A tale of artists, intrigue, and the magical renaissance

Twisted Smut 12 – Principe et Principessa {The Prince and the Princess}

The Prince had been told, on the morning of his coronation, that the silver crown would rest heavy on his brow. That the weight of responsibility would tear him down, that his steps would slow and weaken as if old age had crept up and found him before its time. His advisors, his uncles, the Lords and Ladies who pledged to help him with all of their power, each of them had at some point, in their own way, made it clear that they understood just how hard it must be to be the Prince of Milia.

The Prince is surrounded by people who didn’t know him at all, Principessa Rodiano thought, amused, watching his husband stride down the hallway a few paces ahead.

“If you’re trying to keep the spring out of your step, it’s not working,” Rodiano said quietly.

“Do I have a reason to keep the spring out of my step?” Prince Langone didn’t stop, but Rodiano hadn’t expected him to. Prince Langone was like a shark; if he slowed down the man would most likely sink. “I have a new Fabera who seems promising, I have people waiting to sign Lisicca’s trade route proposal, and I have a handsome husband quite willing to stare at my rear at the slightest opportunity.”

Rodiano turned his focus away from said rear, although he snuck another glance a few moments later, imagining its firmness and filling out his imagination with delightful memories. As was usual, Prince Langone had timed his lascivious remark perfectly; the guards waiting at the door to the mudroom hadn’t heard it, but if Rodiano replied in kind they would hear him.

Langone knew how much Rodiano cared about decorum, everything in its proper place.

They arrived at the door to the mudroom, and with a practiced quick few steps Rodiano overtook his husband. Where before he had been a few paces behind, where he could see threats, now he moved to enter the room first, first to take on any ambush that might be waiting on the other side.

“Honestly Rodiano, I’m fully capable of opening a door on my own,” Prince Langone chuckled, “you coddle me far too much.”

“My lord Prince!” As usual, the second the pair entered the mudroom Pelepoco was on his feet, making wide gestures of welcome, “had I such a man as the Principessa in my employ, I would not mind a little coddling. Eh? A little coddling?”

Rodiano suppressed a snarl. With great effort he stopped himself from snapping and instead spoke calmly.

“A small amount of decorum, if you please.” A bit of the anger he felt leaked through his tone, and Prince Langone gave him a glance.

You’re too lenient on the artists, Rodiano nodded to acknowledge the silent message, but the frown remained on his face. Some modicum of respect for you should be required, even from those valuable to the courts.

“It was but a joke, your Principessa,” Pelepoco said, “I did not mean to offend.” The portly man didn’t realize that his voice went gentle whenever he spoke to Rodiano. Behind him, his Echo, a petite girl with dark hair, sat in the corner and played with the hem of the ragged dress she wore. The Echo looked frightened, a fact that Rodiano stored away without even realizing it.

“It is not I you should be apologizing to,” he muttered, but the Prince broke in, perhaps to avoid a confrontation.

“Pelepoco, how goes your latest project?” Prince Langone asked, “do I recall correctly, that it will be finished today?”

“Your majesty has most excellent timing,” Pelepoco said, “she will actually be finished firing within the next few minutes.”

“Ah, how lucky for me,” Langone smiled. Rodiano, who had arranged the schedule to bring the Prince to the mudroom at the exact right moment, simply nodded, brow furrowed. There was something wrong, something that his mind was trying to piece together from a hundred tiny clues. As Pelepoco lead Prince Langone to the back of the mudroom, Rodiano tried to refocus on the room, to weed out what was giving him the crawling feeling along his spine.

It was a workshop of sorts, but one designed and dedicated to the Caelator who inhabited it. “The Mudroom” was a kiln for pottery, adjusted to give Pelepoco exactly the tools that he needed. Its long walls were lined with shelves full of the bowls and vases and pots that the man liked to craft in his spare time.

Rodiano thought that they gave him far too much freedom, but he supposed some concessions had to be made to keep him happy, the man couldn’t make ceramic servants every moment of every day.

Although it would be much more efficient…

No, focus. Something wasn’t right, and the nervous Echo was part of it. Rodiano glanced around the room again, sniffed as if he could tell the problem in the scent of clay and the hot smell of the kiln at the end of the room. The fire had cooled by this point, but the creation within would still be too hot to touch.

