Chapter 1: Tempest

It was a party worthy of a king.

Of course, nothing less could be expected. Richard himself had planned it, going as far as to host it in the castle itself. The decoration was stunning, with a flower motif centered around sopherias; small arrangements rested on pristine white tablecloths, specially embroidered with pink and purple for the occasion. The buffet table was so exuberant that disrupting it would be a shame... if it wasn't for the enticing smell of the incredible assortment of dishes.

Yes, everything was as perfect as it could possibly be; some would even argue that such level of perfection was beyond reasonable bounds. It was hard to believe that such a lavish celebration had so few guests. But it was, after all, a private party, restricted to close friends. The real event, huge and open to the public, was still many months away. In a way, this was merely a preview - a glimpse of what was to come.

This was Asbel and Cheria's engagement party.

The room was filled with laughter, and the atmosphere was as merry as ever. No matter where Richard looked, all he could see were smiles. He himself wore a wide grin. Yes... wore was the keyword. His happiness did not go farther than his mask. And for every moment that his face spent contorted into a smile, his chest hurt with unbearable pain.

However, Richard kept it all inside, as he always did. He was used to it, far too used to it. Wearing a mask was almost second nature to him, and yet it never ceased to hurt. But then again, suffering was also something he had grown used to.

Still, on the outside, he was the cheerful king that everyone knew well. His act was far too careful for anyone to notice any signs he might have given away. Only an occasional twitch of his lips, a subtle distance in his gaze, a vague tenseness in his hands - little things unworthy of notice. Most would blame it on the excessive amount of wine he had been drinking; which, in turn, could easily be tied to the festive spirit of the night.

However, a pair of observant eyes did not leave Richard. To those eyes, even the smallest signs were clear. They were, after all, eyes that were used to watching him; eyes that knew who he always watched. Eyes that already predicted his pain.

Malik's eyes.

He watched as Richard held his wine glass with trembling hands. As subtle as the trembling was, it felt like an earthquake to Malik. He could hardly bear seeing Richard like this; if there was one thing he wanted, it was for Richard to finally be happy.

Though in truth... there were quite a lot of other things he wanted, as well. Things involving Richard. But they were all improper, impossible, unacceptable. He limited them to his fantasies, blamed them on his old age. Malik had had his fair share of women - and even men - in the past, and maybe he was growing bored. Maybe he was resorting to desiring kings.

However, at times like these, when he saw Richard's eyes so full of longing and pain, he couldn't help but feel his own chest hurt. And all his excuses crumbled around him, his own denial suddenly so obvious and pathetic. He knew his feelings were real and targeted at a very specific person, and internally laughed at how improper his choices of romance always were. He laughed, in resignation and melancholy.

If he tried to meddle with what he shouldn't, Richard could end up like Lorelia and Kurt.

Bitter, Malik drank. His eyes never left Richard. It was a piercing gaze, one that couldn't fail to be noticed. On the brief moments Richard's eyes wandered from Asbel, he would catch Malik staring at him. But Richard was a subtle man, and he never let that knowledge be clear.

In truth, he had realized the way Malik looked at him long before. It was something Richard had always pretended not to see, pushing it to the back of his mind. His thoughts never lingered on it - not until now.

For the first time, he found himself looking back into his eyes.

It was a strange, almost disturbing, sensation. He had never really seen the way Malik looked at him. He never allowed himself to think about it. But now he saw... A gaze that he had always wanted to see. Except it belonged to the wrong person.

Asbel would never look at him like this, no matter how hard he wished for it. Yes, Asbel was leaving, withdrawing from his reach forever; he made his choice on who would be the person to stand by his side for the rest of his days... And that person was not Richard.

He looked into Malik's eyes again. It was hard to believe that someone could look at him like this, especially someone who knew of the wretched deeds he had done in the past. Malik had nothing to gain by desiring him. Suitable noblewomen eyed Richard wanting the throne; daring noblemen eyed him seeking to gain favor. But Malik only saw him.

Richard's eyes turned to Asbel once more. Asbel, in the distance, with his lovely fiancée in one of his arms. It hurt.

If only Richard could forget it all. Erase what he had felt, what had consumed him, what would consume him until nothing remained. If only he could drown the pain, even if for a single minute.

Malik was approaching. Something in Richard's eyes must have given his thoughts away. He looked down in shame, at the blood red liquid swirling in his glass - how much wine had he drunk? - until Malik stopped by his side. He refused to look up, afraid of what he would do. His body barely seemed to be under his control.

All he wanted was to look at Asbel, but he knew the sight would only bring more pain.

"Your Highness." Malik's voice sounded distant despite his proximity. Richard turned to him, slowly, feeling his mask crack. His smile was already long gone, and he could not summon it back.

"Your Highness," Malik repeated, "It is getting late. May I escort you to your chambers?"

