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It is stupid. Really. Really, very, horribly stupid. Felix knows it's stupid, even while he moans around the fingers he’s stuffed in his mouth to keep himself quiet as he furiously pumps his length. Honestly, what is he thinking? Scarcely tucked away, only just concealed in an alcove where anyone could wander along and see him jerking off while he watches Sylvain in the garden below. And obviously, Sylvain would have chosen a different spot if he knew anyone had a clear view of his tryst.
Felix hadn’t meant to see. Honest. But Sylvain’s ridiculously bright red hair, glowing like flame in the last golden rays of the setting sun, was hard to miss among the greenery of Castle Fhirdiad’s sprawling garden. And when he saw the girl on her knees, pleasuring the older boy with her mouth, making his head toss back in ecstasy, Felix couldn’t deny the way his pants became uncomfortably tight. Not because of the girl, not because he wanted her on her knees for him…
Because Felix wishes he was the one on his knees for Sylvain. He wishes he was the one who got to hear what he sounded like with lips wrapped around his cock. He wishes he was the one who got to feel his rough fingers tangle through his hair as his head was pulled closer to take him deeper-
“My, my,” a silky voice purrs in Felix’s ear. Felix nearly jumps out of his skin, recoiling from the person who’s caught him red-handed. He’s sure he looks a mess, cock leaking precum, lips shiny with spit as it dribbles down his chin. “What do we have here?”
“Your Highness,” Felix manages, hastily shoving his softening length back in his trousers and wiping the drool from his chin. Of course it had to be him that caught Felix. It couldn’t have been a maid. Or the boar. Or, hell, Felix would have preferred it if his father caught him in the act. Anyone but Rufus. “I-I didn’t hear you.”
The man smiles like a wolf, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, very effectively blocking Felix’s way with the bulk of his body, trapping him in the alcove. “Clearly.” He cranes his neck, glancing out the window to see what Felix found so arousing that he thought it a good idea to touch himself while he watched. “Ah, so you’re not the only one who chooses poor spots to chase their pleasure.”
Felix is sure he is bright red, shifting uncomfortably and staring at the tile. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. It won’t happen again.”
Rufus regards him for a long moment. “Shame. I was quite enjoying the show.” Felix’s stomach rolls.
“Please, let me pass,” he huffs, crossing his arms. Every nerve in his body is screaming at him to get as far away from the man as he could, the man who is still leering at him like a cat ready to rip into a plump little mouse’s flesh.
“Now, why would I do that?” the man laughs, flashing a row of perfect, gleamingly white teeth. “I seem to have found you in quite the compromising position, Felix. I’m not a man to let opportunity pass me by, after all.”
Felix feels like he is going to be sick. “What do you want?”
The man runs a hand through his golden hair, looking as though he is considering it, though Felix has no doubt he know exactly what he wants already, what he intends to have. “I find myself rather bored this evening,” he muses. “Perhaps that’s something you could help me with.”
“No,” Felix grinds out.
Rufus takes a step nearer, crowding into Felix’s space. “See, I think you can.” His voice is low, silky and smooth, thick like syrup. He grabs Felix’s chin hard, forcing him to look up at the man that looms over him. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way you fingered your mouth like some little whore eager to be filled.”
Felix swallows hard as the man runs the pad of his thumb over Felix’s lower lip. “I don’t-”
“You were thinking about how badly you wanted his cock, weren’t you, Felix?” Felix can’t help the shiver that creeps down his spine. How was the man so eerily perceptive? “So, here’s my proposal. You help me with my boredom, or I’ll go talk to Sylvain. I’ll tell him about how I found you all needy and bothered, tell him about all the things I longed to do to when I saw you. You know what Sylvain will do?”
When Rufus doesn’t continue, clearly waiting for an answer, Felix shakes his head.
“He’ll beg me to take him instead.” Rufus laughs at the wide-eyed look of disgust that colors Felix’s expression. “He’s so self-sacrificing, after all. Not a shred of self-worth, courtesy of his father and brother, no doubt. That makes him so easy to manipulate, don’t you think, when you know all the right strings to pull?”
