(no subject)

[goldtoes]

I'm still not sure this is a good idea. [ One of the House war strategists is talking as he leans over the map table, pinning areas of territory and marking out the border with their biggest stalemate, a point of contention with one of the only supply routes into the North. ] The other staff says the boy-king has been nothing but hell since he's arrived. [ Perrin pauses, punches another pin through the parchment. ] ... more than usual.

[ And he isn't wrong. They had come in early in the morning, just after dawn, in carts pulled by thick-coated draft horses; it's all unusual. The boy-king, Kyrnar, is seen by almost no-one even as he's stashed away like precious goods, tucked into his quarters with a pair of enormous kingsguard at the door who look like they could snap somebody's head off with a flick of their wrist.

There's something off about all of it.

Not least is the fact that he's on time for this meeting, which happens almost never; something smells off about him, too. The chilly smell of ice and omega sweetness has been replaced with something gentler - more a mark of motherhood than saccharine fertility. He slinks in, still so thin he might shatter (though Idris has never managed to break him, so there) as he gingerly takes his seat, white-blond and sharp-eyed and already agitated. He looks - unwell. A touch pale, cheeks flushed, seated uncomfortably as if he isn't sure how to.

It's warmer, down here, and though there's a pelt draped over his shoulders, the rest of his clothing is replaced with things more appropriate for summer. On his bone-thin frame, several months pregnant is enough to show, and out of protective instinct more than conscious decision, he drops one hand to cradle the curve of his round little belly as he leans forward to tap on the map with breakable fingers. ]

Quickly, then. I have no inclination to be down here longer than I must. Talk.

Comments

[goldtoes]

No. [ Kyr inhales sharply, rolling his hips, lower lip caught between his teeth. He can't properly bounce here, eager and hopeless and submissive all at once, but that's all right. He's fine just how he is, with slow, tight thrusts, rolling his hips and spreading his thighs to get him nice and deep with every rut.

He reaches up to find one of Idris' hands and bring it down to rest on his belly, then lays his own on top of it. The intimacy of it - it's all almost sinful, and as he brings their hands down to cradle the lowest curve, the combination of Kyr's slim build and the sheer size of alpha cock can be felt as he ruts and squirms and huffs into his neck. ]

And you won't parade your defeat of me for all my people to see, will you? A peaceful treaty that will benefit everyone. Months of negotiation. I didn't just give in just like --

[ He snaps his fingers. ] -- that.

[gremyr]

[ A pleased sound settles in his chest, his eyes closing while he mouths gentle kisses and quick nips along the pretty skin of Kyr's neck and jaw. Poor thing is going to end up looking like he's been chewed up by the time they leave this room. ]

I swear I won't. [ It's a quietly spoken promise punctuated by the way his hand gingerly covers the swell of his stomach, the pad of his thumb stroking over the tightened skin there. ] You've earned your dignity. Let me do this. You have more important things to take care of. [ Regardless of what's agreed upon here and now, Idris makes a note to himself that he'll need to get Kyr laid down somewhere quiet and comfortable later- he's in for a lot of gradually growing discomfort. Making a ritual out of rubbing him down with oils will do the both of them good. They'll both need to learn to relax with each other and bond, Kyr will need to nest...

It's all a lot. Between his racing thoughts and the heat simmering through his whole body, Idris' breath comes out in warm little pants. The hand on his belly remains there, while the other ends up in Kyr's hair. It holds there, keeping him still and steady as he reclines the smaller body back a little, making a bit more room between the both of them. His range of motion is increased, and of course he uses it to his advantage, but he's also decided he likes the overwhelming, all-consuming feeling of closeness they've accidentally stirred up. He keeps his steady, unhurried pace, sinking firm and far inside Kyr with every forward roll of his hips. ]

[goldtoes]

[ Kyr's hair reaches his mid back, pulled back in braids and ponies and silver rings, and silk-soft; it's lovely to wind fingers up in, easy to grasp and pull and tug. He tips his head back and sighs and lets Idris mark his throat up, claim him perfectly and properly; he wants, in fact, to step out of this room bruised and bitten. ]

Mm. [ He thinks of it a small while, tugging almost viciously at Idris' hair. His pretty little cock drools long, sticky ropes of precum that cling to his thighs and his belly whenever it thumps against the skin, and his eyes flutter closed as the new position allows for a little more roughness. ] I have a new set of - mmh, a new set of terms. If you'll hear me out - yes, right there.

