Content Tags: mlm, situational dubcon, unusual demon anatomy, oral
Lionel had worked in the palace for months and all he knew of the prince was that he never left the Sparrow Wing. Lionel rarely left his assigned post in the kitchens, which he was perfectly satisfied with. But he was curious, since the prince’s portraits hung in several corridors and Lionel decided he was quite fetching and it was a shame he’d become a hermit.
There were rumors of course, and Lionel wasn’t above listening to the gossip passed between the other kitchen staff while they kneaded bread or rotated spits. The cooks were convinced the prince had taken ill and was being quarantined for the safety of everyone in the palace. One of the pastry chefs swore the prince was nocturnal and had been seen skulking around the grounds on full moons.
Until one evening, it was announced the prince’s attendant had gone missing and the head of staff asked Lionel to bring around his dinner. That was how Lionel found himself standing inside the prince’s chambers, holding a heavy tray of silver-topped platters that smelled so good he thought he might collapse from hunger.
The problem was the room was empty, or appeared so as Lionel was ushered inside by a guard who shut the door behind him. But then he heard something—movement, near the large canopy bed, curtained in black velvet. Ah, Lionel thought. Perhaps there was some truth to the rumors of the prince’s nocturnal habits after all. Perhaps this was his first meal upon waking and Lionel hoped the prince wasn’t expecting breakfast pastries.
“Erm, Your Majesty?” Lionel began, setting the tray down on an empty desk. He realized after a few seconds of silence that oh, he hadn’t addressed the prince properly at all. “I mean, no—Your Highness, ah—”
“It’s ‘Your Royal Highness’,” came a voice from the bed. Two black-gloved fingers curled through a slit in the curtain and tugged it aside.
If fear hadn’t immediately shot up his spine, Lionel would have been overjoyed at the fact that he was no longer holding a tray to drop. He froze, his hands suspended mid-air as two red eyes peered out at him from the dark recesses of the curtained bed.
“Ah—ahh, yes,” he stammered, fidgeting with shaky fingers. “Please forgive me, your Royal Highness. I am so sorry to intrude, I’ve brought your dinner, and I’ll, um, leave you to it.” Lionel was certain he’d be yelled at for his discourtesy but he couldn’t keep standing there with those eyes on him. He spun on his heel and took one step before he heard the voice again.
Lionel squeaked, his shoulders hunching. “P-please, I should really get back—” He heard the rustle of fabric and bit his lip, hoping the prince wouldn’t ask him to turn around.
“You should face a prince when he addresses you.”
“I—of course,” Lionel said as he turned around. “Please forgive m—oh fuck!”
Standing next to the bed—almost the same height as the canopy—was a man with red eyes and horns and a large fat scar across his pale stomach. His hands looked like they’d been dipped in soot—not gloved as Lionel had initially thought—and he was wearing absolutely no clothes and that was all Lionel took in before his eyes hit the ceiling.
“You’re my new attendant,” the prince said.
“Um—I’ve just been asked to bring your dinner, sire, I’m not sure—”
“It wasn’t a question.”
Lionel closed his eyes and whispered, “Oh.”
He heard heavy footsteps circle him, clawed feet dragging through the fibers of the rug, and tried to keep his breathing slow. This was no illness; this man had been turned into a monster, either by a curse or some other dark magic that Lionel thought only existed in the stories the spit-boys swapped after hours.
“Well,” the prince finally said with a small sigh. “What do you think?”
Before Lionel could ask what the prince meant, a deep, gravelly voice replied, “I think he’s perfect.”
Lionel flinched at the second voice. Was someone else in the room with them?
“He’s scrawny,” the prince remarked.
“Yes, well, you know they don’t properly feed the kitchen boys.”
“M’not a boy,” Lionel mumbled.
“He’s not a boy,” the prince echoed, as if he were chiding someone familiar. Then his voice was closer, almost upon Lionel’s ear, when he asked, “What’s your name?”
Lionel’s gulp was an audible crackle in his throat. “It’s Lionel, sire.”
“You can open your eyes, you know.”
“I’m quite terrified, sire, I’d rather not.”
The second voice cackled. “Does he think I’m going to eat him?”
“He hasn’t even seen you yet,” the prince murmured, his voice coming from Lionel’s front. “And there’s no need to be frightened. We don’t intend to harm you.”
