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Heavy is the Head

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Hurrying along the corridor, I feel my pulse quickening as I near his door. Henry’s reputation precedes himself. His childhood was riotous and the man he is today isn’t far from that temperament. Unpredictable and hard are the most apt terms to describe him. But that never stopped me from desiring him. Nay, I desire him more for it. His conquering spirit and desire to conquer have fueled many a fantasy.

Sometimes I wonder if he is well. Other times I see him as the strongest man the kingdom has ever seen. I worry for him. His lust for war and the responsibility of his crown must be in constant battle with each other. He’s barely contained and you can see the fire flicker behind his eyes, letting you know he’d always rather be somewhere else.

Taking in a deep breath, I smooth my shirt and push the door open. I see him sitting in the corner, still wearing his breast plate and chainmail. The room is dark, but I can see the hard line of his jaw and the dirt on his hands. He looks equal parts angry and exhausted.

Henry isn’t often home with us. He’s constantly on the battlefield, but it was time for him to come back and put in appearance for his loyal followers. Obviously he is displeased with being pulled away from his playground.

I clear my throat to announce my presence, as he didn’t seem to notice before. Slowly he tilts his head up, his expression unchanged.

“Yes?” Henry snarls at me.

If he only knew what that snarl did to my loins. “Your Highness, how may I serve you?”

“I didn’t ask for anything, why are you here?” His expression contains even more anger.

“Your Highness, Her Majesty sent me to check on you. She thought you may need tending.”

Henry scoffs at this. “Right, she thought I needed tending...”

I’m still very unsure what to do. Perhaps I said the wrong thing. I wait for him to continue.

I see the tiniest shift in his expression, letting me know he’s calmed a bit. “Well, as long as you’re here, help me out of this,” he commands motioning to his armor with a sweep of his arm.

“Yes, Your Highness.” I wait for him to rise and he stands before me, a little too close. Now I see something different. He looks almost playful. The air around him shifts and I feel like I can relax a little and give him a tight grin.

He lifts his arms and I start at his side, unbuckling the leather straps that bind the plates together. Being this close, I can smell the battle on him and although he scent is potent, it is also intoxicating. As secretly as possible, I breathe deeply while working the buckles open.

Normally this is a job for multiple servants, but Henry always requested no more than one as his dresser. The staff often commented on it and I heard the rumors, but he never made such advances on me. Luckily, I am strong enough and tall enough to heft the breastplate off himself. Henry has to look up to meet my gaze. Of all the servants, I’m the only one who is taller than him. He seems to begrudge me the crane of his neck to meet my eyes.

As soon as he was worked free from the weight of the breastplate, he sighed a bit of relief. “Thank you, Armand. No matter how many years I wear that thing, it never gets easier to carry.”

I’m surprised to hear him say that. It doesn’t align with the masculine gusto he normally portrays. “I’m happy to offer you that relief, Your Highness.” I see an idea flash behind his eyes, but I try not to notice.

“Relief is a word for it, yes,” he replies in a gravelly voice, lowering the lids of his eyes. It’s getting difficult not to notice the tension between us, but I dare not draw attention to it. I would never intend to offend him.

He holds out an arm to me and I unbuckle his gauntlet, exposing his thin, yet muscled wrist. How badly I want to kiss the inside of his wrist. Put my lips to that tender, pale skin and feel the pulse of his veins on my lips. I try to shake that idea out of my head while I work the other one off. Next, I pull on his chainmail and watch him as he raises his arms in the air, helping me with the job. While I work the chainmail up from his waist, I feel his breath on my cheek and shudder, hopefully imperceptibly. I cannot control the blush that pops up on my face and the bit of sweat at my hairline. My desire for him is growing with every breath I draw and every breath of his, landing on me gently.

Stepping back, I pile the chainmail with the breast plate and gauntlets and take a look at him, scanning from head to toe. There is a method to this, but I wanted to check I was following the order, while secretly taking in his form for my memory. Henry looks slightly exasperated by my pause and I just back into action.

I untie the ribbon at his neck and his linen shirt falls open, revealing the silk shirt beneath it, stained with sweat and dirt. How badly I want to run my hand up his neck and grab onto his cropped head of hair. This is a serious lesson in self-constraint. Obediently, I remove the last few lawyers of shirts and take a look at his bare chest. There is a large red mark starting at his pectoral and traveling down his taut abdomen, ending at his waistline. I gasp when I look at it, because it appears to be the beginning of a massive contusion.

