tensions | Kingdoms AU

Monty frowns a little in response, unsure where this line of questioning is coming from. His eyes search Joshua’s face. But of course he won’t question him. Instead, he focuses on crafting a concise answer.

“It depends,” he says, carefully. He crosses his arms and considers the line of weapons hanging on the wall. “It depends on what I can glimpse of him in the time I’m given. I’d take into consideration the man and his build, his fighting style, his choice of weapon as well. And in this situation, if he’s on horseback, that will impact whether I choose something long range or short.” Often, as he’s sure his prince is aware, Monty dislikes horses and will make it a point to take the beast out first. He goes on to briefly outline that perspective before pausing.

“Why do you ask?”

He listens with utmost patience and fascination; it's always incredible to listen to Monty discourse - when you could get him to voice things, at any rate - in his areas of expertise. Not for nothing was he the lord commander of the kingsguard, tasked with training and leading his men in battle, well-versed in conquest and strategy, as well as protecting and training Joshua himself.

"What you mean is, you have to select the right tool for the circumstance," he sums up, still gazing at him attentively, "to accomplish what is needed. You have your preferences, but you still have to take into account a whole host of other factors. Your versatility is as much a part of what makes you so fearsome as a warrior as your strength." There had been many occasions in the past, after all, when Monty had been matched up against various experts, using all kinds of exotic weaponry, and still prevailed, always willing to improvise and change his approach.

"You have your favorites, and sometimes necessity breeds innovation. But given the choice, you wouldn't use a longsword while jousting or a polearm in close combat. Just as you wouldn't use your throwing knives for cutting wood, or an axe for spearing fish."

Monty nods, impressed as always with how Joshua manages to speak about blunt tools and the harsh, unforgiving act of battle with such soft elegance. The most boring, bland, plain topic of conversation could turn to gold in the prince's mouth, transformed into something fascinating, novel, and extraordinary.

"That's right," he answers at first. "I've a preference for polearms but rarely have I needed to use them in battle. To do so would have been careless."

Monty might not be well-read or an intellectual by any means but he wasn't exactly dense, nor was he dim-witted. So as Joshua continues his poetic exposition, it very quickly dawns on Monty the sort of inference he's trying to make.

"So, you're saying that both Alecto and myself have their unique purposes to you, as does everyone else in your court," he summarizes gently, quirking an eyebrow up in a fetching, probing expression. "Is that right?" And that you're trying to comfort me in this way, to stop my comparing.

He half-laughs, half-sighs, and steps forward again, confident and intent, reaching his arms up and linking his fingers behind Monty's neck, tugging him down slightly. "What I'm saying, Monty," he says pointedly, their faces close enough that they could kiss with very little movement, their breath mingling between their just-parted lips, "is that you would make a terrible royal spouse, and it would be careless and wasteful of me to force you into that mold. Like using a finely crafted sword to dig trenches in the rain." It's clear enough what metaphor he is drawing here, and he knows Monty is sharp enough to understand it.

"But, Monty, my own," his voice shifts, soft, heartfelt, affectionate, genuine, "that doesn't mean I adore you any less, for being my sword, my arm, the shield of my heart. For your trust in me, and your absolute faith, always pushing me to grow, to change and to better myself, in ways that have nothing to do with your own prowess in battle. It doesn't..." he leans in, until there is barely any distance between them at all, when the slightest tilt forward, the slightest motion or breeze, would bring them together in a kiss.

"It doesn't mean I need you, my own, by my side, in my bed, in my life for the rest of our days, any less."

He can’t help but laugh at that. Because he has to agree, Monty would be, despite his best efforts, an atrocious husband in the eyes of the nobility. Illiterate, no sense of political acumen or social finesse to speak of. And the table manners of a rabid animal. Oh, he would be such an embarrassment. And unhappy to boot. There’s nothing Monty likes less than feeling restrained by the frilly, unnecessary requirements of the court, locked behind desks and maps and theory. Maybe this is just the natural result of having to raise yourself to survive through a combination of savagery and graceless, brute force of will, but Monty couldn’t imagine himself living a life other than one of constant action, of relentless forward motion.

Plus, the idea and image of himself strutting about in all of that silky brocade nonsense that highborns often delighted in wearing is truly hilarious.

“I understand, my treasure,” he murmurs now, as he gently allows himself to fall into Joshua’s gravity all over again. This part is easy. It always has been. And Joshua’s words - the candid dedication and genuine vulnerability in them - feel like an embrace all on their own.

“Then I will be whatever you need, whenever you should need it. This I swear to you, and you alone.”

Maybe this is all Monty really wanted in the end. To just feel irreplaceable, necessary.