“You’re disgusting,” Felix spits.
“Does that surprise you, Felix?” The haze-filled memories that Felix has kept firmly buried in the back of his mind ensure that it does not, in fact, surprise him, not in the least. “So, tell me. Are you so nobly self-sacrificing, too?” Felix wants nothing more than to say no, that he isn’t going to play Rufus’ games. That he isn’t going to be manipulated.
But that would be a lie. It isn’t that he is falling into his trap, it’s that he’s been given no choice but to spring it. He’s been cornered into a no-win situation: throw Sylvain into Rufus’ clutches, or accept the fate himself. No matter what Felix does, Rufus will have his way with someone.
Felix’s face must fall into defeated resignation because Rufus smiles sweetly, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters. His arm goes around Felix, settling on the small of his back as he coaxes the boy to walk with him. He keeps up a stream of idle chatter as they walk, likely so not to arouse the suspicion of the passing guards and maids who might be confused to see the Prince Regent of Faerghus accompanied by the heir of House Fraldarius.
Felix grits his teeth, giving monosyllabic responses, his mind preoccupied by the unwelcome foggy memories from two years before.
It had been only about six months since the Tragedy. Felix wasn’t on speaking terms with his father… or much of anyone, for that matter, too wrapped up in his own grief to do much more than eat and train until exhaustion forced him to stop.
His father insisted Felix join him at a state dinner hosted at some minor noble’s home. As the heir of House Fraldarius, it was what was expected of him. Felix relented, only because his father would give him no peace otherwise. Seated at the table at his father’s side in a fine suit, Felix was resigned to simply getting through the night.
Until the host made a toast in honor of the late king, as Prince Regent Rufus had graced them with his presence, as well as Sir Glenn Fraldarius, whose heroic sacrifice saved the life of Prince Dimitri. The unexpected reminder served only to tear open the wound that festered in Felix’s heart, and his already dour mood took a turn for the worse.
His father only sighed as Felix drained the goblets of wine as they appeared at his elbow. Felix had always been slight and slender. Needless to say, a scrawny fourteen year old was not very equipped at holding his alcohol. It didn’t take long before Felix was almost indecently intoxicated, swaying in his seat and nauseous.
The old man hailed a passing maid and bid her accompany Felix back to his room before he had the chance to embarrass himself. Felix had grumpily obliged, drunkenly stumbling as the maid held his arm to keep him from toppling over while they walked.
She left him to sulk in his room, and sulk he did. The lightheadedness and rolling waves of nausea came slowly, and then very suddenly, and then Felix was throwing up in the bin . It seemed endless.
He was only vaguely aware of the sound of his door opening and shutting, then a heavy hand on his shoulder. His father, no doubt. He was too busy emptying his stomach to snap at him to be left alone. A hand held his hair out of his face as he continued to hurl.
When it was done, a bitter-smelling cup of tea was presented to him. “It will help your stomach,” a voice that was most definitely not his father’s insisted. “Drink it slowly.”
He did as he was told, sipping the tea. And it certainly did help, easing the icky feeling in his stomach. When the tea was gone and Felix was feeling much better, though still very, very intoxicated, he managed to glance behind him. At first, he thought it was the alcohol making him see things, and he stared dumbfounded when he realized that, no, it was definitely Prince Regent Rufus who was gently rubbing his back.
“Yur Highn-hic-” he slurred.
“Shh,” Rufus shushed, still rubbing soothing circles on his back. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” He eased Felix to his feet, and Felix leaned on him, feeling warm and heavy and sleepy. He felt like a child as Rufus fussed over him, combing out his hair and brushing his teeth for him, insisting that it would not do to let the bile sit on his teeth all night.
