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OTP Challenge: Shaddam/Fenring

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“Wherever did you acquire that?” Shaddam exclaimed once Fenring emerged from the ensuite, after much awkward pulling and adjusting in his borrowed attire. It took some persuasion for the soldier to part with his uniform for one night, for it was tailored to his slight stature rare for a Sardaukar. However, Fenring thought the whole endeavor worth the barely concealed excitement on Shaddam’s face alone. 


“Shall I don the helmet?” Fenring teased, shifting the black Bashar helmet in his grip. It was mismatched with the rank displayed on his uniform, but he was sure Shaddam wouldn’t mind for their bedroom games. Tomorrow, he will return the helmet to its drunken owner using the same sleight of hand he used to borrow it. 


Shaddam gulped and motioned for Fenring to turn around. Smirking while abiding, Fenring fitted the helmet on his head, tucking away stray strands of hair below it. His frame became rigid, and when he turned back around, his gaze was placid like that of a well-oiled killing machine.


“Awaiting your order, Sire.”


The Crown Prince shifted in his seat, his trousers now uncomfortably tight. Damn Hasimir for always knowing my weaknesses! He was half-convinced that aside from assassin and mentat training, Fenring was also versed in the art of neuro-enticement. Before tonight, Shaddam would have never acknowledged that he was so inclined towards soldiers of the Imperial Legion - a blasphemous, absurd notion. Hell, without his lifelong attachment to Fenring, Shaddam was positive that he never would have had this shameful proclivity altogether. 


“You may approach.” Gripping his mahogany armrests, Shaddam forced steel into his voice. “On your knees, soldier.” He commanded once Fenring was an arm’s length away, and the man dropped to his knees. Shaddam thought of passing him a cushion to kneel upon, but decided against it for the sake of maintaining character. 


“Have you ever done this before?” With his long-time friend and secret lover, the conversational foreplay was often as stimulating as sex itself. Fenring’s witty banter and mischievous grin too often fanned Shaddam’s desire into a wildfire, and before long, they would be panting side by side on hardwood floor, embroidered sheets, and even once on Emperor Elrood IX’s throne. 


“Would a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ please your Highness more?” 


“The truth would please me. You wouldn’t lie to your future Emperor, would you?”


Fenring raised his head, his eyes glinting like flintstone. “Often, sir, and I’m told I’m quite good at it.”


“Servicing your fellow Sardaukar? Why, you’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?” Shaddam reached down and cupped Fenring’s jaw in his grip, but changed his mind at the last second. He was tired of maintaining his strenuous grip on imagined control, for the Throne was not yet his and the years slipped him by. He felt suddenly weary, as if he'd aged a hundred years in the blink of an eye.


Always attuned to his best friend’s moods, Fenring stood up quietly and guided Shaddam towards the bed. Shaddam let himself fall limp onto the sheets, gaze hungry for the uniformed man climbing on top of him. Never in his life would he let another man put him in a position like this, but he was damnably at ease with Fenring. Nimble fingers unraveled his belt and pulled his trousers down to his knees, and Shaddam shuddered with his legs splayed.


“Have you always wanted to fuck a Sardaukar, Sire?” It was Fenring’s turn for questioning, as he rocked against Shaddam’s hardness playfully. “All those times you watched us march at your father’s command, ready to fight for you, kill for you, die for you… Isn’t that the most profound devotion of all? What woman is capable of giving you even a fraction of what a Sardaukar like me gives to the Crown?” Slyly unbuckling his own trousers, Fenring discarded his garments on the floor, while leaving the uniform jacket and helmet on. 


Shaddam struggled for conscious thought. “To the Crown, yes - but not to me, personally.” His eyes narrowed, immersed in their play-pretend. “You’ve served every Padishah Emperor in history, but I am yet a Crown Prince. If the succession passed me over, you would offer the same loyalty to another Corrino.” His breath hitched as Fenring found his erection and slid it inside himself, letting out a shuddering breath as he straddled him.


“Then cultivate personal loyalty, hmm?” Shaddam could hear the tic rearing in Fenring’s speech, but he didn’t care in the slightest as he gripped Fenring’s waist to force him down deeper. Fenring gasped and tried to maintain rhythm, though words still spilled from his lips. “Show the Sardaukar that you’re one of us - spoil us, but keep us sharp and deadly -” He slumped over Shaddam, panting as his thighs trembled. Shaddam’s cock slid out of him, and Fenring reverted to frotting. “Before long,” he whispered into Shaddam’s ear. “your name will be a battle cry.”


With a surge of powerlust, Shaddam flipped Fenring over and entered him again. Fenring cried out but wrapped his legs tightly around Shaddam, and with a few thrusts Shaddam reached his climax. Fenring shuddered as if he too finished, though his cock drooled only precum. He rocked back on Shaddam’s still-hard cock as he pumped at his own erection, spraying his seed over the borrowed jacket. 


Breathing ruggedly, Shaddam clumsily attempted to unbutton the smaller man’s uniform, with Fenring’s slender fingers soon helping him. Before long, both the helmet and the jacket were dropped to the floor, and they were wrapped in each other’s arms, naked as each other’s companion in infancy. 


“That was…” Shaddam chuckled, turning his gaze towards the ceiling. “Wherever do you get these ideas?” He asked again, sliding an arm under Fenring’s neck. Fenring nestled against him, contently humming as he drew circles on Shaddam’s chest. 


“You always loved to play soldier when we were kids, hmm-ah?” Fenring murmured, and Shaddam flushed with embarrassment. Too often had he fantasized about ridding himself of this lifelong friend, who knew all his deepest secrets and privatest thoughts before maturity erected interpersonal walls. Shaddam felt as if he was conjoined with Fenring, suffocating under the weight of their codependency. Even when they were children, Fenring reared his possessive side whenever someone threatened his position as the Prince’s closest companion. 


As if sensing his thoughts, Fenring raised his gaze inquiringly. “Would you like something to drink, Shaddam?” Without waiting for his response, Fenring slid out of the bed and padded over to the globe bar in the likeness of Kaitain. He returned with two glasses of Mervignon, a Salusa Secundus vintage in theme with their roleplay. 


Shaddam accepted the drink, contemplating as he sipped. The tie won’t be severed soon, he decided. Fenring has made himself invaluable to the Crown Prince, and try as he may, Shaddam could not deny the gravitational pull between them. Up or down - they belong together.