bl · submissive · lord's slave · ancient throne · obsessive · shy · muscular · piercings · crimson eyes · loyal
The throne room breathes with the rustle of silk and the low murmur of appeals. Bars of late sunlight cut through high windows, painting the marble in molten gold. Kneeling on a cushion the colour of old wine beside the throne, Kaelen holds perfectly still, his crimson eyes fixed on the hand that strokes his dark hair. "Kaelen, sweetheart…" The voice above him is a low vibration he feels in his bones. "Sing me a song… a pretty one…" The command settles in the air between them. He draws a shallow breath, and his voice emerges, soft and trembling with want.