The last word of his vow is barely audible as he helplessly tilts forward to kiss his prince, an eventuality that breaches its limit, their mouths slotting together perfectly, Monty’s tongue immediately pushing forward, searching and heated. A hand – a gentle killing hand – buries itself in Joshua’s hair and keeps him close as Monty has a split second to decide if he wants to be good and end the night here or be absolutely reckless and shove Joshua back up against the nearest vertical surface and positively ruin him.

Edited 2022-04-19 05:04 (UTC)

He kisses Monty back with an eager moan, almost melting against his body, relying utterly on his strength to hold Joshua up on his feet, even with his arms wrapped around Monty's neck. "Monty," he whispers, hoarse and wanting, desire clear in his voice. "It's been so long."

It's obvious which decision he's hoping Monty will make.

If that’s permission, he’ll take it.

Monty is a surge of sudden force, smashing their mouths back together again as he pushes Joshua back the few paces needed for him to be pressed up against the nearest wall, causing a few items hanging from it to fall, clattering to the ground, ignored.

His hands, meanwhile, are stuttering all over Joshua’s body, ruching his pretty clothes, tugging them loose so he can get to that smooth expanse of skin he so desperately wished to taste and feel again, naked and unmarked and all his for the night.

Gods, he can’t wait. He feels like a man parched and presented with an entire river.

Together, they always fall so easily into a synchronized sway of limbs and bones and unbridled desire, tipsy off of the taste of one another. His want for the other man seizes him in surprise, every time, striking in the depths of his chest like a wild, caged thing and his steely heart never knows how to deal with this persistent intruder.

So he just gives in, becomes a willing hostage to his own desire.

Monty finally tears himself away from Joshua’s mouth to kiss up his chin and to his ear, biting on the lobe, tonguing the little earring there. Meanwhile, he’s blindly tearing at the prince’s pants, undoing the fastenings impatiently so he can shove a rude hand down in between Joshua’s legs to grip him and stroke.

“Tell me,” he harshes against Joshua’s ear, his voice reduced to a growl of need but nonetheless affectionate, “How badly you want me to fuck you,” a lewd breath as Monty tongues at the hard curves of cartilage, “your highness.”

Edited 2022-04-19 14:36 (UTC)

He shivers with excitement and his own arousal, hot and aching and singing along every nerve, every point of contact between them, the hard surface behind his back only emphasizing his want and need, biting back a soft cry at Monty's hand, huge and rough and knowing, around his already dripping cock. He'd been worked up before he even came down to watch Monty hard work in the very area in which he most excelled, and if his worry and the gravity of their conversation had dampened his ardor, it is quickly resurrected as he remembers exactly how badly he wanted Monty inside him...

And how exactly he had prepared for it.

"Come take a closer look," he invites, all coyness and teasing, his legs shifting wider as Monty gropes him, hand shoved into his clothing already. "And feel exactly how much I've been thinking of you, wanting you, my own..."

His hand pauses, large and warm and calloused, a single pin point for his prince to hold onto, thrust into, humping his palm and fingers and trying hard to pretend he isn't. Monty feels his heart thrum in both excitement and stimulation as he shoves Joshua's pants off fully with his free hand before curiously reaching lower, skirting past Joshua's sensitive perineum and sinking into his already stretched, damp, needy hole -

"Oh," Monty groans, a gargled sound panted out against Joshua's warm throat. "Fuck." He can't help it, can't bring himself to be patient, and he presses three rough fingers into Joshua, thrusts his wrist shallowly to feel Joshua's inner walls clench and pull and practically suck against the sudden penetration.

"Did your new little pet help you get ready for me, my prince?" He asks, voice raw around the edges. Because it must have been, he could see it now, how Alecto - lithe and foxy and sly - must have spread Joshua open, maybe licked him until he was crying, stretched him with thumb and forefinger as Joshua surely thought of Monty, thought of how much he missed him, how much he wanted to be plowed, raw, by him tonight -

"I'll have to be sure to thank him properly."

The image of it all sends tiny electrifying sensations up his tailbone to his nape, makes Monty so mercilessly hard he feels like he might just burst, his cock straining against the fabric it's trapped against, heavy and sure.

He honestly doesn't know how he manages to finally kick his pants off but he does and immediately lifts Joshua up with ease, prompting him to wrap his legs around Monty's muscled waist. "You're incredible," he croons, before adding on an entire litany of adoring, amazed, compliments against Joshua's skin as Monty arranges their bodies to his liking and finally, finally shoves his cock into his prince's (small, he seems so small like this -) body, fucking into him with ease like he would a woman, sinking into that wet, welcoming heat that was so graciously, lovingly prepared for him - just for him.

"It was -" he gasps out at the feeling of Monty's fingers sliding into his hole, possessive and intent and so proprietary, absolutely assured of his right to Joshua's body, to the love already between them, to mutual desire and hunger, "- his idea - ah-!"

