Chapter 2:

"Hello, Buford," Baljeet said, keys jangling in his gloved hand. "It is nice to see that you are finally awake. I hope you find your accommodations…suitable."

"Like hell!" Buford roared, his chains clinking and squealing in protest as his thick muscles bunched and strained to escape from the one thing keeping him from jumping on the slight prince. In joy or in anger, he didn't know.

Prince Baljeet watched passively as the knight thrashed in his chains, unlocking the cell door and stepping inside, the door clanging as he shut it behind him. Buford had ceased struggling, a sheen of sweat covering his bulky body. Instead, he chose to stare heatedly at the young royal, the emotion carried in the young royal, the motion carried in them harsh and fierce, but yet puzzled and intrigued the almond-skinned young man, causing him to shiver through his thick robe, not from a chill, oh no, it was summer in this country; he was aroused. Those deep-set eyes, boring into him, stripping him of his title and his inhibitions, staring into his soul, his self, his entire being. It both infuriated him and made him want to act like a shy young peasant girl. He smirked; now those eyes were his, that muscular body was his, that strong, dependable soul was his.

Mine, he thought, all mine.

Buford shifted uncomfortably as Baljeet slowly approached him, the soft leather of his shoes almost soundless on the stone floor, the darkness swallowing any sound they might've made.

Absentmindedly, he trailed his fingers across the powerful body, restrained for his entertainment.

"I think I will savor you for a while," he mused out loud, "there is no reason for me to go right to the main course."

"What the hell are you—mph!" Buford's eyes widened as he felt something collide with his mouth. Something hot and wet brushed against his lips, and he parted them unconsciously. The appendage slipped into his mouth, plundering it thoroughly and mapping out every curve and dip.

The sinful lips left his with a gasp, and he panted for air, eyes falling closed, but snapping open as he felt smooth-leather-clothed fingers grasp his chin, forcing him to meet eyes with his captor. His eyes widened further at the sight revealed to him.

Baljeet was staring at him intensely, his cheeks darkened from arousal, his small, full lips open and panting. Buford felt his breath hitch. The exotic prince was beautiful.

Baljeet smirked. Finally he had been able to indulge in his forbidden fruit, and no one would be any the wiser! He had instructed the guard to take a night off, and his parents were off negotiating treaties and the like. He had even managed to evade his bodyguard-like pet, Bartholomew, who followed him everywhere!

And now, he thought, time for my second course of hors d'oeuvres.

"Now," he thought aloud, "what has been going on down here?"

Buford's eyes widened as he felt soft white-leather gloves surround his arousal. He moaned and bucked his hips, trying to get more of the delicious friction. Dimly, he heard something that caused his blood to run cold, and his face to pale.

"For a knight who as pledged himself to his queen, it seems that his body is pledging itself to her enemy. Quite an act of subordination and treason, do you not agree?"

"An act…of treason?" he panted out, still painfully hard and encased in Baljeet's hand. "I am not a traitor to my queen!"

Baljeet's eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously, and smirked again. "Really? Your body speaks differently." He gave the thick length in his hand a harsh yank, causing Buford to bite his lip to keep back the groan he was about to release. "In fact, it would appear that you enjoy being as fickle as a peasant youth."

"You're…wrong!" Buford struggled to grunt out, drawing blood as he bit his lip harder to keep from moaning wantonly as his cock was continually abused. A few minutes later, he shivered, releasing into the pristine white-leather gloves.

"Hmph. You have yet to earn the right—" he removed his gloves and extracted another pair from his pocket, putting them on his hands with a flourish, "—to be touched by my bare hands." He walked out, the metal door clanging shut behind him, echoing through the chamber.

Buford licked his suddenly dry lip. It looked like he'd be here a while.

Wait for me my queen, he pleaded in his thoughts, Wait for me.

A/N:

SG: And now we're back with chapter two! Did you enjoy our little wait? This was written by my lovely co-writer, Yaoi's Consort, who—

YC: —I, of course, came up with this marvelous idea.

SG: Hey! I was right in the middle of my intro! And it was me who came up with the story idea!

YC: Well, this is my chapter! So buzz off and start writing Chapter 3.

SG: But Chapter 3's already fini—

YC: *covers her mouth* Shh! They don't know that! Go sit in the corner of shame!

SG:—Mmph! *removes the hand from her mouth* Fine… *runs off, but then ducks back in* Don't forget to press that button!

YC: GO. AWAY! *Pokes her with a stick 'til she goes into the corner* *Calms down, then turns to speak to the readers* Don't forget to review! If you don't, we won't update and you'll be left hanging forever!

Chapter 3 Promo: After drinking some water that Baljeet had spiked with an aphrodisiac, Buford has some…ehem, interesting dreams. ORANGE/LIME AHEAD!