“Sir, are you ill? Should I call for the doctor?” I say with a furrowed brow.

“What, for this? No, I’m fine Armand.” He waves a hand at me as he flops down into the chair. “You think this is something I can’t handle?” He snarls at me.

“Your Majesty, I don’t mean to insinuate you’re not strong. Obviously you are...” I trail off fearing that I’ve said too much. I don’t want him to think I see his thin frame as weak. Strength has more to do with fortitude and passion than it does musculature, I’ve always thought.

Henry shades his lids and a wicked grin makes its way across his mouth. This look is unmistakably sexual. I’m not mistaken this time.

“You think I’m strong, do you, Armand?” Henry lets go with the faintest of giggles.

“Your Majesty, of course I do. No one has lead this country the way you have. I’m very proud to call you my king,” I say in all earnestness.

He’s not going to let this go. I should have never said anything. “But what about my body, Armand. Do I look strong to you?” Henry is playing a game of cat and mouse now and I’m doing my best to maintain professionalism.

I clear my throat and stumble over words, trying to find the right response, but I am caught in my head. I have waited too long to respond.

“Armand, I demand an answer! Does my body look strong to you?” He exclaims in the most playful manner. I love this side of him. The part that can come out to play and is reminiscent of the boy he was just a few short years ago.

“Of course Your Majesty, of course! A weak man couldn’t fight as hard as you.” A distraction from what I would really like to say, which is let me worship your strong body with my tongue, sir. I feel the stirring of an erection and the blush rise in my face. I pray he doens’t notice.

Henry stands again and extends his forearm flexed in my direction. “Feel this, Armand. Does my forearm feel strong to you?” He looks positively devilish with his bare chest and the way his trousers have fallen low on his hips. Henry walks toward me with an unmistakable strut, leading with his pelvis.

I extend my hand and wrap my tanned, thick fingers around his dainty, pale arm and squeeze. His arm is hard as a rock. Henry’s waif-like appearance is misleading. Must be all that sword wielding that builds this kind of hardness. I’m still struggling with the right response. The sexual charge in the air is unmistakable, but I still cannot bring myself to assume what he wants and make a move.

“Your Majesty, yes, your forearm feels very strong to me,” I reply with a waiver in my voice.

Henry steps slightly closer and curls his forearm and presents his bicep to me. I can smell his sweat with the pungent, earthy notes pushing my limits of what is decent. This time, he doesn’t speak, but gestures with his arm and eyes for me to feel his bicep. Hesitantly, I wrap my fingers around his body once again. My large palm and long fingers make it possible for me to encompass his whole bicep with room to spare. I try not to accentuate this fact and just nod at him with a lump in my throat.

The King takes my hand and moves it onto his abdomen, the part that isn’t injured, and presses his palm on top of mine. I feel his abdomen clench and the muscles beneath my hand contract. My breath is heavy and I have even fewer words available to me. My mind is busy with the possibilities of what comes next, almost believing something more sexual in nature would happen.

He stares into my eyes, not breaking the gaze and guides my palm slowly, further down to find him with the hardest erection I may have ever felt. As my fingers grasp this part of his body, his mouth falls open and a pant escapes. He slightly composes himself, bites his lower lip and after a hard swallow asks, “And what about this part? Do I feel strong to you?” Now looking almost sheepish, his tone has changed drastically. Perhaps this makes him nervous as well. He has a reputation, but I’m guessing pursing the affection of a man is still difficult.

I can’t say anything. This thing I’ve wanted to happen for many years is manifesting and its hard to recognize I’m not in the middle of a fantasy. There was so much time spent in ecstasy imaging his body, his taste, what he would want from me prior to this moment. I’m really here with him, feeling his body, smelling his aroma, soaking up the heat radiating, reaching my body. Instead of speak, I gather some confidence and press my mouth against his with a deep inhale of breath. Never have I been so bold with him. A hard press at first, but when I feel his body give way, letting me know I made the right choice, I wrap my arms around his waist and open my mouth, allowing my tongue to explore. His taste is exactly what I expected, sweet with something I cannot name. I’ll remember this taste for eternity, I’m sure.

