Sir John's sl**ping quarters were perfectly adequate. More than adequate in fact. His quarters, while spartan, contained almost everything to make him comfortable: his bed (of straw covered in furs during the winter, a light wool blanket in the warmer months) just large enough for him to stretch out to sl**p, a chest made of alderwood having the Prince's coat of arms inlaid with ash (a gift from the Prince himself), a modest campaign desk and a small stool. The stone walls were secure around him and a window looked towards the west. Sir John knew that most knights do not, as a rule, have p... Continue»
Upon collecting themselves from their mental escapades, the two momentarily went about the business of returning to their respective roles. Sir John finished grooming Oroboros and the Prince took leave to prepare for the evening’s festivities. He could not help but marvel at Sir John’s consideration…a welcome home feast, the next day’s hunt…even an indulgent bath…no detail was too small.
So great was the Prince’s exuberance, he bounded up the castle steps three at a time and sprinted through the hallways. When he neared his chamber, he slowed, stopped, caught his breath and composed himself before entering. His valet, William would surely be puzzled by the Prince’s flustered state. For a moment the thought amused Daniel. But William was high strung and had a nervous, fragile disposition. He would worry about the Prince’s lapse in composure and likely fawn over him to excess...such was his habit. This would no doubt lead to his loitering later that night which would make difficult, if not undo his plans to be with Sir John. “No…better not to stir that pot”, he thought. So he paused, took a deep breath and then briskly pushed opened the chamber door.
“Good Day William”, he boomed
“Ohhhh...yes Your Highness, it is...I mean...Greetings Your Highness!”
“Ahh…I see you’ve drawn me a bath. You’re a good man.”
“Yes, Sire…Sir John instructed me to do so. I pray its warmth suits you.”
“I’m sure it will be just fine, William.”
“Sire...I’ve set out your garments for this evening in the dressing room. Is there anything further you require before I take leave, Your Highness?”
I think not William. As always you’ve thought of everything. You may go.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. Oh...and Sire?”
“Welcome home, Your Majesty.”
“Why thank you, dear lad...”
It was hard to find fault with that sentiment and Daniel chastised himself for toying with the notion of teasing his faithful attendant. William scurried out and finally the Prince was left alone to luxuriate in his bath. As he peeled off his boots and riding clothes he thought of the many times that Sir John had performed that same task...how John would unlace his shirt and trousers and slowly run his hands over the Prince’s body as each garment was removed. The way his strong, soothing hands lingered over Daniel's chest and stomach tracing a path down to his groin, before reaching into his undergarments to unleash his lengthening manhood…how his mouth and tongue would caress Daniel’s stubbled face and nuzzle his neck. God, the thought of that sent a jolt through him as he felt himself stiffen. He slid into the tub and let the water cover up to his chiseled chest. Its warmth eased away the grime and tension of his long ride and he closed his eyes for a moment in surrender.
The next awareness he had seemed unreal and yet entirely familiar. The now tepid water was being churned in a most rhythmic fashion. Coming back to his senses and opening his still focusing eyes he was sstartled to see Sir John, clad in his finest formal apparel, sitting on a wooden stool and leaning on the side of the tub, smiling at him as he stroked the Prince’s genitals. The knight’s technique was flawless. He cupped Daniel’s sack like a bag of precious stones, gently kneading, fingering and patting its contents…then from the base, up under the shaft to just below Daniel’s swelled tip John glided his hand with a firm grip that stretched the Prince to his full 8 inch length…up and down in repetitive movements he continued…up and over the cockhead with his palm, he massaged the slit which exuded its own natural lubricant. Daniel was paralyzed by the delightful sensation. What was odd however was that Sir John did not utter a sound…not one syllable. Instead he continued to stare and smile with his hypnotic gaze…stroking and caressing, rubbing and fondling till Daniel could feel his heart pounding, his breath quickening and his testicles stirring. He was helpless…a prisoner of his own pleasure and not about to alter the outcome to inquire as to the reason for John’s strange demeanor. With another few strokes, Daniel knew the conclusion was imminent and he gripped the sides of the wooden tub and groaned as John milked his ejaculate…making it dance and swirl under the water in thick, white bursts. Over and over, Daniel discharged till the threads diminished and dissolved into a thin, murky cloud. The Prince was mesmerized by this sight…his lover’s behavior and the strange circumstances. Never before had he and John pleasured one without the other. This one-sided arrangement was disconcerting to Daniel. How could he have enjoyed this experience so thoroughly and at the same time be so conflicted? All of these thoughts ran through his head with lightning speed as he craned his head back over the tub’s edge and closed his eyes...drifting...
“What?...(huh)..yes, yes...what is it?
“Your Majesty! Are you alright?”
“Yes...of course I am...what is the alarm?”
“The hour is late Sire. Your guest’s will be arriving forthwith.”
“Oh, yes...thank you William, I must have dozed. Thank you dear lad...you may go.”
What had just happened? Had it all been a dream? Had Sir John been here...pleasuring him? And if so...why in such an uncustomary way? It all seemed real enough...too real in fact. But guests would be arriving soon and as their host, he would not diminish their honoring him by being late. He lifted himself from the tub...the chill of the now cold water doubling in the cool room air and he hurried to grab his wool tunic. As he slipped it over his head, his eye caught something shiny on the stool where Sir John had been sitting. It was John’s signet...the ring he had been knighted with...the ring he never removed from his right hand...the hand that had so pleasured Daniel. Now the Prince was most certainly curious...and unsure...and troubled.