testingloyalty-blog

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

     The sudden sound had surprised Lelouch–normally he’d hear someone approaching his door, if he were awake, but he’d been so lost in thought he didn’t hear a damn thing. He didn’t normally expect any company either, but tonight…it must be Jeremiah.

     …He should have cleaned up a little before his bath. The place was still dusty. Everything else that could be organized had already been done, with as neat of a person he was, it was all just untouched for so long. The thin layer had collected over most surfaces.

     ‘Shit.’

     ‘No, it’ll be fine.’

     He walked to the door and turned the knob. His assumptions correct, the soldier was standing before him. It was odd and strange to see him without his uniform, though.

     “…Hey. Come in,” he saw the bottle as he stepped aside to allow entry, and found himself wanting a little taste. Maybe he’d ask in a little bit. “Sorry I haven’t really had the chance to clean.”

Jeremiah stepped inside, despite the prince’s apology, the interior appeared marginally better than the outside. It was decorated tastefully, and the mess was not overbearing. The tension did not fade from Jeremiah’s shoulders.

“Your majesty,” he said. “You shouldn’t be so quick to let people into your home.”

It disturbed him that Lelouch hadn’t even bothered to ask who was there.

The wine was a gift, and he placed it on the nearest surface, perhaps a little to forcefully, and the following clunk was resounding. His nerves were winding tighter and tighter, and with no better place for his hands, ended up perching them on either side of his hips.

“I could have been a terrorist with some grudge against Britannians. I beg you, don’t throw caution to the wind.”

Not when he was so close to getting him out.

||First Visit

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

@testingloyalty

     The sun was setting, already hidden behind the nearby buildings sending an overcast shadow over the rundown apartments that housed the former prince. With the night approaching, he’d already had his bath and was ready to prepare himself dinner.

     His days off…he wouldn’t consider exciting in the least. Relax, eat, nap, sleep…any combination of that was the perfect day, besides the venture out to retrieve groceries so he could stock his fridge.

     The door to the bathroom opened and he walked out to the kitchen, towel draped over his shoulders. ‘What do I even have right now…?Oh, I should pay rent soon…’

     He sighed, opening the fridge, then the cupboard…then back to the fridge again. He tried thinking of a recipe he could manage out of the small amount on those shelves. ‘Or, maybe…I should clean up a little…It’s getting a little dusty in here.’ Not to mention the high possibility of Jeremiah coming tonight.

     Unwarranted, images of the previous night filled his mind, the door to the fridge slowly closed once more, he was left standing there…still…silent.

     ‘He was…the best I’ve had in awhile…’

Jeremiah made a pitstop at the Gottwald estate prior to his departure that evening. He’d changed out of his uniform, swapping it for something a little more casual, a plain button up tucked into a pair of pressed trousers, and a light jacket to keep the colder night air out. 

He’d wandered past the kitchen tucking a bottle of finely wine into a paper bag, instructing the servants to lock up the house as usual before taking his leave of them all. 

Deciding not to bother with public transit Jeremiah meandered towards his personal garage instead, picking a car that was more modest, by his standards at least, so as not stick out too sharply in the ghetto districts. 

He sped the entire way, while he was in a rush to escort his prince, he also happened to enjoyed the recklessness of the action, the speed coursing in his veins. Besides, the vehicle was of high quality enabling him to manipulate the lanes with ease. 

The impressive cityscapes of Area 11 tapered fairly fast, transforming to the dingy ghettos that he was becoming more and more acquainted with. 

Finding the address was easy, he parallel parked on the street, then looked around, thoroughly aghast by what he discovered. Trash and destruction, forsaken buildings, and... Down the street a suspicious group of elevens, eyeing him with open distaste. 

Jeremiah glowered back at them, as he walked towards the indicated apartment, making the conscious decision to avoid an unnecessary scrape-- he had other obligations this evening. 

The apartment complex did not appear any better from the inside, though it was less populated at the very least. He’d tried to prepare himself for the worst prior to his arrival-- it was a ghetto, there was no other way of spinning it, and yet there was a sinking in his chest.

The prince had been surviving here for years, just barely scraping by, and right under his nose the whole time.

