Work Text:
Consciousness found you like a sharp slap in the face.
Your shared bed was empty, your figure unembraced. Your husband had gone to train.
Stupid Valarr and his "duty".
Did he not realise he had other duties, such as filling you with children? Duties that allowed him to stay in bed after the break of dawn?
You supposed it was not worth your thought. You would get your revenge. Just as soon as you would catch up on the sleep he deprived you of last eve.
Valarr practically skipped back into your chambers after training, a pep in his step after aiding his brother with a pesky move that had been troubling him for weeks.
There was a grin on his face as he reached for the handle of the rooms' door, clumsily pushing it open. It was shut just as quick, and he strolled over to the bed.
The covers had you swaddled, curled up beautifully as your messy hair splayed itself across your face. Your husband huffed fondly, and reached out to tuck the hair behind your ears.
"Wake up, my love." He murmured softly, getting a groan in return.
"Fuck off." You muttered into the pillow.
The prince chuckled at that. Everything was like water off a duck's back with him when he was in a mood like this; nothing could spoil his mood.
"Sweetling, council is in an hour. We must appear in court before I go." He took a seat on the edge of the bed.
Perfect.
"Hold me." You said, voice far more tender than before.
That made your husband's expression even more cheerful. There was a quick clunk of his boots against the stone as he kicked them off, and then he sat up against the headboard, and scooped you closer.
He smelled of sweat and leather. This would not be an easy morning for him.
Slowly — slyly — you laid your head in his lap, and began to rub your cheek against his thighs and groin, under the guise of innocence, and closeness.
The ever-deft fingers that the prince possessed found themselves massaging at your scalp, staring down at you with a gentle, incongruous gaze. What a sweet morning this was.
The aglet of his breeches was caught between your teeth before he could realise, tugging the bow free just as quickly.
"You act honourable." This tone was clearly a teasing one.
"Wife..?" His hand stilled in your hair, cautious of your intentions.
Your sneaking fingers found his laces swiftly, beginning to undo them. "And yet, you leave me here in the morn. All alone, and unloved."
It seemed Valarr forgot about how exposed he was on the edge of being and naively focused on your words.
"I did not mean to leave you lonely. I had-"
"Duties." You cut him off swiftly, pulling the flap of his breeches out of the way so you might gaze upon his cock.
Half hard. Hm.
The prince made a sound of protest, lowering a hand to cover himself. It was promptly smacked out of the way, as you let the sheets fall, revealing your naked, evil body.
Your husband's mouth opened just slightly. Your hands gripped his waistband and pulled his breeches down past his thighs.
Then, you gripped him tightly, stroking him slow to get him fully hard. It barely took one up and down motion to do that, for the sight of your beautiful breasts always got it standing at full attention.
His breath shook as he looked down at you, tensing his body in anticipation. He truly never knew what to expect with you. It was one of the things he loved most about you.
The tip of your tongue reached out to lick his tip. So sweet and pink. Gods, his cock was beautiful.
It began with a trail of silver from around and below his navel that abruptly cut off at his mons, and transformed into a thick yet carefully kept covering of black hair. His shaft was long, but its thickness was the main event. He had girth that split your insides apart, and such pronounced blue veins that you could feel them against your walls even now.
That gorgeous cock needed sucking. It pulsed. It was rewarded by the sweet feeling of your lips stretching around it, and your tongue lapping at its sensitive veins.
Valarr let out a low moan, and gripped your hair tightly — just as he knew your liked — while his other hand fisted the white marital sheets.
The sucks which you attended him with were slow and controlled, practiced and aimed for peak pleasure. They had your famously expressive husband whimpering weakly after a mere minute.
"Yes, yes- Like that." He stumbled over his words, blissed out already.
It was difficult to stay angry with him when he made such adorable sounds, but you kept your eyes on the prize regardless.
Your head began to bob quickly, alternating between sucking his tip with aggressive vigour and licking the bulging blue vein on the underside of his upwards-curved length.