He guided Felix toward the bed slowly, and Felix relished the idea of sinking into the soft covers and sleeping like the dead. Rufus reached around his chest, delicately plucking open the buttons of his jacket as Felix wobbled in the circle of his arms. The second he left Felix to hang his jacket on the back of a chair, the boy flopped down face-first onto the bed.
Rufus laughed as he returned, gently lifting Felix to position him in the center of the bed. The pillows were so soft and inviting, Felix rolled over onto his side and let his eyelids droop shut, only vaguely aware of the regent still sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully freeing him from his cravat.
The soothing hand returned to his back, and Felix was so warm, and it felt nice…
Until the hand trailed father down, gliding over the swell of his rear and kneading the plump flesh there. Felix’s eyes fluttered back open, confused as the turned to look at the man whose hand was creeping between his legs. “Sssstoooop,” he heard himself whine, weakly swatting at Rufus’ arm. “Wha’rr you…?”
“Shh,” the man soothed, cupping Felix lightly through his pants and giving a small squeeze that made the boy squirm. “Let me take care of you, Felix.”
“Ssstooop,” he grumbled again, wiggling away from the man’s touch and squeezing his legs tight together. “Go’way.”
It happened in a blur that Felix couldn’t quite recall after the fact. One moment, he was trying to squirm away from Rufus. The next, the man was straddling his hips, Felix’s hands held tightly over his head, the boy thrashing in his grip as his free hand covered his mouth. And Felix was so confused, fighting desperately, even with little strength left in his drunk, sleepy body.
“Felix,” Rufus said sternly, blanketing Felix with his weight, forcing him to be still under him. “The only one you’re going to hurt with your struggling is yourself, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Lay still, or I will have to tie your hands. Do you want that?” Felix shook his head as best he could with the hand that covered his mouth. “Are you going to behave?” He nodded. The hands tentatively let him go, and all the fight drained from Felix. He went limp under Rufus, numb and scared and just wanting to go to sleep. “Good boy.”
Rufus turned his attention to stripping away the rest of Felix’s clothes, handling the boy as easily as a rag doll as he pulled off his collared shirt and trousers and smalls. Naked and shivering, Felix laid still as Rufus’ hands trailed over his chest to pluck at his nipples, kissing his neck all the while.
Felix stared blankly at the ceiling as his legs were gently parted, as something slick prodded at his rim, as a hand wrapped around his flaccid length, coaxing it to harden. Rufus worked a gentle finger inside him as he stroked Felix, cooing softly things Felix couldn’t focus enough to understand. He let his eyes close as Rufus stretched him open, mind a jumble of discomfort and confusion.
Then the hands left him and Rufus clambered off the bed, and for a moment Felix let himself believe that it was over, that he could go to sleep. It was a short-lived though t , however, as a moment later, Rufus was crawling over top of him, nude.
He urged Felix to lift his legs to his chest, nearly folded in half, stretched hole presented to the man. Gentle lips covered his own, tongue licking into Felix’s unresponsive mouth as Rufus lined himself up at Felix’s entrance. Felix sobbed as the man sank to the hilt inside him, though he shed no tears.
Rufus whispered tender things in Felix’s ear – things Felix could not later recall through the fog of intoxication – between kisses as he fucked him. The man reached down between their bodies to pump Felix again in time with his own thrusts, until Felix came with a broken moan.
Rufus groaned then, the rhythmic pump of his hips faltering. Very suddenly, he pulled out, using his hand to quickly stroke himself to completion on Felix’s chest. He sighed contentedly, planting kisses along Felix’s brow and whispering what a good job Felix had done. He stood then, fetched a rag and cleaned Felix tenderly before laying back on the bed, and Felix was powerless to resist being pulled into the man’s arms. He just wanted to sleep…
After a time of Rufus toying with his hair and running his hands across the plane of Felix’s chest, he got up and Felix watched through unfocused eyes as the man dressed himself. He sank down next to Felix once more, manhandling him back into his smalls.
