The Consort: Hummingbird Circus

Draco dropped the papers he had been carrying onto his desk, closing his eyes and letting out a long, frustrated breath, promising himself that he was putting aside the entire meeting he had just come from and would not dwell on it for the rest of the night.

It wasn't that he entirely disagreed with his father. Ceremonies such as Tribute were essential for maintaining the empire; everyone needed to be aware that Agathe was the heart of a mighty Empire that commanded strong and entirely loyal allies. The difficulty was that, at the moment, the barbarian invaders were causing unrest along the borders and decreasing taxes and tribute paid by the disrupted lands was only a temporary solution. Draco wanted to take the army and confront the barbarians directly, but Lucius had considered the action too rash. Whether it was because the loss they were taking in decreased payments from those lands did not yet outweigh the risk of battle, or whether it was because Lucius was more concerned with expanding to the south and to the east, and consequently making several other kingdoms nervous as he did so, Draco could not tell. It wasn't that any one decision his father had made was wrong, but Draco believed that it was all too much and too soon and they were liable to gain more trouble than prestige by it. He had, however, been overruled.

“Master.” The soft purr startled Draco from his thoughts and he turned, his eyes falling on the figure sprawled across his bed. How could he have possibly failed to notice Emerald as he had entered his room?

Draco raked his eyes slowly over the lazing visage that greeted him. Emerald was reclining at the foot of Draco's four-post bed, his body propped on his elbows. One slender foot was stretched forward, resting gently at the edge of the mattress and Draco could see a a thick twist of silken rope trailing from the left bed-post, across the sheets and twining around Emerald's ankle. His legs were bare, a short wrap of fabric that barely reached mid-thigh stretched across his waist, preserving his false modesty and leaving the rest of him bare and golden in soft light of the room.

Draco licked his lips, a faint trace of spice and myrrh on the air that must have its source in the oil that made Emerald's body glow; his eyes skimmed passed a taut stomach and up to two hennaed nipples. The position of his body emphasized the strength in his arms and from where he stood Draco could see that the gold band that rested tightly across Emerald's throat was matched by two gold bands, one each that wrapped about his arms. His surprise must have read on his face because Emerald's hennaed lips quirked partially and Draco's eyes pulled away from the pouting cupid's bow curve of his lips to finally meet green eyes that watched him from beneath a dark kohled, half-lidded gaze. Draco felt paralyzed with wanting.

“Master?” Emerald purred again, a mellow whisper just loud enough to compel Draco into action, until he found his legs bumping against the edge of the bed at Emerald's feet, unable to recall exactly when he had moved, only that he was there, bending over the sensuous figure.

With one knee braced on the edge of the bed and both hands gripping Emerald's hips, Draco pulled the smaller figure down the bed, enough that when he leaned further forward he could pressed a gentle, close-mouthed kiss into Emerald's mouth, gentle in a way that contrasted with his earlier action. Hands; cool, long-fingered and slender hands wrapped around the back of his neck before tangling into his hair, and then Emerald's mouth opened to him, wet and wanting and Draco could no longer pull away, could no longer slow himself.

He was certain Emerald had a game in mind; he always did. Whatever it had been, it no longer mattered. Somehow, once again, Emerald had appeared in his chambers and offered precisely what Draco needed. It wasn not in him to be bated further, all that remained was open, blistering need to take and give only as he saw fit.

The gold around Emerald's wrists was warm and smooth where it brushed along Draco's shoulder blades and he grabbed at those arms, brought them down to stretch above Emerald's one, sparing one of his hands to hold them there as the other smoothed a path down the golden torso beneath him, settling his weight until the dark haired boy was pinned beneath him. Draco pulled his mouth away, a twist of dark satisfaction rising in him as Emerald moved to follow him before lying still, watching and waiting as Draco traced his tongue lightly down Emerald's neck and over the gold collar before stopping at the juncture of Emerald's neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to elicit a half-pained moan as Emerald's body arched against him.

Draco relinquished the hold he had of Emerald's arm and transferred his grip to Emerald's unbound leg, gripping his thigh and pulling him further down, holding his leg to the side as he marked Emerald's neck and then moved on to turn his nipples red beneath the henna. With his other hand he pressed his thumb into Emerald, pleased to discover the youth had spared some of the oil that coated his skin for preparation.

Standing between Emerald’s spread legs, hands running over the smooth expanse of flesh, mouth devouring the body beneath him, drunk on moans and whispers of ‘Master’ and ‘more’, Draco could not bring himself to think. He didn't care to. Shifting his grip, Draco flipped Emerald over, pausing only to allow the dark hair boy to tuck his legs onto the bed, his arms still obediently stretching above his head where Draco had set them.

