The road to Lord Harren's castle was packed with travelers.
Rhys rode beside Prince Elias at the head of the royal procession, his new ceremonial armour gleaming in the afternoon sun. The breastplate fit perfectly, the deep navy and white flowers of his house catching the light with every movement. It was beautiful—a gift from Elias that should have filled him with warmth and gratitude.
Elias rode beside him on a massive white stallion, looking every inch the golden prince. His blonde hair caught the sunlight, his muscular frame was clad in polished silver armour that emphasized his broad shoulders and powerful chest, and his easy smile made the crowds lining the road erupt in cheers.
"This is incredible," Elias said, grinning at Rhys. "I love tournaments."
Rhys forced a smile. "You're going to dominate the joust."
"Damn right I am." Elias winked. "And you're going to watch me win."
As they approached the castle gates, the crowds grew thicker. Noble families had set up pavilions along the road, their banners fluttering in the breeze. And everywhere Rhys looked, there were women.
Beautiful young noblewomen in fine dresses, their hair adorned with flowers, their faces painted with rouge. They called out to Elias, offering him flowers and sweet smiles, their eyes bright with flirtation.
"Prince Elias!" one called, holding out a white rose. "For luck in the tournament!"
Elias took it with a charming grin. "Thank you, my lady."
Another woman—this one with golden curls and a low-cut gown—stepped forward with a silk ribbon. "Will you wear my favor, Your Highness?"
"I'd be honored," Elias said, and the woman blushed as she tied the ribbon around his arm.
Rhys watched it all with a carefully neutral expression, playing the role of friendly companion perfectly. He smiled when appropriate, nodded politely, and kept his jealousy buried deep.
He's the crown prince. Of course women throw themselves at him.
But it still stung.
They passed through the castle gates into a sprawling tournament ground. Tents and pavilions dotted the landscape, each one flying the colors of different noble houses. Knights in gleaming armour practiced in the training yards, merchants hawked their wares from colorful stalls, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air.
It was chaos and excitement and energy, and despite everything, Rhys felt a thrill of anticipation.
And then he saw him.
Standing near one of the pavilions, talking to a group of knights, was a young man with dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes. He was beautiful—almost ethereally so—with a toned, smooth body clad in fine clothes that emphasized his narrow waist and the curve of his hips.
Rhys's heart leapt.
"Percy!" he shouted.
The young man turned, and his face lit up with recognition. "Rhys?!"
Without thinking, Rhys dismounted and ran toward him. Percy met him halfway, and they collided in a tight embrace, laughing and holding each other like they were boys again.
"Gods, I can't believe it's you!" Percy said, pulling back to look at Rhys. "You look incredible!"
"So do you," Rhys said, grinning. "When did you get so beautiful?"
Percy laughed. "I could ask you the same thing."
Behind them, Rhys heard the sound of hooves and turned to see Elias dismounting quickly, his hand on his sword. The Prince's expression was tense, his eyes scanning the area like he was looking for a threat.
"Rhys?" Elias called, striding toward them. "Is everything alright?"
Rhys realized how it must have looked—him jumping off his horse and running toward a stranger. He quickly stepped back from Percy, still smiling.
"Everything's fine," Rhys said. "Elias, this is Percy. We grew up together in Estral."
Elias's expression relaxed immediately, and he sheathed his sword. "Oh. A friend."
"Childhood friend," Percy said, bowing slightly. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness."
Elias looked between them, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Rhys realized what he was seeing—two beautiful young men with auburn hair and blue eyes, standing side by side in the golden afternoon light.
They must have looked striking together.
Elias's gaze lingered on Percy's face, then dropped lower—taking in his toned body, his narrow waist, and the way his breeches clung to what was clearly an impressive ass.
"The honor's mine," Elias said, his voice a little rougher than usual. He grinned—that easy, charming, slightly dumb grin that made him so endearing. "Are you competing in the tournament?"
Percy shook his head. "My older brother is. I'm just here for support."
"Well, you should come watch me in the joust," Elias said. "I'm going to crush everyone."
Percy's smile turned flirtatious. "I'm sure you will, Your Highness. You look... very strong."
Rhys noticed the way Percy's eyes lingered on Elias's broad shoulders, the way his voice dropped just slightly. And he waited for the jealousy to hit.
But it didn't.
Instead, he felt... amused. Intrigued, even.
"He is strong," Rhys said, playing along. "You should see him without the armour."
Elias shot him a look, but Percy laughed. "I'd like that."