Once more, Richard's eyes fell to his glass. It was empty - when did he down the rest of his drink? - and he placed it on a nearby table. "Thank you, Malik, but I... I will remain here a while longer." In his mind, his empty, dark room felt oppressive. He would rather stay in the remains of the party, forcing himself to keep his head, instead of losing it in the loneliness of his chamber.

"Then," Malik started, "would you rather accompany me to mine?"

Richard's breathing ceased for a moment at Malik's words. He looked into his eyes - eyes that saw him in the way he wished Asbel would see him. Asbel... It was stupid to believe Richard could forget him. He never would. Asbel would consume every of his thoughts, like he always did.

...So, maybe, Richard could have some solace by ceasing to think.

He looked at Malik once more. Not a word left Richard's lips. His eyes were resigned and sorrowful as he, finally, nodded weakly, and followed Malik into a corridor.

The door closed with a soft click. Malik took a moment to admire the luxurious guest room, and then turned to the man by his side. Richard stood, impassive and with vacant eyes. For a moment, Malik feared he had changed his mind, but his apprehension melted away as Richard began removing his gloves. He then stored them in his pockets, and shot an anxious glance at Malik before looking down again.

Malik quickly removed his own gloves, and then raised one of his hands to Richard's chin, tilting his head up. Moving slowly, he leaned down to kiss him.

However, before his lips could touch Richard's, the younger man jerked away. "No." Richard voice was subdued, his gaze locked on the floor. "I'm sorry, Malik. But not this."

Malik nodded in understanding, trying to hide his disappointment. Richard gave him another quick, nervous glance, and began undoing his cravat. Malik watched eagerly as his slender, pale neck came into view - that was the highest amount of skin he had ever seen the king displaying. He wondered if Richard would be opposed to kisses there.

The cravat fell on the closest piece of furniture, and Richard moved on to his coat and vest. Malik's anticipation was growing steadily, a hot feeling welling in his gut. Once the vest was out of the way, and delicate fingers began unbuttoning the creamy white undershirt, Malik was forced to interrupt.

"Your Highness, may I...?"

Richard's hands stopped and fell to his side. Malik's own fingers rushed to finish their job, but he took his time on each button, admiring every inch of revealed skin. Once the shirt lay open, Malik paused, feeling his heart increase in pace and his breathing grow heavier.

Without peeling his eyes from Richard's chest, he asked once more, "Your Highness, may-"

The voice that interrupted him was harsh. "You may do whatever you want, Malik."

Richard's words destroyed whatever was left of Malik's hesitation, allowing his repressed desire to run free. His lips immediately went to Richard neck, while his hands ran along his torso, feeling every subtle curve of skin and muscle. Malik kissed his neck ferociously, making up for the fact that he wasn't allowed to touch Richard's lips. Then, he started making a slow descent, as if seeking to kiss every inch of his chest. He took his time with the nipples, hoping to get a response from Richard, but not a sound escaped him. Trailing kisses over his stomach, his hands moved down, feeling the front of Richard's pants. To Malik's disappointment, he realized his efforts barely had any effect on him.

Unwilling to concede, Malik began rubbing him over the fabric. Keeping the motion, he raised himself again to lick and bite Richard's left nipple, hoping that the combined actions would be enough to get something out of him. Malik heard Richard's breathing get heavier, and his member hardened a little under his hand, but that was all. If he were Asbel, everything would go so different...

But he was not. So all he could do was kneel, as his hands undid Richard's pants. However, before he could pull them down, Richard took a step away from him.

Malik looked up in confusion. Richard remained silent for a moment, his arms nervously pressed against his chest. He wasn't looking at Malik, as always.

Finally, he spoke. "It's uncomfortable to stand. I would rather... I would rather use the bed."

Malik nodded meekly and stood up, watching as Richard moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. He crossed his legs and began working on removing one of his boots. Malik quickly shuffled to kneel in front of him once more, and said softly, "I will handle it, Your Highness." Then, gently, he took one of Richard's hands in his own, and brought it to his lips.

Richard violently snatched his hand away, almost hitting Malik in the process. "Don't, Malik." - His expression resembled that of a wounded animal - "Don't play the knight."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Malik replied bashfully.

An anxious silence followed. Richard held the back of his hand as if it had been injured, and only when he finally let go did Malik dare to touch his boots. He removed them quickly and then did the same to his own, while Richard shuffled on the bed to lean against the pillows. Malik made for his bag and rummaged through it, hoping he had some unused gel base. Thankfully, he did. Bringing the jar with him, he walked towards the bed.

His eyes fell on Richard, and Malik could not fail to notice how apprehensive he looked. His fingers fidgeted over his stomach, and his eyes were locked on the ceiling... No, not on the ceiling. On someone far away.

Malik considered asking him to go. He knew he was taking advantage of Richard. And yet... Malik's eyes traveled along the form of his legs, clear under the tight fabric of his pants. They stopped on his chest and stomach, which were moving softly with his breathing. And finally, he looked at the golden hair and the face it framed, still beautiful despite the anguished expression.

