As he was dressing, or being dressed I should say—I wondered if he actually had to hold his own cock to piss and determined to ask him if I could only get him alone—that I made my observation that His Majesty was not looking well. Priests, ministers, servants, hangers-on—I had no idea who all these people were, and I doubted Aleksey did either—all stopped what they were doing and stared at the king, as if he were about to die on them, there and then. To be fair, they had experienced something of a bad year with their monarchy. King Gregor had effectively spent the whole of the year dying, then actually had, spectacularly squashed flat. His heir had been missing, presumed not dead for many hours until discovered covered in Saxefalians, and now I was saying their new king looked sick.
Aleksey had trouble keeping his face straight. I suggested some fresh air. The court thought this an excellent idea. I suggested a ride. Dozens of horses were saddled, including ours.
To my surprise, Aleksey had a new horse—as befitted a new king, I suppose. It was a gift from the Saxefalians, part of their war reparation. She was Andalusian—a horse of kings. Aleksey had named her Boudica, warrior queen.
Aleksey thought a ride an excellent idea as well. He was thinking exactly what I was thinking: once we were mounted, no one would be able to catch us. I don’t suppose he had gone quite as far with this as I, for I had us riding to the ends of the earth where no one would ever catch us again. He certainly saw the possibilities of us finally having some time alone together, however.
We rode out as a group of some forty-seven, I believe: king, counselors, ministers, guards, three priests, servants, four women I cannot identify but who could have been wives of the ministers, and me. We rode sedately toward the beach, for even on horseback Aleksey had to confer, decide, sign, delegate, and rule. I let him take the brunt of this for a while, and then when a lull came, when I saw those not accustomed to such early-morning exercise were tiring, I suggested to the king that he might benefit from a canter—to stir his blood and drive out the bad humors. Everyone loved doctors mentioning humors; I thought it might do the trick. There was a general murmuring of consensus, and Aleksey was allowed to ride faster, alone, away from the group. I swung Xavier out from my position. One glance and we were away, galloping up the sand, our horses desperate for the exercise, their hooves drumming together, muscles bunched and stretched, tails high, manes in our faces. We swerved to the dunes, then galloped up them and into the forest. Without the need for words, I slid to the ground. Aleksey took the reins and preceded me into the darkness of the trees. I covered our tracks and ran to catch him up.
We were so pleased with our ruse that we wasted the first moments laughing. I fell upon him—literally. We rolled upon the frosty ground, kissing, tearing at our clothes despite the cold. He was so hard I pitied his saddle. I was the same but not for long. As ever with our passion, it was quickly spent in the urgency and the longing. We never had enough time together, so when we did see each other, this always happened. We laughed it off. We would rise again very quickly, and I had not planned this small escape for him just to see him spill or for him to bring me the same relief, although that was a very pleasant start to our day.
Aleksey lay in my arms, staring at me as if he’d not seen me at all for weeks, whereas we had actually seen each other every day. He roused suddenly. “You will get cold, Niko.”
I grinned. “That is where you are wrong,sire….”
“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t start that. It’s sire this, sire that, Your Majesty, your arseing Godhead, all day long.”
“Tsk-tsk, child, such language from a king. I, for one, am shocked. And I like calling youmy sire. It has a kind of equine flavor with vague hints of sexual impropriety, do you not think?” I don’t think Aleksey was much interested in my sense of humor or my thoughts. He was more interested in my body, which suited me very well. I let him roam and explore as much as the frosty ground allowed, but then I felt it was time to show him what I had brought with me. I dragged my breeches up and, holding them with one hand, went to the pack at Xavier’s side and pulled out some kindling, my flint, and some food and wine.
His eyes lit up. “A picnic!”
I gave him a look. “A soldierly campfire, I think.” I proceeded to get our fire lit and put some food on to cook.
“I wonder what they are all doing.”
“Calling out the army, I should think. How long do you think you have before they write you off and declare someone else king?”
“God knows. I think they’ll give me a day. I’m quite popular, apparently.”
I think that was my cue to seize him and tell him he was popular with one person at least. I had almost forgotten the perfection of his lips. I needed to study them now, kissing, pulling off and looking, trying a new place, more study…. He grew impatient and used his tongue to stop my game. Once that was touching mine, all thoughts of play vanished from my mind. He stirred me so easily. I could feel the tip of my member digging into his thigh. How I longed to push in elsewhere, where flesh would part for me. Something of this must have been on his mind too, for he murmured into the kissing, “Being king has not made this decision easier between us, has it?”
I shook my head and pulled away, but he pulled me back, enfolding me in his arms. “I have been thinking.”
“Uh-huh. State affairs and important kingly things, I hope.”
“Nope, about fucking.”
“Aleksey, you are very bad, and I will have to….” I had him bent over and had got in two hard smacks before he managed to wriggle away and then attempt to take his revenge. I told him he’d gotten soft as king, which was unfair of me as he was no weaker than before. I was just stronger, and he could not take any effective revenge at all—other than denying me everything, which he did, until I was forced to beg. It’s hard to beg effectively whilst laughing, but I carried it off to his kingly satisfaction, and I was allowed my privileges once more. As I was taking full advantage of this, parting his shirt from his shoulders and kissing down his smooth skin toward one nipple, he held my head and repeated, “I’ve been thinking about—stop, Niko. I am trying to talk to you.”
“I can listen and do this as well. Go on.”
“I was thinking that if I tried other things, thenthatmight come more easily for me.”
I lifted my head. “Other things?” Our food was ready, so I removed it from the fire to cool a little and opened the wine. I’d brought three bottles, not that I intended to get Aleksey drunk, but I hoped I might persuade him to stay all day and all night, in which case three seemed like a good number.
“Hmm.” His hand went to the front of my breeches and slid inside. I gritted my teeth at the pleasure, determined to make it last a little longer this time. “You know… what you witnessed in the camp and found so distasteful. I was wondering—”
“You are very stupid for a king, Aleksey, did you know that?”
He huffed. “As almost all the other kings of Europe are witless as wood, I suppose being stupid is quite an achievement. Pray, why am I stupid?”
“I did not find it distasteful. I wanted to do it to you and could not.”
Color flushed his cheeks. “Oh.” He pouted. “Well, there you are. That is what I was thinking. I would like to… take you in my… mouth and”—he finished in a rush—“then I could, you know, work up to taking you inside my body. What do you think?”
I pretended to give it very deep thought. But he would have been as stupid as I had accused him of being if he did not know I was only teasing him. “So,sire, you have been thinking about sucking my cock when you were taking counsel of your ministers?”
“Yes, I have.”
