Chapter 2
The King was sitting on his throne, having fun with his... (Well, let's just say he sometimes gets bored by his cookies (as unlikely as it might seems)). But then this wasn't really as much fun as he had hoped. Even though the throne seemed a thrillingly forbidden place for this (ignoring the fact that for the King, nothing is forbidden, of course), he was still alone and Mycroft in general didn't enjoy this activity so much when he was alone.
So the King decided to go on a little adventure (even though in his mind he called it a "mission". (The mission of the King's happiness? The mission of the King's distraction? (Oh, it's just the "mission", alright? Don't give the writer a migraine!)) It was a long journey through the King's Palace and sometimes he got lost on his way. (Google maps hadn't been invented yet (and no, he didn't have a satnav either! Now leave me alone with your stupid questions, won't you?)) The climax of his journey (pun intended) would be the castle's dungeon, but to reach the dungeon, Mycroft had to find the stairs which led there and he had never been good at finding stairs.
Mycroft was swearing silently to himself as the stairs seemed to sneak further and further away from him (no, it's not Hogwarts! (Seriously, people, you have to FOCUS.)), and could have kicked himself for not bringing his cookies along. (No, he didn't REALLY want to 'kick himself', it's just a figure of speech, you numnuts!) After a while, though, the King did find his way, because the King always does. (This is one of the positive side effects of kinging: You always get your way. (And yes, 'kinging' is a word! Haven't you seen "The King's Speech"? (If you haven't, go watch it, it's the best film ever! (No, there isn't any porn in it.)))
Reaching the dungeon, Mycroft was a bit out of breath (mainly because he wasn't on a diet (because a King doesn't DO diets (even if he should)), but you would never tell him that (except if you fancied hanging (which nobody does, really (oh, this is just nonsense!)))). However, being out of breath had never really stopped Mycroft. Purposefully, he walked towards the first cell, which was also the only one which was occupied, and realized too late that it was the guard's free day. And of course, the King didn't carry any keys around (in fact, he didn't carry anything around (he was completely against the concept of "carrying stuff around" (except cookies, of course, (but then he always forgot to bring them as well (which was a pity (especially in this case)))))). "Fucking Christ!", the Kind shouted.
Here, I will have to explain something to you: Swearing in this kingdom is strictly forbidden. The only exception is the King, as a King is allowed to do everything. But as swearing has a bad influence on his people, the King refrains from swearing except in case of emergency (as for example the loss of cookies, a mislaid cookie, or anything else related to cookies (or, in this case, anything related to things which give the King as much pleasure as eating cookies (which really is only one thing. (You want to know which? Oh come on, use your imagination!))))
"No, I wouldn't do this," the King's only prisoner said. "Excuse me?", the Mycroft asked. "Well," the magician (which IS the only prisoner, didn't you pay attention?) elaborated, "fucking Christ is just not good in so many ways. There's the sacrilege thing, of course. Then the guy has long been dead and there would be really no point in…" "Alright, alright," Mycroft said, holding his hands up in surrender (which he rarely did, but there isn't a lot you can do in the face of a forestalled shag, is there?), "you are very witty today. But do tell me if there is any way of getting you out of that cell or me into the cell without the keys." The magician laughed. "Of course there is a way; it's easy, really." "So?", Mycroft raised his eyebrows in expectation. "I will only need my sonic screwdriver." "And where is that precious device?", the King demanded (he could have simply asked, but a King is always much more fond of demanding). "Well," the magician answered, "it is in the Tardis." Mycroft sighed (he could have rolled his eyes, but he would come to this later…). "And where is the Tardis?", he condescended to ask. "In another world," the magician smiled. (Oh, he LOVED this conclusion. It was so promising. (Promising as in "driving the King to despair".))