The new creation, that was another something strange, Pelepoco working to unfasten the kiln’s door in silence.

“No regaling stories, today, of your newest creation?” Rodiano asked casually.

“Ah, there is not much to say,” Pelepoco chuckled, “make so many of these creatures and it all becomes the same, no?”

That was enough to convince Rodiano that something was amiss. The Caelator always had something to say about his work, and the chuckle had held a hint of panic in it. Pelepoco was planning some harm, and now the question was how best to subvert that harm. Obviously Rodiano would stop the Prince from eating or drinking anything not prepared in front of them, but there was always the possibility of more straightforward methods of assassination that Pelepoco knew about.

Ironically, inside the mudroom was the safest place to be; Pelepoco didn’t value any rebellious ideology more than he valued his life, and with two guards outside and Rodiano inside, any attempt on the Prince would be a suicide attempt. The only thing that worried Rodiano were the glances that the Caelator kept shooting in his direction whenever he thought the man wasn’t looking.

The kiln door took up nearly half of the wall, and it groaned as Pelepoco swung it open carefully, while Rodiano watched him, carefully.

What is your game, Pelepoco? What has you so nervous today? What are you going to do?

“Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous,” Prince Langone said approvingly, and Rodiano snapped out of his reverie. The ceramic woman who stood in the middle of the kiln, her skin still glowing with heat, smiled at the Prince, Principessa, and Pelepoco.

“Thank you, your majesty.” Now that he was searching for it, Rodiano could definitely hear the resentment in Pelepoco’s voice. There had been no reports of anyone interacting with Pelepoco, so the rebels must have gotten in contact with one of the creations, passing messages whenever they came back for repairs. Perhaps Rodiano could have each of the pottery servants questioned individually-

“Ersilia, keep him in the corner,” Pelepoco’s voice was like a wire under tension snapping.

“Yes sir,” the red-hot girl said, and just like that Prince Langone was in the corner, the Caelator’s sculpture holding her arms on either side of him, too hot to shove away or try to duck beneath. It happened so quickly that Rodiano, who had been expecting something, barely had time to get his bearings.

The room was silent, but for the faint sound of sizzling from where the ceramic girl’s hands touched the walls in the corner. Prince Langone held himself very still, Pelepoco seemed frozen halfway between triumph and horror, and Rodiano himself was…puzzled.

“If anyone calls for help or tries to let the prince out, you are to latch on tight and burn him, grab his face and burn him to death, do you understand?” Pelepogo said.

“I understand, sir,” the ceramic girl replied.

“I…don’t understand,” Rodiano admitted. “What exactly do you hope to accomplish here, Pelepogo? If you start to burn him, I’ll kill you before the guards even arrive.”

“I’m going to go spend my last few hours somewhere else,” Pelepoco’s Echo said quietly, and she slipped through the wall. Rodiano didn’t spare her a glance.

“You don’t want me to burn your husband,” Pelepoco said. He was panting, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, “she would leave scars and ruin his face.”

“But…you would die,” Rodiano explained, as one might to a child.

“Kidnapping a Prince of Milia, as well as what I’m about to do…let’s face it, Principessa Rodiano, I’m going to die anyways,” Pelepoco said sadly. In a strange way, Rodiano was halfway impressed by the admission.

“You have something you are willing to die for, I can respect that,” he finally said, “very well then, for the moment you have the attention you wanted, make your play. You will burn the Prince unless…?”

“I will burn the Prince unless….unless,” Pelepoco licked his lips and looked back and forth from the Prince in the corner to the Principessa who stood before him, “unless you do as I say. Take off your shirt.”

Rodiano’s eyebrows shot up in a rare display of utmost surprise. There had been many possibilities that had gone through his head, potential plots and a host of demands he had been prepared for. This had not even occurred to him.

“Pelepoco, you cannot be serious,” he said, his voice flat.

“I…I…I am deadly serious, Principessa.”

“Please tell me that you want me to remove my shirt to expose any hidden armor I might be wearing, so that when you stab me you’ll know it strikes true.”

“Rodiano, please,” Prince Langone said, “don’t say that.”

“I would never hurt you!” Pelepoco said fiercely at the same time, “I love you!”

“I would have had more respect for you had that been the plan,” Rodiano lifted the shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. “You’re taking death upon yourself for what…this?” He indicated his shirtless body.