We? Lionel thought, but a second later, when he opened his eyes, he understood. The scar that he’d seen on the prince’s stomach had turned into a gaping mouth, with sharp teeth and a whipping tongue.
“Ah,” Lionel whispered. “This is a dream.”
The mouth snickered as the prince stepped closer. “I’m afraid not, little lamb,” he said, his smile dark. “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?”
“Ah.” Lionel gulped and shook his head. “I don’t think I could possibly stay, sire, I’m sure they need me in the kitchens—” Lionel glanced over his shoulder at the silver-topped plates. “Look, there’s—plenty here, I’m sure, for the, um, two of you—”
“But you’re the main course,” the prince said, suddenly towering over Lionel.
The mouth snickered, the prince standing so close that Lionel felt the puff of laughter between his fingers. “We haven’t had lamb in a spell.”
“Mm, very true,” the prince said, raising a blackened hand to brush a lock of Lionel’s hair from his face. “I’m afraid I don’t have the same appetite for food as I once did. There are other things that sate me.”
Lionel could barely breathe, a little dizzy from the prince’s vicinity. He was terrified, yes, but where he’d shut his eyes to the truth before, now it was staring him in the face. Aside from the… horns, like two spires atop the prince’s head, and his discolored fingers, and the very sentient mouth in his stomach… he was quite handsome, evident in his portraits but more so in person.
He hardly recognized his voice when he whispered, “L-like what, sire?”
That was all it took, really—one moment Lionel was ready to dart and run across the palace back to the kitchens; the next, the prince’s fingers were undoing the buttons in his shirt and running his singed hands over Lionel’s shoulders and his chest. The mouth was kissing his bare stomach, occasionally swiping its tongue over his navel, making him shiver.
Once he was naked, the prince led him into the darkened bed chamber, and Lionel wasn’t surprised to find the bedlinens soft and stuffed with down. By the time his eyes adjusted, the prince had reclined on a nest of pillows and held his hand out.
“Come here, little lamb.”
As the prince tugged Lionel to his side, Lionel eyed the now silent mouth on his belly. He shivered as the prince kissed him, felt his cock swell as lithe fingers stroked up and down his back. His eyes slipped closed, lost in the prince’s warm lips against his, when something wet swiped his cock.
Lionel jerked away, sputtering, “S-sire, what—”
“Exquisite,” purred the mouth.
“Perfect, as you said,” the prince murmured, running a finger along his stomach’s lips.
“Bet he’s never had his cock sucked.”
Lionel’s cheeks burned as he tilted away. “I have so!”
The prince laughed, once again pulling Lionel close. “Not like this, you haven’t.” Instead of holding Lionel at his side, he positioned him over his lap, his cock hanging just over the waiting mouth in the prince’s stomach.
It was strange, at first—looking into the prince’s firelight eyes while another tongue teased the underside of his cock. But Lionel quickly got over it, eyes dropping to the mouth as its tongue flicked the tip—bigger than a normal tongue, more tactile and controlled. He couldn’t stop looking at it, horror melting into a stream of lust as images fill his mind.
“I think he’s intrigued,” the prince murmured, folding his arms behind his head. “Do what you will. I promise it’ll feel good.”
Lionel chewed on his lip, then planted his palms and knees into the mattress, tipping his cock downward. The mouth grinned before its tongue snaked out again, catching Lionel’s balls in one slow lick. Lionel shuddered but didn’t stop until his cock rested on the mouth’s tongue.
Fat lips closed around his cock and sucked and Lionel fell forward with a cry. The prince had been right—hasty blowjobs in the palace’s larder paled in comparison. He threw his hips into the mouth’s hot clutch, worried he’d somehow hurt the prince if he went too fast but he could barely help himself.
“Ahh, sire—gods, it feels so good!”
“Take what you need, little lamb,” the prince cooed. “Plenty to go around.”
Lionel gasped as the mouth tightened around his cock. He wondered if his sounds were audible to the guards outside the prince’s room, or if they even knew what they’d been tasked to watch over. The lips tightened around his cock, the tongue slithering around his length and drawing him deeper until he was thrusting downward with everything he had.
The prince seemed wholly unbothered, and as Lionel felt his balls draw tight, the prince cupped his face and murmured, “Perfect,” as Lionel came with a shrill, unrestrained mewl.