He swept a strand of hair behind Felix’s ear, smiling sweetly down at him. “You understand, Felix, that if you tell anyone, no one is going to believe you, right?” Felix just stared blankly. “You’re very intoxicated, after all. If you try and tell anyone what happened, they will write it off as the nightmare of a very drunk boy. So, save yourself some trouble and keep this between us, alright?”
He took Felix’s silence as an agreement, and leaned down to kiss him once again. “I hope you remember this in the morning,” he sighed wistfully against Felix’s lips. “You were everything I’d always imagined.” Felix shuddered. “Next time, however, I hope you’re sober. It’s more fun that way.”
The man left him then, and Felix drifted in and out of sleep. At one point, he was vaguely aware of his father checking in on him, though the old man was used to Felix not speaking with him and thought nothing of it.
Felix remembered in the morning. He told no one.
Until this moment, there had been no ‘next time.’
And, Goddess, does Felix wish he was drunk again as he hears the click of the lock when Rufus closes the door of his chamber behind them. It would certainly make the whole affair easier to swallow.
He tries to focus on anything but the oppressive presence of Rufus stepping around him, takes in the tasteful décor of his sitting room, the shelves lined with books and baubles, ornamental weapons mounted on the walls.
His mind invariably wanders to the sinister thought of how many boys have found themselves here after being snared in Rufus’ web. He’ll beg me to take him instead, he’d said of Sylvain, not a guess, but a fact. A given. He knew from experience what Sylvain would do. That makes him so easy to manipulate, don’t you think, when you know all the right strings to pull? How many times had he pulled those strings? Who else’s strings had he manipulated?
The boars…?
As much as Felix wants to say no one could be so depraved as to lure their own blood into their bed, he can’t. If anyone could be so depraved, he has no doubt it is Rufus Blaiddyd.
“Are you just going to stand in the doorway?” Rufus laughs from the opposite door. “I’m afraid I don’t find that terribly entertaining, if you’re still trying to relieve my boredom.”
Feeling like his boots are made of iron, Felix crosses the room and follows Rufus into the next. His bedchamber, with an elegant four-poster bed dressed in royal blue sheets standing as the centerpiece of the expensive furnishings.
Rufus comes to a stop behind him, pressing himself tight against Felix’s back, and Felix is disgusted to feel his half-hard length prodding his lower back through the man’s trousers. He gently massages Felix’s shoulders. “You’re so tense, Felix,” he mutters, his breath hot against the shell of Felix’s ear. “Relax. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No,” Felix huffs. As much as he would love to sink into the oblivion of intoxication, he dreads the suffocating helplessness that smothered him the last time. And he knows Rufus will not allow him to get anywhere near that drunk again. Next time, however, I hope you’re sober. It’s more fun that way.
“Good. So, why don’t you start by stripping.” The weight of the man’s hands disappears from Felix’s shoulders and he crosses the room, sinking down into a plush arm chair, making himself comfortable and watching Felix expectantly.
Felix swallows hard as his fingers reach up to untie the laces that tie his pale blue tunic closed. He stares at the floor, trying his hardest to avoid looking at Rufus, who out of the corner of his eye, he can’t help but notice has started rubbing his erection through the fabric of his pants. He unbuckles the belt that cinches the waist of his tunic, letting it drop to the floor with a clatter. After a moment’s hesitation, Felix pulls the tunic over his head in a single, swift movement. It pools at his feet when he drops it carelessly.
“Play with your nipples,” Rufus instructs before Felix has a chance to toe out of his boots. Feeling his cheeks burn, he does as he’s asked, rolling the small pink buds between his thumbs and pointer fingers, biting his lip to keep from making noise. Rufus seems content to watch for a while, not letting Felix stop until they are red and tender, almost too sensitive to continue touching.
He doesn’t interrupt Felix again until the boy is completely nude in front of him. Felix is ashamed to note that the stimulation to his sensitive nipples made his cock twitch in interest, and it stands at half-mast in the cool air of the chamber. Felix feels horribly small as the man appraises him from across the room before beckoning him over.