Draco didn't bother with the knot that fastened the short wrap of fabric Emerald wore. Running his hands up the back of Emerald's thighs he slowly pushed the wrap up as he licked firmly from the top of Emerald’s neck down, slowly down between the shifting shoulders blades, bumping over each vertebrae until he reached the small of Emerald’s back – and then further, tongue dipping into the crevice of that firm arse.

Fed on Emerald’s moans and cries and his ragged breaths, Draco skirted his tongue teasingly over his lover’s entrance before breaching it firmly, his hands gripping the bucking hips to still Emerald’s movement and he tugged once, pulling the writhing youth closer to him until Emerald was braced near the very edge of the bed.

Draco worked his lover’s body just enough until Emerald could only keen, half-mad with need for something he could no longer request. It wasn’t gentle. Draco pushed into Emerald in one slow thrust, the penetration and did not pause to allow Emerald time to adjust. Emerald his legs wider, his body clenching around Draco’s cock with enthusiasm as Draco pulled out and then pushed in again.

With one knee still braced on the bed, and one hand gripping Emerald's hip, pulling him back as Draco thrust forward, Draco felt his entire world contracting until there was nothing beyond the two of them. Emerald's broken cry of release sounded as if it were being ripped from the very core of him, his entire body tightening sharply around Draco and the blond gasped, his forehead dropping against Emerald's sweat-slick back. He was certain he could not see anything, could not think anything, he simply was; he existed in a disjointed place, caught-up in the extraordinary youth he was fucking, his lover, who was all around him, who was clawing at the sheets that covered the bed he was bound to, and was crying out for him.

When Draco found release it was like being struck by lightening. Every muscle in his body tensed until he found his back arching wildly as he pushed in as deep as he could possibly be, trying desperately to merge with the amazing creature beneath him, hips jerking as his release was milked from him, as Emerald worked his muscles, encouraging him to let go.

Then everything melted away and left Draco exhausted, slumped on top of his lover, their bodies sticking where they touched. The sounds of their ragged breathing filled the room. At any other time, with any other person, Draco might have spared a thought for the basin of water on the nightstand and the clean cloth. Instead, Draco spared a glance at his lover, who was fast sleep with a pleased quirk to his bruised lips, and managing to half-heartedly shift himself further onto the bed, Draco settled in to sleep.

……………………….

When Harry awoke the next morning it was with a great deal of reluctance. Still, he managed to squint his eyes open just the same and was surprised to notice that at some point while he had been thoroughly passed-out, his lover had unbound him from the bed and actually tucked him properly beneath the blankets, settling him on the pillows.

Sighing with contentment Harry shifted and became aware of the possessive arm that was around his waist and the body that was pressed against his back, as well as the hand that was toying with his hair. Harry had to admit that he absolutely loved waking up like this. “’Time’s’it?” he asked, his voice still rough as a result of his earlier cries, and slurred because he was still tired and lazy with afterglow.

“Doesn’t matter,” replied the prince, and Harry smiled as Draco’s arm shifted and his fingers began to stroke Harry’s hipbone. “Master?” Draco teased after a moment of silence drifted passed them. Harry grinned, finding the energy to shift around so that he could lie facing Draco.

Biting his lip and adopting a guileless expression, Harry asked,“You didn’t like it?” Draco always scoffed at his wide-eyed and pleading expression but Harry knew that despite the prince’s protests, he would never deny Harry anything if he flashed a doe-eyed pout at him.

Sure enough, Draco leaned forward and devoured Harry’s mouth, kissing him deeply before pulling back and, while brushing a strand of black hair from Harry’s eyes. “You know it was amazing.”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

Draco's dove-grey eyes shone with amusement as his brow quirked slightly. “Of what?”

“That you appreciate me,” Harry said.

He would have carried on the banter a bit more but Draco chose that moment to lunge forward, wrapping his arms completely around Harry and drawing him tight, pressing his body against Harry’s back and kissing down his exposed neck. “Of course I appreciate you. And just to prove that it’s true, I’m taking you with me.”

“Where?” Harry half-heartedly swatted at Draco's arms that held him tightly before surrendering and settling to rest atop the pale arms pressed against his abdomen.

“Wherever I go. First stop is the stables. I plan to ride all morning.” Draco always loved the days he had free from the court, and he usually chose to spend those days with Emerald in some form or another.