[gremyr]

Do you? [ Idris breathes out some portion of a laugh, tip of his tongue darting out to smooth over a fresh bruise. ] Go on, then. I'm listening. [ Listening and snapping in to him as instructed, the hand cradling his belly suddenly sneaking low so his fingers can swipe through the sticky mess coating Kyr's lap.

It's considerably more than Idris had been expecting, perhaps, because a low, aroused growl escapes him as he curls his first two fingers just under the head of his cock, holding a tight little circle while his thumb smears over him as he leaks. ] Well, if you can manage...

[goldtoes]

I expect to be treated as your equal, of course. I want, [ he shudders, working his hips forward against the grasp of fingers as if a useless pup trying to rut. ] I want to be doted on, to voice my opinions more and rule less.

[ And one would've thought, with his arrogance and recklessness, that he enjoyed the power. Interesting. Pale blue eyes roll back as Idris bounces him in his lap. ] I want to have as many children as I desire, and I haven't decided what the final number on those is, yet. I want to be introduced to your people officially and swiftly, if we intend to rule together, and you to mine as well -- [ He keeps getting clipped off short and huffy by his own arousal, but he's sort-of-kind-of managing. ]

[gremyr]

[ An equal, of course... Idris is intelligent enough to hum his agreement and nod. He knows better than to treat him as less-than, at this point. It's been proven that anyone who does will have absolute hell to pay.

Doting on him, well. Idris feels eerily drawn towards those habits even now. Even before Kyr had mentioned new terms, Idris already had been eager to whisk him away after all of this. Get him cleaned up, fed, and pampered proper. The desire to keep Kyr like a pretty, spoiled prize is an itch under his skin. A pretty, spoiled prize that can be unleashed on unfortunately stubborn (or irritating) targets... What could be better?

Idris is true to his word and listens- he may be an ass and employ a clever trick of fingers or a sudden, sharp thrust upwards just for the sake of hearing Kyr stumble over his sentences, but he hears him. ] I like all of these. [ Hopefully Kyr won't mind him temporarily borrowing his mouth for a quick, rough kiss. ] Two days, at most. We'll get you at your best and present you to mine.

[ Maybe that'll be enough time for them to get all of their handsy nonsense out of the way. Fuck's sake, there's not even a heat to use as an excuse for themselves. ]

[goldtoes]

[ Kyr looks smug, satisfied, like a housecat who's gotten exactly what he wanted - he hums low and grumbly into the kiss, tightening his grasp in Idris' hair as he gets too, too close.

There's a tense coil of heat and pressure between his hips, and Idris is so good with his hands and his hips that when he comes, it's so sudden that he barely has time to offer any sort of warning. He tenses, slender thighs shaking as he trembles and gasps his way through it, agonizingly tight around alpha cock and blissfully spent.

Finally, still gulping for air, he speaks. ] Then, my dear King, I will call this a truce.

[gremyr]

[ Idris almost startles when he feels Kyr shaking and spilling over his fingers, barely managing to pull his head back and observe as he strokes him through it. That's about when he decides that Kyr is beautiful, really, and he is more than all right with being able to see him in such intimate ways more regularly. ]

Perfect. [ What, the truce, or Kyrnar? Or both... Probably both.

With the nearly unbearable tightness surrounding him now, Idris is all the more desperate for relief. Both hands drop to Kyr's hips, grabbing on and manually moving him however he needs in order to more efficiently chase his own orgasm. He lifts him a few times, only to swiftly pull him right back down to sit flush in his lap, a tense groan getting tangled somewhere in his throat. ] How are you this tight? [ Each plunge in to him is a bit quicker and less put-together, with Idris swelling gradually until the tension in him breaks. When he comes, it's with a bite to the curve of Kyr's shoulder and soothing circles being rubbed in to his hips.

Definitely the superior way of calling a truce. ]

[goldtoes]

[ If it wasn't perfect before, it is now, with Idris spilling molten heat deep into his insides, his hips rolling in slow circles to ride him through it, needy for everything and anything he's being offered. He wants all of it.

Spent and weary, he grins into Idris' shoulder, huffing as he catches his breath and rocks a few more times for good measure.

He's pretty, like this. Flushed with his hair sweat damp and clinging to his ears, winding both arms around Idris to cozy up to him, snug into his torso. ]

The details of politics can be worked out later. [ He lifts his head for a deep, hungry kiss, drops his voice to a murmur. ] And I'm this tight because I'm perfect, and you know it.