“Let your hair down,” the man tells him when Felix comes to a stop in front of him. Felix pulls it lose, letting the long inky strands fall around his shoulders. “Gorgeous.” The praise makes him feel gross. “On your knees.”
When Felix is on his knees in front of Rufus, settled between his parted legs, the man reaches out to caress his cheek, and Felix fights the urge to jerk away from the touch. He holds Felix there for a time, alternating between softly stroking Felix’s flushed skin and running his fingers through Felix’s hair.
Without warning, two fingers push past his lips, rest heavily on his tongue. He can just make out the floral hint of soap over the saltiness of skin. On instinct, his lips wrap around the digits and he laves his tongue over them. Rufus hums contentedly as Felix bobs his head along the fingers; there is no point in acting naive, in acting as through he doesn’t know what the man expects of him.
After a time, Rufus grips his hair tight with his free hand, forcing his head still as he begins pumping his fingers into Felix’s mouth, reaching deeper than the boy had taken them. Felix nearly gags as they brush the back of his throat. “Take deep breaths through your nose,” the man tells him. “Let your throat relax.”
Felix tries, though he still coughs and sputters each time the fingers push back toward his throat. Rufus is patient, withdrawing them each time he begins to gag, giving him a moment to breathe before beginning again. It takes some time and a lot of trial and error, but eventually, he is able to take the fingers deep in his throat without feeling like he’s going to puke, though it’s still not terribly comfortable. Rufus fucks him with his fingers for a time, seeming pleased at the sounds Felix can’t help but make, at the saliva that runs down his chin.
“You’re being so good for me, Felix,” he coos as his fingers finally leave the boy’s mouth. “I’ll admit, I have little patience for partners who fight me.” He speaks casually as he begins unlacing his trousers. “I’m not so desperate I can’t find someone more amenable to my affection.” His affection. Felix wants to tell him where he can shove his affection, but given what he just said, he doubts he would be considered very amenable after that and the man would simply go harass Sylvain instead.
And a moment later, it doesn’t matter anyway, because he is completely sidetracked by the sight of Rufus’ cock. The night two years ago, Felix had not actually seen it; he’d stared off in the distance, so detached from what was happening that many of the night’s finer details were completely lost to him. Was it always so huge? Had the man really gotten it inside him? It certainly doesn’t look like it would fit.
Sighing heavily, Felix leans in and wraps his lips around the flushed, leaking head of Rufus’ cock. Even just that stretches his lips so wide. Rufus gently urges him to take more, though mercifully doesn’t force his imposing length down Felix’s throat. He wraps a hand around the remainder of the shaft and begins bobbing his head along it.
“You’re quite the natural at this, Felix,” Rufus purrs, nails lightly scratching at his scalp as he runs his fingers through Felix’s hair. “If you told me you’ve never sucked a cock before, I’m not sure I would believe you.” The sound Felix makes is borderline pathetic.
Because Felix has, in fact, sucked a cock before. Just not one quite so large. Felix has been aware of his attraction to other boys for some time, and while he’d never been able to bring himself to have sex with them… not after Rufus stole his first from him… it didn’t mean he’d never fooled around, like with the blacksmith’s handsome son, Erik, for example, when he knew their fathers were too busy to accidentally stumble across them.
Rufus laughs, then, tugging Felix off his length. “Oh, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” If it was possible for Felix’s cheeks to flame brighter, he is sure they did. “Though, perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise. You’re so like your brother, after all.”
Felix’s blood runs cold. “What?” he demands flatly, jerking away from the fingers that still lightly trailed over his hair.
“You didn’t know?” Rufus teases, blue eyes sparkling in amusement. “I lost count of the number of times I happened across Glenn sprawled in the hay under a stable boy.” Felix stared at him through slitted eyes, trying to decide if the man was fucking with him, or if his taunts were genuine. If Glenn had fancied boys, he’d certainly given no indication to Felix.
