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“You know,” Kabru forced out through mead-sweet lips, “I thought about killing you?”
“I know,” said Laios. “You’ve mentioned it.”
“Huh. I don’t remember that.”
“It’s usually when you’re drunk,” the king replied, looking pointedly at the empty flagon in his advisor’s hands.
“Thought about it a lot,” Kabru slurred, watching a sauced Marcille make out with Falin against a wall. Laios was pointedly avoiding that corner of the room. “I’d go to bed and think about killing you to settle down.”
“How would you do it?”
Kabru turned sharply to look at Laios. The king’s face was its usual mask of mild interest, but his eyes fixed on Kabru with unerring focus. If the tavern exploded around them, Kabru felt certain Laios would not blink.
“How would you like it?”
The words slipped out before he could think to stop them, to coat them in the layers of subtlety and implication he typically favoured in even casual conversation. Laios’ eyebrow lifted minutely. Kabru’s blood rushed in his ears.
“I’d like to be torn apart by wolves,” the king replied calmly, sipping his liquor. (Learning that the only alcohol that so much as touched the man’s – or his sister’s – mind was one hundred proof had been very valuable for diplomatic negotiations. It had also encouraged Kabru to never travel to the North.) “But I imagine you weren’t thinking about what I’d find most appealing, were you?”
He spoke in that low, level tone he used with Izutsumi, with Falin on her bad days. Like he did not care if you heard, so long as you were listening. Kabru shook his head.
“I asked,” Laios reiterated, “how you would do it.”
“I wouldn’t,” Kabru admitted. “I don’t think I ever really would have.”
“Don’t say that,” the king ordered. He looked down, somehow managing not only not to break the tension, but to heighten it. “I… If I ever…” He bit his lip. “It’s easy to be a bad king,” he murmured. “I don’t think there’s anyone I trust more to do what’s right, if it ever came to it.”
Kabru sucked in a breath. “You don’t mean that.”
Laios glanced up, amber light shining through his lashes. “I do.” He downed the rest of his drink, raising a hand to the slightly nervous bartender for another. “Maybe it’s too much to ask, but –”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Laios half-smiled. “Thank you. I hope you never have to, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
The landlord’s bustiest barmaid sashayed over with another double portion of their finest liquor. Laios smiled and tipped her two platinum coins that likely exceeded her annual salary. She gasped, curtsied, and scampered away, burying them deep in her bust for safekeeping.
“So how did you think about doing it?” Laios asked. His tongue darted across his lips, cracked from the colder weather. “When you did think about it.”
Kabru shivered. He was feeling soberer by the second, even as he floated above himself. He watched his own (oil-softened) lips say, “I thought about running a sword from your throat to your belly.”
“Hmm,” Laios said, rolling his head side to side. “Yours?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I took yours off you, dragged it across your throat.”
“Could you even lift it?” Kabru laughed once.
“I suppose not if it didn’t want me to. Kensuke, was it?”
“Ah.” Laios sighed, knocking back half his drink. “I’m not sure he’s still alive in there, I’m afraid.”
Kabru had the bizarre urge to scratch him behind the ears. “Well then, I think I could certainly lift it. Perhaps I’d cut your head off instead.”
The king perked up. “Was that one of your ideas?”
“Hm, more like fantasies. If I’d had to kill you in reality, it probably would have been messier than I imagined it.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Kabru said, feeling the mead-flush in his cheeks. “Sometimes I thought about drowning you on the fourth floor.”
“How would you do it?” The king asked, tracing lazy circles on the table. “Would you knock me unconscious and leave me there, or hold me down yourself?”
Kabru shivered. “I thought about it both ways. Sometimes, I’d bash your head with a rock and drop you in the deep. Others, I’d push your face into the shallows and hold you down.”
“It’d take your whole body weight to do that,” Laios remarked, looking him over.
“You forget,” Kabru retorted smugly, “you wore armour in the dungeon. That’d pull you to the bottom with hardly any effort from me at all.”
“I’d struggle,” Laios murmured.
“Then I’d throw you to the undine.”
The king inhaled sharply, one canine catching on his lip. “Really?”
“Of course. Why work so hard for it?” Kabru grinned. “You’re an easy catch.”
Laios half-smiled.
