Page 7 of His King Enslaved

He remembered enough of his studies to recall that a Flower’s Champion was their bodyguard and lifelong companion. Normally, the Champion remained at the Flower’s side. Sindar’s eye glided past the Champion as he noted none of the Pavarians wore the royal circlet or silver sash.

“No royals?” Sindar asked. His old studies were tugging at the back of his mind, but damned if he could remember why that mattered.

“The royal family has not visited Kysan yet,” Ambani said, in a measured tone. She was being diplomatic. The lack of royal attendance was problematic then. “We’re hoping an heir will bring them around.”

As Sindar glanced about, moving from one unfamiliar face to the next, he recalled Ardor remarking on the spectacle. “Have these people ever seen the king fuck before?”

Ambani’s cheeks went pink, her throat bobbing. “No, Your Highness. The wedding ceremony was private.”

Thank the goddess for small favors. He didn’t want to know what the hell Xandar did in situations like this, let alone emulate it.

A hush went through the crowd, the chatter falling silent, until all that remained was the soft tinkling of bracelets. Sindar’s stomach promptly twisted into a knot. He watched from behind the curtain as Ardor took his place at the dais.

Ardor slid between the sheets, covering his lower half before he untied the robe and shrugged it off. He brushed his hair back over his shoulder and reclined on the pillows.

Suddenly, Sindar’s eyes had a bounty of new offerings to explore. Rosy pink nipples. A trim body and broad shoulders that perfectly complimented his elegant hands. Glorious long hair pooled like silver silk over the pillows.

Sweet angels, Ardor truly was stunning. Let there be no doubt that Flowers were descendants of the goddess. This man’s perfection was proof.

Ambani nudged Sindar. He startled, partly falling out of the curtain, sucked in a breath, and kept going. The intoxicating floral scent that filled his nose made him half-blind to anything but the Flower awaiting him. When he reached the dais, he fumbled for his robe. He was getting hard fast, and his burgeoning erection was tangled up in the damn thing, but he managed to extricate himself and dropped the robe. His cock sprang out, a pearl of eager dew at the tip, and Sindar focused all his energy on making it through this without doing anything stupid.

Ardor’s eyes widened a fraction, a soft pink flush rising on his cheekbones.

Sindar cursed internally, even as his cock twitched at the sight of that blush. He’d already done something wrong, but hell if he knew what. No one was yelling at him, so he stiffly crawled onto the platform bed, gripping the silk that swathed the Flower’s lower body. His hand trembled. He could barely contain himself. He was going to come at any moment.

Ardor wet his lips, his gaze uncertain.

It was certainly an unconscious gesture, but at the sight of that delicate pink tongue, Sindar’s cock pulsed.

Do not imagine that tongue on your cock, in your mouth. Do not imagine worshiping that body with your own tongue. Do not. Do not...

But he did. He imagined blanketing Ardor’s body with his and seeing those brown eyes burn with lust rather than anger. He imagined serving at the behest of those gorgeous hands. Pleasure ran through him, hot and longing, and with a helpless grunt Sindar came, his cock spurting all over Ardor’s chest and lap.

Ardor’s breath caught, and a hush went through those assembled. All sounds abruptly ceased.

“Sorry,” Sindar croaked, his face burning nearly as much as his loins. His hands trembled where they were fisted in the sheets. “I...”

Wordlessly, Ardor quickly dragged his elegant fingers down his chest through the pearly royal seed, gathering it up. His hand traveled down, down, past his navel, slipping beneath the sheets covering his lap.

He was putting Sindar’s semen into his body. It was a breeding ceremony, after all. But the words “breeding ceremony” did no justice for how such a simple, practical act set Sindar aflame.

“Oh, sweet angels,” Sindar breathed, gripping the sheets tightly, threatening to tear the fine fabric. His cock twitched against his thigh as he watched Ardor’s hand move beneath the sheets, in and out…

“Fuck,” Sindar groaned quietly, and buried his face in his arm as his cock jumped merrily, keenly invested in the proceedings. Five seconds, and it was over. If they were alone, he would have grabbed his cock and stroked out another orgasm just to watch Ardor do that again, to see that beautiful hand vanish into the mysteries below. To have some part of himself inside Ardor, even twice removed, was achingly erotic.

Sweet heavens, let him worship! Let him go on bended knees. He might have, if not for their audience. Soft laughter wafted through the room, followed by polite clapping that quickly grew to genuine enthusiasm. Somehow, Sindar had forgotten that the eyes of the entire court were on them. He’d botched the performance, no question, but the onlookers seemed pleased and relieved all the same. More importantly... was the Flower pleased?

When Sindar risked a look, Ardor was gazing at him, a fetching pink flush still resting on his cheekbones, his long fingers slick with Sindar’s come. He was clearly relieved Sindar hadn’t touched him.

Oh, but Sindar’s mouth was dry with wanting to touch him. Needing it. Aching for it.

“You are the most beautiful man in the universe,” he whispered, his voice low and ragged. He wanted to confess so many more truths. Oh, to suck those beautiful fingers clean! He longed to lie on the ground, to beg, to worship, and he might have, but someone threw the robe over his shoulders and he remembered he was a king, damn it, and he yanked the robe around him like a shield. Sindar bowed stiffly to Ardor, and did not wait for a servant to put on his slippers. He hurriedly stuffed his feet into them, shuffling in a most undignified way until they were on, and strode out of the chamber with his ridiculous cock poking against the fabric, semi-hard and eager for more.

Ambani flanked him as he returned to his apartment, happy as a lark.

“Sweet angels,” Sindar said, his face still burning. “Why didn’t you warn me?” As if anything could have prepared him for Ardor of Pavar reclining naked on a bed. No words could describe what he felt as he watched the Flower gather up his come with those gorgeous fingers.

“You were perfect,” Ambani chirped. “Absolutely perfect, Your Highness! You showed everyone that the king of Kysan is virile and eager. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were besotted. We’ll put out rumors to that effect. Word will spread quickly. Well done.”