Before Elias could respond, one of his knights rode up. "Your Highness, your father is waiting at the reception. Lord Harren is expecting you."
Elias sighed. "Duty calls." He looked at Rhys, then at Percy. "I'll see you both later?"
"Of course," Rhys said.
Elias mounted his horse and rode toward the castle, and Rhys watched him go with a mixture of affection and guilt.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Percy grabbed Rhys's hand. "Come on. I want to hear everything."
They walked through the tournament grounds together, hand in hand like they used to as boys.
The festival atmosphere was intoxicating. Jugglers performed in the open spaces, musicians played lively tunes, and the smell of spiced wine and roasted meat filled the air. Everywhere Rhys looked, there were people laughing and celebrating.
"So," Percy said, grinning. "You and the crown prince."
Rhys felt his face heat. "It's not—I mean, we're—"
"Oh, please." Percy squeezed his hand. "Everyone in Estral is talking about it. Rhys, the second son of House Marlowe, has become the Prince's favorite companion. It's the gossip of the season."
"Gods," Rhys muttered. "My father must be thrilled."
"Your father is probably planning your wedding to some minor lord's daughter as we speak," Percy said. "But enough about that. Tell me everything. Is he as incredible as he looks?"
Rhys couldn't help but smile. "He's... he's amazing, Percy. He's sweet and funny and so genuine. And yes, he's as incredible as he looks."
"I'm so jealous," Percy said with a dramatic sigh. "You get the hottest golden stud in the kingdom all to yourself."
"It's not like that," Rhys said, though his chest tightened. "We're... it's complicated."
Percy gave him a knowing look. "It always is."
They walked past a group of knights from House Redwyn, and Rhys noticed the way they turned to watch. One of them—a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair—caught Percy's eye and grinned.
"Well, hello," the knight said, stepping into their path. "What do we have here?"
Percy didn't miss a beat. "Just two boys enjoying the festival."
"Two very beautiful boys," the knight said, his eyes roaming over Percy's body. "I'm Ser Garrett. And you are?"
"Percy." He smiled up at the knight. "And this is Rhys."
Ser Garrett barely glanced at Rhys. His attention was fixed entirely on Percy. "Would you like to see the training yards, Percy? I could show you some... techniques."
Percy laughed. "I bet you could."
Rhys watched in amazement as Percy flirted shamelessly with the knight. Ser Garrett stepped closer, his hand coming to rest on Percy's waist, and Percy didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into the touch, his eyes bright with mischief.
"You're very forward, Ser Garrett," Percy said.
"Life's too short to be shy," the knight said, and then his hand slid lower, gripping Percy's ass.
Rhys's eyes widened.
Percy gasped softly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed closer, and Ser Garrett took that as an invitation. He leaned down and kissed Percy—slow and deep and passionate, right there in the middle of the festival.
Percy's hands came up to grip the knight's shoulders, and Ser Garrett's hand squeezed and kneaded Percy's ass like he owned it.
It was hot. Rhys couldn't deny that.
Finally, Percy pulled back, his lips swollen and his cheeks flushed. "That was nice," he said breathlessly.
"Come find me later," Ser Garrett said, his voice rough. "I'll show you more."
"Maybe I will," Percy said with a wink.
The knight walked away, and Percy turned to Rhys with a satisfied grin. "What?"
"You're shameless," Rhys said, laughing.
"Life's too short," Percy said, echoing the knight's words. "Besides, you're the one sleeping with the crown prince. I'm just having a little fun."
They continued walking, and Percy updated Rhys on his life. His father was pressuring his older brother to marry a wealthy noblewoman from House Tarly, but his brother had no interest in marriage.
"All he wants to do is fight," Percy said. "He keeps talking about going off to war."
"There is no war," Rhys pointed out.
"I know. I told him that. He said he'd start one just to have something to do."
Rhys laughed. "That sounds like him."
As they walked, Rhys noticed more knights watching them. Some were subtle about it, their eyes following as they passed. Others were more direct, calling out compliments or offering to buy them drinks.
It was flattering and overwhelming and a little intoxicating.
"You know," Percy said suddenly, "I heard a rumor that the Prince is... well-endowed."
Rhys nearly choked. "Percy!"
"What? I'm curious!" Percy grinned. "Is it true?"
Rhys felt his face burn. "I'm not discussing this."
"So it is true." Percy's eyes widened. "Gods, Rhys. How big are we talking?"