The bottle neck of the wine was tight in his fist when he knocked on Lelouch’s door. The line of his mouth firm with his displeasure. 

||First Visit

[testingloyalty-blog]

@virulentharlot I believe Lelouch wanted a story…

She had made the call to confirm that which she knew was impossible. Lord Jeremiah wasn’t laying dead in a ditch of some ghetto because he’d been injured the previous day. While she was in on her superior’s habit of inflicting justice upon those deemed in need of it, she was certain that even her boss wasn’t so stupid as to pick a fight with the damage inflicted on his generally capable body. Except, it wasn’t like him to be late, and Jeremiah Gottwald was not the type to oversleep. He had too many ambitions to waste even hour of precious career time.

Hearing his clipped voice on the other end of the line, her immediate reaction was relief– he wasn’t dead, as she’d known all along, he was on his way. However, this relief was quickly over shadowed by annoyance, and villetta snapped her own mobile shut. Lord Jeremiah rarely took such a tone with her. It hardly extinguished her naturally suspicious attitude, and she waited, following the vague orders, and holding down the fort in his absence. Waiting for the grand entrance, and an explanation .

As promised, he arrived within the hour. There weren’t any double takes, the officers patrolling the halls all had their own duties to perform, but as Villetta strode forth to greet the Lord she began to notice the little discrepancies in his appearance. The first being his hair.

She’d once watched him preen before a mirror for forty-three minutes adjusting, and re-adjusting the part of his hair over and over, all because a strand towards the front refused to lie flat. Now, Lord Jeremiah’s hair was– by his standards anyway –an absolute mess. She thought with sudden shock, that it had to look like this when he woke up, with a moderate cow lick at the back, and his bangs laying flatter than usual. The birds nest at his head was punctuated further by dark circles under his eyes, and the morning scruff lining his chin.

“Lord Jeremiah,” she greeted a subdued worry in her voice. “Are you alright?”

Jeremiah, to his credit did not seem thrown at all by her question.

“Quite fine, Villetta. I need to ask a favor of you,” At the least his tone had changed from that initial morning phone call. It sounded almost pleasant.

“Right of course, what do you need?” She replied dutifully, doing her best to keep the curiosity from her features.

“Fetch me my spare uniform. I left it in a locker of the breakroom.”

Villetta pursed her lips. Of course. Of all the tedious tasks, and not even a thank you for her efforts this morning. Villetta Nu was no secretary. Seeing her expression, Jeremiah backtracked, apparently amused if the smirk at his lips was anything to go by.

“I’d get it myself, of course, but I’d rather not have to walk through HQ looking like an animated rag doll.”

She appraised him briefly– the longer she looked the more she noticed out of place, like the ascot at his neck, slightly skewed as if he’d not been looking in the mirror when he tied it. Finally, Villetta relented.

“Very well, Lord Jeremiah.”

His smirk widened.

“Thank you, Villetta, I’ll be waiting in my office.”

Not waiting for a reply, the margrave set off, and Villetta watched in utter bewilderment, as chirpy tune flitted through the halls just as he turned the corner, headed in the direction of his office. Lord Jeremiah Gottwald was whistling… If ever there was a sign to run for the hills

Villetta approached the office door, the spare uniform she’d been sent for carried on a hanger, hidden by a pristine black suit cover, with the margave’s initials stamped by the top right corner.

Knocking on the door, she waited for an affirming reply before slipping inside, and shutting the door behind her. Wise as the move turned out to be, the sight greeting her was not at all for prying eyes. Lord Jeremiah was half perched against the grand desk in the center of his room, stripped to the waste, with a generous amount of shaving cream slathered along his jawline and chin. He was twisted in an odd position, apparently trying to examine the wound at his side.

“Dammit all,” he said to her though he’d not looked up from his task, or attempted to acknowledge her in anyway. “One of my stitches popped last night. Now, I’ve got to head down to the hospital wing. As if I haven’t been held up long enough today.”

“Exactly why were you late, Lord Jeremiah?” She took the opportunity, hanging the uniform across the back of a chair, next to his discarded shirt and jacket. It was now that she noticed the wrinkles in the garb, and come to think of it, his pants appeared to be in a similar state of disarray.

At that, Jeremiah merely shook his head, chuckling lowly, but negleecting to answer her question. He abandoned his examination, and picked up a razor before heading toward the bathroom adjoined to the office. The door was already open, the light was already on.

“You can go ahead and report on the morning,” Jeremiah called from his place in front of the mirror. He had begun to shave.

“Of course,” Villetta answered dryly. She’d stepped to get closer to the bathroom so as not to about her updates when her heart spiked as she noticed something vivid and red scraped along the line of her superior’s back and shoulder-blades.

