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Phainon watches, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed, as Mydei helps the kids pack up their props and toys from the game they just played before they have to head home for curfew, noting that there’s even more Okheman kids this time. It’s ridiculous, how Mydei has managed to charm this many kids, despite clearly not intending to do so, and how they all flock around him the same way the soldiers at the training grounds do. Phainon prefers the kids. He has to fight his jealousy less, doesn't have to ignore any hungry looks or protect Mydei's body from the ogling, and even the one little girl who is convinced that she could become Mydei's princess still has a decade or two to go before she would become real competition to him, and Phainon plans on staking his claim long before that. Also, watching Mydei's adorable softer side come out around the kids is a massive plus too.
When they’re almost finished, a little girl sheepishly asks for the crown back that Mydei is still wearing on his head, seemingly having forgotten it.
“Next time, you need to be more princely, okay?” she tells him, and, surprisingly, Mydei responds with a gentle laugh and a smile, patting her head before putting the toy crown on her instead.
“Yes, princess,” he agrees, standing up at his full height to watch the kids run off to their homes, and Phainon feels a surge of affection for the man, so stupidly and ridiculously charming, and completely unknowledgeable about it.
“It’s good that the kids can finally teach you how to act more princely,” Phainon says, finally stepping forward as they are left alone, having waited more than enough for Mydei’s attention.
Mydei doesn’t look surprised to see him, turning to look at him with a scowl at the comment, crossing his arms.
“Deliverer, good to know that you’re wasting time like always,” Mydei says, and Phainon smiles, not replying to his comment. Once, Phainon had joked back that Mydei was doing the same by playing with the kids, and he had answered him, with the kind of sincerity only Mydei could muster up, that he was training the future generation of Amphoreus’ warriors. Phainon is pretty sure that the way they were playing just now couldn’t be counted as training, but he doesn’t feel the need to comment on it, knowing how important the kids are to Mydei—and how important he is to the kids. Phainon also knows that Mydei being so popular with the kids is part of the reason that the image of the Kremnoans has been improving in Okhema, finally.
They both walk back towards their rooms together in comfortable silence, Mydei probably thinking of what to cook for the group next, and Phainon trying to etch the image of Mydei clumsily delivering the lines of a fairytale prince as instructed by the little girl into his mind.
“It was an honour to escort you to your private chambers, Your Highness,” Phainon says to Mydei as they reach his door, leaning down into a mock-bow to accentuate his words, smiling playfully as he does.
Mydei rolls his eyes at him, but then lifts his chin up, looking down at Phainon over his nose, crossing his arms to get an even more lofty look before he raises an eyebrow, speaking up. “When did I say I was done with you?” he asks, and Phainon stands up to his full height again, trying to gauge the meaning behind his words. The glimmer in Mydei’s eyes sends a bolt of excitement through his body.
“Right, I apologise for the oversight,” Phainon says, his widening grin completely contradicting his words.
Mydei purses his lips, seemingly considering if he’s willing to forgive Phainon for his slight—whether it’s what he accused him of or the fact that he cannot hide his excitement at the prospect of ‘serving’ him for longer, Phainon doesn’t know or care.
“Didn’t I promise to teach you some royal etiquette?” Mydei asks after a moment of thinking to himself, a smirk appearing on his lips that Phainon really likes.
“Anything for you, my prince,” Phainon continues, unabashedly leaning into Mydei’s space, trying to blink as innocently as he can up at him as he reaches up to grab Mydei’s hand, kissing his knuckle, making sure not to hit any sharp edge on his gauntlet.
Mydei bites his lip, looking like he’s unsure if he’s more annoyed about or enjoying Phainon’s reaction, but he ends up accepting it anyway, using the same hand that Phainon had just kissed to grab his collar and pull him along into his room.
After being pulled halfway into Mydei’s room, Phainon is freed from the grasp, and he straightens his back, looking around without thinking.
He knows this room quite well by now; the sparse interior, the armour laid out neatly on the table to be put on easily, the Kremnoan style vase on his table, made from a dark volcanic clay that Phainon had recognised a little after getting into relic appraisals, once used to transport Kremnoan sanguine honey brew, now simply used as a water vessel. There’s also the small dagger hidden under Mydei’s pillow that Phainon had found by accident, the bed that Phainon knows well by now, knows how to make it creak as little as possible, at least when they’re still not so distracted that they no longer care.