"Percy—"
"Is it bigger than Ser Garrett's? Because I felt his, and it was impressive."
"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Rhys muttered.
Percy laughed and squeezed his hand. "I'm happy for you, Rhys. Truly. You deserve someone who makes you feel special."
They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, and then Rhys had an idea.
"Percy," he said slowly. "What if I told you I know the perfect hot, hung stud who will fuck you senseless tonight?"
Percy stopped walking and turned to stare at him. "What?"
"I'm serious." Rhys grinned. "Someone who will make Ser Garrett look like a boy."
"Who?" Percy demanded. "Tell me right now."
"Come to the royal tent tonight," Rhys said, winking. "And you'll find out."
Percy's eyes widened. "Rhys, you're not suggesting—"
"Just come to the tent," Rhys said. "Trust me."
Percy stared at him for a long moment, and then a slow, wicked smile spread across his face. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
"You have no idea," Rhys said.
The welcome feast was held in Lord Harren's great hall.
Long tables were laden with roasted meats, fresh bread, and flagons of wine. Musicians played in the corner, and the hall was filled with the sound of laughter and conversation.
Rhys sat near the head table, close enough to see Elias but not beside him. The Prince was surrounded by his knight friends—broad-shouldered, handsome men who laughed loudly and clapped each other on the back. They were talking about the tournament, making bets on who would win the joust, and Elias was in his element.
He looked so happy. So carefree.
"He's very handsome," a voice said beside him.
Rhys turned to see a young woman with dark hair and a kind smile. She was the daughter of Lord Harren, and she'd been seated next to him.
"He is," Rhys agreed.
"You're close to him," she said. It wasn't a question.
"We're friends," Rhys said carefully.
She smiled. "I think you're more than that."
Rhys didn't know what to say to that, so he changed the subject. They talked about the tournament, about her father's castle, about the latest gossip from the capital. She was easy to talk to, and Rhys found himself relaxing.
But his eyes kept drifting back to Elias.
The Prince was laughing at something one of his knights said, his head thrown back, his muscular chest straining against his tunic. He looked like a god—golden and perfect and utterly out of reach.
Finally, Rhys couldn't take it anymore.
He stood and walked over to where Elias sat. The Prince was mid-conversation with Ser Aldric, one of his closest friends, but he looked up when Rhys approached.
"Hey," Elias said, his face lighting up. "Having fun?"
Rhys leaned down, his lips brushing against Elias's ear. "I need to make sure you're adequately prepared for tomorrow," he whispered. "Fully relaxed. Ready to dominate."
He felt Elias's whole body go rigid.
Rhys's hands came to rest on Elias's broad shoulders, and he began to massage gently. His fingers dug into the thick muscle, working out the tension, and he heard Elias's breath hitch.
"Rhys," Elias said, his voice strained.
Rhys glanced down and saw it—the thick outline of Elias's cock twitching in his breeches, hardening rapidly.
"I'll be in the royal tent," Rhys murmured. "Don't keep me waiting."
He walked away, feeling Elias's eyes burning into his back.
It took less than ten minutes.
Rhys had barely made it to the royal tent when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Elias striding toward him, his expression dark with need.
"You're a tease," Elias said.
"I know," Rhys said, grinning.
Elias grabbed him and pulled him into the tent, and then they were kissing—hard and desperate and hungry. Elias's hands were everywhere, gripping Rhys's waist, sliding up his back, tangling in his hair.
"Fuck," Elias groaned against his lips. "I need you."
"Then take me," Rhys whispered.
They stumbled toward the center of the tent, shedding clothes as they went. Elias pulled off Rhys's tunic, then his own, revealing that perfect muscular torso—the broad shoulders, the massive pecs, the ridged abs that Rhys wanted to lick.
"I need to feel my cock deep in your smooth bubble butt," Elias said, his voice rough. "Need to fuck you until you can't walk."
Rhys moaned. "Yes. Please."
Elias spun him around and pushed him toward one of the thick tent poles. Rhys's hands came up to grip it, and Elias pressed against his back, his massive body dwarfing Rhys's smaller frame.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Elias murmured, his hands sliding down to grip Rhys's ass. He squeezed and kneaded those perfect globes, spreading them apart. "This ass drives me crazy."
He unlaced Rhys's breeches and pulled them down, and Rhys heard him groan.
"Fuck, look at you," Elias said. "So smooth. So perfect."
