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Your Majesty

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“Good evening, Your Majesty,” Chanyeol says, inclining his head down slightly. He walks into the throne room briskly, the last of the royal cabinet leaving behind him.

Jongin smiles at him. Chanyeol, the Prince Consort, reaches a hand out and squeezes Jongin’s shoulder slightly. “You’ve been working hard all day.” Jongin nods his head in agreement, this particular meeting about land borders dragging on unnecessarily for three hours.

“You missed dinner,” Chanyeol notes, cozying up closer to Jongin now that the throne room is empty and it’s just the two of them. Jongin hears what remains unsaid. I missed you.

“I don’t know if I’m hungry,” Jongin says softly, feeling wound up from a day of back to back meetings. Jongin feels Chanyeol’s hands on his shoulders, massaging him gently. He relaxes into Chanyeol’s grip, heaving out a sigh, though a restless sense of energy seems to stick to his skin, unshakeable.

“What do you need, Your Majesty?”

Jongin snorts. “It’s just us here, Chanyeol. What have I told you before? Use my name when it’s just us.”

“Okay, then,” Chanyeol says, “so what do you need… Jongin?”

Jongin shivers at the tone of Chanyeol’s voice.

“I think you know what I need,” he whispers, afraid that if he speaks too loudly in the large room, their voices will echo outside, even though Jongin knows that isn’t possible. Even though he knows Chanyeol definitely locked the door before he came in here to see him.

The thrill doesn’t abate, though.

“Perhaps,” Chanyeol says, running a finger underneath Jongin’s jaw. “But I want to hear you say it.

“C-Chanyeol—“

“Now, now, Jongin,” Chanyeol says, gripping the back of Jongin’s neck. “That’s no way to address me.”

Jongin feels the breath in his throat caught. “I,” he says, mouth working. Chanyeol’s hand is a collar on his neck. “I’m sorry… Your Majesty.” The words slip out of Jongin’s mouth in embarrassment. He knows his face must be bright red. Chanyeol stands behind and to the side of him, but Jongin knows what kind of smirk is gracing across his consort’s face.

“That’s right, Jonginnie, good job.” Chanyeol releases his grip from Jongin’s neck, moving his hands back to Jongin’s shoulders. “I know what you need. C’mere. Let… the King… make you feel good.”

Before Jongin can move, Chanyeol has lifted him up out of his seat at the table, carrying him bridal style. Jongin immediately grabs his crown, careful not to make it topple, as Chanyeol walks them away from the table, to where the throne sits. The ornate, gold chair is situated on a lush, carpeted floor, elevated above the rest of the room. It is in front of a large westward facing window, allowing the sun to shine in through the glass during dusk.

Chanyeol places Jongin on the carpet gently, before taking the crown off Jongin’s head. He places it on his own, smirking, while he takes a seat on the throne. Jongin’s legs tremble as he watches him, knowing full well the type of treasonous behavior it is for someone who isn’t the king to sit on the throne and wear the crown. Chanyeol relaxes against the chair’s plush cushioning like he was meant to be there. It’s big enough for him to fit comfortably while seated and stretch his legs out wide. His hands are lazily on the armrests, and he looks at Jongin attentively.

Jongin burns with desire as he stares right back.

“Go on,” Chanyeol presses, giving Jongin a wink. Jongin relaxes into their dynamic, letting it wash over him. Letting Chanyeol take control. He toes off his shoes, unbuttons his pants, and lets the rest of his garments fall to the floor in a heap.

“What seems to be the problem?” Chanyeol asks, continuing their game.

“I… I need help, Your Majesty,” Jongin says softly. He’s dressed now only in his underwear, the cool air of the throne room a biting chill against his skin. Jongin’s cock is hard, pressing insistently against the top band of his boxers.

“You know how to ask me properly,” Chanyeol says, voice hard.

Jongin gulps.

And drops to his knees.

“Y-You’re right, Your Majesty,” he says, fully in it now. Jongin is between Chanyeol’s spread legs, looking up at him from below. “Forgive me.”

“I always do,” Chanyeol replies. He moves his hand from the arm rest to Jongin’s chin, cupping his face softly. “You need to relax,” he says softly. Chanyeol rubs his thumb over Jongin’s cheekbone. Jongin leans into the touch. “I’ll make you feel good, baby.”

