Archive of Our Own ^beta

Felix is exhausted.

Wedding receptions from his homelands do not usually last this long.

He’s especially exhausted after choosing to follow the nuptial rites of his husband’s homelands, in which once the royal couple is married, the two retreat to their marriage bed at once to consummate their bond and oath, only with their souls and the gods to bear witness.

Felix knew his husband was kind, intelligent, brave, strong, and handsome. He had hoped that meant his husband was also proficient in bed, but in no way had Felix been prepared to find out just how proficient.

His sore, swollen cunt throbs in protest just thinking about it.

Felix had played with himself, imagined all the ways in which his husband would eventually take him when the time came. He imagined something soft, innocent, perhaps a little awkward, even. Instead, he received a love so intense, so intimate, so full of love and adoration that he was positive he had to be pregnant with triplets at this point.

Chan, his husband, the king, had taken him apart so thoroughly — with his mouth, his fingers, his thigh, even, which Felix had been pleasantly surprised to learn he enjoyed, and his cock, over and over and over — ensuring Felix felt nothing but pleasure so delirious he could have sworn he was hallucinating the entire ordeal.

But there was nothing hallucinatory about the man who stood before him now.

His husband. His gorgeous, dangerously luscious husband.

Chan had been chatting idly with his advisor, Minho, and the general of his army, Changbin, for a moment while Felix spoke quietly to Jisung, a member of Chan’s court who, by tomorrow morning, would be Felix’s advisor.

Felix had been torn from the conversation when he saw Chan approaching their table out of his peripheral vision, all of his words dying on his throat at the sight of his husband.

This was it, he thought. They could finally retire to their rooms, and this several hours long reception would finally be done.

Chan extends a hand to Felix once he’s at Felix’s side. Palm up — an invitation.

“Come, little lamb.” Chan’s voice is gentle and soft, in the common tongue. Until Felix can become more than just halfway proficient in his husband’s language, they have agreed to speak the common tongue between them for ease of communication and to prevent any misunderstandings between them.

Felix is grateful for it, especially now.

He smiles, bidding goodbye to Jisung as he rests his hand in Chan’s, his smile growing when Chan only clutches Felix’s hand tighter, pulling it to his mouth to place a kiss on the back of it, his plush lips softer than a rose petal. Nearly as red as one, too, with all the wine Chan has consumed this evening.

They exit the banquet hall among rambunctious cheers and blessings, and Felix blushes as he thanks them in Chan’s native tongue, following his husband out the door and back toward their wing of the palace.

Just as they turn the corner, reaching the stairwell to their private rooms, Chan stops, turning so abruptly that Felix almost runs right into Chan’s chest. Their joined hands separate to steady each other, Felix’s hands resting on Chan’s strong biceps.

There is an expression of hesitation and uncertainty there. Felix reaches up to smooth the wrinkle between his brow, smiling softly at him.

“You’re nervous now?” He teases his husband. “After what you did to me earlier today?”

Chan laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners adorably. The flush that coats his cheeks deepens. When his laughter subsides, he smiles at Felix, but it’s still timid.

Felix hasn’t known his husband long, but he’s a quick study. He can tell there’s something on Chan’s mind, something he doesn’t know how to say or to ask for, so Felix takes pity on him. Chan has led him around this entire day, taking charge and guiding Felix through every single moment of their wedding. Felix can do the guiding, this time, especially for something as simple as this.

He slowly runs his hands down Chan’s arms and interlaces their fingers together, walking backwards slowly, pulling Chan further into the stairwell before turning, leading him to their rooms.

The antechamber is quiet, illuminated by the bright lanterns hung on the walls, and Felix silently crosses the room until he reaches the door to their bedroom.

Chan stops again.

Felix turns, taking in the frown on husband’s face and responds with a matching one of his own.

“My king?” Felix asks, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“There’s something you need to know, Felix. Something else in the nuptial rites of my people that I didn’t tell you about before.” Chan looks nervous. It’s the most nervous he’s looked all day, at least as far as Felix had noticed, anyway.

“What is it?” Felix asks. He’s not afraid to lessen their proximity, taking a step forward until he can rest his palms on Chan’s muscular chest. Felix resists the urge to smirk — there are scratch marks on Chan’s skin in the exact spots that Felix’s palms are in, leftover from their first tryst today, hidden by his husband’s silky soft shirt.