Rhys felt Elias's cock—thick and hard and leaking—press against his lower back. Elias smacked it against Rhys's ass, the heavy weight of it making a wet sound, and Rhys gasped.
"You like that?" Elias asked.
"Yes," Rhys breathed.
Elias did it again, smacking his cock against Rhys's hole, and Rhys pushed back against him. They were both panting now, the air thick with heat and need.
"Get on your knees," Elias commanded.
Rhys dropped to his knees, and Elias stepped in front of him. His cock was right there—twelve inches of thick, perfect, veiny perfection, the head swollen and dark red and dripping pre-cum.
"Fuck," Rhys whispered.
Elias's hand came to rest in Rhys's hair, his fingers tangling in the wavy auburn strands. "I love seeing you like this," he said. "On your knees for me."
Rhys leaned forward and dragged his tongue up the length of Elias's cock—slow and wet and deliberate. He tasted the salt of pre-cum, felt the heat of him, and he moaned.
"Rhys," Elias groaned.
Rhys did it again, this time swirling his tongue around the head. More pre-cum leaked out, and Rhys lapped it up, his eyes never leaving Elias's face.
"Stop teasing," Elias said, his voice strained. "Suck my cock."
Rhys grinned up at him. "Make me."
Elias's eyes darkened, and he gripped Rhys's hair tighter. "You're going to regret that."
But before he could push his cock into Rhys's mouth, a voice called from outside the tent.
"Rhys? Are you in there?"
Rhys froze.
Percy.
Elias's expression shifted to annoyance. "Tell him to leave."
But Rhys had a better idea.
"Come in!" he called.
"Rhys, what—" Elias started, but the tent flap opened, and Percy stepped inside.
He stopped dead when he saw them.
Rhys was on his knees, Elias's massive cock inches from his face, and Elias was standing there naked and glorious, his muscular body glistening with sweat.
Percy's eyes went wide. "Oh."
Rhys stood up slowly, a wicked smile on his face. He walked over to Percy, very aware of Elias's eyes on him.
"The crown prince needs to be fully taken care of tonight," Rhys said. "And I thought... maybe you could help."
Percy stared at him. "Rhys, are you serious?"
"Very serious." Rhys reached out and pulled Percy into a kiss.
It was hot and messy and desperate, and Rhys heard Elias groan behind him. He pulled back just enough to whisper in Percy's ear.
"How would you like to get fucked by the future king tonight?"
Percy's breath hitched. "Yes. Fuck, yes."
Rhys turned Percy around so he was facing Elias, and then he slowly began to undress him. He pulled off Percy's tunic, revealing his toned, smooth chest. Then he unlaced his breeches and slid them down, and Elias made a low, hungry sound.
Percy's ass was incredible.
It was bigger than Rhys's—two perfect, round globes that jutted out obscenely. Smooth and pale and absolutely perfect.
"Fuck," Elias breathed. "That's... fuck."
Rhys ran his hands over Percy's ass, squeezing and spreading, showing it off for Elias. "What do you think, Your Highness?"
"I think I need to fuck him," Elias said, his voice rough.
Percy turned to look at Elias, his eyes bright with desire. "I want to be your princess," he said breathlessly.
Elias's cock twitched, leaking more pre-cum. "Get on your knees," he commanded. "Both of you."
Rhys and Percy dropped to their knees side by side, and Elias stepped forward. He stood over them, his massive body towering, and he flexed—his pecs bouncing, his abs rippling, his cock bobbing heavily.
"Worship me," he said.
Rhys and Percy exchanged a glance, and then they both leaned forward.
Rhys took one side of Elias's cock, Percy took the other, and they began to lick and kiss and slobber all over it. Their tongues met in the middle, sliding against each other and against Elias's shaft, and Elias groaned.
"Fuck, that's hot," he said.
Rhys arched his back, pushing his ass out, and he felt Percy do the same. They were putting on a show—two beautiful boys with perfect bubble butts, worshipping the crown prince's massive cock.
Elias's hands came down to grip their hair, and he started to thrust gently between their mouths. Pre-cum leaked steadily, coating their lips and chins, and Rhys licked it up eagerly.
"Take turns," Elias commanded. "I want to see you both choke on my cock."
Percy went first. He opened his mouth wide and took Elias's cock inside, and Rhys watched in awe as Percy's lips stretched around the thick shaft. Percy pushed down, taking more and more, until he was gagging and drooling.
"Good boy," Elias groaned. "Take it deeper."