Henry pulls back and beams at me. “I was right about you!” He looks throughly pleased. Childish glee, glowing on his face once again.

It is amazing to me that he had even thought of this for a moment before it happened. How long had he seen this? How long had he wanted it?

“Yes, you’re right. I’ve desired you since we were young. Years, I’ve spent wondering if this day would come. Of course, I never let myself spend much time in that fantasy. I’m a servant and you’re the King of England.” I play down the 100’s if not 1,000’s of hours I spent desiring him. I can’t keep looking at him after this vulnerable admission.

He takes my face in his palms, forcing me to look at him again. “You haven’t been alone in that. And we can have each other now,” he states while letting a hand travel down to my erection. I reactively grit my teeth and let out a sound from the back of my throat that I’ve never heard before.

Henry’s playful smile is back and he reaches up to kiss me again, while working on untying my shirt. I help him with the removal, then he strokes my soft, hairy chest with his delicate fingers, teasing my nipples in the process. He grabs onto those tender bits of flesh and pushes me toward the bed. I laugh at this tender man, leading me around by the nipples. Never could I have imagined this is who he is behind closed doors. One final nudge, he lets go and I fall onto the bed. Sitting on the edge, I watch as he clumsily removes his boots and drops his trousers. I instinctively reach out my hand to help him steady himself as he steps out of his dusty, ripped trousers. He smiles up at me and finally is free of all his accoutrements, dick so hard its pointing straight up. There’s no shame in this moment. It almost feels as though he’s presenting himself to me in a new way. I’ve seen him naked plenty of times, but he never had his attention on me while undressed.

I smile widely at him as he climbs onto my lap, legs spread to accommodate my lap. He takes a hold of his erection, and slowly strokes at he searches my mouth with his tongue. I grab onto his ass with my palms, before squeezing him into a bear hug. Really, I just want to feel his whole body flush with mine.

He pulls back, “Armand?” He pauses, seeming coy for a moment. Not able to formulate his request. I rub his back to help him relax and speak. “Armand, I’m always in control and I don’t want to be right now. Will you take control?” His furrowed brow let me know this was very hard for him to ask. He must be afraid to look foolish.

I’m surprised by this, but it makes sense. He needs play in which he is helpless. He needs a break from his exhausting life. I’ve definitely played this scenario in my mind many times and now I search my brain asking myself if I’m happy to oblige. It doesn’t take long to arrive on the answer, which of course, is yes. An enthusiastic yes!

Just to be sure, as I would never want to offend the King: “I can do anything I want to you?” I need to know.

His voice is once again, low and gravelly, leaning into my neck, with hot breath on my ear. “Anything,” he draws out before pulling back and kissing me with force. I hold onto him as I stand up, turn around and throw him down on the bed. I hastily remove my boots and trousers as he watches me, sitting up on his elbows. When my dick breaks free and he takes in the sight his face falls.

I’m taken out of my role. “What’s wrong Henry?” His mouth is agape and he looks almost scared.

“Armand, I had imagined your size in my daydreams, but... but... my lord you are huge! How does that cock of yours fit anywhere?” He asked in all earnestness.

It’s my turn to shade my lids. I take a long, slow swipe at my member and tell him assuredly, “I make it fit. Don’t you worry.” I’m always there for the challenge of making it fit. I’m patient, persistent and most of all horny as hell.

“You make it fit? What? How is that possible?” He exclaims throwing his head down on the bed and covering his eyes.

“Is this...” I can’t find the words. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn’t expect this response, although I’m not a stranger to it. “... do you not want me?” I finish my desperate plea.

He realizes that he’s hurt me and props himself up again, with regret on his face. “Oh, Armand. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Yes, I want you. I just am not sure this will work, but I’ll try for you. You do, after all, have the most beautiful, sparkling blue eyes in my entire kingdom.”

In this moment I can let go of my fear and reclaim my confidence with him. “You’ll be looking into them while I’m inside you.”

I crawl onto the bed and move to straddle his chest, his arms raised above his head, he holds onto handfuls of his curly, dark hair. “Let’s start with this, shall we? See how far I can fit into your mouth, hmm?” I make sure to keep my eyes on his for this moment.