Chanyeol always keeps his promise.

It’s easy work from there, for Chanyeol to unbutton his pants and push them down to his thighs, exposing his already hard cock. Jongin grabs the edge of Chanyeol’s pants, pulling them down farther, discarding Chanyeol’s shoes so he can kick his pants off the rest of the way. Chanyeol’s shirt gets tossed somewhere behind Jongin as he fits himself between Chanyeol’s bare thighs, eyes glued to Chanyeol’s hard, leaking cock between them.

“Go on,” Chanyeol says, “suck.”

Jongin doesn’t have to be told twice.

He takes Chanyeol in his hands, jerking him off slowly, letting his moans wash over him. Jongin leans over, taking the head of Chanyeol’s cock in his mouth, and starts sucking. He swirls his tongue over the tip, pressing against the slit at the top of Chanyeol’s dick. He falls into a steady rhythm of sucking his cock, letting Chanyeol’s girth stretch his mouth out and fill him up.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Chanyeol says. He pushes a finger inside Jongin’s mouth, along his cock. “So pretty when you’re stuffed with me, when you’re gagging on my dick.”

Jongin closes his eyes, moaning at the words. The vibrations in his throat directly spur Chanyeol on, causing him to curse under his breath. He sucks Chanyeol all the way to the hilt, throat spasming around his length. Jongin tries to regulate his breathing, tears forming at his eyes as he gags on Chanyeol’s large cock.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Chanyeol groans, “But I don’t want to fuck your mouth when I cum. I know what my baby needs.”

Chanyeol pushes Jongin back, and Jongin’s eyes focus on the saliva that connects his mouth and Chanyeol’s cock as he pulls away.

“Your face is so red, your cheeks are so plush.”

Jongin blushes at the praise, his body feeling warm at the sensation.

“Y-Your Majesty,” he says, voice a little hoarse from how much he sucked dick, “please.”

Chanyeol gives him a warm smile, the role gone for just a moment. “In the pocket of my pants, get it.”

Jongin nods vigorously, reaching for Chanyeol’s pants and pulling out the bottle of lube. He leans his head gently against Chanyeol’s knee, catching his breath. The sensations of everything always threaten to overwhelm him when he’s reminded of these small instances—these little things that Chanyeol does to make sure Jongin always feels good.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes, Y-Your Majesty,” Jongin says, kissing Chanyeol’s knee. He looks up, and passes the lube to Chanyeol silently.

“Come here, and sit on my lap,” Chanyeol pats his thigh, inviting a smile on his face.

Jongin gets up off the floor, before sitting down on Chanyeol’s lap. The throne is wide enough for him to straddle Chanyeol, something they figured out many months ago. The thought makes Jongin giddy inside. Fucking on the throne makes him feel good and safe.

The roleplay aspect however, makes this feel exciting and dangerous.

All of that makes Jongin ache with want.

Chanyeol’s rubbing lube on his fingers by the time Jongin is settled above him. He traces Jongin’s hole expertly, knows Jongin’s body just like the back of his hand. Jongin braces his hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders.

“My Prince Consort needs me,” Chanyeol says, “he needs me to feel good. He works so hard. He’s had a long day.”

“Y-Yes, ah—Your Majesty,” Jongin’s voice breaks as Chanyeol pushes the first finger in. He’s still a little loose from this early morning, where he had Chanyeol fuck him senseless bent over the armchair of the couch in his bedroom.

“So loose,” Chanyeol tsks. “You play with others, Jongin?” Chanyeol switches to two fingers easily, and Jongin hisses at the feeling.

“N-No, Your Majesty!” Jongin reassures, “N-Never, n-never anyone else. O-Only… Only the—the,” Jongin stumbles over his words, as Chanyeol keeps fingering him. Chanyeol’s got a mischievous glint in his eyes, watching as Jongin struggles through his task.

“Hmm?” he says.

“Oh, god,” Jongin murmurs, as Chanyeol adds a third finger in. “O-Only the King is allowed to fuck me.”

“That’s right,” Chanyeol says, “only the King. Only me. No one else gets to enjoy you like this. Isn’t that right?”

“Y-Yes,” Jongin replies.

Chanyeol’s fingers stop, and Jongin bites back a loud whine.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Y-Your Majesty. Only the K-King. Only you.”