“I thought about choking –”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Okay. I imagined poisoning you. You’d eat anything in that place, and it all tasted foul anyway.”
“Hey!”
Kabru grinned. “All I’d have had to do was slip a little basilisk venom into your omelette, even a pinch of arsenic in your stew, and you’d be gone.”
“Basilisk venom’s a nasty way to go,” Laios mused, yellow eyes fixed on his.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, makes you seize up from the extremities out, until you’re paralysed. Slowly shuts down your senses over several hours, leaving vision for last. Then everything greys out, and you’re gone.”
“Hmm,” Kabru said. “So I’d have had you at my mercy for hours. Totally stationary, helpless to cry out, but able to feel everything?”
“For two to six hours, yeah,” Laios agreed, rolling the dregs of his drink around the bottom of the cup and smiling.
“Well, that’s plenty of time.”
“Oh really?” Kabru held his gaze as he said,
“And of course, sometimes I imagined things that were completely ridiculous.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know, making you explode with my mind.”
“Not so ridiculous,” Laios laughed. “I’m pretty sure Marcille got close once or twice.”
Knowing their relationship, ‘once or twice’ sounded optimistic.
“I thought about dropping you from a great height.”
“Okay, you actually did that one.”
“And, of course,” he added casually, “I imagined ripping you apart with my teeth.”
Laios swallowed. Loudly. After a moment, he said, “Mrmm-hngg?”
Kabru let a smile ghost across his lips as he continued, “Sometimes I started with the stomach, just ripping into your entrails, not even to eat. Just strewing them across the floor and letting the vultures have them.”
“Hrngh.”
“But usually,” he admitted, “I just went right for the throat.”
“BILL!” Laios shot out of his seat, grabbing the nearest barperson. “We, argh, we need tngg- to close our tab, right now.”
The landlord tried to discount the bill, but Laios simply dropped a bag of mixed platinum and gold (enough to pay for the whole tavern twice over) and said, “Keep the change. Any drinks they –” he gestured vaguely to his sister and her girlfriend – “want, this can cover that.”
It would likely cover a year’s drinking for a card-carrying alcoholic, and if Kabru were in a clearer mind, he would have reminded the king about budgeting even his personal funds. As it was, he flicked two extra gold pieces from his purse onto the table on their way out.
In the cool evening air, Kabru somehow felt even warmer. Maybe it was the way the king’s nipples were pressing through his thin shirt. Distantly, the more rational part of Kabru’s mind realised he’d left his robes inside. Meanwhile, the rest of him dragged the King of Melini into an alleyway.
“Are you,” Laios panted lightly as Kabru pushed him further into the dark, “um, how much did you have to drink?”
Kabru closed his eyes and walked backwards as if tracing a tightrope. “Good enough?”
“Actually,” the King said as his advisor approached him, “it’s making me think you drink more often than you let on.”
“Exactly,” Kabru replied, pressing a hand against his throat. “And that has the lovely benefit of me being completely capable right now.”
“Are you sure? Only, I’m technically your superior, and Marcille was saying about workplace pressure –” Maybe it was the fact that Laios, King of the land on which they currently stood, had referred to himself as ‘technically’ Kabru’s superior, maybe it was the twenty minutes of flirting, maybe it was bloody instinct.
Kabru sank his teeth into Laios’ neck.
The change in the man was instantaneous. As a small child, Kabru had watched street dogs fight in the alley behind the house. Most, when cornered, turned vicious, taking any tiny sign of weakness and pouncing on it. But once they were caught in another dog’s jaws, there were two options. They could keep fighting or go limp.
Laios nearly sank to the ground, pulling Kabru with him. It took all his upper body strength to press the man in place against the wall. He bit down harder, his hand firm against Laios’ stomach. The king groaned.
“Kabru…”
He pulled back and examined his handiwork. Laios’ glassy eyes followed his movement, watching as he inspected the reddening patch on his king’s throat.
“Hmm,” he tutted. “Didn’t draw blood. Ah, well.”
“Please, Kabru.”
He looked back at the king’s face. “Are you sure you’re sober?”
“No.” Kabru jumped back but Laios caught him by the elbows. “Wait, no, I meant because… this doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”
Oh. “You’ve dreamt of this?”
