The Mind of a King | By : Resting-Madness Category: Final Fantasy Games > Final Fantasy VI Views: 332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that creates the wonderfully sculpted world of Final Fantasy VI. I do not own nor took part in the character creation. I make not one cent from this story, it's just for fun. And possibly a review from my kind readers. |
He's not fine. Locke Cole is anything opposite of fine. He's irritable. Irate. Bland in response. And wishing he was blind and deaf, as he watched from the sidelines as his lover cuddled up to a bunch of cooing, giigling, women. Edgar was barely flirting and they were already with child! It was humiliating how first-time some of them were that mere flirting was enough. His shoulders slumped, and he excused himself from the game room.
That's where the select eligible went for afternoon activities. Edgar thought a comfortable environment would help the ladies relax, and not be so shy. The purpose of this all certainly doesn't call for the meek and overly self conscious. Locke was playing chess with one of the cortesans. He was losing, but he wasn't really paying the game much attention. He was focused more on Edgar and the young lady, Eilene, age 23, whilst they played pool. All was normal with those who play the sport, until little miss dark curls tripped over the front of her dress when she took a slight step forward and pressed down onto the further elongated front of the garment.
Edgar caught her around the waist. He whispered something in her ear; the soft tone was somewhat picked up. It sounded as if he said: "I have you. I'll guide you along." And from that she must have imagined being selected, being guided along. Disgraceful.
"I win. Check mate."
Locke blinked. He mumbled good game then exited. He now rests his back against the door. The back of his head popped repeatedly against the solid obstruction. He stopped himself from the wallow before the noise sent a servant to open the door believing someone was knocking to get in.
He left the hall and wandered into Sabin's wing of the castle. Sometimes the, not-my-title, Prince would come by; absolutely undetected by others in the large dwelling, he would just exist. Live for a moment or fortnight, then leave. None aware but those who tended to him on staff.
He would see his brother, or Locke, if he liked. Or he'd simply be there. It's his home, too, he has right of it. And it seemed that today was one of those days, because Sabin was in his bedroom. Lucky, thought Locke. He could use better company.
"Psst! Sabin!" He whisper-shouted to his friend across the distance of the sitting room to the opened door of the bedroom.
Sabin looked startled then turned around after looking for the hard whispering ghost. "Why're you whispering if you want my attention?" He questioned once locating Locke at the door in the next room.
"Sorry. I thought you busy and wouldn't want company." He stepped inside.
Sabin wondered how that answered his question. Whispering doesn't decide the level of wanting loud company or quiet company. If he wants to be alone, that's that. He waved his visitor in, heading into the sitting room where he dropped himself down onto a long royal blue couch.
"What's up?"
"I'm just looking for something to do that's kinder to my teeth."
"Hmm?" He missed the meaning.
He looked ready to clarify that being around Edgar right now, has him grinding his teeth, and trying to consume his tongue, in order to stay silent about his outrage and disgust. But, he can't. This is important. His feelings can't count if it's for the good of the kingdom.
"Nothing. Ignore it." He joined his friend on the couch. "Wanna spar? If you're free and weren't about to nap or bathe."
Sabin was about to do something in his bedroom but sleeping wasn't it. He's been out in the caves doing some muscle training and stumbled upon nature being nature. Two monsters, a Humpty and an Amduscias, were rutting like humans. It was comical at first, then kinda hot. As he watched he felt his own need stir. He tucked his hand into his waistband, but ended up having to fight them as they smelled both his sweat and light musk that presented itself during his gentle ministrations.
"You've wanted to teach me martial arts. I'm free as a bird now."
"Sure!" He could go nuts later. It'd be nice to hangout with Locke. They haven't done that in a while. "But, what about Ed? You don't wanna stick around and keep an eye on him?"
"Keep an eye for what? The endgame is essentially having sex with someone who's not me," he hated saying it out loud. "I'm fine with it. It's his duty, not his desire."
Sabin whistled. Impressed. "You're more mature than me, but then, I'm unattached because I don't trust my commitment skills."
Locke shot his friend a look of tame resentment. The Figaro brothers were going to be the death of people's sanity. "Umm, indoors or.."
"Yeah, let's go to the inner ward garden."
Locke led the way to the outdoor inner wall garden. It's a large area surrounded by the stone wall but has no overhead. It's just like a courtyard but for the plants. However, today it was a sparring zone. And Locke was ready to beat through his aggression.
Sabin taught him well. It was the plus to sparring with actual fighters who are used to taking hits. You can test your strength, no mock or contact only touches. He threw a punch and it landed as hard as he could execute it. He's a good street brawler, but nothing like Sabin Figaro. The guy was an art. He'd make a fortune teaching others.
Said teacher laughed when tossing Locke, after telling him to rush him. The student felt a strong grip around his wrist, followed by a foot upon his pelvis before he was hurled over Sabin's falling posture. Alright, he thought as he hit his back on the unforgiving ground. He's done.
"Good match." He tossed his bandana as a towel. He was defeated, and they weren't even fighting as fighters. This was a lesson. A good, distracting lesson between student and teacher.
Sabin got to his feet, helping Locke to stand. The treasure hunter groaned from body ache. He smiled. He punched Sabin's buff shoulder. "Thanks."
"Any time." He patted him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna bathe." He brushed an accumulation of sweat from his arms.
Locke figured that was the best course of action. He's got more sweat on him than Sabin. It'd be great if Edgar could join him. His hazel gaze briefly swept over Sabin. Nope. Nope. Nope. We are not going to ogle a twin to give sexual visuals to a self satisfaction moment. He has plenty of memories of his beloved to get him there without Edgar being there. This whole situation was making him emotionally fidgety. It hasn't been long since the flyers went up. Even less time than that for the maidens to get over the shock and embarrassment and step up to the auditions. He's good.