[gremyr]

[ Idris relaxes in to his seat, content and with arms full of his filthy little treasure. The kiss is welcomed; he returns it with an agreeable hum, at least until Kyr's mouth runs itself as usual. Idris snorts and chastises the arrogance by pinching those pretty red lips in a quick snap of teeth, his fingers winding around a braid and tugging. ] I miss the Kyrnar from before. [ The needy one who had trouble with words.

His head rests back against the tall chair they're both seated in, his hold on the messy braid of hair loosened so he can twirl it around his fingers. Many of his hair stylings are sticky with sweat and jostled loose from Idris' grabbing. It's a stirring sight, knowing he'd been the one to ruin it, but also a bit of a shame... Kyr's hair is one of the things he'd initially found so striking. He certainly likes it when it's tidy and decorative. ] These need to be done over, Tserthyhr. [ It's a strange, old word- one of many still in use in Idris' lands. Once Kyr has been officially announced, it'll be his new title. ]

[goldtoes]

Shall I be quiet again? [ It's a musing sort of thing, like he's debating the possibility rather than actually contemplating whether or not he should be quiet. Slender hands slide down his chest and find places to rest, comfortable and lazy, and he looks remarkably relaxed even still impaled on Idris' cock.

He huffs with laughter, nosing into his shoulder to inhale the comfort of alpha. He's sweet, when he's docile.

The truth is, Idris is good for him - this will be good for him, not being a lone literal child ruling an entire country in one of the harshest places on Earth. Maybe he'll cool off with someone else to mind him and keep him safe. ] You ruined them. [ Er, maybe not. ] ... But I would like if you re-did them for me. I can teach you.

[gremyr]

I wish you would. [ He says that, but the light tone of his voice betrays him. The same hand that had been fussing with the braid lets it drop, palm moving to settle across the back of Kyr's skull so his fingers can gently scratch down in to the silky mess. It's already wrecked, what's a bit more disarray? ] If you can figure out how to work those ridiculous, skinny legs again, we'll get you bathed and you can do exactly that. [ Even more reasons for him to touch his hair? Wonderful, he'll take every opportunity. ]

I'll also expect you to apologize to Perrin for wrinkling his map.

[goldtoes]

Perrin will understand, [ no, he won't, Perrin is a sweet little omega with big, dark eyes and a mop of dark hair and a very serious, very concerned face all the time. Perrin does not understand the necessity of wrecking his beautifully hand-drawn map and knocking the markers out of place, regardless of how nice the sex may or may not be (he has never had it, so he isn't entirely sure - but wouldn't he be a treat for an alpha? A nice, well behaved, strikingly intelligent bookworm, soft and quiet and --) ]

My legs are not ridiculous. [ He does shift, though, to draw himself up off Idris' cock, smug as he tucks him back into his pants with cold little fingers. ] I suppose you don't want to announce my presence to the world by carrying me. I see.

[gremyr]

He most certainly will not. [ Perrin, bless his heart, takes his work seriously. It's one of the many things that Idris appreciates about him, but at the same time, it's also... well. Maybe a point of near-obsession with him? He's still unclaimed, and good on him for being his own person and all, but at times it shows. Sometimes he can get a little touchy over minor issues, perhaps due to a lack of alternatives to fixate on.

They really ought to get him sorted... It's tricky. He doesn't belong to Idris, but Idris is still overprotective. He's slyly dissuaded more than one leering and/or ill-fitting prospect from pursuing Perrin. Though he suspects his watchdog days are numbered, now. Idris only has two hands, and both will no doubt be full of Kyr and all of his absurdity.

With Kyr now out of his lap, Idris begins only half-heartedly adjusting his clothing. It can be in proper order all it wants, and it won't matter- it's soiled with slick, come, and sweat. There's no hope of fooling anyone who sees them. ] Carrying you? Weren't you trying to convince me of your legs not being ridiculous? Are they suddenly broken?

[ His mouth can't be trusted. He will absolutely end up carrying Kyr at some point, and it'll be by his own choice... just, maybe not today. ]

[goldtoes]

Why not. Why's he have to be so difficult. [ Kyrnar cares little about... er, most things, really. He's reckless and dumb and considers most things replaceable, including the map - he looks behind him as he slides out of his lover's lap to collect his clothing and pull it on, back over skinny legs and pale torso. He straightens the fur atop his shoulders, pursing his lips as he inspects the map. ]

Okay. Maybe I did rip it a little. But he can make a new one, right? [ Sure! Except Perrin will spend ten, twelve hours redrawing the entire thing from scratch, until his eyes burn and he dozes off in the candlelight. Poor thing. Kyr seems unconcerned. ] My legs work fine, but that doesn't mean I don't deserve to be carried everywhere like precious cargo. So there. [ He clears his throat, straightens up, and slides his hand through the crook of Idris' arm.