Felix wonders if Chan will let him give him more.

“There is a tradition.” Chan begins, his voice shaky as he avoids Felix’s eyes — which Felix does not like at all — “A tradition surrounding the first marriage night, specifically.”

“Okay,” Felix nods easily. “What is it?”

Felix expects Chan to tell him they must fuck until dawn.

Felix expects Chan to say the doctor will have to examine him to make sure Chan’s seed has taken root in Felix’s body.

Felix expects Chan to say many things.

What he doesn’t expect is a knock on the door, followed by Minho and Changbin entering the antechamber without waiting for Chan to grant them permission.

Felix frowns. Chan’s customs may be different here, but it’s still very rude to just come into his room without thinking. Especially since he is king now. Their king. Still, Felix doesn’t open his mouth. It’s not his place to correct them, he doesn’t know if it will ever be, but he doesn’t wish to upset them when they’ve barely been married for a day.

“I told you to wait until I called for you.” Chan bites at them in the common tongue. They look apologetic, but say nothing. They do bow, as is custom, to both Chan and Felix.

What Chan said registers late. Felix turns to him, confused. “Why did you need to call for them?”

Chan opens his mouth to answer, when this time, a knock resounds on the door to their chambers. A frustrated sigh leaves Chan’s lips, but he calls for the person to enter in his native tongue. Jisung pokes his head in a second later, frowning when he takes in the tension of the antechamber.

“I can come back,” Jisung offers, but Chan is already waving him inside.

“Chan,” Felix says firmly. “What is going on?”

Chan opens the door to their bedroom, dragging Felix inside and shutting and locking the door to the antechamber with rapid speed, so the others cannot follow. He guides Felix away from the door, his hands on his shoulders when they reach the center of the room.

“The tradition,” Chan explains. “They’re here to ready us for the tradition that takes place on the first marriage night. It’s the last of the nuptial rites, I promise you.”

Felix blinks at his husband, confused. “Okay. What…what is it?”

“There is — it’s —” Chan cuts himself off, frustrated. He removes his hands from Felix, then, like he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to keep touching him.

Felix doesn’t like that at all.

“My king?” He tries, taking a step forward.

Chan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, but he casts his eyes to the floor when he says, “We need to appear before the Royal Council.”

Felix pauses. “We — what? Now?”

“Yes,” Chan sighs. “It is part of the last marriage nuptial rite for our people.” Chan says the name of it, then, in his native tongue. Felix knows that word.

“Presentation?” Felix asks in the common tongue.

Chan’s expression is pinched. “In a way, yes. It’s like…it’s similar to the way an artist would display their paintings.”

“So…like an exhibit? A gallery? We must attend a gallery with the Royal Council? Now?”

Chan steps forward again, taking Felix’s hand in his. His breath trembles and his hand shakes when he brings Felix’s hand to his lips once more, pressing his lips to the back of it reverently before pressing soft kisses on Felix’s wrist, up his forearm, to the ditch of his elbow. He pulls Felix to him, then, and Felix’s arm falls to Chan’s waist when Chan releases it in favor of cupping Felix’s face in his hands, kissing him until he’s dizzy.

When Chan parts from him, Felix feels as though his husband has stolen the air from Felix’s lungs. He presses a kiss to Felix’s temple, the apple of his cheek.

“You are the gallery, little lamb.” Chan murmurs there, stroking gentle fingers over the shell of Felix’s ear. He sighs, resigned and irritated. “The Royal Council will look upon you. No one will touch you, or speak to you, or come near you, but they will watch you — watch us — as I please you.”

Felix’s entire body tenses in Chan’s hold, a shock of icy fear running down Felix’s spine. Even so, he doesn’t pull away from his husband.

“They will — what?” Felix’s voice is barely above a whisper. “The entire Royal Council?”

Chan hums. “I know it sounds scary. The Royal Council here is different than in your homeland, my love. It is not as large. Only a handful of advisors I’ve selected as my most trusted members of the Royal Court sit on the Council itself. You have yet to form your side of the Council, but Jisung, as the one you have chosen to be your advisor, will also be present.”

Felix’s throat is dry as he tries to swallow. “What…how…how many members are on the Council?”