When was the last time Malik desired someone this much?

He crawled over the bed, stopping by Richard's side; as he expected, Richard did not move a muscle. Malik's first impulse was to lean down and kiss him, but he knew the response he would get. Therefore, he moved to spread Richard's legs and sit between them. He waited a moment to see if Richard would protest, but he remained in silence. Taking it as consent, Malik pulled his pants and underwear just enough to free his member.

He realized all his earlier efforts had been lost after his blunder. Cursing in the back of his mind, he leaned down, hoping his mouth would make up for it.

Richard trembled slightly at the first touch, but for the rest of it, he remained immobile and silent. Malik had no indication that Richard was feeling anything, other than the fact he was growing hard in his mouth. He dared to look up, and found Richard with his eyes closed, fingers gripping the sheets. Malik was tempted to guide Richard's hands to his hair, wanting to feel those slender fingers caressing him, but he knew Richard would not comply. Malik's hair was far too different from the auburn locks he was certainly thinking of.

Once Richard was hard enough, Malik pulled away. It took a while for Richard to open his eyes, and Malik only received a nervous glance before he looked at the ceiling again. Holding back a sigh, Malik's hands went to his hips. Richard understood and raised them enough for Malik to remove the rest of his clothes.

Malik leaned back, taking a moment to admire the naked body in front of him. He wished he could simply sit there and look at Richard for a while, but he was sure this would make the younger man uncomfortable. Without a choice, he retrieved the gel base.

"Your Highness, I will... prepare you, if you would allow me."

Richard nodded weakly, his eyes not daring to meet Malik's.

Gathering a generous amount of gel in his fingers, Malik couldn't fail to notice that he was still fully clothed; he had only bothered removing gloves and boots. For a moment, he considered stopping and undressing, but given Richard's efforts on not looking at him, getting naked would probably only aggravate the situation. It was better to remain as he was.

Malik shuffled closer to Richard, placing his fingers at his entrance. Richard flinched at his touch, but Malik did not back away, and pushed gently until the first finger could slip inside. To make the process less unpleasant for Richard - and guarantee that his previous efforts were not wasted again - Malik took his free hand to Richard's member and rubbed it in a slow rhythm. He felt the ring of muscle around his finger ease considerably, and tried adding a second one. It went in without trouble.

Both of Malik's hands moved in rhythm, until he was satisfied with his work and withdrew his fingers from inside Richard. Keeping one hand on his arousal, Malik used the other to finally open his uncomfortably tight pants, and then proceeded to coat his erection with the gel base. Once he was done, he let go of Richard's member, moving to kneel between his legs. Malik held his hips with both hands, and lifted him enough so he could position himself against his entrance.

Softly, he asked, "Your Highness, may I-"

"Stop calling me that," Richard snapped, his voice shaky. "And I told you to do whatever you want."

Malik was frozen for a moment. Then, without warning, he pushed inside.

Richard's fingers dug into the pillows as each inch entered him. Malik considered stopping and asking if he was okay, if he was sure he wanted to keep going, if the pain wasn't too much... But such questions would certainly earn Malik another harsh reproach. So he kept pushing slowly, until he was fully inside.

Then, he paused. Richard's knuckles were white, his skin glistening with sweat. Malik waited for a while, only until Richard's breathing evened a little, and then moved away slowly. After another pause, he thrust deep inside him.

Richard gasped, digging his fingers further into his pillow. Malik shifted a little, trying to gain a better angle, and gave a shallower thrust. Richard kept his eyes locked shut as Malik started a series of small thrusts, occasionally moving Richard's hips or his own body to switch angles. Eventually, he found one that made Richard bite his lower lip and shudder slightly, as if trying to suppress a moan. Keeping the same angle, he moved back and stopped. Then, he thrust, fast and deep.

Malik got the desired effect: Richard arched his back and moaned loudly. Malik did not stop, keeping the pace swift and intense. After the first, unexpected thrust, Richard managed to hold back any sound, but his struggle to do so was obvious. While Malik wished Richard would be more expressive, he was glad to be able to please his king.

Malik felt his climax drawing close, and from the way Richard's muscles clenched around him, it was clear he felt the same way. Maybe this was not a lost cause. Maybe... maybe Malik had a chance. If things kept going like this, he would make Richard forget... He would mend his heart. He grew more optimistic with every thrust, with every wave of pleasure that coursed his body. Yes, he would make Richard happy. He was sure of it.

While Malik was lost in thought, Richard came with a cry. Malik felt Richard's legs wrap around his body, felt the increased pressure on his member, saw Richard arch his back and tremble softly.

But Malik no longer felt any pleasure. The sound of Richard's voice had overwhelmed all of his other senses. In his ears, the name Richard cried out still resounded.

Asbel.