He fits perfectly there, it seems like. At Idris' side, carrying his child, if a little mussed. ]

[gremyr]

Oh, no. It's ripped? [ Ripped!! The frown is firmly stuck on his face before he even manages to stand steady. He immediately leans over the table, eyeballing the map and brushing a finger over the first small tear he spots.

That's going to cause a fit.

Idris sighs, knowing the process can't be stopped now. The most he can do is make sure someone places food within Perrin's reach, at some point in the night.

He pats at the dainty hand curled around his arm, giving Kyr a quick glance-over to make sure he's mostly decent. Satisfied, he walks them both towards the doors. The sooner they get to his quarters, the better. ] Come on then, cargo. You're a mess.

[goldtoes]

Not a lot! [ Kyr sounds absolutely petulant about it, and if he was a child, he might stomp his foot. He is marginally old enough not to do that, but he huffs in annoyance and screws up his mouth. ] It's so tiny. If you just -- [ he smooths it out, rubbing the wrinkles out of the parchment. It does not, of course, work.

Perrin is going to cry, and it's going to be terrible. ]

I am a mess, [ he agrees as he pads along at Idris' side, docile for once in his life, ] but it's your fault, so...

[gremyr]

Hardly. You're the one who decided to shamelessly flaunt your fertility in front of me. [ How dare, Kyr. How very dare. Having the audacity to be knocked up in Idris' presence...

He steals him right out of the war room, though he stays alert and searching. For Perrin, specifically- he's got to warn him about the state of his map. He can't just allow him to waltz in there and find it torn without any sort of mental (or emotional) preparation beforehand. If he's nowhere to be seen, though, he can pull one of his men to the side and give them five-step instructions on how to handle Perrin and the fallout.

Once he's gotten that task taken care of, he takes Kyr to his own private room, large and cozy and richly colored. With a bit of adjustment, it would make a fine place to nest. ] Undress while you wait to bathe, those will be taken for a wash. [ They won't be ready by the time he's finished bathing, but that's not a problem.

Idris may be a little eager to wrap him up in some of his own (too big for Kyr) clothing. ]

[goldtoes]

This is all my fault, then, is it? [ Poor Perrin. The man's done nothing to deserve this, really. Insult to injury, to knock up a neighboring king - an enemy king! - that then ruined his map, painstakingly hand drawn and disrespected in such a way. The audacity. Here he was, a perfectly good omega, and Idris goes off and does this with a rotten little goblin from the North.

The humanity of it all.

Kyr, true to form, seems unbothered by Perrin's distress as he shuffles into the war room to inspect his map, standing post at Idris' side and gazing up at his advisor with icy blue eyes, silent and sharp-featured and reckless.

Still, he's docile when it comes to Idris, uncloaking himself - furs off the shoulders, thick knit wools and hides. Underneath it all he's a tiny, tiny slip of a thing, built narrow and breakable, with scars from old lashings dusted down to the backs of his knees; he catches a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror and wrinkles his nose, both cold hands resting atop the gentle mound of his belly. ]

You really messed up my hair. [ Christ alive. ]

the process of being alive and catching up begins!!! i am 5ever sorry for the delay sobs

[gremyr]

[ The rotten little goblin from the North isn't so bad, is he? Perrin has only witnessed barbs and stony stares and ripped maps so far, but Kyr is surprisingly more than that. Maybe they'll get along in the end...

Inside his quarters, Idris is a busy bee. There's already plenty of light, but he assesses the state of the curtains and lamps anyhow. Then he leaves Kyr to his own devices, disappearing in to a smaller side room to draw a hot bath. Their climate is consistently warm enough to support the use of aqueducts and basic piping, providing many of their people with running water as long as there are no freakish surprise freeze-overs. He knows he's finished with the bath once he drops a few small silver spheres in, packed tight with fragrant herbs that will infuse the water. It's a sleep blend, honestly, but Kyr likely needs the rest and Idris suspects he's probably stubborn enough to deny it.

