[AU][C][M] Festivities

He didn't so much as flinch when the Prince attempted to bat him away.

"Your attendant is sick, and I have been chosen as his replacement today," he explained when Richard levelled a hard look at him. His bland, patient smile was in place.

He wanted to leave the Prince to sleep and to go back to his own devices for the next hour, but that was highly unlikely to happen.

"How would you like to take your morning bath?"

Dick groaned. That meant he couldn't sleep some more. He had to get up for the day of more negotiations and awkward conversation.

"Sponge, please."

If it was Alden he would've had a proper bath, he did feel gross and sticky. The bath's in Alden were cooler and hangover friendly. But he wasn't in Alden, he was in Ecrutez. Here the baths were far too hot and made his head fizz without the added hangover.

"I will have a proper bath later."

Delicately he lifted himself so he was sitting and he rested his head in his hands.

Then he groaned loudly again, pale skin turning bright red. Everything from last night came crashing down. Everything. Every word, every action, everything he saw.

He felt filthy.

He stood and moved over to the small table set up by the door. A bathing set had already been laid out, probably by some servant that had thought ahead for the eventuality of the Prince wanting a sponge bath rather than a proper soak.

He poured warm water from the pitcher into the bowl, and over the sponge already in the bowl, then draped a towel over his arm and picked the bowl up.

The bowl was set down on the table by the chaise, and Fleck moved forwards, dropping to his knees before the prince and lifting one leg to rest on his thigh so he could begin unlacing his boots.

When the slave dropped down in front of him, his mind was assaulted with images of him being fucked by the smaller, redheaded slave.

He shifted in his seat and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to expel the indecent images. The remained firmly stuck in his mind.

"Last night," he began as the slave almost finished untieing his shoe.

Richard hesitated, then changed his mind on what he was going to say.

"Thank you, for your advice and help last night."

Fleck gave a small nod at the thanks.

"I'll do what I can to help, my-" He cut himself off before he could say the banned phrase.

"What should I call you?"

He'd made a guess with Prince Richard this morning, but it was much safer if he just asked the Prince.

Richard's bleary eyes blinked. Then he remembered.

Of course, he told him not to call him that anymore. Was that before or after he complimented his lips? He couldn't remember, but he warmed up further.

He guessed the coldness on his skin would only last so long in this kingdom.

"Prince Richard will do."

It was the other servants referred him as. My Prince was only ever occasionally said. Normally if they were deeply thanking him for something, or if it was a formal event.

Never to the extent the slave said it.

"Yes, Prince Richard."

The way he spoke the name was accented, with rolling R's and an almost silent D. The name flirted with his tongue in an almost sensual way. R's were a much loved sound in the Ecrutezian language.

He removed one boot then began to unlace the other.

He had heard Ecrutezians pronounce his name like the slave's throughout his time here. Yet the was something the way the slave's tongue rolled over his name that had him blushing.

He rubbed his eyes again.

Last night was getting to him far too much.

It was mortifying.

But he tried to forget about it and focus on the slave undoing the laces of his boots.

After some consideration, he began to unlace the ties against his crotch himself. If he was blushing over his name being pronounced, he didn't want the slave's tanned hands anywhere near there.

He pulled the other boot off, then began to unlace the ties running along his calves.

By the time he had done that, Richard had finished with the laces at his crotch. He stood, and offered his hand to the Prince to help him stand.

Richard took the hand and stood. A wave of dizziness overcame him and his closed his eyes to steady himself and let it pass.

Once it did, he wriggled the pants off his slender waist until they fell in a heap on the floor.

He stepped out of them.

Then he waited. Anticipation settled in low in is navel.

Fleck turned to unlacing the length on his forearms, left arm first.

He draped the laces over his shoulder as usual. The fine pale laces stood out on his skin, and draped attractively over his chest, one lace resting against a nipple, swinging back and forth over it as he moved to unlace the Prince's right arm.

The laces on his wrists and the clothes being peeled off felt relieving. It was still sticky from where he spilt his wine.

The pale lace draped over the deep olive toned shoulder and chest forced his eyes to follow it. Down to where it brushed over a nipple.

His tongue flicked out over his top lip and he ripped his sight away from it. He was far too naked to be having those thoughts. Thoughts that just won't go away.

Shifting to lean his weight on his other leg, he let the slave unlace his other arm. It was the same relieving sensation - the pale clothing was stained with wine on that side, too. It had stuck to his arm uncomfortably.

When both arms were free of the fine lace, he turned the Prince gently and began slowly unpicking the lace tracing his spine.

When the lacing was free and draped over his shoulder, he traced the small section of exposed skin upwards from the small of his back, to his shoulder blades, then flatted his palms against the skin and pushed off his shirt in the same slow move he'd become accustomed to using when he disrobed the Prince.

The shirt fell to the ground, and he circled around, crouching to pick up both garments, bringing himself close to the man's crotch. He folded them both while he was still crouched, and set them on the edge of the chaise, leaning forwards with the movement and bringing him dangerously close to his exposed cock. Richard could probably feel the light disturbance of air of his breathing.

Then he stood and wrung out the sponge soaking in the bowl of warm water.

Fleck bought the damp sponge to the Prince's shoulder.