“Minho, Changbin, and Jisung. My younger brother, Jeongin. His betrothed, Seungmin. Seungmin’s brother Hyunjin. And two of my generals, Mingyu and Eunwoo.”

Felix’s racing heart begins to slow. Eight people. That’s…it’s not as many as the Council in his homelands at all. His brother, Jake, will have a Council of at least thirty people. This in comparison is…

Regrettably, Felix thinks it’s feasible.

“You have the right to request additional attendants.” Chan says, rubbing his hands up and down Felix’s arms. “If there is any one of the guests from your homelands that you wish to be in that room with you, on your behalf, you may name them.”

Felix thinks of the names and faces of those who are here from his homeland. He wants none of them to bear witness, so he shakes his head.

“No,” he murmurs. “No one.”

“Okay.” Chan nods, taking a step back to look at Felix’s face. “I want you to understand that this is necessary, but if you absolutely refuse, if you cannot do it tonight, we don’t have to. We will eventually have to, though. It’s not something we can go without. If we don’t do this, the Council will have to report it to the Court, who may insist that our marriage be considered illegitimate.”

Felix nods. “I understand.”

“And I want to make it clear, what will happen. This is not…it won’t be like earlier today, after our wedding. That was for us, they will never get to witness us in that way. They will not witness you in that way.”

“Then…” Felix’s voice trails off, searching Chan’s eyes. “How?”

“The nuptial rite is to prove that I am worthy of being your king. Your husband.” Chan reaches out, tucking a strand of Felix’s hair behind his ear. “They will watch to make sure that I can please you, that I am worthy of you.”

Felix’s brow furrows. “And…how will you do that?”

Chan smiles, fingers trailing down to Felix’s jaw. “In a way I think you’ll end up enjoying. At least, you enjoyed it earlier today.”

“Oh?” Felix feels his face grow hot.

Chan leans in again, placing his hands on Felix’s waist as his brings his lips to the juncture between Felix’s neck and shoulder. “With my mouth, little lamb.”

A shiver runs down Felix’s spine, his body arching into Chan’s as if pulled to him by an invisible thread. “Oh,” he finds himself saying, breathless.

Chan chuckles, his plush lips leave a trail of kisses from his shoulder, up the column of his neck, his jaw, pulling away before his lips reach Felix’s. A whine escapes Felix’s throat, and Chan chuckles, running his knuckles gently over Felix’s cheek.

“Is that a yes?” Chan asks quietly. “Will you allow the nuptial rite to happen tonight?”

Felix nods, eyes focused on Chan’s face. “Yes, I will.”

Chan kisses him then, finally, holding Felix’s face in his hands so delicately, a contrast to the strength of his lips, the desperation there, the gratitude. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

Felix laughs, even as Chan thumbs over his cheeks. “You have already been so good to me, my king.”

“I will be better,” Chan swears. “I’ll prove my worth to you, I swear.”

“You are worthy,” Felix assures him, wrapping his fingers around Chan’s wrists. “I would not be here, if I believed otherwise.”

Chan smiles softly. “It is more than that here, little lamb. A King represents the crown. His spouse represents the people. If I cannot prove that I am worthy of you, worthy of being your husband, then I am not worthy to be King of our people.”

Our people. Felix smiles pleasantly at the thought.

“You have already proven you are worthy with your mouth,” Felix reminds him, reaching forward to run a thumb over Chan’s lower lip. “Three times today, I believe.”

“It was four,” Chan smirks, capturing Felix’s hand in his, “And we will add to that during the nuptial rite.”

A question arises in Felix’s mind, then. “How…when does the rite end? How do you and I know that we’ve completed it?”

Chan presses a kiss to Felix’s palm. “When you declare you’ve had enough, and that you are satisfied.”

“I don’t imagine that will take much,” Felix laughs, a blush crossing his cheeks. It hadn’t taken Chan much at all, earlier in the day. He’s still so sensitive as it is, can feel himself getting wetter just thinking about it.

“Do not make it easy for me, my love,” Chan squeezes his hand. “Allow me to work for it.”

Felix inhales a shuddering breath, but nods. He doesn’t know fully what that means, or how he could do that, but he’ll figure it out, he’s sure.

“Changbin and Minho have to help me get dressed.” Chan presses a kiss to Felix’s knuckles, “Jisung will help you get dressed, as well.”