“Lord Jeremiah!” She called before she had a chance to comprehend exactly what the marks were.

He turned on her, wide eyed, it seemed her tone had startled him, and he looked at her expectantly, foamy razor clutched in one hand, the other propped against the sink.

And then it clicked, and Villetta was suddenly aware of a very strong urge to giggle. To avoid such a preposterous reaction, she raised a manicured finger to her mouth as if to physically pin her lips shut. This all certainly explained his uncharacteristically good mood. Seeing his questioning eye however, Villetta dropped all pretense, recognizing that it was how this man operated best. She lowered her hand, setting it on her hip, then quirked an eyebrow.

“Those are some deep scratches on your back. Who ever she was, must have really been enjoying herself.”

At these words, Jeremiah straightened, and turned slowly to face her completely, the glimpse of his back now entirely gone. Under the foam of the shaving cream, Villetta thought she caught sight of skin a shade redder than usual.

“Okay.” He said, “Alright.”

Villetta looked at him. In part, she couldn’t believe it. Not that the man had ventured out for some company, it was a common practice among the military. However, that Jeremiah Gottwald, of all people, might let a hook up compromise his reputation at work, now, that was the harder pill to swallow.

It seemed the man in question was offering her explanation at last.

“I was with someone last night, I didn’t have an alarm. Normally, I’d wake up naturally, but I was so worn from yesterday…” he trailed off. Villetta nodded her understanding.

“It happens to the best of us.”

Jeremiah paused. The razor was still in his hand, hanging limp by his side.

“I knew you’d understand, Villetta,” he’d already turned back to the task, when she caught the stare of his orange eye in the mirror’s reflection.

“Another favor?”

“Well, yes, actually. Keep this between us, would you? The last I need is rumors about my love life making their way up to royal ears.”

Now, it was Villetta’s turn to smirk.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

     Lelouch watched him now as he dressed, taking in the sights of the scars he’d felt and muscles he wasn’t able to see. He took pride in the fact he was with that last night, that he slept with a man with such an admirable body.

     How much training he must have had to go through…

     “You make it sound as if you’re eager.”

     ‘Already willing to be with me again?’ Slowly, he laid down again, pulling the blanket over his shoulder to escape the cold. In addition, he curled up into a little ball, much like cats would do to retain their body heat and stay warm.

     “…Anyway, shouldn’t you be heading out? You don’t want your people angry with you.” Or worried. That was an option too. Though, they might not be, when they see his wrinkled clothes…

     ‘It might be a little obvious what he did last night.’

"I live to serve," Jeremiah agreed absently. He was joking of course. Mostly.

He paused by the chair where the rest of his clothes were draped, somewhat neater than the rest. At least the jacket of his uniform would hide the state of his shirt, but there was nothing to be said about the shadow on his chin, the unkempt hair (he would attempt to straighten with his fingers), and the fact that he hadn't showered after their festivities. He had no real comprehension of the smell of his body in its current state, but he was fairly certain that it did not match the expensive and distinctive scents of his cologne and aftershave.

There was one saving grave however. His rank and title more or less left him as highest in command, excepting the royal family and several of their personal guard. Even if the others noticed he doubted any of them would think to comment on it. All he needed was to make it to the private bathroom in his office. He'd clean up in there and change into the spare uniform stored specially for emergencies.

Jeremiah flung the jacket over his shoulder then paused in the doorway, throwing the prince a final glance.

"I'll look for you tonight."

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

     The look that crossed Jeremiah’s features was one to wonder about. That vague smirk just barely playing at his lips…he wanted to know the intent behind it, the thoughts running through his mind. He wanted to ask, but perhaps he should leave it and let whatever might happen, happen.

     “I said if I’m not here. I don’t know where I’ll be later…” he sighed, rubbing the side of his neck. “Don’t expect anything extravagant with my apartment, though.”

     ‘This is the ghetto, after all.’

He was at least glad to hear that the employees of this establishment were allowed occasional breaks. Hating the implications of their usual setting, Jeremiah genuinely hoped their next meeting place would be elsewhere. He was so pleased by the prospects that the prince’s vagueness did not bother him any.

Recovering his shirt, perhaps even more wrinkled than his pants, he turned back to face Lelouch, doing up the buttons, and tucking away the tails. 

“Anywhere will do, so long as I have the pleasure of your company,” Jeremiah flattered. The schmoozing came much more naturally to him than the nurturing. 