“Undress me,” Mydei says, suddenly, and Phainon looks up from his train of thought, tilting his head in confusion.
“Huh?” he asks, not exactly against the idea, but confused at the demand.
“You think a prince has to undress himself? I have retainers to do that,” Mydei explains, and Phainon remembers what Mydei had promised him just outside the door, excitement sparking in him.
“Y-yes, Your Highness,” he says, trying to sound subservient, but too eager for it to come out right, rushing over to help Mydei unclasp the buckles of his armour.
Phainon loosens the clasps and lifts it, letting Mydei pull out from the shoulder pauldron, putting it aside before he turns his attention to those annoyingly sharp gauntlets, helping Mydei remove one before turning to the other, putting both neatly on the table. When he turns back to Mydei, he grasps his hand, pressing a kiss against the skin of his knuckle this time, before turning over Mydei’s hand in his own hands, with the same care as he would a precious artefact, pressing another kiss against Mydei’s palm, looking up at him has he does.
Mydei looks impatient, raising an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t complain, and Phainon wants to push his luck, but he also wants to prove that he can serve Mydei well, so he continues with the task, turning his attention to Mydei’s belt, reaching down to loosen it. His fingers are a bit clumsier this time, eager to go further as he removes the belt, and the weight of Mydei’s gaze on his face only arouses him more, making him want to stop this play and push him to the bed right away.
Phainon doesn’t, though. Both because he remembers a time he had been too impatient while waiting for Mydei to finish cooking, sneaking over to taste the stew that was still cooking, commenting that it could use some salt, only for his meals to taste like nothing but salt for an entire week, but also because he really does want to do as Mydei asks of him, wants to make him happy, to obey him, earn his praise and make him feel pampered, spoiled, cherished, maybe even revered.
With the belt off, it’s easy to remove the dark red sash, and Mydei holds up his arm to help Phainon as he pulls the sleeve of the shirt down from his shoulder as well, letting the fabric fall to the floor, impatience budding.
He looks down to what remains of Mydei’s armor, the leg bracers that reach all the way up his thigh, which seems like teetering into dangerous territory considering his dwindling patience, so Phainon turns his attention first to the armour covering Mydei’s lower legs, sitting down on one knee, like a knight professing his loyalty, or to ask for his hand in marriage, and Phainon would gladly give his life to Mydei, in both ways, but for now he simply reaches down with both hands around one leg, finding the buckle just under the back of Mydei’s knee, opening it and pulling off the leg bracer, finding that the knee protector is connected to the lower part and comes off as well, before he puts it aside, turning his attention to Mydei’s other leg.
Mydei stands above him, watching patiently, putting the leg forward that Phainon works on, but doing nothing else, his arms crossed. Phainon trails a hand up Mydei’s toned calves, visible even under the fabric of the trousers, until his fingers reach the metal of the armour still covering his thigh, so he continues upwards, hooking a finger under the buckle at the inner side of Mydei’s thigh, like Mydei had teasingly done with Phainon’s collar when he was underneath him, driving Phainon wild.
He can feel the warmth of Mydei’s skin despite the few layers of fabric still obstructing him, and he feels Mydei’s thigh muscle tense under his touch as well, biting his lip to keep himself grounded, focused on the task. He wants to tease Mydei further, but he has to be good, so he starts unbuckling the fastener, being extra careful. And by extra careful, he of course means careful in the way that he makes sure to accidentally press his fingers a bit too high, linger just a bit too long in the area of Mydei’s crotch, still making it come off as accidental as possible, probably failing when he can’t help but smirk in satisfaction at the way he feels Mydei’s thigh muscles flex again under his touch. He watches the tent grow in Mydei’s tightening trousers too, how he grows more irate, squirming slightly under Phainon’s touch, intentionally slow with feigned carefulness.
Mydei’s obvious growing impatience actually helps satiate Phainon’s own. He revels in making Mydei want more, in slowly pulling him apart. Maybe Mydei is right, maybe he really was made just to push all of Mydei’s buttons, because there is nothing he wants to do more. He wants to do so many things to the man towering over him right now, to pull all kinds of reactions out of him, to push him to the edge and make him beg for release, to be the only one who can finally grant him that. He looks up at Mydei after finally removing the last of his armour, feeling his own arousal grow with his train of thought, hand still resting on Mydei’s thigh, the burning sensation of his warm skin sending sparks through Phainon even through the barrier of the fabric.