“For love,” Pelepoco said softly, “to be able to feel…just once feel your flesh against mine…just once to feel you inside of me. It is worth death to me to taste your lips. Does that not at least…flatter you?”

“It confuses me,” Rodiano sighed.

“How could it confuse you?” Pelepoco was approaching now, slowly, “look at you! That burly chest…your strong abs…your skin practically ripples across your muscles. You are a god in human form, Principessa, and a delight to the eyes…” His fingers travelled down Rodiano’s chest, their path made easier by the slight sheen of sweat caused by the heat from the kiln. “…and that’s just what I can see now.”

Rodiano didn’t resist as Pelepoco untied the strings to his pants, and he stepped out of them without a word after the Caelator had pulled them down around his ankles.

“We’re going to leave your boots on, I am quite a fan of a man in boots,” Pelepoco’s nerves seemed to improve as he stared down at Rodiano’s exposed member, “if I’m sacrificing my life for this, I think I deserve to have my fetishes fulfilled.”

“You deserve nothing,” Rodiano said contemptuously. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the man, naked but for his boots.

“That’s…that’s not fair,” Pelepoco stammered, “you don’t think it took bravery to do this? You think I don’t deserve something for knowing you so well that I could set up this plot?”

Rodiano rolled his eyes. It was the last straw. With a single twitch he allowed the Storm that had been buzzing an undercurrent in each of his muscles free reign. His stance changed instantly, and he flung himself across the room so quickly and surely that he had reached the pottery girl before Pelepoco had even realized he was making a dash for it.

“Ersilia-” the Caelator began, but Rodiano and already grabbed the red-hot girl by the wrist, ignoring the sound of sizzling flesh that he would soon begin to feel, and twisted his body. The exacting pull of the Storm had told him exactly how to move, exactly what to do, and he flung the girl across the room.

Pelepoco shrieked as she collided with him, even though he couldn’t have actually been too badly harmed. Before Ersilia could scramble to her feet Rodiano had crossed the distance in long strides, placing his boot carefully but firmly on her slender, red-hot neck.

“If you try to get up or burn me, I’ll shatter your neck like an egg,” Rodiano said quietly, and the girl froze. “Guards.”

If the guards found anything strange about the scene they walked into, the chiselled body of their Principessa, naked except for heavy boots, one foot on the neck of the girl, they did not show it. Rodiano was rather impressed.

“Take Pelepoco to the dungeons. His Echo may roam free for now. Round up all of the pottery people he has made, we’ll want to question them.” Rodiano very carefully didn’t show the shocks of sudden pain that rushed through him, the burns on his hands and along his hip as the guards led the pair away.

Prince Langone wrapped his arms around Rodiano’s middle before the man had the chance to turn around. “I can’t believe you would do that,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing against Rodiano’s back.

“It is my duty as your Head of the Guard to protect you, Langone,” Rodiano smiled, but only because the Prince couldn’t see it.

“Being my Head of the Guard has nothing to do with it,” Langone snapped.

“It is my duty as your Principessa to keep you safe.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, you ass, alaying my worry by being ridiculous,” Langone knelt down to examine the burn on his hip, “does it hurt very much?”

“Stings, a little,” Rodiano admitted. Prince Langone leaned in to gently brush his lips against the burn in a kiss. When Rodiano didn’t object, he kissed again, then again, each kiss moving further around to his front.

His member had dangled limp, during the altercation, but the sight of his Prince on his knees in front of him was making Rodiano’s blood rush, and his shaft twitched as it grew.

“The door to the mudroom has no lock,” Rodiano reminded, but suddenly he couldn’t speak as the Prince planted a kiss carefully at the base of his shaft.

“And what would someone see, were they to stumble in here?” Prince Langone asked. Rodiano sucked in a breath as the Prince’s tongue flicked out across sensitive skin.

“I don’t wish to say,” Rodiano muttered. Even here, wearing nothing but boots and with the Prince on his knees and gently kissing and licking his cock in earnest now, there was a place for decorum.

“Is that….so? What…a shame…” Prince Langone said, pausing between every few words to take Rodiano’s head into his mouth, his tongue pausing to linger on its tip each time. Rodiano closed his eyes, the feelings so intense that they made him dizzy, when suddenly Prince Langone stopped, Rodiano’s length lolling on the man’s tongue.