Percy tried, but he couldn't. He pulled off, gasping, strings of spit connecting his lips to Elias's cock.
"My turn," Rhys said.
He took Elias's cock into his mouth and pushed down—deeper than Percy had, taking it into his throat. He'd learned how to do this over the past few weeks, learned how to relax and breathe and take all of Elias.
"Fuck, yes," Elias groaned. "That's my good boy. Take it all."
Rhys pushed down until his nose was pressed against Elias's pelvis, until he could feel the thick head of Elias's cock deep in his throat. He held it there, his eyes watering, and Elias's hand tightened in his hair.
"So fucking good," Elias breathed.
Rhys pulled off slowly, gasping for air, and Percy immediately took over. But Percy was messier—he gagged and choked and drooled everywhere, and while he couldn't take Elias as deep, he made up for it by twerking his ass.
Rhys watched as Percy's huge bubble butt bounced and jiggled, the smooth globes shaking with every movement. It was obscene and sexy and Elias couldn't look away.
"Fuck," Elias groaned. "That ass."
They took turns—Rhys going deep and slow, Percy going messy and slutty. Elias's cock was leaking so much pre-cum that it was dripping down their chins, coating their faces in sticky wetness.
And then Rhys had an idea.
He pulled off Elias's cock and turned to Percy. They locked eyes, and then they both leaned in, kissing with Elias's cock between their lips.
It was filthy and hot and perfect. Their tongues slid against each other and against Elias's shaft, and Elias groaned like he was dying.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he gasped.
"Cum for us," Rhys whispered. "Cum on your princes."
Elias's whole body tensed, and then he was cumming—hard and loud, roaring like a lion. The first rope of cum shot between their mouths, hot and thick and creamy. Rhys and Percy kept kissing, kept licking, and Elias kept cumming.
Rope after rope of hot royal cum flooded between their lips, coating their tongues, dripping down their chins. Rhys tasted it—salty and musky and perfect—and he moaned into Percy's mouth.
They kept making out, sharing the cum, swallowing some and letting the rest drip down. Strings of sticky white connected their lips, and they licked and sucked and slobbered, cleaning each other's faces.
Finally, Elias stopped cumming, but his cock stayed rock hard.
"Bed," he commanded. "Now."
Rhys and Percy scrambled onto the large bed, and they positioned themselves on all fours side by side. They arched their backs, pushing their asses out, and Rhys heard Elias groan.
"Fuck," Elias breathed. "Look at you both."
Rhys glanced over at Percy and felt a surge of pride. They looked incredible together—two smooth, toned bodies with perfect bubble butts, side by side and ready to be fucked.
Elias climbed onto the bed behind them, his massive body towering over them. His cock was still covered in cum and spit, and he stroked it slowly as he admired the view.
"I don't know which one to fuck first," he said.
"Percy," Rhys said. "He's been waiting for this."
Elias reached down and gripped both of them by the hair, pulling their heads back. He leaned down and kissed Rhys first—deep and sloppy and possessive. Then he turned to Percy and kissed him the same way.
"You're both mine tonight," Elias said.
He positioned himself behind Percy, and Rhys watched as Elias slipped his cock between Percy's bubble butt cheeks. He didn't push inside yet—just slid his cock back and forth, letting it glide through the valley of Percy's ass.
"So smooth," Elias murmured. "So fucking perfect."
He grabbed two handfuls of Percy's ass and pushed the soft, pillowy globes together around his cock. Then he started to thrust, fucking Percy's ass cheeks, and the sounds were obscene—wet and sloppy and filthy.
"Oh fuck," Percy moaned.
Elias kept humping, his cock sliding through Percy's cheeks, and Rhys could see the thick shaft glistening with spit and cum. It was so hot that Rhys's own cock was leaking onto the bed.
Finally, Elias lined himself up with Percy's hole. "Ready?" he asked.
"Yes," Percy gasped. "Please fuck me."
Elias pushed inside, and Percy cried out.
"Oh god, oh fuck, you're so big," Percy moaned.
Elias pushed deeper, inch by inch, and Rhys watched Percy's face contort with pleasure and pain. Elias was so thick, so long, and Percy was struggling to take it all.
"Relax," Elias murmured. "Let me in."
Percy tried, and slowly, Elias sank deeper. When he was finally balls-deep, Percy let out a shaky breath.
"Fuck," Percy whispered.
Elias started to move—slow and deep at first, letting Percy adjust. But Percy was loud and slutty, moaning and begging for more, and Elias quickly picked up the pace.