He scrabbles for purchase, clinging to Monty, another thrum of overwhelming heat running through his body at this display of his strength and ability, the difference in size between them, that he could lift Joshua up so easily, position him exactly to his liking with barely any need of effort or adjustment at all, out here in the open air, his back pressed against a wall and Monty all around him, inside him...

"I want to watch, when you do," he murmurs, arching his back and trying to shift in Monty's grip, eager and enthusiastic, his body clenching down around Monty's cock, his own cock pressed, dripping and achingly hard, between their two bodies, against the firm muscles of Monty's abdomen.

Edited 2022-04-19 17:13 (UTC)

Monty moans harshly at that idea, his hips jackhammering into the body beneath him, the wet sound of their joining loud and severe. "Would you tell me what to do while you watched us?" He says, words clipped and breathless as he pulls out almost all the way just to slam back in, his balls slapping against the curve of Joshua's ass. "Would you tell me when to kiss him, how to pull his hair, how to make him scream?"

He's beginning to really, really like this fantasy as it takes form in his mind, spurred on by the way Joshua's groaning and gasping in time with Monty's every, punishing thrust.

"Fuck, Joshua," he breathes, arms wrapping around his prince's body, tugging him close, in a frantic bid to pleasure the both of them at once, forcing him to meet Monty's movements whether or not he was ready to. "Can you come like this for me, my treasure? Huh?" He can feel the way Joshua's straining cock was rubbing against the front of his stomach, staining their shirts as they continue to move together, faster, urgent. "Can you show me - nngh - how much you like the way I'm taking you, making you mine?" An uneven breath coasts out of his lungs as he presses their foreheads together, eyes searching; he wants to see the look on Joshua's face when he falls apart, fucked wide and hard and oh-so-good.

Monty's obvious enjoyment - of the wet, brutal pace of their fucking, of the pictures Joshua's carefully chosen words had sparked in his mind, of the innate physicality of everything he's doing and saying as he fucks into Joshua so earnestly - is incredible, and Joshua can barely hold on to Monty or to coherence as he feels his body stretched open wide by each intense thrust. It's always so mindless and desperate, wanting and pleasurable, when they do find the time to do this together, and the pain and anxiety and separation of the past few months - from Monty's injury and recovery, from the little misunderstandings that he had accidentally allowed to grow between them - are all washed away in a haze of sweat and contact and pleasure.

Monty's deep voice, rasping such filth against him as he rabbits into Joshua's body, forcing his body to accommodate, is its own experience of enjoyment, making Joshua feel hot from being wanted, loved and needed so very badly.

"Yes-!" he gasps out, high and breathless, in answer to all of Monty's questions. "Yes, yes, yes-" his throat catches in the litany, his voice shaky from the impact of Monty's body pounding into him, shaking with desire. "Monty - I'm going to -!"

His eyes widen with surprise, with the force of his orgasm washing over him, and he bites down on his lip to muffle the scream as he comes, explosively, all over Monty's already sweat-damp shirt, riding up to reveal the scar at his abdomen, and on his skin.

Oh. How Joshua strikes that chord deep and sweet and dark in Monty's belly, enough to make his toes curl, his back arch, his voice croon, keening in the black and milky starlight.

Monty comes, long and hard, into Joshua's body with a guttural snarl, pressed right up against the corner of his prince's kiss-swollen mouth. He continues to unevenly fuck his spend deeper in with a few more haphazard thrusts before everything becomes far too sensitive and he settles for slowly, slowly pulling out and letting Joshua unfold himself to stand, wobbly, on the ground again.

(He looks down and sees his own cum slipping out, thick and warm, down Joshua's pale thighs and fuck if that isn't something.)

Joshua was breathing hard, and deep circles of red burned high on his bright cheeks; in all his life Monty had never seen anyone so maddeningly beautiful as he was at that moment. Leaning forward, Monty braces against the wall for a moment, using his bodyweight to help prop Joshua up until he feels steady enough to move, while Monty peppers light, lazy kisses all over his prince's face, his hair.

He laughs, breathless and soft, wrapping his arms around Monty for support - and just because he liked doing it, liked the feeling of Monty's weight and bulk and love enfolding Joshua, even while the physical evidence of Monty's enjoyment practically sloshes inside of Joshua, hot and thick, cooling as it oozes down his shaky legs - and sighs happily, lips pressed light against the closest patch of skin.

"Are you happy, my own?" He asks, quietly, reaching a slightly trembling hand up to cup the side of Monty's face, caressing his cheek.

"With you, always," he murmurs back, his hand pressing down over Joshua's against his cheek, gently and big. Then, he turns his face and plants a warm kiss to Joshua's palm, holds his lips there for just a little longer than needed.

"Let's get you cleaned up, my treasure."

Kingdoms AU

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