“Yeah,” Laios admitted coarsely, running his fingers up and down Kabru’s arms. “A lot.”
“What did you dream of?”
Back to their game in the tavern.
“You,” Laios sighed, pressing his face into Kabru’s collar. “Jus’ you.”
“Come on,” Kabru said, scraping his nails lightly over the back of Laios’ shirt. “We’ve been designing action plans for months. You know I need more to go on than that.”
Laios groaned. “Like when you talk to me like that.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, like you think I’m stupid.”
Kabru pulled back. “Laios, you know I don’t think that.”
“I know,” the king replied, leaning into Kabru’s hair. “But it’s hot when you sound like you do.”
Something about the man in front of him calling anything hot was absurdly funny to Kabru. He had learned not to laugh in the faces of people he was (maybe? Possibly?) about to sleep with, though. Instead, he said, “I can do that. What else?”
“Um,” he cleared his throat. “The, uh, biting is good.”
“Yeah,” Kabru chuckled (because come on, really?) “I got that.”
“I know, but I mean, um. Everywhere.” Kabru raised an eyebrow.
“Everywhere?”
“Anywhere you can get your teeth around.” Kabru pulled back and pointedly looked down. Laios pinked. “Yeah, that’s cool. Uh, actually, that’s great.”
Kabru’s eyebrow raised even higher. “Okay.”
“And,” Laios said, now with some enthusiasm, “I want you to, uh, spit. In my…”
Kabru raised his other eyebrow.
“My mouth.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s not uncommon.”
“Okay.” Laios nodded seriously. “And obviously, the monster thing, but you don’t have to do that.”
Kabru sighed. “What exactly do you mean by, ‘the monster thing’?” Laios blushed furiously.
“Um, I like, I like pretending I’m being eaten by a monster. In my dreams,” he clarified, “and sometimes it’s… not pretend.” Kabru sighed heavily.
“You can do that.”
“No.”
He blinked. “No?”
“You hate monsters. I’m not pretending you are one. We can do something else.”
Kabru stared at him for a long moment, then dropped to his knees. Laios stammered as he pulled his tunic free, loosening his belt with one hand and palming him with the other.
“Wait, are you sure? Because we can– Oh my gods, Kabru.” This last remark was in response to Kabru leaning forward into his trousers, pulling them down with his teeth. Laios shivered as his crotch was exposed to the night air, then again when Kabru pulled down on his cock.
“I’m sure. Relax,” Kabru said as he licked a stripe up Laios’ dick, scraping his teeth lightly over the head. A stifled groan had him looking up to see the King biting down on his lip. Kabru sucked the head into his mouth, sinking down slowly and teasing with his teeth on the way back up. When he reached the base, he hollowed his cheeks and dug his fingers into Laios’ thighs. Laios gasped, his head tipping back against the wall.
Kabru pulled back, observing Laios’ controlled shudders as he ran a nail over the shaft. He reached down and pulled out a dagger. Laios’ pupils widened in concert with his mouth.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes, anything.”
Kabru bit back another laugh. “Down, boy.” He ignored the way Laios’ dick jumped at the command. “I have other plans for this. Do you want to open my trousers?”
If other nations’ leaders knew just how easy it was to get the King of Melini to take the knee, there could be a great deal of trouble. Luckily, Kabru was good at keeping secrets.
Laios unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down with both hands, staring at Kabru’s bush like it held the secrets of the universe. When his advisor slowly pressed the handle of the dagger into himself, the King’s jaw went slack. Kabru inhaled deeply, then reached out and brought Laios’ hand to the sheath, intertwining their fingers. After a moment, Laios gripped the sheath and, meeting Kabru’s eyes, pushed in.
He almost scrambled into the King’s lap, turning them around to steady himself against the wall. Laios held him by the small of his back, pressing lightly to tilt his pelvis upwards.
“Mm,” Kabru murmured, fighting not to close his eyes as pressure built below his stomach. “You can push in harder, you know.”
Laios frowned. “If you’re sure.” He thrust the handle in to the hilt, sending a hot pulse through Kabru.
“Yes, there, yes,” he groaned, rocking up to meet Laios’ new rhythm and gasping as his vision blurred. Laios pulled him closer, pumping the handle in faster and deeper. His thumb brushed gently over Kabru’s fingers, a light touch of reassurance, and he blacked out, tipping over the edge with a scream that he muffled with a mouthful of Laios’ neck.
