again and leaning into him, clearly enjoying being a conspirator. “You can’t keep many secrets, or at least not for long. It’s best to pick just one big one and do a really good job of protecting it. Since I’ve been together with Rin, I’ve consented to become engaged twice. Twice! I broke it off once enough people knew about it, obviously, but both times were with perfectly odious men, so nobody would make much of that. I’ll have to think of something new soon though, or people will say that I’m a tease. And of course, when she arrived, Rin told everyone she was a widow, so she can say she’s pining or some such thing.”

“That’s very clever indeed,” Gerulf replied, feeling slightly stupid for having underestimated Miss Tynne’s wits. She glowed at him, so happy, now she had gotten over the surprise, to have shared her lovely secret with somebody. Entrusted it. Gerulf knew he’d keep it as well as she had.

It occurred to him then that he may have a good opportunity before him.

“May I ask you a question Miss Tynne?” At her slightly worried look, he amended; “Not a personal question, perish the thought. But one about the Maester.”

“Oh yes, I suppose you want to know about his mask?”

“Quite right. There’s a lot of stories going around about why he wears it, but I’ve yet to hear one that rings true. Would you have any ideas? Would you be allowed to tell me?”

A little smirk appeared on her face, along with a flash of smugness at realising she knew something that Gerulf didn’t. “I’m sure I can’t imagine what kind of tales are going around. You’ll have to tell me sometime.”

“I’d be quite happy to, Miss. Though I warn you, some are quite...beyond reason.”

She giggled. “I suppose few people know the real reason because it isn’t spoken of much within the Palace out of respect for the Queen, but outside the Palace there’s barely any interest in the Maester anyway. It’s actually quite on topic; he had some kind of pox disease when he was a child and it left scars on his face. The Queen has an absolute horror of scars though, and rather than making her look at his face every day, he decided to wear a mask. One hardly ever sees him without it.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Gerulf replied.

“It’s quite creepy, isn’t it,” Miss Tynne whispered, once again enjoying the conspiracy.

“Like being watched through holes in a fence,” Gerulf replied, leaning in and making her titter.

She craned her neck to put her mouth closer to his ear, but he never got to hear the next joke; instead she gasped and, in the very instant that he heard it, he felt a brush of cold against his cheek and caught a flashing glimpse of white out the corner of his eye. They lifted their faces to the sky as one, to see the first, timid flakes of snow drifting down from the heavy clouds.

“Oh, lovely,” Miss Tynne breathed. “I do adore the snow. How pretty it is.”

Gerulf nodded, watching a few flakes drop and fade into damp smudges on the small expanse of stone bench between them. It would probably have to fall for a while before it would lie. Maybe there’d be enough to take a walk in by morning.

“Oh look!” Miss Tynne exclaimed suddenly, pointing towards the lawn on the other side of the large circular patio around the fountain. Gerulf turned to glimpse a figure attempting to tuck himself unobtrusively behind a topiaried hedge. He wouldn’t have been able to tell who it was from that distance, but for the blue coat.

Miss Tynne, unabashed by her friend’s attempt at concealing his presence, rose to her feet and waved her hand gaily, energetically beckoning him towards them as he grudgingly emerged from his cover. Gerulf suppressed his laughter and rose to his feet as the Prince approached. Judging by the chilly look on His Majesty’s face, he might have brought the snow along with him when he stepped outside.

Miss Tynne made a token bob of a curtsey as Prince Mihai drew close to them, and Gerulf took the cue to bow, although it didn’t seem that the Prince really noticed. He was focused entirely on Miss Tynne, walking straight to her, ignoring his attendant.

“What on Earth are you doing out here?” he asked quietly. “You realise how cold it is? You’ll catch your death.”

“Oh dear, dear Mihai,” Tynne said with treacly sweetness. “How tight your jaw is today. One would almost think that you were cross with me for talking to your servant.”

Just like that, Miss Tynne had achieved something Gerulf would, up to that point, have said was impossible. Prince Mihai began to blush. Staring wide eyed at the young woman, clearly having not expected the source of his ire to be called upon, a dull red began to creep over his pale cheeks.

“You can’t expect him to never talk to another soul, you know. Everyone needs more than one person,” she continued meaningfully, tapping her finger against the Princes’ chest. Gerulf picked up on what she was saying to him, even if the Prince didn’t. “Anyway, I am quite chilly now, as it happens, so you may have him back. Thank you for your company Mr Gerulf.”

She turned and made a little bob to him, which he returned with a bow, and then she was bustling back along the wide path towards the palace.

The Prince turned to watch her go, which had the dual purpose, Gerulf suspected, of hiding his reddened face from Gerulf’s eyes. He was as tense as a bowstring for the moment, obviously quite discomforted by how things had turned out. Gerulf cleared his throat.