“Are we arriving separately?” Felix frowns. He’s been married to Chan for barely a full day, and he dreads the idea of parting from his husband for any reason.

“No, my love,” Chan leaves a soothing kiss against Felix’s temple.

His kisses, too. Felix thinks. He doesn’t want to be apart from his husband or his kisses. Chan has kissed him so much today, since their first kiss that bonded them together in marriage. Felix feels like he’ll die without them.

“We’re just getting dressed separately, is all,” Chan assures him. “A sacred part of the ritual. Jisung will explain it to you better, as he can articulate its importance for your side, your role.”

Felix nods, exhaling. There’s still a slight tremble to him, about all of this. Chan kisses him deeply, stealing the breath from Felix’s lungs before he calls for the others to enter their bedroom.

+

Felix has been dressed in a long white silk dress. It bears long sleeves and a long train that brushes the tops of his feet, keeping him mostly covered up. The part that makes his attire appropriate for this nuptial rite, at least in Felix’s eyes, are the slits in the skirt of the dress, that begin at the high point on each of his hips, which cause the remainder of the front of it to rest between his legs, cover where his cunt is bare, no undergarments to be found. As he walks, his legs poke through the slits of his dress, and he tries to keep himself covered as he moves, so that he doesn’t expose himself preemptively.

Chan has been dressed in nothing but black silk slacks, a long-sleeved black silk robe covering his bare torso, secured around his waist with the robe’s sash.

The sight of it brings Jisung’s voice to the forefront of his mind.

“If you do not wish to see the others as it happens,” Jisung has said as he cleaned Felix’s skin prior to dressing him, “If you wish to focus on His Majesty, he can provide you with a blindfold. The sash he wears, tied around his waist. If you ask for it, he will provide it for you.”

Felix considers asking for it, considers the idea of shutting the room out the second they get to wherever it is they need to go, but he resolves to at least wait, to see how he feels in that room before he does anything else.

Chan holds Felix’s hand tightly in his as they follow Changbin and Minho through the winding halls of the palace, Jisung trailing behind them.

Felix realizes they’re approaching the throne room once they turn a corner back into the central portion of the palace. Distantly, he can hear the remnants of their wedding reception still going in the grand hall, and Felix’s nerves begin to resurface, making his breathing quicken.

“No one will disturb us.” Chan murmurs, squeezing Felix’s hand.

Felix can only nod. He believes his husband, but he cannot speak that into words at the moment. He squeezes back, so Chan knows he is listening.

When they approach the entrance to the throne room, there are over a dozen guards who stand watch near the door. As their group gets closer, the guards begin to move forward, away from the doors to the throne room.

“They cannot stand in their normal positions near the door,” Chan tells Felix quietly as they continue to walk past the guards. “They’re not allowed to listen, or bear witness in anyway. They will stand at the end of the hall, making sure those who are not permitted do not take a step too far.”

Felix takes a deep breath, squeezing Chan’s hand once more. He measures his steps when the doors to the throne room open, keeps his eyes focused ahead of him as Chan walks them forward, and Changbin, Minho, and Jisung leave them to take their seats. From what Felix can see out of his peripheral, Changbin, Minho, Mingyu, and Eunwoo sit to his left, and Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin on the right, each chair spaced evenly, a fair distance from even the steps leading to their thrones.

For some reason, knowing they won’t be close enough to see Felix as intimately calms his nerves just the slightest.

“I know you’re scared,” Chan speaks to him lowly, only for Felix’s ears as he walks them to their thrones. “You don’t have to be. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to look at them. Just keep your eyes on me.”

Felix squeezes his hand.

“You’ll sit on my throne for this, little lamb.” Chan instructs. It makes sense, given the context of the nuptial rite. Their thrones are identical, but Chan’s throne is the one on the left — the typical place of the King — and Felix’s on the right.

Chan’s throne bears black molding with a white cushion to match Felix’s throne, which bears white molding with a black cushion, to match Chan’s.

“It is to show that you are complementary to one another.” Jisung had explained as he dressed Felix carefully. “A King will often deal with heavy burdens, things that may bring dark days to the kingdom. You, however, as his equal, his Queen, will balance that out. You will provide light to the King and to our people. There cannot be too much of either, too much bad or too much good, but together, in an even balance, there is peace.”