“Good boy,” Chanyeol removes his fingers from Jongin’s hole, and pours some more lube on his hand. He coats his dick, jerking himself off a bit. Jongin’s cheeks are pink as he watches Chanyeol pleasure himself, an embarrassed flush covering his body every time he remembers the positions they’re in.

“Go on,” Chanyeol says, removing his hand, “have a seat.” The smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Jongin takes a deep inhale, before grabbing Chanyeol’s wet cock with his hand. He guides it behind himself, hissing when Chanyeol’s cock breaches his rim. The stretch is on the good side of painful, as Jongin breathes harshly through his mouth as he slowly lowers himself down on Chanyeol’s cock.

“Y-You’re so big,” Jongin whines, forcing his shaking body to still as he continues sinking. Chanyeol grips the armrests of the throne, knuckle white, and Jongin has a moment of pleasure to think about just how much effort Chanyeol is exerting to keep himself from thrusting up into Jongin’s body. The thought makes him giddy inside.

Soon, Jongin is fully seated on Chanyeol’s cock, their bodies flush together. He braces his hands on the back of the throne, behind Chanyeol’s head, chest slightly heaving as his body adjusts itself.

Chanyeol looks up at him from under his lashes, slick grin still on his face. “Go on,” he repeats again, moving his hands to Jongin’s hips. “Ride me.”

And so Jongin does.

He pushes himself up with his knees, bracketed on either side of Chanyeol’s lap, and starts up a slow but constant rhythm. Jongin breathes out harshly through his mouth, the sound of skin slapping reverberating throughout the deserted room. He can’t quite get a good angle in this position, the chair not having enough recline for him to ride Chanyeol the way he wants too, the way he so desperately needs too—but it’s still enough for him to turn into a moaning mess above him.

On a particularly harsh downward thrust, Chanyeol’s grip tightens on Jongin’s waist, squeezing him.

“You’re so sexy like this,” he says, “riding my cock, just like you were made to. Squeezing me with your body, just like you should.”

“O-Oh, Oh, Ch-Your Majesty,” Jongin moans, before one of his hands flies from the back of the chair to cover his mouth, embarrassed at the noises he let slip out.

“Let me hear them,” Chanyeol grits out, thighs tense with the effort not to fuck up into Jongin. “I wanna hear you moan.”

“Please,” Jongin whines, rocking his hips faster. Chanyeol’s cock grazes over Jongin’s prostate, causing Jongin to let out a loud, shaky groan.

“Come here,” Chanyeol says, “turn around, come on.” Chanyeol eases up his grip on Jongin’s body, allowing Jongin to pull up and off his cock and swivel himself around, so that his back is flush against Chanyeol’s chest. Jongin moves on shaky legs into position, as Chanyeol sits up straighter against the throne, giving Jongin something solid to lean against.

Jongin presses his ass back against Chanyeol’s cock, whining at the loss. He feels Chanyeol’s dick against his hole, and it isn’t long before Chanyeol’s easing himself back into Jongin’s tight heat.

“Fuck yes,” Chanyeol moans, and his arms wrap around Jongin’s torso like twin vice grips. “This way it’s so much better,” he whispers, tongue flicking out against the shell of Jongin’s ear.

Jongin groans in agreement, before placing his hands on Chanyeol’s knees, riding him harder and faster.

From here, Jongin bemoans the loss of seeing Chanyeol’s face, but the new position gives Jongin the room he didn’t have earlier to grind down hard and fast on Chanyeol’s cock. Jongin’s body shakes with the exertion to fuck himself, sweat covering his entire torso as Chanyeol holds him tightly to keep him from falling too far forward.

“Anyone could walk in, Jongin,” Chanyeol says. He’s giving up all pretense of holding back, just as desperate as Jongin, thrusting up hard and erratically as he and Jongin’s bodies’ meet thrust-for-thrust. "Your advisors, your knights. What would they say if they saw you like this?"

Jongin moans, tears falling down his cheeks at the onslaught of sensation.

“So wet, so tight, so hot,” Chanyeol murmurs into Jongin’s ear. “Come on now, Jongin, relax your body and ride me. Baby, let go.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jongin says, sniffling as he speeds up his rhythm, body sore and aching all over where he’s been fucking himself like a mad man on Chanyeol’s dick.

