Note: Written for a prompt. Al-Cid/Larsa.
With Archadia and Dalmasca still feeling the effects of the war, Larsa knew well the necessity of establishing diplomatic ties with all the current powers at play. This was why he agreed to a private meeting with Al-Cid and dismissed his guards, and the fact that Al-Cid was never anything other than amicable with him gave him good cause to trust the older man. He thought it was unusual that the flamboyant Rozarrian nobleman sent away his ever-present attendants, but politely called no attention to it.
Al-Cid poured his desert wine into two Dalmascan silver goblets. The motions were smooth, elegant, and Larsa thought nothing unusual of acknowledging this.
"To the friendship between our empires," Al-Cid stated. With a flourish that bordered on comical, he presented Larsa with a goblet. The young emperor smiled graciously and took a sip. "May it last well past our lifetimes."
The wine was sweet and spiced, and heady enough to give him pause. He stopped to look up in question at Al-Cid and noticed that the Rozarrian watched him with hooded eyes and an expression he couldn't read. For the sake of politeness, he lowered the goblet and hoped it was nothing. "I hope so. However, the wine-"
A playful smile spread across Al-Cid's sun-darkened face. "Do you like it?"
"It's very good, but I am not used to alcohol," he murmured lightly. "Perhaps I should leave it at one sip."
"Little emperors need to live a little," Al-Cid exclaimed. He drew close to cover Larsa's fingers on the goblet with a hand. The desert brown looked so stark against his paleness, and he wondered. "The wine is brewed to reduce side-effects. Drink up!"
For the sake of international good-will, the emperor of Archadia complied. The wine sent a flush of warmth through his body, made him relax in his chair. Perhaps he should comment on the fact that Al-Cid slid in to share the seat, or that the older man smelled of frankincense and musk and sun-warmed sandseas, or that he felt the heavy weight of an arm around his shoulders. All for-
Long fingers drew his hair back and tucked it behind an ear, and the warm breath over his sensitive skin made him shiver with pleasure. A brush of wetness over the rim of the ear followed up on the breath, and he had to say something.
"So... you like little boys?" In retrospect, it probably wasn't the most diplomatic thing to say in light of what was going on. Rather than be put off, Al-Cid's hand settled meaningfully on the buckle of his belt.
"I like a little of everything," the Rozarrian whispered into his ear. "Besides, I was younger than you when I had my first fling. You're of marriageable age now, take advantage of it."
With the wine and Al-Cid's closeness, Larsa found it very hard to argue with that logic. He was trained in the ways of the sword and could stop the Rozarrian if he had to, but the attention was nice and he felt himself harden as Al-Cid started removing his belt. In an attempt to gain some control of the situation, Larsa tilted his face up to talk, only to find himself losing more ground as his lips met with Al-Cid's. His lip parted easily to Al-Cid's insistence, and the kiss was better than he expected it to be.
Emperor Larsa Solidor gave in for the good of their empires. It could be worse.