When his eyes finally lands on Mydei’s face, he instantly notices the flush appearing on his cheekbones, his brows furrowed in a way that looks more like impatience than the usual frown of annoyance or worry, and Phainon wishes desperately to grab his cheeks and kiss him silly. He moves to get up and do just that, but Mydei puts a hand on his shoulder before he has the chance, raising a brow. Despite his impatience, Mydei also seems to know how to play the game, much more in control than his expression had indicated a moment ago.
“Did I allow you to get up? Kneel,” he commands, and Phainon swallows, putting his other knee down to the floor as well and looking up at Phainon. The view from here is just as amazing, his pectorals in full view and the proud smirk appearing on Mydei’s lips only exciting him further.
Mydei pushes his hips forward brazenly, the bulge in his pants pressing against Phainon’s cheek, and Phainon smiles, nuzzling into it. He looks up just in time to see the slight annoyance on Mydei’s face at this, well aware that Mydei had probably expected a different reaction. It must be hard for him, to struggle with really getting a negative reaction from Phainon, because he loves everything Mydei does to him, whether he’s being gentle or mean, and he even loves the way Mydei still gets surprised at this, the adorable embarrassment following Phainon’s particularly unabashed expressions of love. He just can’t help it, too smitten with the man currently towering over him, not just willing but eager to do whatever it is that he asks of Phainon. He can’t even really imagine anything Mydei could do right now that wouldn’t just excite him further, cause even keeping Phainon from getting what he wants right away just feels like a challenge that he’d gladly take on.
“What do you want, my prince?” he asks, reverently, and Mydei frowns down at him, his blush colouring his cheeks even pinker. Phainon could just eat him up.
“Suck it,” Mydei says, the hand that had kept Phainon from standing up now reaching up to grab the hair at the top of Phainon’s head, pressing his face downwards to look directly at his bulge instead of up at Mydei’s face. Phainon’s smile widens. Gladly.
He reaches up with both hands, one cupping Mydei’s bulge while the other opens his pants, before pulling down the fabric of his undergarments. Mydei is already hard and Phainon is itching to please him, reaching his fingers around the hilt before leaning in with his mouth wide open, taking the head into his mouth.
Mydei’s hand tightens in his hair, surprised at Phainon’s eagerness, and Phainon revels in that feeling, takes as much as he can into his mouth before hollowing his cheeks, creating suction as he slowly starts to pull back, teasing the underside of his cock with the tip of his tongue, the way he knows Mydei enjoys. He doesn’t even need to look up to see that, because the hand in his hair tightens further, and he feels Mydei tense, trying to keep still as he bobs his head. He loves that, how careful Mydei can be, not wanting to cause any discomfort, but right now Phainon is more than eager to let him, so he looks up, giving his most effective puppy eyes as he pulls his lips off of Mydei’s cock with the loudest ‘pop’ he can, before speaking up.
“You can thrust,” he says, reaching a hand up to Mydei’s backside, squeezing his buttcheek gently, and Mydei grits his teeth, looking down at him with clear arousal.
“Shit,” Mydei whispers, the hand that was in his hair a moment ago now sliding down to cup Phainon’s cheek, his thumb resting behind his ear. “Okay,” he adds, the slight hoarseness in his voice sending sparks down to Phainon’s own groin before he pushes his hips forward slightly, the tip of his cock bobbing against Phainon’s lips before going in.
Phainon opens his mouth in an o-shape, focusing on keeping his teeth out of the way. Mydei thrusts tentatively, and Phainon looks up, trying to let him know with his eyes that it’s fine to go further. Mydei seems to understand, even though his brows are furrowed, cause he repeats the motion, this time pushing slightly deeper, and Phainon forces himself to relax his throat, his hand still resting on Mydei’s ass, too focused on keeping his gag reflex in check right now to do anything more.
Suddenly, Mydei pulls out, grabbing Phainon’s jaw with the hand that was resting on his cheek earlier and lifting his head to look up at him again.
“Are you really making your prince do all the work?”
“N-no,” Phainon says, licking his lips and shaking his head quickly, his eyes flicking between Mydei’s face and the cock still right in front of his face, Mydei’s expression not quite hiding how close he was and his own urgency to get off. “How can I serve you?” Phainon asks, and this seems to be the right thing to say, because Mydei smiles, pulling Phainon up by his shirt, and Phainon stumbles on his feet, letting Mydei drag him towards the bed.