Felix sits on Chan’s throne now, guided by his husband’s gentle hands. Once Felix is seated and comfortable, Chan smiles at him, then sinks to his knees. He inhales sharply, eyes wide as he looks down at his husband, not anticipating getting started so quickly.

“Breathe,” Chan murmurs, pushing the little panel of Felix’s dress to the side, freeing one of his legs.

Chan presses a kiss to Felix’s knee, then the inside of his thigh, trailing his mouth up and up and up until he reaches the crease of Felix’s hip, his hands firm on Felix’s waist. He rises up on his knees then, just a little, tilting his head up, and Felix leans forward to meet him halfway.

He’s kissed Chan dozens of times throughout the day in front of every single person in this room. Felix isn’t ashamed to kiss him again. If anything, it eases his nerves even more.

At least, until Chan takes his robe off.

Felix explored his husband’s body as thoroughly as he could, earlier. There are little bruises over Chan’s chest from where Felix dug his nails in too deep, where his teeth bit down a little hard. He can’t see Chan’s back yet, but he knows he scratched him up well enough that Felix had panicked earlier, insisted on applying a salve to it to ensure he wouldn’t be scarred or that the wounds wouldn’t be infected.

Chan had basked in every mark that Felix had given him, had accepted them with a smile, his eyes full of pride.

The same eyes that track Felix’s face now. He grabs the sash from the loops of his robe, folds it up a couple of times, then offers it to Felix.

“Do you want me to cover your eyes, little lamb?” Chan asks softly.

Felix makes the mistake of looking up, then, past his husband and to the other eyes in the room. They’re all watching the two of them, expressions mostly impassive and unaffected. They’re sitting there like it’s a regular day for them, like it doesn’t matter that they’re about to witness something so…intimate.

He manages to lock eyes with Jisung, who gives Felix a single, imperceptible nod. Felix takes a deep breath, then, looking back at his husband. He takes the sash in his hands, then places it at his side on the throne.

“I want to see you,” Felix says to his husband. “Just you.”

The answering smile that Chan gives him is so blinding, brighter than the moon that hangs full in the sky this evening, the one shining through the grand windows of the throne room right now.

He sinks back down onto his haunches, budging in closer so he can throw Felix’s legs over his broad shoulders, lifting the panel of Felix’s dress that covers his cunt and bringing it across Felix’s hip, draping it on the arm rest of his throne.

Felix feels a pang of nervousness run through his veins when the cool air hits his exposed cunt, but it’s gone the moment Chan buries his face in between Felix’s thighs.

His back arches, his hands gripping onto the armrest in surprise. Chan wastes no time, burying his tongue in Felix’s folds and licking fervently, his beautiful nose nudging at Felix’s still sensitive clit. A moan leaves Felix’s lips before he can help it, his hips tilting forward, seeking more of Chan’s mouth.

It’s hard to believe this morning was the first time he and Chan had ever met face to face, had ever touched one another, the first time they’d been intimate. The way Chan had taken him apart over and over was with so much expertise and finesse that it left Felix dizzy. Even now, Chan licks and sucks at his cunt like he’s been doing it for years, like he’s so familiar with how to make Felix fall apart with his mouth that this sacred rite may as well be just another day of their lives.

Felix’s hands descend into his husband’s hair, gripping at the curly strands when Chan manages to fuck his tongue into Felix’s cunt, tasting him from the inside, humming when Felix’s arousal drips out in earnest, soaking his chin. Felix’s body shakes, the noises Chan tongue makes as he fucks in and out of Felix’s hole audible now, and growing louder the wetter Felix gets.

His husband is relentless, using his grip on Felix’s waist and Felix’s legs on his shoulders to pull him closer, pull Felix further onto his face. Felix can’t help the cry that leaves him when his husbands beautiful nose presses further against his clit, and he grips Chan’s hair tighter in his fists, grinding himself against his husband’s face.

Chan moans eagerly, sending vibrations through Felix’s body that make him shiver, withdrawing his tongue to lap between Felix’s folds before licking all around his cunt, like he can’t fathom letting any of it go to waste. He slurps and sucks loudly, the noises obscene, echoing around the throne room in a way that makes Felix’s ears ring.

