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Sir Michael corners William on the side of the grand staircase and pulls him to an inconspicuous alcove between tall arch windows, sunlight streaming through and scattering around them in irregular streaks. Will cannot help but smile at the knight, leaning on the yellow stone behind him.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your sudden company, Sir Michael?”
“Long time no see, my liege,” he murmurs into the side of William’s head, arms circling his waist on their own volition.
“We had breakfast this morning,” William laughs quietly, “missing me on duty, are you?”
“Always missing my love,” Michael replies honestly, stroking the side of Will’s face and making him melt.
He doesn’t answer and with a quick look around tugs him down into a languid kiss, tasting suspiciously like peach and bitter cherry juice. They part just as slowly, eyes soft and breathing shallow, until William asks accusingly, rubbing his thumb over Michael’s lower lip,
“Have you been to the gardens?”
“Indeed,” he chuckles, “yet no privacy found there. Too many gardeners even during mealtime.”
“Oh, Sir Michael… did you have a plan to corner me then?” Will giggles, twirling one of his knight’s curls around his finger. “Perhaps I can forgive your venturing there without me in exchange for a small favour.”
“Whatever you want of me,” he breathes softly, “is yours.”
“Even what I ask for is a kiss?”
“A kiss isn’t a thing I consider the price,” Michael smiles and cradles Will’s nape to tilt his head and press their lips together, tongues brushing lightly, “I’ll kiss you senseless regardless.”
“Silly,” William laughs, bumping his shoulder, “you are so silly, Michael.”
He beams at him with a joyful, puppy-like look on his face.
“I’ve seen you in…” Michael starts unsurely, hands rubbing William’s waist mindlessly. “In that gown over breakfast. How it flows with your every movement, how big it looks with no belt or corset. I love seeing them,” he nuzzles his temple, voice soft, “I love when you wear them.”
“I love them too,” William presses up and relaxes into Michael, certain that his knight would hold him for as long as he wishes, “did you come all the way here to tell me this?”
“Why, I have come to bask a little in your presence too,” he huffs in amusement, “and I did miss you since morning, love.”
“I missed you as well,” William whispers, eyes closing.
All he wants to do is stay in the warmth of their embrace, breathe the same air and listen to their hearts beat in unison. Michael always soothes him with careful touches and soft-spoken words he wields as masterfully as the sword hanging off his hips.
But Michael’s hands wander now. His caresses shift from William’s sides to his spine, to the jutting shoulder blades and down to the dimples he can trace on the lower back teasingly, right above William’s sweet ass. The exploration is nowhere near new, Michael’s arms and pace are steady and sure; they’ve done this hundreds, thousands of times, but the excitement of it never ceases—only multiplies each time.
“Vying for another blessing, Sir Michael?” William questions cheekily, head tucked into the crook of his neck. He feels Michael chuckle.
“Would you give me one, Your Radiance?”
Silly, William repeats mentally, it’s silly, not arousing.
“You’ve got enough to last a decade.”
“Loving my Cleric helps,” Michael replies easily, pulling back to gaze him in the eye, “wouldn’t you say?”
William pecks him on the lips instead of answering, one kiss turning into two and three and then five, and he loses count as they grow faster, messier, deeper and Michael presses him into the wall with his solid weight. The heat grows along the curve of their slotted bodies, rough fabric of Michael’s shirt and trousers dragging over the softness of William’s silky robes and satin gown.
“Michael,” Will tuts in a whisper-shout, “we can’t—not here! Not in the hallway!”
“Everyone knows of us, love,” Michael shakes his head, eyes narrowed in amusement, “us kissing or embracing isn’t anything the court haven’t seen.”
“We’re out in the open,” he presses, “it’s unbecoming of—of both of us. Or are you not an honoured knight, dear?”
“We’re hidden,” Michael deflects and lifts an eyebrow, hands not stopping on their journey over the expanse of William’s body, “and elevenses are about to commence. Most would be in attendance.”
“Michael…” Will drawls meaningfully, squeezing his shoulder.
“Cast a little spell, my Cleric,” Michael whispers, puffs of breath hot on Will’s neck, “conceal us, if you please. And don’t let a stray eye catch the sight of your pretty, pretty face.”
His hands fall to the hips clad in shimmery satin; Michael feels a string of underwear jut beneath it, trails a finger to where it slides down William’s pelvis and morphs into a wide patch of pattern—thick lace, sitting snugly over his private parts. Michael’s smile grows wider as his rough fingers graze the fabric between William’s thighs.
“What do we have here?” he murmurs, knuckles rubbing against William’s bulge, tenting the gown obscenely.
William decides to play his part; after all, who could indulge him better than his lover? He blinks at him innocently, pulling apart his robes rather proudly and arching against the wall, hips pushed a little forward. The lightweight embroidered sleeves sway by his sides, gold thread shiny and distracting. He tilts his head with a smile.
“If you love me in my gowns very much, would you let me stain it, Michael?”
His breath hitches.
Michael is glad he doesn’t have to parade the castle in full armour as he lowers to his knees silently, a metal tip of his sword sheath clanking on the stone floor. The surface is cool even through his trousers, the edges of his tall boots pressing irritatingly just below his kneecap. Michael doesn’t mind the discomfort as long as it is William he kneels before, as long as William looks at him like this: in equal parts hunger, love and wonderment.