“Are you out for a walk, my Lord? It’s quite pleasant weather for it, I must say.”

The Prince turned to him with a suspicious look. “It’s snowing, Gerulf.”

“Yes my Lord, but we both of us have our coats.”

The Prince glanced down at himself, saw that he was indeed dressed in his coat, and let out a small sigh. Staring into the distance, he began to walk, his body language indicating that Gerulf should accompany him. He did so, keeping half a step behind the Prince, which he hoped would come across as respectful rather than dawdling.

“I’ll admit I overheard some of your conversation, Gerulf. May I ask how you’ve met Miss Tynne before?”

Gerulf was slightly surprised by the Prince’s light tone. For the first time, he didn’t feel like he was being told off.

“Miss Tynne was visiting Mistress Rin when I went to have my clothes fitted my Lord. She realised that I was your new employee and greeted me.”

The Prince nodded, then stopped walking and stared around him, vaguely. They’d followed the path away from the lawns now, and were standing at the edge of a copse of trees which had been carefully cultivated in order to look wild. The snow was starting to gather in patches on the paths and the tree trunks.

Out of the corner of his eye Gerulf caught sight of a figure moving among the trees, some 30 or 40 yards away. Forcing himself not to overreact, he watched carefully, until it appeared that the person was moving away from the trees, away from them, on one of the other paths. He was too damn tense. Telling Miss Tynne about Whara had put him on edge.

“Why are we out here?” Prince Mihai mused, in an airy voice that Gerulf wasn’t sure he was supposed to have heard.

“Are you cold my lord?” he asked.

The Prince seemed to consider it, then shook his head. “Tynne gets so silly about the snow. What do you think Gerulf? I can’t see the appeal of it.”

“I quite enjoy it, my Lord. Though more the sight of it than actually being out in it.”

“I never would have singled you out as an aesthete, Gerulf.”

“I imagine not my Lord. I simply enjoy the snow.”

The Prince nodded and stared back towards the Palace, wandering a few slow steps in that direction, then ambling back to Gerulf’s side. “Why is that?” he asked.

“Why do I like the snow, my Lord?”

“Mm.”

“I suppose...it makes everything look different, my Lord.”

Abruptly alert, the Prince tore his gaze from the distance and fixed his pale eyes on Gerulf’s face. His pallor against the swirling white made Gerulf wonder if he was an aesthete after all.

“How so?”

“Well, my Lord, when I was a lad I lived in a little mining village. It was up in the hills and half of the village sat on bare soil or rock. It was an ugly place. The snow...it transformed it. Such a little change and it was suddenly a place I could enjoy being in. Usually it was so...quiet.”

“Is that why you left? Why you joined the army?”

The Prince’s voice was a careful balance of boredom and disbelief which failed to hide the fact that he was actually interested.

“That was part of the reason, my Lord. Also, my Grandfather was ill, and I his only living relative. It was a fair paying job for a lad of my age.”

“And that story you were telling earlier, about how you were injured. Is that why you left the army?”

Surprise, at how much of their conversation the Prince had managed to hear from the other side of the fountain. “That was part of it my Lord. That and the death of some...some good friends in the same incident. It soured me.”

The Prince drew his eyes away once again and nodded his head once, solemnly. In silence, he began to walk, and once again Gerulf followed, just half a step behind. There was enough snow on the path now to crunch under their feet as they walked back towards the fountain. Far in the distance, a woman leaned out of one of the main doors of the Palace and excitedly beckoned someone to her from inside. She and her beau stepped out into the tumbling snow, their rich clothes incongruous in the grey chill. Their presence, though too distant to see even the detail of their faces, spoiled the feeling of privacy.

Which was why Gerulf was so surprised when the Prince slowed his steps, deliberately letting Gerulf draw next to him. “I must admit,” he said with a sigh, “that I still am not quite sure what you meant by what you said to me the evening before last.”

Gerulf cast his mind back. “Ah, about-”

“About your mouth.”

“Well my Lord, if you’re willing I can demonstrate.”

“Hm. Why not.”

*

The Prince’s bedroom with its roaring fire was shockingly warm after their walk in the snow. The Prince actually shed some of his clothes right in front of Gerulf (which heated him up more than he’d have liked to admit) but was still in trousers and shirt sleeves by the time he went into the bathroom to sort himself out. Gerulf wondered if he should tell him that he didn’t need to prepare himself as he usually did, but then one never knew what might happen and he’d never seen the harm in being optimistic.