Richard's spine straightened when he felt it being lightly traced to part the garment. Then he shivered as calloused hands smoothed over his shoulder blades to push it off. The dampness on his chest was only water, but his felt good to have it peeled off his skin.

The muscles in his stomach tensed when it fell to the floor. Anticipation coiled.

Blue eyes watched the slave crotch down in front of him. He twitched. The slave's warm breath unintentionally teased him. He licked his lips again and gulped. It felt that the slave was down there for far too long, at a far too leisurely pace.

Words caught the back of his throat and he couldn't get them past his lips. Once he worked up the nerve the slave was already stood and was making his way over to the water basin.

He flinched when the damp sponge pressed to his shoulder and he felt a tiny droplet of water trickle down his back.

"It's okay," he quickly insisted before the slave could say anything or pull back. He wanted this over and done with.

He cleaned the Prince's back first, with gentle strokes of the sponge. The sponge passed over his backside with the same attention he gave the rest of him.

His chest and the front of his legs received the same attention, and half way through wiping down his chest, he dropped to his knees in front of Richard.

After he'd finished cleaning his legs, he drew the sponge upwards and began carefully cleaning his crotch. His face was blank, but his fingers were gentle and his pace seemed to have slowed slightly. He cupped his in one hand, and ran the sponge over his cock gently with the other.

Richard focused on keeping his breathing slow and steady. It was difficult not to have it hitch as he was washed. His skin prickled under the sponge, and his muscles tensed and spasmed in particularly sensitive areas.

As it slowly came to the end of his wash, he felt he manage to restrain himself well. He was blushing, but he managed to stay mostly still and keep his breathing steady.

Then the slave moved to wash between his legs.

He didn't mean to gasp and tilt forward. Pale fingers clutched the glossy hair while his cock twitched. Slowly hardening in the slave's hand as the sponge ran over it. The blush that had covered his body rushed south.

His whole body froze, not entirely sure what to do.

The blank look he'd sported when he'd been washing the rest of him melted away as the Prince's cock twitched and hardened under his hands, and that hand grasped at his hair.

He paused in cleaning, his dark eyes turning upwards slowly as he felt his own body begin to react to being held like that in this position. His reactions were just as in the open as Richard's, with just the tiny sheer white cloth to cover him.

Fleck licked his lower lip slowly, and his eyes held a question.

Did the Prince want him to go on, do more?

Richard's breathing hitched as the slave's warm gaze looked up at him. The lick of his lips and the shift under the sheer white cloth was too much.

He bit his lip and straightened a bit, his cock - still on the slave's hand - hardened further at the subtle movement. With his arousal being pent up for so long, he felt overly sensitive.

He took in a few more deep breaths.

"Only-" he cut himself off to lick his lips.

The slave had licked his own lips. There was a growing hardness between his own legs. He wanted this as much as he did. Right?

Richard swore in Aldish and his grip tightened, caught with wanting to pull the slave closer and pushing him away.

He waited for the answer, his breath baited.

Only- Only what?

That wasn't any sort of positive answer, so he still sat on his knees, eyes on the Prince as he waited more.

His fingers twitched, just barely brushing against the erect cock in his hands. He wanted it, he just needed the Prince to wait it more than he wanted to stick to his Aldish prudishness.

Richard stayed still. The coil of anticipation tightened.

"Only if you want to," his voice was tight and his eyes dropped between the slave's erection. He must want it, with how desperate he looked. But the Prince wanted to be sure. Needed to be sure.

This went against everything he was taught.

He didn't give a verbal answer to that comment, but his body language said enough.

His eyes slid shut and he leaned forwards, purposefully dropping the sponge from his grip. One hand pressed flat to the Prince's hip, thumb extending to rest on the sensitive patch of skin between his balls and the base of his cock. The other hand curled loosely over his outer thigh.

Fleck's lips parted and his tongue flicked over his head in short, sharp strokes a few times before sealing around his head, giving it a firm suck.

His breathing fell short when the slave dropped the sponge. Then he inhaled sharply when he felt the thumb press against the sensitive skin at the base of his cock. It made his hips buck a little. Desperate to be touched after being ignored for the past few days - even by his own hand.

The slave's hand felt more intense like this than his own ever could.

His grip in the hair tightened, and his other hand joined it, musing the golden circlet.

His lip was brought between his teeth again as he tried to muffle the first few groans. Then it jutted out - pink skin swelling red - as he moaned as the slave took in the head and sucked.

Swearing softly again in Aldish, he pushed on the head to encourage the slave to take him deeper.

Fleck took his deeper eagerly, fingers gripping his thigh a little tighter as he did so.

Finally.

This was finally happening.

He'd been anticipating this for week, and been truly wanting it for days. The hands in his hair, the soft curses and moans, the jerk of his hips.

He gave his own pleased little groan.

Richard could feel the groan around his length and it brought out another, louder little moan from him - forgetting about the guards situated outside.

His hips found a slow and steady rhythm as he fucked the other man's mouth. It took all of his restraint not to go straight to a fast pace - knowing this won't last long if he did.

He allowed the Prince to set the pace.

It was a fairly slow one, and left time and room for Fleck to tease, running his tongue over him, giving little sucks, and humming quietly.

His hands continued to grip at his hip and thigh.