“Lovely,” Harry said with a huff. “That should be nice and relaxing for my poor abused bottom.” His put-upon pout earned him only a hearty laugh.

“I’ll make it better,” Draco promised; already fishing in the night table drawer for the salve he kept. It was Gwynn’s creation, which she had gifted Harry with not long after his arrival at the harem. The only reason Draco had discovered the existence of the salve was as a result of a luncheon with a recently named noble that Harry had been invited to. After stealing surprised and somewhat impressed glances at Harry's perfectly poised conduct throughout the meal (despite the hardness of the chairs in the smaller Dining Hall), Draco's mouth had finally run-away with him. Harry was only thankful the inquisitive prince had managed to contain himself until they had been a fair ways away from both the Hall and the guests alike. Still, Draco, apparently having grown accustomed to the small flinches that his catamites usually made for some time following nights like the one they had shared, was keen to know how Harry had managed such implacable decorum. What followed was a tortuous conversation, slowed by intense blushing on Harry’s part, and stuttering, and apologies which Draco felt he should make since he really hadn’t intended to ask such a personal question, especially when Harry seemed so shy about it. Following the explanation, however, Draco had gone to Gwynn and made sure he always had a pot of the ointment in his chambers for Harry’s use, so Harry had managed to overlook the horrible embarrassment he had felt about the entire exchange.

Draco worked slowly and gently, taking care in order to make-up for his roughness the night before. Harry was so relaxed that he dozed lightly until, finally, he was prodded up and into his clothes. It took no convincing whatever to enjoy the breakfast that the servants brought-in while they were washing-up, and Harry was almost reluctant to leave the small feast to head for the stables, despite feeling entirely sated.

……………………..

Horses were not at all foreign to Harry. Growing-up in Brucandis his good friend Hagrid, who lived on the neighbouring farm, had allowed Harry to ride atop the great plough horse had had when he was just a little boy. Later, Hermione's parents had purchased two horses, and Harry had learned to ride, though there was not always enough free-time for him to do so with any regularity.

Harry had always loved riding, and he had a deep affinity to horses, something for which he had often been teased for, though it was something that Harry bore good-naturedly.

Still, Hagrid’s old plough horse and the Granger’s two work horses were nothing like the horse Harry was confronted with as he entered the stables. Five men, each about twice the size of Harry both in height and girth, were fighting to keep hold of the animal's lead and sooth it, and despite all their strength and their managing, the horse would not calm.

“What is that?” Draco asked, stopping at the door far enough away to be safe. He put an arm out to halt Harry’s progress.

“New acquisition, highness,” one of the men answered, more than a little breathless. “A right bugger it is,” he went on. Harry realized that three of the men were soldiers or else they wouldn’t have spoken to Draco so openly. In keeping with Malfoy tradition, the prince had trained as a soldier alongside the men. It was a sensible strategy to form solid bonds between a new ruler and the men who would lay-down their lives for him; it was important for a ruler to have the allegiance of his army.

“It was a gift from some king, so we can’t rightly kill it,” another man said. Draco rolled his eyes but his response was interrupted as the horse reared and bucked and knocked over two of the men, the others backing off before they could be trampled.

Unlike any other horse Harry had seen, this one seemed unsuited to the coddling confines of the royal stable; it had the taste of green fields and a nipping wind in its heart and was impatient to race again. Its coat was a strange orangey-red that gleamed and it had a white star on its head, and one white hoof. Its eyes, though, were purple, and they held Harry’s gaze, compelling him, despite his own common sense, to brush-off the prince's hold, and ignore the hesitant and uncertain cautions the soldiers were giving him. Hagrid's lessons about wild animals raced distantly through hi mind as he slowly came-up to the beast and met its gaze directly.

A moment passed with everyone's breath held, too afraid to move lest they break whatever spell was keeping that crazy animal from trampling the small catamite that stood before it. Draco held himself still, fists clenched at his side to remind him not to rush forward and drag the dark-haired youth away. Another moment passed, and then Harry raised a hand and gently patted the beast’s muzzle. The crazy horse accepted the gesture.

“He’s beautiful,” Harry said, still patting the horse. “A fine gift,” was his completed assessment. Finally, he turned back to Draco and grinned. “Are we going riding, then? Can I have the same mare I rode last time?”

The spell was broken and, with a cautious eye trained on the animal lest it decide to throw another fit, Draco forced a smile for Harry as he took his hand, leading him quickly out of range of any potential kicks. “Of course.”

Behind them a fierce whinny accompanied the sound of stomping hooves and the grunts and profanities of the horse's wranglers at it's renewed ill-spirits.