Gerulf undressed himself and waited in front of the fire place, as he was now accustomed to doing, enjoying the feeling of his back slowly being cooked through by the heat. The room seemed strangely...normal, though he wasn’t sure what he’d expected to be different about it, given that he was simply here in the afternoon, rather than the evening. The curtains were drawn and the lamps lit despite the pale daylight outside, but still it felt somehow new.

When the Prince finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his robe and sporting a pair of slippers in deference to the cold floor boards, he paused before the bed and stared awkwardly at it for some moments before turning his face, but not his eyes, towards Gerulf.

“How...”

“Do you wish to lie down on the bed, my Lord? You’d likely be most comfortable that way.”

The Prince nodded worriedly, and Gerulf wondered if he should be kind and tell him exactly what to expect.

No, no he wouldn’t.

He slowly approached as the Prince shed his clothes, and turned away to hang up the robe. When he turned back, his master was in the same position that Gerulf had arranged him in the last time, but...curled up; his legs pressed together, his arms wrapped across his chest, his jaw clenched. Not a happy young man.

Not a young man who was used to looking his lovers in the face.

Aroused though, Gerulf noted as he sat as lightly as he could on the edge of the mattress, if not quite all the way yet. He reached out his hands, keeping one eye on the Prince’s shuttered face, and stroked both palms up the young man’s thighs and hips and up to his waist.

“Try to relax my Lord. I feel certain you’ll enjoy this.”

The Prince glanced at his face for a bare second, then nodded and visibly tried to make himself calm. Gerulf eased himself fully onto the bed, settling himself so he could comfortably lean over the Prince’s lap. Prince Mihai jerked back as he watched, nerves finally getting the better of him.

“What-what are you-”

“As I said, my lord, with my mouth.”

The Prince seemed about to say something else, until Gerulf leaned down onto his right elbow, slipped his hand around the stiff, pale pink member in front of him, and gave the tip of it a wet lick.

“Aah!”

Tasted nice, clean and musky. Gerulf licked his lips and slid his mouth over the head of the Prince’s penis, feeling the foreskin push back just a little more. A high, strangled whine came from the head of the bed, and Gerulf would have smiled had he been in a better position to do so. He slid his lips carefully down the smooth shaft, enjoying the sensation of warm, firm flesh pressing his tongue down, rubbing at the roof of his mouth. A gentle sucking brought a stifled whimper from the Prince and a whisper of bitter salt taste into the back of Gerulf’s mouth.

Prince Mihai’s hips twitched violently as he gasped aloud, and Gerulf shifted to be able to grip his thigh with his right hand, hold him still to some degree. He sucked a little harder, a little deeper, and this time the Prince’s hands were on the top of his head, grabbing at his hair to pull him up and off.

“What-what are you doing?” he panted.

“Pleasuring you with my mouth, my Lord,” Gerulf replied politely, letting go of the Prince’s penis in order to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is something wrong?”
The Prince looked down at himself, and the annoyed confusion on his face was so transparent that Gerulf knew exactly what he was thinking; he couldn’t claim that he wasn’t enjoying it, not when his penis was hard as a rock and dripping fluid from its tip.

“It...it’s embarrassing...” the Prince gasped out, his cheeks pinking.

“Who is here to see but you and I?” Gerulf asked. “You who is enjoying it and me who is doing it.”

Prince Mihai glanced rapidly around the room then screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head just slightly. Gerulf nodded to himself and squeezed his hand around the Prince’s member, rubbing and stroking just the way he did when he fucked him. The familiar sensation seemed to soothe the Prince and he let his head drop back against the pillow, eyes still tightly closed. His hands fell to his sides, leaving his torso bared and vulnerable looking, his skin pale and soft, his little nipples temptingly perked up.

Gerulf couldn’t resist.

Keeping his grip with his left hand, he slid his right arm forward on the sheets, moving his weight above it, until he could lean down and stroke his tongue across one tiny bud. Prince Mihai squeaked and lifted his hands again to push Gerulf away, but by that time Gerulf had started to suckle, and that turned out to be another thing Prince Mihai hadn’t known he liked until it got done to him.

“W-what are you doing now?” he asked faintly.

Gerulf pulled away with a faint pop. “I’m sucking your nipple, my Lord. Do you like it?”

“L-like?” came the wavery reply.

That was most likely supposed to be ‘yes’.

The other nipple responded nicely to the same treatment, warming and hardening between Gerulf’s lips, and he rewarded it by pressing it gently between the tip of his tongue and the edge of his front teeth. The string of formless vowels that emanated from the Prince’s mouth at this told him that his efforts were appreciated.

Feeling the slight body relax underneath him, Gerulf let his master’s chest alone and slid back down the bed, allowing himself the indulgence of planting a damp-lipped kiss on the flat little tummy as he went.