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

     Well didn’t he sound professional…

     …Of course, he’d need to. Jeremiah looked and acted as if he were high ranking…Habit would carry over into everyday mannerisms with ease. After watching him hang up, a silence filled the chilly air and he had to adjust the blankets once more to keep himself warm.

     –He was coming back?

     …Of course he’d heard that right. Jeremiah had been returning frequently to ensure the plan would be believable. His dedication shown through each night his presence was known, and the other workers had thoroughly fallen for it. Taking a deep breath, he turned to grab something from a different drawer from the bedside table–a pen and paper. A quick little scrawl, and he held up the paper to him.

     “…I’m not always here. If I’m not, I might be at my apartment. This…is the address…”

With this Jeremiah was encouraged. 

He stooped only to pull up his discarded underwear before approaching the bed,taking the little slip of paper. His thumb slid across the lined writing, oddly captivated by the mark of Lelouch’s hand writing.

He was barely able to contain a smirk as he turned away, hopping to mask his pleasure at receiving the informal invitation. 

“This is where I should look for you tonight?” He spoke, keeping a handle on his voice, now that he was not meeting the prince’s gaze.

 Jeremiah began to dress, holding up his trousers for examination before stepping into them. They were wrinkled, very uncharacteristic of his generally pressed, and well groomed nature.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

     So he was leaving–but only because he had somewhere to be. The searching of the watch was confirmation enough and it eased the worry he pretended he didn’t have. While he was on the verge of slumber, he wouldn’t be able to cross that line with all the sounds coming from the foot of the bed.

     “Mm…” the soft hum was confirmation that he heard and understood, there was no anger or upset in the tone, merely boredom and tiredness. A request to be quieter at this point might have been a little…rude, so he kept quiet with his focus on trying to fall asleep again.

     –It was the sound of the ringing that irritated him the most.

     Sitting up, he was met with the cold air he was trying to avoid and held the blanket up, closer to his body. Outside the door, he could hear other clients slowly taking their morning leave, the walk of shame. With his tired attentions brought back to the soldier, he could see him eyeing the ID that was lit up on his phone, watching silently.

     As much as he wanted to ask who it was, he wouldn’t know the person on the other end. It was none of his business. But…the most obvious choice was work. If that was the case…he had kept him from going to his duties, he was at fault for keeping him here overnight, he should be blamed.

     Though he was sure Jeremiah’s pride wasn’t going to let him outright say he was with a prostitute and forgot to set an alarm.

     “…If you have to go, then go.”

Jeremiah did not immediately reply, though now that the prince was sitting up, he fixed a forward stare, searching for eye contact as he snapped open the phone and wedged it between his ear.

“I’ll be there within the hour,” he answered without pretext. “Make sure everything is in order.”

And then he snapped it shut, not waiting for her reply. As the phone was clutched tight in his hand, Jeremiah caught the time, displayed digitally. It was nearly eight o’clock, and he was almost an hour late.

He was still crouched low, watching the prince, and observing the change in behavior.

The young man’s tone was unrecognizable from the way it had sounded the night before, and the look in his eye seemed somehow colder. It was hard to attribute it too anything in particular. Certainly, after all his foolish proclamations, there could be no more doubts to his allegiance. 

“I’ll be back tonight,” Jeremiah said at long last.

He was still cold, and exposed, though he dare not move yet, fixed on the prince, waiting for his answer.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

     A roll to his back and he was staring at the ceiling. Faintly he could hear the scuffling and rummaging, little annoyances that were hard to ignore. Hearing quiet mutters, the nagging tug of sleep at his mind wasn’t strong enough quiet yet.

     “…What are you looking for?” His voice was quiet, sleepy, in need of the sweet release of unconsciousness once more. A small shift and he’d pulled the blankets over himself a little more to warm up, now that his main source of heat was gone. The club usually got pretty cold in the mornings…when all the heat was turned off. It was just a tactic to run off any lingering clients in the morning so that rooms could possibly be cleaned.

     Focusing on nothing was…boring…

     His eyes slowly closed once more, but he wasn’t sleeping quite yet. He would wait for the answer, he could hold a conversation–if he wanted to.

     ‘Is he leaving me…? This wasn’t just a one night stand, I hope. All those things he said…better not have been lies..’

Naturally preferring the warmth himself, Jeremiah’s limbs felt like lead in the cold air of the room, suddenly so much less welcoming than it had been before. Gooseflesh was rising on his skin, and he wondered if perhaps he should have taken the time to scavenge for clothes before beginning his search.

