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games of pleasure

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The sound of music is good at lulling him into an easy sense of comfort, despite the gaze of Hyrule’s queen constantly skirting over to where he was perched on the arm of Ganon’s throne, feeding his king his favorite berries and fruits from his fingertips.  Queen Zelda had seem aghast at the sight of him-- a Hylian, dressed in the traditional garb of a Gerudo vie, veil and all.  It hid his face well enough, but did little to hide how very much of a Hylian he was-- his pale skin, light hair, and pointed ears were enough for that. 

Still, he didn’t think it was enough to catch the queen’s attention.  No other Hylian visitor had ever paid him much mind, after all.  

Teeth catch at his thumb.  Link jerks, jewels clattering against skin and silk and metal like rainfall, and his focus falls on his king as Ganondorf grins, wolfishly, up at him.  As Ganondorf slides a hand up his thigh. 

“Your attention is scattered, this evening.” 

Ah, he’s had some of the wine. 

Holding out the plate of delicacies he’d been feeding Ganon from, Link hums and knows that Ganon can catch his acceptance of Ganon’s advances with only a glance to his eyes.  Ganon has always been very good at reading him; Link has always been very good at telling him when he’s displeased. 

“The Queen has her eye on you,” Ganon mutters as, empty handed, Link slinks into his lap-- big hands guiding him in place until Link’s back is flush to the broad expanse of Ganon’s chest, small but agile legs dangling over his thighs, rear snug against Ganon’s mild arousal.  “Shall we show her that you’re taken?” 

Link casts a dirty look over his shoulder, earning one of those mighty barks of a laugh out of his king. 

“Yes, you’re right,” Ganon mutters, soothing his hands over Link’s sides and flexing his hips up just enough for Link to feel how ready Ganon is for him; how wanting.  “You’ve done nothing wrong.  You’re so lovely tonight, I’m certain that none can help but look and want.” 

Link makes a small, throaty little sound.  Ganon ruts up again, his pheromones already flooding Link’s senses, heady enough to be a drug.  He can feel a low heat in his belly.  A wetness between his legs.  

“It’s true,” Ganon assures him, fingers digging in at Link’s hips and rocking him in his lap; the music does not stop, nor does the celebration unfolding before them, but the attendants are wise enough to give them breathing room.  “My lovely little consort.  My omega.  You’re gorgeous; of course the queen of Hyrule desires you.” 

There’s a kiss, so sweet, pressed to Link’s nape, to their bond mark, as his ears twitch and go a bit pink.  A huff of a laugh gusts across the skin of his throat.  

It is a dreadful, delightful contrast to Ganon’s next words and his hands that are pulling aside layers of silk so that fingers can seek out the heat of him, can sink in-- two of them, thick and rough and too fast-- and Link’s toes curl in his sandals as Ganon holds him steady, a big hand at one hip while the other shifts between his thighs, pumping idly, fingers spearing Link open enough to easily accept a third. 

Flush and gasping, Link melts back against Ganon’s chest.  He hears a wolf whistle from somewhere, ears burning red, and Ganon grins against his temple as he holds him fast and shows the world just who Link belongs to.  No one would dare interrupt, not when Link is broadcasting his satisfaction to the room in the only way he can-- the scent of a satisfied omega, ready and wanting to mate, and Link has set the celebration hall into a frenzy more than once.  Already, he can see a few Gerudo sneaking off, hand-in-hand.  

“Focus, little one,” Ganon warns, low in his ear, burying his fingers deep and pressing at the deepest, sweetest parts of him until Link cannot swallow back a soft keen.  “There is not a single alpha here who would not have you.  But I have you.  Isn’t that right, Link?” 

Link makes some strangled sound, his hands too clumsy to sign, so he clutches at Ganon’s wrists instead.  

Ganon practically purrs.  “Shall I give you what you need?  Show them all how well you take your alpha?” 

Link nods his head haplessly, squirming, but Ganon does not make him wait.  With an unknotting of the sash holding his trousers up, Ganon frees himself and barely withdraws his fingers before he’s lifting Link by the hips so that he can guide him down onto his waiting cock.  

The initial stretch is always overwhelming.  Ganon is big-- too big, he’s thought before-- and Link always feels right on the edge of breaking when he sinks in.  His head tips back, fingers clawing at Ganon’s wrists, and he can feel others watching, can feel their gaze burning on him as Ganon sinks in deeper, deeper, deeper--

Ganon groans behind him, snapping up and in sharply enough that Link cries out, his own cock staining the silks that still hide it.  Ganon groans again, as Link trembles and twitches, and he cups Link through his clothes, grinding his palm down until Link whines.  

Once Link has settled-- has been brought down from his sudden oblivion with Ganon muttering low in his ear, a palm spread over Link’s belly where anyone can see just how well he takes his alpha, his cock buried to the hilt and content with staying there-- Ganon hums and waves an attendant over.  Link is too busy panting, head too busy swimming, to be of much help, but when Ganon tips his head back and pulls his veil aside, Link opens his mouth to accept the kiss Ganon lays there, making a muffled sound when sweet wine dribbles down his chin.  

“Keep me warm, won’t you, my love?” Ganon asks, giving a sharp buck of his hips, and Link keens.  “We’ve got an entire night to get through, after all.” 

The sound of music is good at lulling him into an easy sense of comfort, despite the gaze of Hyrule’s queen constantly skirting over to where he is in Ganon’s lap.  He relaxes back, cradled by his king, happy to play his little games if it means this kind of pleasure.