The King rolled his eyes. (Told you he would do that!) "And where in the name of motherfucking baby Jesus is that?" (Please don't use this expression at home, only the King is allowed to such profanities (which don't even make sense. (…just sayin'.))) "I don't know," the magician said, looking mildly confused (it is rather rare for magicians to not know something.), "but what is so important that it can't wait until the guard is back tomorrow?" Mycroft didn't like this situation at all. Above all, he didn't like that the magician talked to him like that. (He was the King, after all.) So he decided to do something about it.
What Mycroft did do, eventually, was opening his trousers and taking his dick out. (Oh, really, what did you expect? This isn't highly intelligent literature, you know. (Even though I would like you to treat it as such.)) The magician stared at it for some moments, and then he moved as close to Mycroft as the prison bars allowed and went on his knees (because, really, if you could see that specimen, you would go on your knees as well (and I don't CARE if you're not actually gay, you would! (I would, at any rate. *coughs*))) Mycroft looked down on him and moved closer to the bars as well. The next step would be to stick his dicks through the bars, don't you think? Well, then let's have him do that…
Outside, the sun was shining and the birds were singing. It was quite nice in the gardens of the castle, so let's just go there for some time. I can tell you a lot about the flowers in this garden, for example. That's much more interesting than what the King is doing at the moment, don't you think?
Nah, I was just kidding, I don't want you to miss this: The magician knew exactly what to do with a dick offered to you through the bars of a prison cell (not that he had done that before (but he had dreamt about it (quite vividly, actually (and then woken up with a raging… oh, let's just get back to the story.)))) So he first licked at it experimentally, making Mycroft hum in appreciation. The magician understood this as a request for more licking (cause that's what we're aiming for here, right?), and it soon got messy (and by messy, I mean quite noisy. (The King was noisy, that is, because you can't really get noisy when you're busy licking a King's cock, can you?) "Oh God, yes," Mycroft moaned, his cock stiffening, "take it into your mouth" (You could see this as a demand as well, but it was actually just a King liking his dirty talk (oh, don't you just hate those people who spoil some good porn by interpreting it? (Not that this is porn, of course…)))
The magician happily obliged and swallowed the King's cock down (cause that's what you do, when you're giving a blow-job. (Just in case you didn't know. (I'll be quiet now, enjoy the show.))) "Oh yes, suck me," Mycroft said. The magician moaned around the King's cock and sucked eagerly. His cock was also visibly erect now in his tight trousers. "Hold still," Mycroft demanded after some time of loud moaning and sucking, "I want to fuck your mouth until I come." The magician stopped moving and the King had his way with him, pulling his cock out and then pushing it back inside the other man's mouth. "Oh God, you're gorgeous like that, you make me so horny." The magician moaned and started moving his hips rhythmically. "Drives you wild as well, doesn't it?", Mycroft asked, gripping the bars of the cell, and started fucking the magician's mouth. "YES," the King suddenly shouted, "I'm close, so close, yeeeeeees, almost there, yees... THERE!" and ejaculated into the magician's mouth, who swallowed it all down. The magician's hips stuttered and then he came into his trousers, mouth still full of the King's cock.
At this point, Mycroft should just have taken his cock out of the other man's mouth and put it back in his trousers (because it IS the decent thing to do, isn't it? You can't just LEAVE it there… (Also, please take your hands out of your pants, dear readers, that's disgusting!)) However, a King does what a King wants to do and right now the King just wanted to admire the sight of a beautiful man kneeling in front of him, a dark tell-tale patch on his trousers. (It WAS quite a beautiful sight, I must admit. (No, I wasn't there. (If you can't imagine it, just paint a picture of it or something... (If you do paint a picture of it, please send it to me! (I'm serious, I NEED THAT PICTURE!)))))
So, it really was the King's own fault that his brother, Princess Ianto, Jack the Knight and John the Newcomer (it's not really a title, I know, but it is quite catchy, isn't it?) found him just like that. And it also really was the King's fault that John got his first boner in weeks. But that, my dear readers, is another story. God night and HANDS OUT OF YOUR PANTS!