It was too late to do anything about it now.

Jeremiah glanced back over his shoulder, spotting the prince, who appeared very comfortable in his wrap of blankets, despite his newfound loneliness. Tempting as it was to crawl back, Jeremiah maintained. 

“My watch. I need to know what time it is.” He was expected early for his duties, and before now, Jeremiah always made sure to rise with time enough to bathe, shave, dress, and eat.

This time he’d drifted off without an alarm, and after the strenuous 48 hours, he did not trust his natural body’s clock to wake him in time. Villetta was a competent second in command, she would know how to handle events in his absence, but for the entirety of his career, Jeremiah had never arrived late. The last thing he needed now was suspicious busy bodies poking into his business, asking questions.

He cursed himself for his carelessness, but the tirade (and search) was interrupted by the ringing of a cellphone.

Cursing under his breath, Jeremiah followed the sound to his pants which were discarded in a crumpled heap by the foot of his bed. He snatched up the device, eyeing the collar id. 

--Speak of the Devil. Villetta Nu’s name flashed across the screen.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

     That sudden movement wasn’t exactly expected, nor did he consider it welcome. As much as he’d like to continue sleeping, Lelouch had been jerked awake because of it and was ‘too conscious’ to drift off again.

     “…I was quite comfortable…” he grumbled, his hand gripping slightly to the pillow. “You’re very warm and all…” Considering his thin figure, it was rather difficult for him to retain body heat like a lot of men his age…Jeremiah had done well in providing a sufficient heat source with his body.

     ‘Now I’m cold…’

It hadn’t been his intention to wake the sleeping prince. He glanced back over his shoulder to see that the damage had already been done. Lelouch, to his credit, still looked quite appealing, laying on the bed, his hair in a ruffled state, eyes still half lidded.

                                      But certain appearances were still to be maintained. 

“My apologies, your majesty, I did not mean to wake you. Please, go back to sleep.”

With these words he slipped free of the sheets, striding past his discarded underwear, and towards the priority. The watch in his jacket. He tore through the pockets with an unmasked urgency, all in attempt to find the dreaded thing.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

Keep reading

He’d barely managed an affirming hum before sleep encased him entirely. 

That night Jeremiah slept so deeply, he hardly remembered any of his dreams, just the slightest trace of violet irises. For once, he was not entirely sure who they belonged to. Then his own eyes were shooting open, and the awareness of his situation flooded him immediately, along with the pressure of a warm body at his side, and a very present aching in his muscles.

He jerked up to a seated position, and the wound at his abdomen throbbed unhelpfully. In this sharp movement, he’d inadvertently shifted the body snuggled against his. A pulse hammered in his throat as he realized that he was naked, and his pocket watch was tucked safely away in the coat discarded at the very start of the previous evening.

Jeremiah had no idea what time it was, in this windowless room, and he had a dreading, sneaking suspicion that he was late for work.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

Keep reading

As Lelouch’s fingers skirted his tender flesh, Jeremiah hadn’t the mind to contemplate the irregularity of this request. No matter the formal rules, they’d moved beyond the way things were supposed to be done. The formal rules no longer applied.

Jeremiah merely nodded heavily, “As you wish, my prince.”

He needed sleep, and as of that moment, the thought of crawling out of bed, and out to the cruel city beyond, seemed a tragedy. He kicked off the remainder of his pants still clinging to his legs, before settling into the mattress, just beside the prince-- the sheets were wrinkled and warm, and a sigh escaped him as he lay. in the moment, his body appeared to be melting into the softness, every position was comfortable, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

The physical toll was catching up with him. Perhaps, it would have been wise to wait until his wounds had fully healed before taking on such strenuous activity. 

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

Keep reading

Sensation torn in pieces-- the sounds captivating as ever, the feeling of fingers twining in his hair, the stickiness of orgasm jetting up between their bodies. Now, the prince had overcome his arousal, Jeremiah no longer felt obligated to draw things out. 

He maintained, a few more thrusts, rapidly losing their even pace, and Jeremiah came as well, a low groan rich in his throat, his nose nudged lightly against the crook of Lelouch’s neck. 

The longer he hovered, strained over the prince’s body, the more his exhaustion pooled. With the last strand of effort, Jeremiah pulled carefully free of the prince, and sat back on his heals, so to not collapse in all his weight atop the worn Lelouch.