His eyes slam shut when Chan drags his face up, running his nose along Felix’s clit until he can suck the little bud into his mouth, pressing his tongue tight to it as he draws it into his mouth in a pulsing rhythm.

Felix can feel his heartbeat in his ears, can feel sweat beginning to prickle at his hairline and down his spine, knows it in the way his stomach clenches that Chan’s mouth is going to make Felix come already.

“My king,” Felix murmurs in Chan’s native tongue.

His husband’s eyes snap to Felix’s face, his mouth continuing its delicious assault on Felix’s pussy as he stares up at Felix.

Felix brings a hand to rest on Chan’s cheek as he nods at his husband, trying to let him know he’s close, that he doesn’t want him to stop. Chan’s eyes flutter shut when Felix rubs a thumb over the apple of his cheek, trying his best to lean into the touch while keeping his mouth where it is, continuing that pulsing rhythm that feels equal to a war drum at this point.

Felix’s heart pounds in time with the suction of Chan’s mouth, his orgasm building and building until it crashes through him. His body thrashes on the throne, Chan’s hands pressing down onto Felix’s waist to keep him still, keep him on his mouth and making it impossible for Felix to escape.

A whine tears from his throat when the blinding pleasure of his orgasm begins to creep into over sensitivity, and only then does Chan relent, releasing Felix’s clit from his mouth so he can lick gently through Felix’s folds, cleaning him carefully with his tongue.

He looks up then, casting his eyes to the ceiling to take a deep breath, filling his lungs with much needed air, Chan rubbing his thumbs into Felix’s hips to try and comfort him.

When Felix sets his eyes on his husband once more, Chan is staring at him, so much love and adoration in his eyes that heat pools in Felix’s belly again. His tongue traverses Felix’s cunt in soft, long licks, cleaning the skin and gathering Felix’s arousal all for himself, his plush lips still wine-stained, the tip of his nose coated in Felix’s orgasm.

“My king,” Felix repeats reverently, mouth forming the word more comfortably now in Chan’s language. Chan’s eyes flutter shut, bringing his lips back to Felix’s swollen clit, closing his mouth around it and rubbing his tongue gently but firmly over the bud.

Felix cries in relief, his thighs shaking from where they rest on Chan’s shoulders. He’s becoming addicted to this, he realizes. His husband had spoiled him earlier, drawing several orgasms from him in a myriad of ways, and Felix’s mind has already begun to recognize this as normal, to expect to be brought to bliss over and over again until he can’t breathe.

His eyes land on movement beyond his husband. The others in the room are still watching, still observing, but they are less impassive now. Felix had almost forgotten they were there, too consumed by his husband. He notes, with slight surprise, that he isn’t nervous about their presence anymore, or by the Council’s watchful eyes.

They seem more relaxed in their seats — Hyunjin has even propped an elbow on the armrest of his chair, resting his chin in his palm as he keeps his eyes on Felix and his husband. When Hyunjin notices Felix looking, he smiles softly, nods minutely. Felix doesn’t know if he’s encouraging them to continue, or if he’s telling Felix that he’s doing a good job.

Either way, Felix finds himself smiling in turn, caught between embarrassment and pride. He yelps when Chan nips at his mound, tearing his eyes away from their audience to look at his husband in mild confusion. There are soft laughs from their audience, but Felix ignores them.

Chan’s brows are furrowed in displeasure, his gaze reprimanding as he resumes lapping at Felix’s cunt, purposeful in his motions. Felix understands what he’s trying to say, and he can’t help the soft giggle that leaves his lips.

“I’m sorry my love,” Felix says quietly, fingers descending into Chan’s hair once more, scratching at his scalp. “I’m here. You have me.”

Chan hums against him, and Felix shivers, bucking his hips against Chan’s face. Chan moans then, pleased, and his grip tightens on Felix’s waist, firm hands encouraging Felix to do it again.

He wants to be shy about this, but he finds the second he follows his husband, grinding his cunt against Chan’s face, the rest of his hesitation disappears. Chan sucks eagerly around his entrance, gathering the arousal that begins to steadily leak from Felix as his clit rubs against his husband’s nose. Chan’s face becomes shiny and messy, and Felix watches with fascination as Chan’s eyes begin to glaze over, almost as if he’s become drunk on Felix.