A darker, more revolting thought also creeps through Felix’s mind: Glenn had only been seventeen when he died, and split his time between Fhirdiad and Fraldarius from the time he was knighted at fifteen. Had Rufus gotten his hands on Glenn as well?
Felix isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, because he is afraid he already knows.
“In the top drawer of my night stand,” Rufus says, drawing Felix’s attention back to the present, which is no more pleasant than the past he was distracted by thoughts of, “there is a vial of oil. Go take it, bend over the bed, and finger yourself open for me.” Felix blinks, glancing between the man’s impressive girth and his own slender fingers. Rufus chuckles, ruffling Felix’s hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll prepare your properly in due time. I just want a little show. Entertain me, Felix.” Felix stands, trying to keep his chin up as he walks the impossibly long six or so feet to the bed.
He pulls open the drawer to see an array of toys that varied in shape, size, and material, though each looks to be expertly crafted and very expensive. He gets distracted looking at them for a moment. There are several glass phallus-shaped toys in a variety of sizes, from a modest four or five inches long and small enough Felix’s fingers would easily encircle it, up to one he is quite sure is larger than Rufus’ length; a string of smooth wooden beads, each progressive one slightly larger, from the size of a pea up to the size of a walnut; a couple thick, ceramic rings; and a matching set three tapered cones with rounded ends of varying size, carved of mahogany and polished until they gleamed.
“Admiring my collection?” Rufus calls, once again refocusing Felix on the unpleasantness at hand. “Trying to figure out what something is for, aren’t you?” Felix licks his lips, unable to deny that the thought had crossed his mind. “Well, go on, what are you confused about?”
Tentatively, Felix holds up one of the tapered cones. “That’s an anal plug,” the man explains casually. “Among other things, it can be used to keep the hole loose after stretching, so one doesn’t have to go through the hassle of preparing all over again if one is planning to have a bit more fun later. They can be used to tease ones partner, keep them aroused and needy for hours because they’ll feel it every time they move. Does that answer your question?” Felix nods, quickly replacing the plug where he found it, not wanting to consider where it’s been. “Anything else?” Felix hesitates. “Come now, no need to be ashamed. It’s alright to be curious.”
Rather than pick another item up, Felix speaks up. “The rings?” He winces at the slight rasp in his voice from the fingers that were previously down his throat.
“Cock rings. They keep you from spending.” Felix is sure he can work out the use of the phalluses and the beads and needs no explanation for those; he picks up the oil. “Perhaps another time, if you’re curious about my collection-”
“Pass,” he huffs.
“We’ll see. Bend over the bed.” Felix does as he is told. “Spread your legs just a little more… good. Do you know how to work yourself open?”
“Yes.”
He can practically hear the man’s leer. “Well, go on then.”
He tries not to think about the eyes on him as he uncorks the vial of oil and generously coats his fingers, letting it warm before reaching around himself. He runs a finger lightly around his hole. Felix doesn’t have a whole lot of practice doing this, though not for lack of trying. Each time, his mind would inevitably flash back to that night and any interest in proceeding would quickly be lost. He’d only ever managed to work a single finger inside himself before that happened.
But he supposwa this time it doesn’t matter if his mind flashes back, if he feels sick to his stomach as he works the first digit inside his tight heat. His nightmare of Rufus having his way with him once again is already coming true; he isn’t trying to finger himself for his own pleasure anyway.
“Let me hear you, Felix,” Rufus prompts, and it is only then that Felix realizes he’s biting the sheet in an attempt to stifle the sounds that threaten to escape him.
So Felix lets the noises loose, lets himself moan as his fingers pump inside him, as they brush a spot that has him gasping and rutting against the sheets unconsciously. And before he realizes it, he’s three fingers deep, moaning like a whore as he spends.
His fingers slide out and his arm falls limp at his side as he pants, face buried in the soft blue sheet. He doesn’t notice Rufus until a warm hand runs down his back. “You certainly put on quite the show, Felix,” he coos, grabbing the vial of oil and coating his own fingers.