………………………

Friday morning dawned bright and sunny, and Harry found himself slipping out of the prince’s chambers and rushing along the balcony towards his rooms in order to wash and change.

Despite numerous practices with the Oraios, Harry had yet to be part of a performance. More than learning the routines and the different moves, Harry was slowly acquiring the confidence and allure that the Oraios possessed. In the first few practices when they had demonstrated to him some of the dances, Harry had found himself aroused, taken-in entirely by the spell they wove. It was something else entirely to dance among them. He felt strong there, felt amazing and beautiful and he could shut everything out, everything that had happened, everything that existed around him, until nothing existed but his own body and the music, his movements echoed by those who moved with him.

“Emerald!” Dean greeted with a grin as Harry entered the room where they practiced. As had become habit where the tall, dark-skinned man was concerned, Harry felt himself blushing, much to his chagrin. His relationship with Dean, if it could even be called that, never went beyond dancing together and Harry couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit disappointed about that.

Still, Dean had quickly become a good friend and, when Harry had been judged ready to join the group dances, also his dance partner when occasion called for one. “We’re running a bit late, you’re not going to be needed for lunch, are you?” Dean asked as he came up to stand by Harry, his eyes warm and sparkling.

“Can the prince bare a moment away from you’re addictive presence?” Seamus Finnegan teased; laughing as he smacked Harry’s behind and bolted away from possible retaliation. Seamus was always flirty regardless of whom he was talking to, or whether they were male or female. Seamus had been a gift at a Tribute celebration and, at the age of thirteen, had joined the harem. Too young to catch the king's fancy, and with a prince too young to have much concern for anything outside of developing skills as a warrior, Seamus had gone untouched. There were rumors that Seamus hadn’t adhered to the rules of the Harem and had happily lost his virginity without the help of either king or prince, but since no one, not even Severus Snape, had caught the man in the act, it couldn’t be proven.

“I can be here as long as I’m needed,” Harry said in a huff. Draco hadn’t actually specified a time for him to return, though it had been made clear that his return was expected. Harry figured that, either way, he could excuse his lateness with the fact that it was for practice, and if Draco was still frustrated well, Harry was feeling comfortable enough, and confidant enough, to ease the prince’s mood with a sneak preview.

A warm arm dropped around Harry's shoulders. “Then you’re all mine,” Dean said casually, though to Harry, his voice seemed to have gone softer. It sent a shiver down his spine.

Clearing his throat and bowing reluctantly away from the companionable arm Harry said, “I have to warm-up.”

“Get to it, then.” And the moment was broken.

………………………………

Emerald was not in Draco's rooms when he returned from his meeting with his father, which didn't improve his mood at all. Kicking off his shoes, Draco fumed to himself about the empire, about his father, the damned visiting king and how nothing seemed to work out as it should. He cast aside his clothes and then tumbled onto his bed, only to snarl when the light from the afternoon sun angled just right to strike the bed and glare in his eyes. Cursing, he rolled over onto his stomach and stuffed a pillow over his head for good measure.

He wasn't certain how long he spent lying there, though it could not have been long, before there was the faintest click of the balcony door closing. A moment later, as Draco chanced a peak from beneath the pillow, the glaring sun had been banished, blocked by the closed drapes. He caught a glimpse of a blue cloak as it sailed through the air to land in Draco's favorite reading chair but, unwilling to rouse himself from his position, that was all he could make out.

A moment later a weight settled above him and something cool dripped along his spine, causing him to jolt. “Just what do you think you are doing?” he asked, but of course Emerald ignored him, which Draco decided to forgive when two broad hands pushed the cool oil up his back and toward his shoulder blades and then back down, working his muscles loose with gentle ministrations.

Draco surrendered happily to the massage, complying with a disappointed reluctance when, sometime later, Emerald encouraged him onto his back. He blinked lazy eyes up at the figure that knelt above him, noting with idle interest that Emerald had tossed aside more than just his cloak, and then he promptly lost track of that thought as Emerald repositioned himself and then took Draco's cock into his mouth.

He had thought that he could be no more relaxed than he had felt after Emerald had worked his muscles loose, but he had been very wrong. With a relieved sigh, Draco sank back into the bed, allowing his eyes to fall closed as Emerald's tongue lapped up and down his length, ran along the vein on the underside of his cock. All too soon, Emerald was sitting-up from his unfinished task, and Draco was preparing a protest, had just managed to level a glare at his cheeky lover when Emerald smiled serenely and then sank down onto Draco's cock. His body was wet and warm and delicious tight around Draco, and he leaned forward and whispered, “Take me.”