All at once, Felix understands this nuptial rite. He can feel the way the power creeps through his veins, what everything means. Sitting here on his husband’s throne, Chan on his knees for Felix while his chosen Council watches, lost in his own pleasure and his desire to make Felix feel good, to prove how worthy he is, how good he can be for Felix.

Felix’s second orgasm shoots through him suddenly, a gasping moan ripped from his throat as his hips stutter and shake almost violently against Chan’s face. His husband whines, low and soft, but enough to let Felix know how much he doesn’t like that Felix’s cunt is no longer pressed tight to his face.

His chest heaves, and when he catches the dazed look in Chan’s eyes, he decides there will not be a third orgasm, certainly not in front of the Council.

“Enough,” Felix gasps, making sure the word is firm and loud enough in the throne room, spoken in Chan’s native tongue so they all know this nuptial rite is over.

Felix isn’t done, and it’s clear his husband is more than willing to keep going, but he wants them to finish this behind closed doors, on their marriage bed, behind a locked door and far from prying eyes.

His legs feel like jelly as he moves, righting himself into a normal sitting position and cradling Chan’s face in his hands, wiping away the sticky remnants of Felix’s orgasm from his skin. Chan’s lips and nose are shiny and wet, his eyes still clouded over as he peers up at Felix. His breathing is heavy, too, the bruises on his chest still visible even though his skin has gone red with his efforts.

Felix bends down, kissing Chan with as much love and affection as he can muster, both of them practically gasping for air when they part.

“He is worthy.” Felix says to the others, keeping his eyes solely on his husband. “He is worthy, and he is mine.” He’s not sure if he’s saying it right in their native tongue, if the grammar is correct or if he’s even using the right words for certain, but it does its job all the same.

They all stand, slowly heading for the main doors one by one. The only one to linger is Jisung, who remains standing at his chair.

“Do you need assistance to bring him back to your chambers, your Majesty?” Jisung asks kindly in the common tongue.

Felix shakes his head. “No, thank you. Not now. I would like the King to catch his breath. Please just have the guards wait in their positions. They can escort us back when we’re ready.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Jisung bows, taking his leave.

Once the door is shut behind him and Felix and Chan are alone, Felix sinks to his knees in front of Chan. It’s difficult to do, in the limited space, but he manages.

“My love,” Felix murmurs.

Chan blinks at him slowly. “Little lamb.”

Felix smiles. “Are you well?”

“Why did you stop me?” Chan asks, voice thick and ruined. “You could have kept going, if you wanted.”

“I do want to keep going,” Felix assures him, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. He can taste himself, there, and just like earlier in the morning, it drives him mad with desire. “But I want to do so in our bed. I want the rest to be for us.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in, but Chan eventually nods, slow as he moves to stand.

Chan makes it a few steps before his knees seem to give out, and Felix shoots to his feet, catching him when he stumbles, carefully guiding him to sit on Felix’s throne.

Felix is on his knees now, carefully examining Chan’s face. His husband is out of it — pussy drunk, he remembers Jisung saying. “It can happen, sometimes, during the nuptial rite. The King can become so consumed and overwhelmed that they lose themselves for a moment,” — and Felix isn’t quite sure what do to to help.

Chan had been pussy-drunk earlier in the morning, after he’d brought Felix ridiculous amounts of pleasure with his mouth, and he’d only seemed to come back himself once he’d been buried inside Felix.

They can’t do that here. Not really. Not without Chan’s help. Chan is far too big and Felix far too small for him to just sink down on his cock and hope for the best. Chan had to open Felix up on his fingers thoroughly, and he’d only been able to do it before while making Felix practically scream as he came apart on Chan’s tongue.

As he eyes Chan’s cock, thick and hard beneath his pants, Felix gets an idea.

He reaches up, slowly undoing the fastenings and reaching in. Chan hisses when Felix touches him, a little “ah” leaving his mouth as Felix grips Chan’s cock in his hand, carefully pulling him out.

“Little lamb,” Chan pants, “What —”

“I am performing my own nuptial rite,” Felix murmurs, pressing a kiss to the head of Chan’s cock. “Let me return the favor, my King.”

He doesn’t give Chan time to protest, taking him into his mouth, enjoying the taste of his husband, his King, and chasing after more.