When he steps out to fetch Kyr, it's just in time to hear his complaint. He snorts. ] I'm so sorry. [ The hell he is. The lines of silvery scars catches his eye as he openly looks Kyr over- he tilts his head, his face concerned, but he doesn't ask quite yet. That can wait until Kyr is in the water and relaxed. ] I'll brush it out while you soak. Come on, your bath is ready. [ Teamwork! ]

same tbh i'm alive but it's mostly a technicality NEVER BE SORRY IT'S OK. forgot how awful kyr was

[goldtoes]

[ Perrin would disagree, but then, the poor man has already set about repairing his map, pulling in light and leant over it, pressing a transparent membrane - sausage casing, probably - over the tear with his fingers. Perrin is mostly used to snark.

Not that Idris is exactly unfamiliar with that. ] And you better not lose any of the rings, [ case in point - Kyr floats across the room toward him when he's retrieved, reaching up to begin prying small ties and rings from his mussed hair and palming them. ] Do you know how much of a nightmare it is, this kind of thing, at home? Boiling water and dumping it into the tub. It takes a thousand years.

[ But he tastes of salt and the sea for a reason, and he slips into hot water and fragrant herbs, shivering. He isn't used to being wrapped up in such heat - the pipes freeze, in the north. It's simply impossible. ]

(ಥ﹏ಥ) ty, bless u.... he is an entertaining kind of awful

[gremyr]

I'd better not, you say? [ Or what? Kyr will unleash his tiny rage on him?

Idris smirks at the thought. He only has the gall to even think of it in the first place because Kyr is so displaced from his usual power. Were he in the North instead of the other way around, he'd worry Kyr might have his hands sliced clean off. It is, after all, the sort of wild and exaggerated reputation he's grown for himself.

He hums as Kyr sinks in to the water, scooping up his abundance of hair and pulling it outside the tub before it's soaked. Idris takes up a seat at the head of the tub, combing his fingers through the curtain of white to loosen his braids and remove any lingering decorations. ] I imagine it does. [ They've had to resort to such things at times, thanks to an unexpected cold snap or an old pipe breaking. The repetition is miserable, and the wait is even worse. ] That what happened to the back of your legs? Too much back-and-forth with water pitchers?

[ He says it lightly, like a bit of a joke, clearly fishing for the story. There's a lot about Kyr that he just... doesn't know, but he would like to learn. ]

he's a wretch & i love u

[goldtoes]

Mmhm. [ Kyr doesn't hold power here, and they both know it. They both know that it's an immense experience of trust for him to even allow this - the fact of it is that plenty of other leaders would have taken the opportunity to pull him away, vulnerable, and then slit his throat in a back corridor. And then - well, what would happen to the leadership in the North? Kyr's advisor would take hold of it, but there's no telling if he'd be better or worse than the little goblin himself.

He's laughing, then, tipping his head back into Idris' fingers as he combs his hair out. ] My father, actually, but I assure you they were well deserved. [ Corporal punishment is commonplace, among the ice. ] Besides. I've seen worse. My favorite house staff is missing his tongue, though I was too young to know what it was he said that got him in trouble and now nobody seems to actually know, so it's a mystery. [ He shrugs like this is normal. It is not. ] I was just switched, mostly, when I was young and - believe it or not - more rotten than I am now.

[gremyr]

[ Murder had been a briefly touched-on topic of discussion within Idris' circle in the past. What's a bit of poison? Smothering in the night? It's simple and could easily be waved away as sickness- the boy-king being unable to thrive outside his chilly native climate, perhaps, or catching some unfortunate illness unable to spread in the North. But the idea had been shelved. Information about Kyr's ranks always seemed to linger frustratingly out of their reach, and, well. Better the devil you know than the one you don't, and all.

Idris begins to brush Kyr's hair properly while he speaks, first at the bottom. He barely gets started before he's pausing, startled by the story. Swats on the hands or behind aren't all that uncommon here either, but cutting tongues? Lashing children thoroughly enough to leave permanent reminders? That's a bit too far, isn't it? ] Well. If you're still rotten then it's proof that switchings aren't effective, isn't it? [ He frowns. Effective or not, the thought of whipping scars in to his pup's tender little legs makes his stomach turn. ] There will be none of that with ours.

[goldtoes]

[ More laughter, brash and clumsy. ] I suppose it is, [ he concedes this, amused, tipping his head from one side to the other. He wonders what Idris will think of the way the North is run - the way house keep their heads down and their mouths shut. After Len lost his voice, well - staying out of sight and out of mind was safer. Best not to be noticed. ]

All right. [ No switching children. And the brutality is a holdover from his father, more than it is Kyr's doing - he tends not to care as long as things get done. He's loud, screechy and childish, but not particularly cruel, not really. ]