Michael touches his calves, doesn’t break eye contact for even a second and drags his palms along the plush of the muscle, pushing the dress further up and slowly baring the skin of William’s legs. He leaves a kiss—or a few—around his reddened knees, chafed from the night before, and stops to marvel at William’s underwear, soft and intricate if a little tight over the crotch. There is a tiny wet spot from the precome that leaked and soaked through the little patch of fabric, a dark stain miraculously missing from the front of his dress. William’s cockhead teasingly peeks over the edge of the lace.
Michael sits, quietly drinking in the sight before him.
“Is my hardness getting to you?” Will asks under his breath, amused. “Or the thrill of getting caught?”
Michael shoots him a loaded glance as a silent answer. He sets one hand on William’s stomach and holds the dress up there; the other pulls the front of his panties down, just below his balls without taking them off completely—and it is turn for William’s breath to hitch, eyes meeting Michael’s hungry ones.
Framed by ivory mesh and lean thighs stands William’s hard cock, pretty pink and twitching. Michael takes a deep steadying breath and nuzzles the crease of his thigh, nosing along the curve of it.
“What great gifts you must’ve given to your gods in exchange for such beauty,” he murmurs, mouthing at the fresh, reddening hickey he’s just left, “though I suppose they had given it to you for free. To match your beautiful soul.”
And depraved mind, William thinks weakly as Michael sucks another hickey on his other thigh, mirroring them like a double claim. His legs tremble traitorously as Michael presses harder onto his stomach, horrendously creasing the satin dress and making Will bow off the wall right into his waiting wet mouth—and isn’t it divine, he whimpers, to finally be enveloped in the heat of an eager lover?
Despite his impish behaviour, Michael is aware of the position they’re in and the spot they occupy, and so he sets a fast, somewhat desperate pace, aimed to please and render William shaking and speechless. He fits into Michael’s mouth with ease from years of practice and sharing the bedchambers, from drowning in love and mutual, unrestrained desire. Michael’s lips stretch obscenely around William, eyes glued to his Cleric’s flushed face.
“Oh, Michael,” he mewls brokenly, panting; the grip he has on his clothes wavers. What did I do to deserve your touch, he wants to ask, what did I do to finally love you freely?
Michael slides down to the base of his dick, choking as quietly as he can. A dribble of spit trickles from the corner of his mouth and William gets an instant urge to wipe it. His hand is reaching out before he fully registers the action, but the robes he’s been holding open to accommodate Michael between his hips don’t fall—they float in the air with a barely audible crackle, golden mist curling around the hems and slits. Will traces Michael’s swollen lips and gathers the saliva, fingers coming back wet; he licks them clean, watching Michael swallow around his dick again and moan lowly.
“You’re beautiful,” William utters quietly, “you’re the prettiest creature I’ve seen. My handsome knight,” he cups Michael’s cheek and rubs his thumb along the cheekbone, “my faithful Paladin.”
He whines, the sound high and needy in the back of his throat; William’s hand doesn’t stay long on his face and travels down, holds his chin as the movements grow erratic and sloppy, noises squelching with all the saliva and precome pooling in his mouth. Michael sucks harder on him as William caresses his Adam’s apple and then readily squeezes around his neck—just below the hinges of his jaw, pressure so light it could barely be called a grip. Michael chokes again and breathes loudly through his nose that is now pressing into the slim happy trail beneath his lover’s navel. He’s torn between jerking himself off and helping Will, the air heavy with magic and arousal in what little space there’s left between them. The way William pets his curls and swipes the bangs out of his face makes the decision clear for Michael.
William shifts, hooks one leg over his sturdy shoulder and winks; he chases the tightness and heat of Michael’s mouth with a sensual, impulsive roll of his hips when he slides off him to gulp some air, lips parted and panting hotly—not unlike a puppy, his eyes just as wide and shiny with mirth and eagerness.
Michael takes William’s cock back into his mouth and doesn’t move past the head, lips reddened and cheeks hollowed. He teases him with his tongue, dips it in the slit and sucks harshly, eliciting little sounds and shivers from Will. He brings his free hand to William’s length to stroke it, starting light and falling into a frantic pace until William cannot control his own noises anymore, breath hitching and tiny whimpers scattered in the space around.
Michael lets him thrust all the way forward when his orgasm hits, stuffing his mouth full and coming down his throat; William feels him swallow, sees his expression brightening with pride. The hand that’s unconsciously wound itself into Michael’s hair eases its tight grip, petting him absentmindedly instead as William comes down from his high.
Michael has the forethought to wipe the mess of spit off his chin; he gently handles Will as he tucks him back into the panties and straightens the dress. The creases left on it slowly vanish with gold specks flying about, the residual of William’s magic blooming warmly and falling over Michael too, his hair less of a disarray and clothes clean as new. He cannot help but smile at his Cleric, still evening out his breathing. The light catches on his headpiece and the pair of dangling earrings, and they wink at Michael from above much like glinting stars. He smiles wider.
“Has it been to your satisfaction, my liege?”
“Meet me after dinner,” William sighs softly, and at the smallest signs of protest in the way Michael opens his mouth to speak, he adds, “after dinner, Michael. You’ve got a practice to attend.”
“I am the practice,” he dismisses petulantly, still kneeling and looking up.
“Exactly,” William smiles and caresses the curve of his expressive brow before tucking the curls behind his ear, “show them class. And think of me on the training fields, my Paladin.”