"Yes, fuck me," Percy gasped. "Fuck me harder."
Elias obliged, his hips snapping forward with brutal force. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the tent, and Percy's moans grew louder.
Rhys watched, mesmerized. Elias looked incredible—his muscular body flexing and rippling with every thrust, sweat beginning to bead on his skin, his face twisted in concentration and pleasure.
Percy turned his head and kissed Rhys, and they made out messily while Elias fucked Percy harder. Rhys could feel Percy's moans vibrating against his lips, could taste the lingering cum in his mouth.
"I need more," Rhys said suddenly.
He pulled away from Percy and moved behind Elias. The Prince's ass was smooth and perfect, and Rhys spread the cheeks apart to reveal his tight pink hole.
"What are you—oh fuck," Elias gasped as Rhys's tongue made contact.
Rhys ate Elias out with the same intensity that Elias had eaten him out so many times. He licked and sucked and pushed his tongue inside, and Elias's whole body shuddered.
"Fuck, Rhys," Elias groaned.
The sensation sent Elias into overdrive. He started fucking Percy harder, rougher, his hips slamming forward with animalistic intensity.
"Yes," Elias grunted. "Fuck, yes."
Rhys kept eating him out, his hands gripping Elias's muscular ass, and he felt powerful. He was making the crown prince lose control, making him fuck Percy like a beast.
"Rhys, get in front of Percy," Elias commanded.
Rhys moved quickly, positioning himself so he was sitting in front of Percy with his legs spread. His cock was hard and leaking, and Percy immediately took it into his mouth.
"Oh fuck," Rhys gasped.
Percy gave messy, enthusiastic head while Elias pounded into him from behind. Every thrust from Elias pushed Percy forward, forcing Rhys's cock deeper into his throat.
Rhys watched Elias—watched the way his huge pecs bounced with every thrust, the way his abs flexed and contracted, the way sweat dripped down his perfect body. He looked like a god. A sex god. Powerful and dominant and utterly in control.
Elias reached down and smacked Percy's ass—hard—and Percy moaned around Rhys's cock.
"Such a good boy," Elias grunted. "Taking my cock so well."
He smacked Percy's ass again, and again, and the sound echoed through the tent. Percy's bubble butt jiggled with every impact, and Rhys couldn't look away.
"I'm close," Percy mumbled around Rhys's cock.
"Not yet," Elias said. "You don't cum until I say so."
Percy whimpered but obeyed.
Elias fucked harder, faster, his rhythm becoming erratic. And then, suddenly, he pulled out.
Percy gasped at the loss, and Elias easily pushed him to the side. He grabbed Rhys's thighs and pulled him forward, and before Rhys could react, Elias was slamming inside him.
Rhys screamed.
Elias was so deep, so thick, and he wasn't being gentle. He fucked Rhys hard and rough, like a beast, like he was claiming him.
"Mine," Elias growled. "You're mine."
Elias pounded into him, hitting that spot deep inside that made Rhys see stars. The pleasure was overwhelming, all-consuming, and Rhys felt his orgasm building rapidly.
"I'm gonna cum," Rhys gasped.
"Then cum," Elias commanded. "Cum for your king."
Rhys's orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. He screamed, his whole body convulsing, his cock spurting hot cum all over his stomach and chest. He didn't even touch himself—the pleasure from Elias's cock was enough.
Percy watched in awe, his hand moving to his own cock.
Elias reached out and grabbed Percy by the hair, pulling him close. He kissed Percy deep and sloppy, his tongue plunging into Percy's mouth, and that was all it took.
Percy came with a cry, his cum shooting all over Rhys's body, mixing with Rhys's own release.
Elias kept fucking Rhys through it all, chasing his own orgasm. His thrusts became brutal, punishing, and Rhys could only hold on and take it.
"Fuck," Elias roared. "Fuck, I'm cumming."
He pulled out at the last second and shoved both Rhys and Percy down onto the bed. They lay side by side, their faces turned up, and Elias stroked his cock furiously.
His orgasm was massive.
Thick ropes of hot royal cum shot across their faces—coating their lips, their cheeks, their foreheads. Elias kept cumming and cumming, roaring like a lion, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
Finally, he stopped, and the three of them collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of sweaty limbs.
For a long moment, no one spoke. They just lay there, panting and trembling, basking in the aftermath.
And then Elias started to laugh.
"Fuck," he said. "I'm ready to kick ass tomorrow."