He came back to himself a moment later with the taste of blood in his mouth. Laios groaned and murmured, “Kabru, yes,” pulling the dagger out slowly as Kabru trembled.
He bit down harder and Laios moaned, grinding into his leg. Suddenly, Kabru remembered that it was his job to make this more than senseless rutting. He pulled back, rolling royal blood around in his mouth.
“Come here.”
Laios obeyed, leaning forwards until Kabru could spit into his mouth. At the taste, his pupils blew wider still, and he surged up into a kiss.
Kabru gasped into Laios’ mouth, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling their faces closer still. The King’s fingers dug into his waist, pressure edging into pain, as he sucked his tongue into his mouth, lapping up his own blood from within.
With what remained of his mind, Kabru brought his arms down, the handle of his dagger pointed towards the King, until his free hand found one hairy arse cheek. He pulled back to watch Laios’ expression as he slid the dagger towards his hole.
“Yes,” Laios breathed, eyes alight. “Yes, want you inside me.”
“Of course you do,” Kabru cooed, running his tongue over Laios’ neck. “Aren’t you cursed to always be hungry?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Laios panted as the dagger, wet with Kabru’s come, circled his rim. “Always wanted you. Even before the curse, before anything. Used to dream about it at the end, in the dungeon.”
“Really?” Kabru tried not to let his ego get too excited. Slowly, he pressed the dagger into Laios. “What did I do?”
“You saved me from the dragon.” The King rocked back, keening softly. “Ate me alive.” He gasped and let out a laugh. “Fucked me with my sword.”
“Oh?” Kabru slowly eased into a rhythm. “Which end?”
“Both,” Laios whispered, panting. “One, then the other. Watched it stab me from the inside out while I came.”
“Were you ever tied up?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted, struggling through his moans. “Sometimes I was manacled to the floor, or – oh, yes, yes, Kabru – to you.”
Kabru filed that away for later consideration. “Seems like you can still talk, though. A failure on my part. Close your mouth.”
Laios’ jaw snapped shut. Kabru grinned, leaned forward, and bit his lips, holding them closed with his teeth as he fucked into Laios with the dagger. He could still taste blood on his lips. With his other hand, he grabbed Laios’ dick, letting his nails catch lightly as he jerked him off.
In a matter of seconds, the King was moaning into his mouth as Kabru fucked him through his orgasm. When the aftershocks died down, Laios pressed himself into Kabru’s chest, not even bothering to pull up his trousers against the chill. Kabru sighed, shaking him off before he could fall asleep in this dingy alleyway that, now he was no longer dick-drunk, was probably full of rats.
“Pull your trousers up,” he commanded. After a moment’s thought, he said, “And mine.”
As Laios was fastening his own belt, Kabru cleaned off the knife with a quick charm that Marcille would be horrified by him using in this context. He did the same to Laios’ spend, then realised he was bleeding.
The inside of his knuckles were smeared red, and he was mortified to realise that in their enthusiasm, the sheath had split at the side. He was even more mortified to realise he had been too aroused to notice.
Laios turned around and gasped, catching Kabru’s hand as gently as he could.
“Oh, you’re hurt!”
“Well, considering what we just used the knife for, there are much, much worse things that could have happened,” Kabru replied. Before he could pull away, though, Laios had cast a healing spell. He watched as the skin knitted itself back together, leaving his hand healed but covered in blood. “Thank you.”
Laios waved it off and stood, offering Kabru a hand. “Come on, it’s getting late,” he said, “and we have a meeting with the Western delegation tomorrow at nine.”
“How,” Kabru murmured, pulling himself up, “is that the sexiest thing you’ve said all night?”
Laios shrugged. “Eh, we all have our thing. Apparently Chilchuck’s is blondes.”
Kabru laughed, then pulled his hand away. “Oh, shit, I got blood on you.”
“Oh, no problem,” Laios said. He lifted his own hand and licked the blood off, sucking his fingers clean. Kabru watched.
“Let’s get back to the castle,” he said, catching Laios’ hand in his clean one. “We’ll move the Western delegation to after lunch.”