Mulci de peie Langone don’t do that to me,” Rodiano said through clenched teeth.

“Hmm?” Langone asked, his air of innocence somewhat marred by the large cock in his mouth.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Langone patiently waited, not moving at all, his tongue very slowly sliding back and forth over Rodiano’s cockhead.

“Fine, fine. If someone were to walk in, they would see me taking you over that table, buried in you to the hilt, giving you your pleasure and taking mine.”

“Over the table?” Langone leaned back, confused, absentmindedly stroking Rodiano’s shaft, “but you’re not taking me over the-”

Rodiano lifted the Prince from the ground, too aroused to care if it was strength or storm that helped him. In an instant the Prince was on his back on the table in front of him, grinning at the man that towered above him.

“Oh, I suppose that is what they’ll see then,” Langone said as Rodiano yanked at the rich clothes the Prince wore. The shoes and pants came off quickly, exposing Langone’s long brown legs, his patch of unruly black hair that grew at the base of his member, and his large cock that stood firm and proud. The sight of his lover’s member erect and twitching was enough to drive Rodiano mad, and he yanked at the shirt so hard the fabric tore.

“Sorry,” Rodiano breathed as he moved to position himself, the tip of his rubbing against the Prince’s opening.

“My Principessa, you saved me from a horrific fate,” Prince Langone breathed, “you don’t have to apologize for anything you do to me.”

Rodiano did not have the restraint to be gentle.

He thrust hard, and his rod slammed home inside of the Prince, slick with Langone’s own saliva. Langone cried out, and Rodiano leaned over to press his lips against his lover’s, his cries muffled by the man’s lips. The feeling of Langone’s stubble against his face, the throbbing of Langone’s cock pressed between their bellies, and the ecstasy that was building far too fast and not fast enough as he slammed into Langone again set him on fire.

Rodiano reached down to caress and stroke Langone’s shaft as he pounded him, taking delight in the breathy moans it elicited. He could tell when the man was about to cum, and he increased his pace to bring himself closer along with him, stroking gently as he thrust hard.

Langone didn’t cry out when he came, but he arched his back and wrapped his legs around Rodiano’s waist. Ropes of cum shot from his member, splattering his own chest and covering his lover’s hands in sticky seed. Rodiano didn’t stop, he thrust harder, all the more engorged by the sight of his Prince laying on the table, weak and worn out yet still accepting every inch of Rodiano’s cock inside his body.

When he came, it was a force that made him think he was shaking apart. Langone gripped him with his body, milked his cock even as ripples of orgasm made it hard to stand, hard to think, hard to breath. For a moment there was nothing at all that existed but pleasure, but even when the moment passed and the aftershocks twitched between his legs, the sight of Langone’s tired but satisfied smile was almost enough to make him hard again.

“We are almost certainly late for our next appointment,” Langone said.

“I believe we have a good excuse,” Rodiano tried not to smile.

“An excuse to cancel one appointment may as well be an excuse to cancel others. It’s not as if anyone is using the mudroom for the rest of the day. Perhaps wait for a while longer, I think.”

Rodiano looked around at the room, then down at his husband, naked save for a torn shirt, smiling up at him.

In spite of himself, Rodiano grinned. “Yes, perhaps we can.”

3 responses

  1. Well, this was certainly a very interesting chapter to write!

    Despite the quite vast quantity of erotica I’ve written, this is actually my very first only-male-on-male chapter, and as someone who is not sexually attracted to men I am super nervous about it’s quality!

    Let me know if you enjoyed it! I could use the feedback!

    Like

    2015-06-18 at 12:24 am

  2. CaptainPedantic

    I loved this! For future writing in case it might be helpful to know… Guys buttholes clench and unclench really tightly many times when they cum. Rodiano should be able to feel langone orgasm with his “member” deep inside him.

    Like

    2015-06-18 at 1:27 am

  3. The poor echo :< I really hope that there is some sort of echo protection laws. They are just as much people as humans, and they don't deserve to die for the crimes of another. Though maybe she should have snitched…

    I think you did a great job, Maddi! I have a small infatuation for the Prince. He has a very nice personality.

    Like

    2015-06-18 at 4:44 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s