He started towards the entrance of the North wing of the castle.
...
The bath oil was perfect. It was smooth and rich, giving a perfect slickened glide around his body. One area in particular. It seemed his length was starving like a glutton, because it was ready to stay up to the task. Any lengthy thought of Edgar seemed to deter the end. He just wanted to release, but his body ached for more pleasure.
Edgar wet. Edgar in a dressing gown, his hair out and swaying gently as he moved. Edgar tying his hair up. Edgar eating then feeding him right after. Edgar's casual smile. And of course, Edgar, his sexy Majesty, waiting for him in bed. An alluring smile by those perfect lips. His deep blue gaze predatory.
Locke's hand worked faster, clenched more tightly. Images of Edgar's muscles working in his back as he nailed him, the soft tickle of Edgar's hair brushing against his exposed flesh when he's the one being taken. That sacred high he gets feeling filled, and whispered to about all the ways he was going to be ravaged.
Locke Cole was not ok. He just enjoyed a wonderful bath, all so it could be ruined while he and dressed. All those delightful things about his lover, someone else is going to be privileged. How much of Edgar's sex playbook was exclusive for him that, if he spied on them, he wouldn't see it happening during the unholy coupling? His King could just have a list of this way then that way. And these women... How long would they have with Edgar? Long enough to imbibe parts of his perfect body to memory?
Locke's fist clenched. His lover's little mole at the bottom of his left shoulder blade, the sound of Edgar's moans, the calluses on his hands from swordplay, writing signatures, and holding reigns as he rides. Will the chosen candidate imprint his existence inside of her body. His eyes widened. 'Goddess.. I'm having a panic attack!' His breathing turned shallow.
His blood pressure climbed to a high spike. It felt like his head was going to explode! The rush of blood dulled his senses, his hearing lessened, his sense of smell was gone by running blockage, and his vision spun and dropped into nothing but reds then as usual colored. He clutched his chest feeling winded. Why hadn't he thought this through better?
He agreed to it in order to be left alone. He wanted the chancellor to go and let them have their peace before Edgar had to resume being king of Figaro. He didn't want to be set aside as a male affaire while his beloved was married off to preserve rule.
"Locke?"
Locke just stood still staring in disbelief. So when a hand landed on his shoulder he jumped out of his skin. His heart was already racing, it was liable to burst inside of him now. His hazel gaze cleared when the intruder spun him to face him.
"What are you doing?" Edgar smiled at him; he looked about as if something had fascinated his lover into an intense concentration.
Nothing seemed so interesting to him. Same furniture, no secret rooms exposed without his having done so. The scent from Locke was lovely, he surmised that he's just gotten out of the bath. He casual mentioned to his distracted consort his thoughts on how nice he smells.
"This was a terrible idea, Ed." Locke finally found his voice.
Chuckling, Edgar wrapped an arm around Locke's shoulders. "Obviously. But as it stands, I really have no choice. My hands are tied. My position in life wins over my position as a mere man every time."
"Your position is annoying." Sulked the consort.
"Yes."
"So where's your entourage? Refreshing for round two of schmoozing?"
"They've gone for the day. It's just us now." Edgar confessed into the side of Locke's neck with soft lips barely grazing while heavily touching him. "At last."
Locke's shoulders slumped. Such a quick punch to the ego when the guy you want to be angry at is reasonable and hates it too.
"Locke.. I'm not replacing you, nor am I falling for the wiles of these women." He nuzzled his cheek against his lover's. "I love only you, despite the thrown. No one can truly know the mind of a King compared to his duties."
"But what about them? You'll sleep with them and they'll fall head-over-heels for you."
Perplexed, Edgar stated. "They all were informed that this is strictly business. It is not a search for a queen, nor a permanent partner for myself. They will be compensated, given residency here at the castle. But our connection ends there."
Locke scoffed. "One slip between the thighs and they'll be foaming at the mouth."
Edgar had to laugh at that. "Is that all it takes? I wish I'd known that before the Magi war. I could have just gave the Empire a good poke and been done with all the bad blood between us."
Locke resisted the cupping of his chin, but gave in when Edgar's lips pressed to and parted his own. The lavish tongue pleased his muddy mind; the hand sneaking into his pants dropped his defenses completely. After his bath he thought he had nothing more to give, but going by the rush to action he was mistaken.
Their clothes hit the floor; their conjoined bodies melded and entangled. Locke's hands combed and grabbed at his lover's hair in mimic of Edgar's strong embrace around his back, his fingertips massaged and dug at the sensitive flesh on his sides. The treasure hunter's tongue was slayed in battle by the King's might. What was he worried about being replaced for? Nobody kisses like this with someone whom they don't mind having time away from them. He sighed when the tip of that skilled opponent swiped beneath his tongue that had rose to meet it but was dodged for a location more tough in texture but certainly more fragile to touch.
Edgar turned them around; that little moan broke his semblance. He pushed Locke to the comfortable chaise; his lover was surprised when he was not rested upon but encased by his mouth swooping around his length. He continued his tongue dance with another stiff muscle. His hands smoothed along Locke's thighs; his cheek nuzzled against the thigh brushing it as his lover caressed his foot along his back. When he tasted the reward for his hard work, he slowly removed his mouth from around him, and replaced it with a tighter tunnel.
And they spent the evening together in the heat of the night.
X x X
Commentary: Thanks for reading. I really appreciate it.
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