This time when he took the Prince’s penis into his mouth, the response was a soft, breathy moan that made Gerulf’s own erection give a hard, demanding throb. This time he took him deep straight away, sucking firmly, until his lips were touching his fingers, until the blunt tip pushed at the soft flesh at the top of his throat.

And then he took his hand away and let his throat open up and that was it, the Prince was inside him, warm and tasty and pulsing against his lips and tongue. The Prince panted, wriggling slightly underneath him, but no attempt to get away this time. No, this time the hands on Gerulf’s head were cupping and holding, the motions of his hips asking for more.

Gerulf settled into it happily, flexing his throat and sucking in the gentlest rhythm he could manage, contentedly ignoring his own body’s demands, at least for the time being. He loved this, always had, nothing in all the world quite like having somebody in this way.

The Prince’s gasps became heavier as he reached his peak, ending in a cringing wail as he came, his seed pulsing into Gerulf’s throat and over his tongue as he gently pulled back. He swallowed every drop, and held the spent member carefully in his mouth until it began to soften. Finally, he let go, and forced himself to back off and kneel up on the bed, his rigid member bouncing up to tap against his belly.

Prince Mihai looked like a wreck, sprawled weakly on the bed, his eyes bleary and barely open. His nipples had become red, as had his softened penis. His cheeks were already almost back to their usual pale hue.

“Did you enjoy that, my Lord?”

“Y-yuh...very good Grlf...” he managed, then his eyelids fluttered and closed.

Gerulf barely managed to resist the urge to hitch his master’s legs up over his shoulders and thrust into him, but he did it, settling for his own hands. Cupping his sack with one and stroking with the other, he was on the brink in next to no time. Up to that point he had simply looked down at his own body, but finally he found once again that he couldn’t resist temptation, and cast his eyes hungrily over the lovely shape of the Prince’s body, letting them creep up to his dozing face...

To see that he wasn’t dozing, but was watching the motions of Gerulf's hands through half closed eyes, and that sleepy, half aware look was enough to finish Gerulf off. He grit his teeth against any sound he made and cupped his hand to try and catch his seed as it pumped out, but when he looked back at the Prince, he was staring curiously at a dribble of Gerulf’s semen on his own pearl-smooth thigh.

“I apologise, my Lord,” Gerulf said, and leaned down to lick it off. The Prince said nothing in response, simply nodded, shook himself and rose from the bed to take himself off into the bathroom.

Gerulf licked the rest of his semen from his hands as there was nothing else to really be done with it, then climbed off the bed and began to get back into his clothes.

That...that had been very good indeed. He could have thought of better things to do of course, but...well, the Prince was the Prince.

Just as he was buttoning his waistcoat, Prince Mihai re-emerged from the bathroom, clean and smelling pleasant, if still looking rather sleepy. He turned his head to acknowledge Gerulf’s continued presence in his bedroom, then walked over to his wardrobe to begin getting dressed. Gerulf put on his boots and jacket and, all done with his own dress, stood to watch the Prince who was...really putting on a great many clothes. He looked as if he was dressing for a formal meal.

“Are you dining with Her Grace lady Adara again this evening my Lord?” he asked politely.

“No Gerulf, I dine alone most evenings.”

He continued to dress, fiddling with his cravat for some minutes before casting it aside, presumably to have Armas do it later. He selected a delicate gold watch from the top drawer of the dresser and fitted it and its chain into his waistcoat pockets, the returned to his wardrobe to choose a jacket.

“My Lord, may I ask-”

“I’m sure you will whether I want you to or not Gerulf, just ask.”

“I’m just wondering my Lord...do you always dress so smartly for dinner? After all, it’s only you and Armas that will see-”

Gerulf stopped as the Prince slammed the wardrobe door and whirled around to face him, his pretty face lined with anger.

“Go away Gerulf!” he snapped. “Just...just leave!”

Astonished, Gerulf went straight out of the room and left the Prince’s apartments.

How had that happened so suddenly? What had he said that was so wrong?






NOTES : Hello everyone! Once again, I must apologise for how long it has taken to get this latest chapter up, but unfortunately the demons hadn’t been fully exorcised from my PC the last time, and they’ve been having a whale of a time nibbling through Important Bits of Stuff in there (like I know what went wrong!) Anyway, it’s working now *knocks on wood* and if any more of the little buggers pop up I’ll give Gerulf a long sword and tell him to get to work.

If you want to know when I put new stories and chapters on this site, the fabulous Paradox13 (who is also kind enough to beta read for me) has set up an email notifier for my stories. If you want to be included, send an email requesting inclusion in the mailing list to DancingGrimmUpdates@gmail.com, from the email address that you want to recieve the notification to, and she will send out an email every time I add something to the site.

All the best,
DG