Mydei lets go of his shirt before turning towards Phainon again, sitting down and leaning back on the bed without making room for Phainon, spreading his legs as if presenting his erection, and he smiles up at Phainon, confident. Phainon swallows, taking in the view for a moment before he kneels once more on the floor in front of Mydei, having no other option.
He moves closer, until he has Mydei’s knees on each side, and then he leans down, kissing the tip of Mydei’s cock, treating it like the most precious thing he’s ever handled. He uses one hand to hold it, trailing a wet kiss down the entire length before he reaches the hand down to Mydei’s balls, massaging them gently, enjoying how his cock twitches at the new sensation against his lips. He pulls his lips off for a moment, only to wet two fingers of his other hand, pushing them into his mouth to cover them in saliva, smiling when he sees Mydei’s eyes center on him in anticipation.
He begins teasing at Mydei’s entrance with one finger, enjoying how he can feel all the small reactions from him in this position, the way Mydei’s thigh muscles tight on each side of him, his hand grabbing the sheet next to him instead of pulling at Phainon’s hair again, his attempts at being patient. They haven’t had this type of private time in too long, so Phainon goes slow, trailing the finger up Mydei’s perineum first, then back to his entrance, pressing it against the taut muscle, watching Mydei’s face intently to see his reactions. Mydei bites his lip, but keeps his face calm, clearly trying to look as relaxed as possible—or trying to make himself relax more, one arm behind his neck in a way that shows his biceps off divinely, stupidly unaware of how amazing he looks.
Phainon pushes in the finger, his other hand reaching back up to Mydei’s cock, his mouth on the head once more. He presses the finger in deeper, eyes fixed on Mydei’s face, carefully mapping out his insides. Mydei is burning hot, and if Phainon didn’t already know this by now, he’d fear that he was running a fever. He presses up further, trying to find the right spot, and suddenly, Mydei tenses around him, his cock twitching. He’s so close already that Phainon probably doesn’t have to do much more for him to come.
Phainon smirks, teasing at that same spot once more for good measure, watching Mydei’s back arch upwards, his entire body tensing. Mydei frowns at him, but before he has a chance to say anything, Phainon pulls the finger out slightly, then completely, before he tries adding the second finger. He presses both against the entrance one more, still impossibly tight, but Phainon is a stubborn man. He presses in until he’s two knuckles deep, then goes for that same spot again, rubbing the finger tips against it before spreading them inside of Mydei, scissoring slightly to stretch him further.
Mydei’s lifts his hips again from the bed, his body jerking upwards when Phainon’s fingers graze that spot, and Phainon feels how close he is, from how the cock in his hand is so rock hard and almost throbbing, precum pearling at the slit. Phainon leans down once more, taking the head into his mouth again before he tightens his grip with the hand around the shaft, squeezing it tightly the same moment he rubs over the sweet spot inside Mydei, pushing him over the edge.
He keeps squeezing, sliding his hand upwards as Mydei shakily finishes inside his mouth, as if milking out every drop of come from Mydei before he lets himself pull his lips away with a wet pop. He sits up, locking eyes with Mydei as he swallows it all.
Mydei looks up at him in horror, shaking his head at the display. For good measure, Phainon reaches his now free hand up to his face, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb before licking his thumb as well.
“You’re so gross,” Mydei says, in his usual exasperated tone, but the way he tightens around Phainon’s fingers lets him know how he really feels. Phainon loves how honest his body is.
Now that he’s less focused on Mydei’s release, his own arousal lets itself be known, pressing uncomfortably against his pants, desperate for attention, and he reaches a hand down to free himself, to finally give it some attention, but Mydei notices, his muscles tensing around the two fingers Phainon still has inside him, reaching his hand up to grab the hair at the top of Phainon’s head once more to stop him.
“Did I allow you to touch yourself?” he asks, his tone so assertive that it goes straight to Phainon’s cock, making him even more desperate to touch himself.
Phainon wipes his mouth, shaking his head in feigned sadness. “N-no, Your Highness,” he tries, both loving and hating the feeling, the way Mydei’s tone changes when he orders him, sending bolts of electricity straight through Phainon’s body. Titans. He needs him. He needs release. Soon.
Mydei seems to realise, and he moves to sit up, waving Phainon off, so Phainon pulls out his fingers, getting up excitedly, his legs sore and knees hurting slightly from sitting in that position for so long, but it’s nothing compared to the tightness of his trousers against his erection, the desperate need to bury himself in something hot and tight.