Felix is too boneless to protest as he’s filled once again. Rufus’ fingers are thicker than his own, stretching him farther than he’d managed himself and it is all Felix can do to take it, whining pathetically with each graze against the sensitive spot inside him.
When he deems Felix ready, his fingers withdraw and he climbs into the bed – Felix realizes belatedly that he’s already out of his own clothing… when did that happen? - propping himself up against the headboard before grabbing Felix’s hand and urging him to join him.
Felix feels wobbly as he crawls over. Rufus slicks his cock with more oil and grabs Felix by the hips, moving him until he was straddling the man. Felix can’t help but brace himself against the man’s shoulders as he’s positioned over his length. Rufus guides the head to Felix’s stretched hole with his hands firmly holding his rear, lowering him gently until it breaches him. He gasps, burying his face in the crook of Rufus’ neck as he’s filled, slowly sinking down his shaft.
Rufus sighs contentedly as he bottoms out, strong arms wrapping around Felix in what would have been a tender hug if the man weren’t a disgusting lech. He smooths Felix’s hair, giving him time to adjust. After a time, he rolls his hips, grinding up into Felix’s heat. His hands return to where they cupped Felix’s ass, lifting him easily up, then letting him sink back down. Felix groans, unable to look up from where his face is hidden.
Gradually, his pace builds until he’s bouncing Felix on his cock with abandon, the boy simply along for the ride. Each time Felix is filled, Rufus’ cock strikes the spot inside him that makes him make pathetic, wrecked moans.
And then he’s being flipped, suddenly on his back with Rufus above him, his legs wrapped around the man’s hips as he pounds into the pliant boy. Rufus’ lips leave a hot trail of kisses over his neck, and a stream of low, silky praises and taunts are whispered into Felix’s ear. He ignores them.
Until…
“It’s too bad you’re not a crier like your brother was.” Something in Felix breaks, then, like glass shattering into a million jagged shards. “He cried like a bitch every time I fucked him. It was cute.”
All Felix can see is red. He starts thrashing, shouting curses as he writhes under Rufus, kicking and clawing. His hands are quickly captured, pressed into the mattress in an inescapable iron grip as he continues to buck and spit and swear.
Rufus looks delighted.
It is exactly what he wants.
He spends in Felix with a low, satisfied groan.
Felix wants to kill him. More than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.
Felix continues to fight as Rufus pulls out of him. His teeth gnash and his leg beat against the man’s back, heedless of the soreness that shoots through him with each movement. Rufus just lays there, holding him in place, patiently waiting for Felix to wear himself out.
“I think you’re rather old for tantrums, don’t you, Felix?” he sighs when Felix doesn’t wear himself out quickly enough.
“Fuck you,” he spits.
“You just did.”
“I hope you burn, you disgusting piece of human filth.” Rufus rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “You deserved to have died a horrible, bloody death, not them.” Them, of course, being Glenn, being King Lambert, being Queen Patricia, being all the other knights who were slaughtered in Duscur, being the people of Duscur who were slaughtered in turn.
He does not expect the slap.
Felix freezes, the sound of skin on skin ringing in his ears, his cheek stinging white-hot. Rufus glares down at him. “People so seldom get the things they deserve, Felix. My brother did not deserve to die a horrible, bloody death. But he did. Your brother didn’t deserve to die, but he did. You did nothing to deserve getting fucked by me, but you’re in my bed all the same. Life is cruel that way, isn’t it?
“So, no, I do not get the things I deserve. I get the things I take for myself, because I want them. Do I deserve to burn for taking them? Perhaps. But that is between me and the Goddess. Leave my brother out of it.”
He is off of Felix then, already half way across the room, bending to collect his discarded clothing by the time Felix lifts his head to stare after him. He heads toward the adjoining washroom, pausing only to shoot an icy glare over his shoulder. “Dress yourself and leave. I expect you to mind your tongue next time.”
The door slams behind him.
Felix dresses in a daze and leaves.