Page 8 of Tristan
Alone. Completely, alone.
Even with Lucca standing outside the door, I know his loyalties are to me. If I were to do anything I’m not supposed to do, he’d pretend like nothing happened. I know he’s hoping I’ll relieve my tension.Maybe I should? Why not? All this time I’ve behaved myself. It’s my wedding day, shouldn’t I get to do as I please, once, before I’m never allowed to again?
That’s all it takes to convince me. Like a man gone mad with power, I pull my trousers and underthings down and my cock springs out hard and wanting. My dick relishes in his freedom as the cool air hits him.‘Hello there Tristan,’he says,‘I’ve been waiting for you to decide to play with me yourself.’
Nasty, nasty, evil little blighter.
But he’s too damn tempting—I ghost my hand over the head. I take a sharp, delicious inhale, and stroke my hand down his length.‘That’s it,’he coaxes,‘grab some of that cream over there while you’re at it. It will feel so good.’
Cream. That’s a good idea. I almost thank my cock out loud for such cunning ingenuity. I grab the cream, rub it over the head and down the shaft in the same manner as before, only this time it feels much better. I get lost in the sensations as I fuck my hand and climb closer to orgasm—not far away after a five-day abstinence. I’m a hair’s width from unraveling when Father’s words ring through my head.
“Do not disappoint me.”
That’s one way to deflate an erection, even an erection well on its way to the promised land—think of your father. To my cock’s dismay, I drop him like he’s the wrong end of a branding iron and look myself over in the mirror. What have I almost done?Almost proved my father right is what I’ve almost done.I wipe the excess cream off my cock without problem. There’s no flagging erection when I slip on the cold, silver chastity belt with ease, and lock it into place. I don’t want to look at it but at the same time I must, morbidly fascinated with the thing and how it looks on me. The skin of my scrotum is pulled through a ring until my testicles are fully inserted. The shaft of mycock is pushed through a gap at the top of the ring. Then, my penis is inserted into the tube, which is so like the shape of my cock, if I didn’t know better, I’d think someone had cast my cock in soap. The tube locks to the base and voila: no more erections today for Tristan, but there’s a hole at the tip of the tube—I can still urinate. Thankfully, it’s comfortable even if it feels a bit weird.
Satisfied that’s done, I call Lucca in. He gives me a‘what took so long’look but says nothing. Instead, he takes the key to the silver chastity belt from me.
“I get to be the one who gives this to the prince,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “Any words for your betrothed I should pass on?”
“Just hurry up, and help me dress,” I say.
The first garment is a white, sleeveless, gown. It drapes over my body covering me from head-to-toe. The second piece is a long jacket. It’s made of fine, white silk and has a V-shaped neckline embroidered with silver designs. The long sleeves bell wide and flare at my wrists. The jacket joins the other robe in the middle, at the base of my navel, then spreads wide, revealing the first silky garment underneath. The shoulders have silver etchings in the shape of fire—the only part of this get up I like. A larger silver pattern encrusted with Elven diamonds adorns the jacket all the way down. The first layer of silk cloth flares out from the bottom of the jacket and covers my legs to the ankles. I’m basically wearing a dress with a long jacket over top.Ugh.
If that’s not enough, Lucca helps me secure a white cape made from rabbit’s fur around my neck.
“I’m going to die from the heat of this thing,” I complain.
“Oh Tristan,” Lucca cries. “You look stunning. More of a Prince than I.”
“I look like a woman in a white dress.”
“You’re not, Tristan, you’re the best man I know. You would’ve made a great warlord, and Prince Corrik is lucky to have you,” he says, his lips quiver as he says what we’ve skirted all morning.
“Lucca, please, don’t cry. If you do, I won’t be able to go through with this.” He’s breaking my heart. Despite my request, tears stream down his cheeks.
“But this will be the last time you will be just mine, Tristan. After now, you will be his.”
I can’t say anything. He’s right. Tears escape my eyes too as I realize that these are the last moments I’ll spend with my cousin, my best friend, my brother. We embrace in a long hug as our best times flash before my eyes. I’ll miss him the most out of anything of my old life. I smooth the top of Lucca’s golden hair and kiss his crown one last time.
He takes a breath.“Tristan, there’s something we need to talk about.”
He’s uncharacteristically serious. It’s worrisome. “Lucca?”
“You’re being marriedoff.”
I scowl.“Yeah, I know.” That means I’ll assume the submissive role in the relationship.
“That’s not by accident or misplaced.You know that don’t you?”
“I…” Okay, confession? I like the way the prince commands me. I don’t even think it’s sexual—well maybe a bit sexual—but it’s mostly in the way he’s casually, non-sexually dominant. I know what the submissive role is, but I’ve never given it much thought because I’m a large, tough Warlord. I’m authoritative and dominant on the field, but I think that’s where it ends.
I also thought all this dominant and submissive stuff was ‘bedroom’ stuff. I know Elves are that way, but we haven’t been sexual—it’s been made clear that most of those activities will be saved for our wedding night—and yet I feel things.But am I ready to share said things? No. No fucking way. “I don’t want to talk about it. Everything’s gone, and it doesn’t matter.”
“It will work out, Tristan. You’re like I am. We’re the same.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly taken their side. I thought we hated the prince together?”
He worries his lip and then he breaks into a wide smile. “Wehate him together—unless his cock is massive, then I’m switching teams.”