Valarr was gasping for breath at this point — he was still so easy to finish, having only lost his innocence with you four moons prior — and on the edge of release.
He fisted your hair roughly, and tugged in time with his exaggerated moan.
"Oh- My love, I will not last-"
A conniving hand reached for his balls, rolling one in its palm as its fingers caressed the other. Your efforts redoubled, tasting his salty precum, and speeding up.
He whined and gasped, and with his inability to hold back, spilled hot seed onto your eager tongue with a loud moan that trailed off into a caged whimper.
The adorable, guilty, and mismatched gaze of your husband found your wily one, noting how you smiled when you released him with a pop.
The prince did not like to spend in your mouth, thinking it disrespectful despite your constant expression of enjoyment.
He let go of the sheets and cupped your face, cleaning the spit and seed from your chin with the corner of the covers.
The breath that left him was heavy and hot, unable to get words out, only able to grin down at you lovingly.
His hand in your hair released your locks, and moved to rub your back.
Fool.
Now, in his time of rest, it was your time of revenge.
His endowment was still like a rock, and you gripped it firmly once again, brushing your thumb over the wet, ruddy tip.
Valarr had the audacity to make a sound of discomfort.
Did he really think that he would receive no punishment after allowing you to wake all by your lonesome?
"Darling-" He said with breathy urgency, his voice strangled.
Then you sealed your lips over his cock once again. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
His hand pulled your hair roughly, attempting to drag you up.
What was this torture?
You sucked with painful vigour, making his eyes drip into your tresses.
"Stop, please-" He whined, hips bucking, trying to escape but only delighting their attacker even more.
When your hand once again found his stones, he let out a quiet sob and began to babble, his hand in your hair gone limp as he did nothing but take what was forced upon him.
Whimpers and whines intersected sobs in a way which made them impossible to differentiate, formed from the overwhelm you forced upon him.
There was a different kind of arousal that came with revenge, one that slicked your cunt just as his sounds did.
This was what he deserved, you reminded yourself, and hollowed your cheeks to suck even harder.
The Young Prince let out a shattering cry, under the weight of agony and ecstasy, sweating more than he did in training.
Then he exploded.
Without warning or notion, he shot boiling, sticky cum down your throat, and whimpered pathetically, at how excruciating yet assuaging it was.
You released his member as it quickly grew flaccid from such attentive abuse, and straightened up, a wide grin upon your face.
The prince had a deluge of tears and drool on his face, his glassy incongruous gaze looking at you like a babe would its mother, desperate for comfort.
You could not help but open your arms. "Come here, my dear husband." Cooed lovingly.
His lip quivered, and he buried his face against your bare breasts, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he sniffled.
"Why..?"
"You left me this morrow." You quipped back coldly.
The prince gazed up at you with betrayed, guilty eyes, the violet and brown welling once again.
The soppy sight killed you; you shook your head. "No, I am not angry, my sweet." Was offered to the puppy-dog-eyed thing with a light smile.
"I thought you might enjoy it." You pet his hairline gently. "Too much?"
Valarr sniffled, and pressed his cheek against your warm tit. "Almost." He said weakly. "I think I just… I need a few moments."
You guided him to lie on his side along with you, and laid a leg over his, getting close as can be.
A gentle hand found your husband's hair, scratching along his silver patch to comfort him. His snivels ceased after a minute or two.
The morning air filled the rooms, mixed with coastal sea salt and sex.
Your husband finally spoke, almost in a whisper against the stiff peak of your nipple.
"I very much liked that." He said meekly, looking up through his eyelashes to meet your caring eyes.
You smiled. "I am glad."
He nodded in turn, and held you tighter.
Marriage was still something that the prince was getting used to. He was so in love, and diving into the deep end of the world of pleasure.
Overwhelm was something he often felt, but never as much as he had this morn.
He supposed he learned two things from it.
He must often step out of his comfort zone if he ever wishes to grow.
He must not anger his wife.
Your sweet, dutiful husband adored you, so much that he delighted in your vicious punishments.
If that is not love, then I do not know what is.