Mydei sits up completely and makes room for Phainon, patting the space next to him. When Phainon sits down in the bed next to him, Mydei instantly pushes him to lie down, wasting no time in pulling down Phainon’s trousers, releasing his erection from its prison, and it pops up, sticking straight up in the air, the head almost tilting towards Mydei as if it was a sunflower and he, the sun. Phainon gasps, grabbing the sheets underneath him with both hands to keep from touching himself, desperate.
Mydei reaches over to his bedside table for the vial of oil he has hidden there, leaning back into Phainon’s space, holding it up for him to see.
“I don’t feel like getting it on my fingers, actually,” he says after a moment of looking at it, handing the vial to Phainon. “Prepare yourself, quick,” he demands, and Phainon gratefully accepts it, pouring a bit of lube into his hand before finally putting his hand around his shaft, tightening his grip as he smooths it up and down, spreading the lube on his member, as quickly as possible, the friction making him quiver with relief.
“That’s enough,” Mydei says, swatting Phainon’s hand away, and Phainon whines a bit as his hand is removed, his hip pushing upwards a bit for any friction it can get, but it finds none.
Mydei, ever so gracious and generous prince, climbs on top of Phainon without further ado, putting his leg on the other side as to straddle him, situating himself right above Phainon’s raging hard on.
“And this,” he says, reaching a hand down beneath himself, using just two fingers to put Phainon’s cock right against his entrance, “is how a royal sits on their throne,” he finishes saying, and finally, finally, starts sitting down.
Phainon feels the pressure of the taut muscle, slowly stretching to accommodate the tip, the oil making it slightly easier, but even though Mydei presses down, it doesn’t give. Phainon looks up, watches Mydei grit his teeth, trying to push down slowly again, exhaling shakily as he focuses on relaxing himself. It doesn’t work.
Phainon, despite his own suffering, his own desperate need to enter that impossible heat, smiles up at Mydei widely, feeling the urge to be just a bit extra bratty arise after watching Mydei’s plans fall apart in front of him. Phainon pushes his hips upwards slightly, pressing against Mydei’s entrance again, and he hears the sharp intake of air he takes.
“Need a little help getting seated, Your Highness?” Phainon asks, his tone slightly less smug that he intended for it to come off due to his own desperation.
“Stay still and behave, this is your fault for being so stupidly big,” Mydei grumbles, brows furrowed in concentration, and Phainon can only grin at this, but he obliges nevertheless, biting his own lip and doing his best to wait patiently.
Mydei tries again, slowly sinking down, his rim stretching painstakingly around the head of Phainon’s cock, pressing down torturously slowly.
Phainon is a patient man. He does his best to wait, but he is only human, and Mydei has already pushed him very far. It isn’t until Mydei finally stretches down past the head of his cock and then pauses to breathe in that something finally snaps in Phainon. His hands reach up around Mydei’s hips before he can stop himself, finally pushing up into him completely, bottoming out in that tight, burning heat.
Mydei gasps out, falling over in surprise despite being held up by Phainon’s hands, his hands landing on Phainon’s chest for balance, fingers digging down but his nails too short to do any damage.
“You fucking—” he grits out, but doesn’t finish, interrupted by his own gasp for air as Phainon pulls out slightly, thrusting back in. Phainon only has so much patience.
“Please,” Phainon moans out, “forgive me, my prince, but I need—I need you—” he apologises, his words as jumbled and desperate as the movement of his hips, jerking up into Mydei as if his life depends on it — it feels like it does, really — and it isn’t until Mydei catches his breath again that he interrupts Phainon’s babbles.
“Shut up—” Mydei grunts out, sounding almost as annoyed as strained, still panting heavily. Phainon stiffens mid-thrust, trying to get a better read of Mydei’s expression, suddenly worried that he actually did something Mydei didn’t want, but the second he ceases his movements, Mydei’s grip tightens, fingers digging into the skin on his chest. “Don’t you dare stop now,” he commands, and Phainon exhales in relief, thrusting back up into that wonderful heat, feeling tears prickle up in his eyes, unsure if they’re from the pleasure or relief, probably a mix of both.
He doesn’t let go of Mydei’s hips, digging his fingers into the skin there, feeling Mydei’s muscles tighten under the touch, his hip bone pushing back against Phainon’s thumb. He pushes up into him, as deep as he can, as if doing so could somehow bring them closer.