“They’d walk in and see you taking my cock,” he thrusts up into Jongin. “Would you like that?” Chanyeol groans, his pace more erratic. Jongin senses he’s close just like him, still doesn’t know how Chanyeol kept himself in check for so long.

“I bet they all think it’s the other way around isn’t it? They all think their King is fucking his lowly bed-servant. B-But they don’t know, do they? Don’t know how much of a slut you are.”

“Y-You’re n-not a bed-servant,” Jongin cries out as Chanyeol takes his cock in his hands, jerking him off in time with their thrusts. “O-Oh, God,” he screams, “y-you’re my King.”

Chanyeol curses against Jongin’s shoulder, biting down as he spills hotly into Jongin’s body. Jongin moans at the pleasure-pain of Chanyeol’s bite, and it’s only a few more thrusts of his hand around Jongin’s dick, and his cock deep in Jongin’s body before Jongin is coming with a drawn out low scream, covering himself and the floor in front of them white.

Chanyeol keeps moving in him even through the aftershocks, and Jongin whines at the sensitivity to his sore muscles. He relaxes against Chanyeol’s chest, turning his head and burying his nose against the part of Chanyeol’s neck he can reach.

He presses a soft kiss to Chanyeol’s neck, and he can feel the way Chanyeol tenses beneath him, their roles fading away.

“You feeling better now, Your Highness?” Chanyeol asks softly, after their breathing has returned to normal and only quiet content fills the room.

“I am,” Jongin says softly, “I just need a bath.”

“I can help you with that,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin doesn’t need to turn to see his smile. He feels the crown being placed back on his head, and Chanyeol easing Jongin off his cock, careful to lay his discarded shirt underneath Jongin while he sits.

Chanyeol makes quick work of putting his pants back on, and helping Jongin to redress as he sits there, on the throne, being doted on. The silence between them is warm and comfortable, but something Chanyeol said while they made love continues to plague Jongin’s mind.

“You’re not just a bed-servant,” Jongin blurts out, when they’re dressed enough that the walk back to Jongin’s chambers doesn’t seem so daunting.

“Hmm?” Chanyeol says, ever the professional. As always.

Jongin turns to him and pulls Chanyeol’s hands into his own.

“Chanyeol,” he says, “My Chanyeol. You are not just a bed-servant.” Jongin’s bottom lip quivers, but he looks up at Chanyeol’s pretty eyes. “You’re the love of my life,” he whispers softly. Jongin takes Chanyeol’s hands to his mouth, kissing his knuckle.

“Y-Your Majesty—”

Jongin smiles. “I told you,” he says, hiding a soft grin, “to call me Jongin.”

Chanyeol has a look upon his face like he doesn’t believe it, that even after all these years of them knowing each other, that after seven months of Chanyeol officially being the only Consort to the King, he still finds disbelief in Jongin’s words.

“Jongin,” Chanyeol whispers, softly, reverently. Like a secret just between the two of them. “I very much do love you.”

That gets a happy giggle out of Jongin who covers his face with his hands. “I love it when you tell me you love me,” he says, “Because I love you, too.”

Jongin pulls Chanyeol against him for a bone crushing hug, and breathes in Chanyeol’s scent.

“Let’s go back to the room now,” Jongin says, “I’m feeling sticky.”

Chanyeol laughs, cupping the back of Jongin’s neck.

“Would you like to ride me,” he whispers against Jongin’s ear, “in that nice big jacuzzi of yours?”

Jongin shivers. What little tiredness he felt is now replaced by full on desire. He feels his cock twitch in his pants once more.

“Yes,” Jongin says, looking up at Chanyeol, “Your Majesty,” he adds on with a grin.

“I see,” Chanyeol says, smirking, as they exit the throne room and make the walk of shame back to Jongin’s bedroom. His big hand is heavy and warm against the small of Jongin’s back.

And the bruises Jongin’s gets on his hands and knees all throughout the night, as he lets Chanyeol fuck him until the early morning, are what keep him company during the next day filled with relentless back to back meetings—

Until, once again, it’s just him and Chanyeol in the throne room, ready for the cycle to repeat.

Ah, Jongin thinks, as he sinks down onto Chanyeol’s cock as the setting sun shines through the window behind them, It’s so good to be King.