Henry parts his rosy lips and allows the head of my dick past, caressing me with his tongue. I can tell he hasn’t stretched his jaw as much as he can, so I command: wider. He does his best to stretch open and I push in another inch, maybe two. Not enough. “Open your throat,” I say as I push in a bit further. Another couple inches slide past as I feel myself hit the back of his throat and he gags. I quickly pull out and look down at him. He smiles and then stretches open again, making room for me and I push in. This time his gag is a little less and I pull back and push in again, a little faster this time. Then we get a rhythm going and I see tears running down the side of his face, my dick is coated in his saliva and I feel I’ve had enough. I don’t need to torture him with this task any longer.

He speaks: “I tried, but I think it’s impossible to fit all of you in my mouth.”

“You’re probably right, but you did very well on your first attempt.” I move down to kiss him and as our tongues meet, I position him on the bed so I can make my entrance. Normally I would get some oil for this process, but there is no way I can leave and come back without another servant noticing.

I’m still coated with saliva, but I spit into my hand to get more lubrication. More is better, in this situation. He told me I was in control, so I don’t ask, I just push the head of my cock against his hole. Henry is very tight and his face contorts with concern and possibly pain. I ask if he’s okay and he tells me he’s worried. He asks for my mouth and I kiss him as I continue to apply pressure, letting him adjust.

“I would never intentionally hurt you. Just breathe and try to relax your body,” I say into his neck before giving him a light bite there. He nods and draws in a slow, deep breath and repeats. I push again and this time his hole gives way. I feel the head slip in and we both gasp at the pleasure of this. He keeps breathing, looking at me with trepidation, hands gripping the bead spread beneath him. I very gently apply pressure and keep making way. Within the next minute I’m finally there and begin my first pull. Henry’s mouth falls open at the sensation of this and he reaches up to place his hands on my waist. He pushes a bit against me, as if to make sure I don’t go too fast.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay attention. Just keep breathing.” He focuses on his breath again, while holding my gaze. In I go, this time with a little more ease. He seems surprised at this and his face looks playful again. To make sure this quickly doesn’t turn to pain, I tilt my head down and let spit trickle down to that special place. Spitting on Henry... well, I had imagined that a time or two. He seems surprised, as if no one would had ever dared. I didn’t ask. This wasn’t about getting his input any longer. He just wanted to be taken.

As I speed up my thrusts I bend his legs, positioning both on my shoulders, giving me a little more space and a new angle inside the King. He gasps and moans at this, letting me know how much pleasure he’s deriving. I feel his ankles cross behind my head and his calves lightly grip either side of my neck, sending an extra rush of blood to my cock. Enjoying the sensation, I lean down further and wrap my hand around his neck. He needs to know how good this feels. I squeeze either side of his neck gently, applying pressure on those pulsing arteries. He bucks his hips, arching his back, showing me that this is exactly what he wants. To be held down, to feel fear mixed with pleasure.

“I want you to stroke yourself, Henry. Grasp your dick.” I’m sure no one had asked him to do this before. He obediently makes a fist and I look as he moves along with the rhythm of my pounding. It’s incredibly hot watching him touch himself, seeing how high I can elevate the sensations in his body with my orders. He’s so beautiful in the moment with flush building all over his body, his pink cheeks and the sheen of sweat on his face and chest. The king is glowing and glistening, both at the same time. It’s almost too much for me to take. I have to move and break this gaze.

Removing my hand from his neck and his legs from around mine, I twist, remaining in him, and lay myself on my side. Firmly wrapping both of my arms around his torso, I press him to my chest and whisper in his ear, “Keep touching yourself.” He does so obediently as I continue to find my pleasure in his hole. Then his breathing changes and I can tell he’s close. I’m ready for this, and he’s most definitely ready for it.

“You may come,” I growl into his neck. Henry lets a long breath out and then moans as he releases, while vocalizing his extreme pleasure. I feel him shoot onto my arms and revel in the sensation. Slowing my thrusts, then stopping, I push him onto his stomach and jerk at my cock until I’m there. Letting my spray loose all over his back he laughs and revels in this.

Once again, I wonder if this is a first for him. Then my orgasm fog tells me it doesn’t matter. I collapse next to him, and push my mouth firmly against his. We let our tongues explore once again, reveling in the last bits of pleasure we may seek from each other today. I pull back looking into his eyes, searching for his approval, even though I’m not supposed to. He gives nothing away so I ask: “Is that what you wanted?”

“Everything and more,” Henry replies.