Mydei seems to catch his breath once more, slowly beginning to roll his hips in the same rhythm as Phainon pushes up into him, reaching down between them and around his own cock that has started hardening once again, tightening slightly around Phainon as Mydei throws his head back, his fist moving up his shaft in the same rhythm as Phainon pushes inside him. Phainon can feel the pleasure brimming in Mydei, like he’s just about to burst, as if it was himself it was happening to. Maybe it is his own buildup he’s feeling, when they’re this close, they might as well be one.
Sometimes, Phainon gets a little overwhelmed with the intensity of his own emotions regarding the man above him, the urge to crawl into his skin and meld into one, stay together forever. It’s so foreign to him, so intense that he fears it’ll scare Mydei away, but every time that thought creeps into him, he remembers when Mydei had once laughed at him and said “there’s no word for ‘too much’ in the Kremnoan language, ” before pulling him in for another kiss.
Phainon looks up at Mydei, his prince— his prince—and feels an immense love swell up in him the same time he feels himself being pushed towards the edge, so he lets go of Mydei’s hips, but only to push himself up to sit, the same time Mydei leans down against him too, sliding his free arm around Phainon’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. It’s clumsy and desperate, and Phainon feels Mydei’s teeth brush against his lips the same time he feels him tighten around him so impossibly good. Mydei’s orgasm is what pushes Phainon over the edge too, and Phainon feels every muscle and fibre in him tense with pleasure has he comes hard, and it feels like Mydei squeezes out every bit of come from him as he tenses around Phainon’s cock from his own climax, his muscles spasming as he rides out the peak of his arousal, ejaculating over Phainon’s chest this time.
When they break free from the kiss, both heave for air, catching their breath while Mydei sags over in exhaustion, arms on Phainon’s shoulders
Phainon looks down between them at his own chest, noting that the amount of come on his stomach is less this time than when Mydei came earlier. Smugly, he thinks of how deeply he’s just come inside Mydei, of how he wants to never pull out, so he can keep every drop inside, so there will always be a part of Phainon inside Mydei. He wants to lick Mydei’s come off of his own chest and swallow it, to have a part of Mydei with him wherever he goes too. He doesn’t voice this fantasy, knows Mydei well enough to know by now that he would somehow manage to find the strength to punch him despite being fucked out of all energy. Instead, Phainon reaches a hand up to the back of Mydei’s neck, combing his fingers through Mydei’s hair absentmindedly, and they lay embraced in silence for a moment. Phainon used to think that there was nothing better than the high of a battle, but that was only because it had been so long since he had just felt genuinely content and happy in a quiet moment.
Phainon grasps Mydei’s neck to keep him stable before he rolls them over on the side, pulling out from Mydei carefully, despite his own wishes, a smile creeping up on his lips at the low whine from Mydei, and the way he instinctively tightens his arm around Phainon’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to leave Mydei’s embrace either, but he had promised himself to attend to Mydei properly today, and that he will do.
“Let me get you cleaned up, my prince,” he whispers, kissing Mydei’s temple gently. “And then I’ll be right back,” he says, also already desperate to be back in that strong, warm embrace. Before that, though, he will need a cloth and some water to wipe himself, and probably also the mess dripping down Mydei’s legs, no matter how much satisfaction the sight fills him with.
He rolls out of the bed, grabbing a piece of his own clothing to wipe himself down quickly and throwing it to the side before also reaching for the first cloth he can find, dipping it in the water vessel on the table. He returns to the bed where Mydei has turned to his side, lazily watching Phainon’s actions with half-lidded eyes, cheeks flushed from the afterglow and lips still puffy from kissing. Phainon sits down by the foot of the bed, reaching the wet cloth up to Mydei’s thighs, wiping the excess fluid from between his legs before giving in to the urge to lean down as well, pressing a light kiss against Mydei’s thigh as well, feeling the muscle tense under the skin. When he looks up to Mydei’s face, their eyes lock together once more, and Phainon can’t get himself to look away.
“That’s enough, get back in bed,” Mydei says, no more of the princely commanding tone, just his usual bossing around, and Phainon is, as always, completely unable to go against his wishes. He throws the cloth on the floor before crawling up as well, burying his face in Mydei’s bare chest, sneaking both arms around his waist, welcoming back the warmth of the other’s body.
If his prince demands cuddles, cuddles he will get.