His breaths feel heavily, chest expanding as they cast in and out of him, and Jeremiah dragged a tired hand through his sweat dampened hair, before dropping it limp at his side.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

Keep reading

He was relieved to hear it, his own arousal building, though he bit back the immediate me too, and instead coughed out a breathy chuckle. 

“Yes,” he said, agreeing to something unknown. “Let go,” he coaxed.

His hand continued to wring up and down the length of Lelouch’s arousal. His mouth worked across whatever came to path, continuing its trail of kisses and nips.

Jeremiah’s body, strained under the work of this insistent movement, and the injuries from earlier battle, was beginning to give, though he was not quite ready to submit to his own exhaustion-- he could not.

“My prince,” he hissed, hoping this final passionate energy would tip him over the edge.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

Keep reading

His back stung with a remnant trace of the prince’s nails, the ghost of that feeling sparked a shudder down the length of his spine. More so, he found that the prince’s feet slotted perfectly against the dip in his back, and he was happy to comply with the unspoken command, sinking in deeper.

For a moment, they were so close, Jeremiah’s forehead brushed against the prince’s, though he was quick to pull back in case the proximity tempted him towards the one thing he was not allowed.

His name called in such a tone--

This was the defining touch. The pulse of Jeremiah’s hips stuttered, and he struggled with himself once more. He would not finish yet, he had to hear that voice again, louder, more certain.

[testingloyalty-blog]

The noises were like a sort of fuel, with every pant, Jeremiah drove deeper. It was a sign he realized, and between all the praises and proclamations, he’s nearly forgotten.

As he thrusted forth agin, a hand slipped between them, finding the prince’s erection as it bobbed between them. His hand tightened around its prize, catching onto the motion quick enough, and timing the movements of his hand to match his own thrusts.

It was growing harder to make sensical words as he immersed himself deeper in the task of pleasuring Lelouch, and by extension himself, and he was glad that the prince did not seem any state to speak-- otherwise he would have trouble making heads or tails of the intent behind them.

Jeremiah gave a soft pant of his own as he worked, the mounting tension renewed in his gut.

testingloyalty:

Keep reading

Keep reading

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

Beyond the physical strain of his physical body, the knot in his stomach, and the pounding in his chest, Jeremiah was certain that he’d made the right call. He was still somewhat winded from the abrupt stop, still frozen, hanging above the prince, his eyes stuck on the face below him. He was beautiful, truly, the flush in his cheeks, the wanting in his face-- all for Jeremiah to enjoy, not anyone else. In this moment, there wasn’t anyone. 

Jeremiah was alarmed by his own unprecedented attraction, the need inside of him only doubled by a sense of duty and the obligations of servitude. The words were falling from his mouth before he could stop them, half fueled by the uncontrollable urgency of his arousal, and half by earnest, undeniable loyalty.

“Prince Lelouch, I vow to keep the pledge made to your mother so long ago,” his hands regripped around the sheets on either side of Lelouch’s body, preparing to pick up where they’d left off.

“I will get you out of here, and ensure that you never have to work again,” he finished with a grunt, rocking forth in an attempt to build on some fluid momentum, determined to keep control this time around.

“I will defend you--” he reeled back “--Honor you--” forth “--die for you if I must.”

Jeremiah leaned into kiss the nearest bit of skin exposed to him, the notch of Lelouch’s shoulder. More sweat curled against his body, and as he rocked backwards and forwards, his body moved to cover the prince’s entirely.

“Please just let me-- let me--” Not entirely sure what he was begging for, Jeremiah thrusted forward, more powerfully than anytime before. He was going to be swallowed by this horrible, nagging need.

[testingloyalty-blog]

virulentharlot:

His pulse spiked, and he opened his eyes as requested, captivated almost immediately by the violet. For a single moment, Jeremiah was a mouse trapped in the jaw of a cat, so unusual-- that color passed down from mother to son.

He really shouldn’t have thought of the empress in that moment.

It was as he’d rocked back again, and his arousal throbbed, Jeremiah’s now open eyes, widened ever so slightly.

Strangling the sound of his pleasure, and darting into action as to not completely lose himself to the pleasure. One of Jeremiah’s hands cuffed tightly around the base of his own erection, cutting off a premature orgasm at the very last moment.

“I apologize for that, your majesty,” Jeremiah managed to pant out, the natural flush of his cheeks, masked the embarrassment he felt for relying on this last resort. “As I said, I’m out of practice, it’s been a while since I last...”

He caught his breath again.

“I just need a moment.”