Apparently, he had not been rendered boneless from his massage. Draco braced Emerald against his raised legs, gripped his hips and then toppled him onto the bed until he was above the dark hair youth. The rhythm he set was slow and deep, his body braced close to Emerald's and their breath intermingling. Draco kept their released at bay, stopping when he felt it rising to a pitch, and instead they simply were. Together, wrapped up in one another, their mouthes barely separating for breath, their hands bracing, tracing and tangling up with the other until finally, Emerald's head tilted back and eyes closed as Draco dropped his head forward, they came.

“Now,” Emerald said, as if they hadn’t just achieved a rather intense orgasm just a moment ago, but were instead continuing a casual conversation. “Tell me what happened today.” His fingers were tangling in blond hair as Draco rested his head against the other's chest and, strangely, Draco felt compelled to answer.

There was a part of him that remembered the stubborn, rebellious captive; a part of him that could only wonder at the sense in confiding matters of state to someone who rebelled against the empire. The greater part of him Draco, however, could not think of a better person to confide in. Emerald had already proven himself to be both intelligent and cunning, and Draco trusted that even if the other would not offer and opinion, he would at least listen, which was more than anyone seemed to be doing for Draco with respect to these matters.

Draco told Emerald about Theodore Notte, the arrogant prick of a king who was currently in negotiations with Lucius in the hopes of formulating a peace treaty. Notte, however, was proving to be stubborn and unreasonable, and both Lucius and Draco were at a loss as to how to deal with him.

“He’s coming to Agathe to organize the final arrangements, and it’s going to be a disaster. He doesn’t respect father at all. Notte is a new king, and young, and sees my father as weak because of his age. He’s not that old!” Draco hissed. “And he’s the emperor, and what the hell has Notte done? Nothing; he hasn’t even fought and won a damn war yet.”

“You should lead the negotiations, as High Prince. Claim that you are taking over an increasing number of court duties, and you can be the mouthpiece for the whole treaty,” Emerald offered.

“We thought of that, and it worked to some extent, but …” Draco trailed off. “I think it’s the way the whole thing is conducted. Notte is the king of a fairly large country, you know Tharsis? Well, thugs and the like mainly populate it. I don’t think they’re used to the sort of negotiations that are straight and above board and lacking in a show of force.”

“That’s simple enough, put on a show of force. Soldiers as escorts and have them present during negotiations and the like,” Harry said, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind Draco's ear.

“Father doesn’t like that idea because, while it could snap Notte into acting sensibly, it could also insult him, or put him on edge, and father doesn't think it’s worth the risk.” Draco could understand the concern but at the same time, that was politics. They had to take a risk, they could not afford a war with Tharsis and putting on an elaborate show of things during Notte's visit would in no way be difficult.

Emerald's arms settled on Draco's back as he said, “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” in a voice full of such quiet confidence that Draco almost felt a fool for worrying.

………………………..

“Good morning!” Harry greeted with a smile as he crossed the last bridge on the balcony walkway that linked his rooms to those of the prince. It wasn’t often he ran into Severus unless he sought him out directly, which Harry made a point of doing every so often, since it never hurt to make allies of those in authority.

“Emerald,” the man said. He still spoke Harry’s name oddly, half a sigh and part sneer, and Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it. Still, he liked the dour man and Severus seemed to tolerate him. “I felt I should alert you to some minor changes I am making to your accommodations.” The man looked so completely unconcerned that Harry could almost believe that this conversation wasn’t about anything serious, but he knew better.

“What is wrong?” The fell into step, walking in the direction of Harry's rooms.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about. Precautions only,” Severus said dismissively. “The prince values your safety and has entrusted me with the task. These changes will only make my job simpler.” Harry could tell that this was all Severus would reveal to him. Still, it was fairly obvious what was really happening.

“Thank-you,” Harry said quietly, after they had reached the door to his chambers. “I --,” he wasn’t sure how to continue. As Keeper of the Royal Harem, it was part of Severus' duty to keep everyone within the harem walls safe; but quite outside the responsibilities that the man's job entailed, Harry felt safe with Severus. Knowing the man was looking out for him always went a long way in soothing Harry's frazzled nerves. Whether or not Severus was merely doing his duty, it made Harry feel cared for.

Severus pursed his lips, though Harry noted a slight lift at the corner of his pressed mouth. “There is no need to thank me.” His voice did not sound harsh.

“No,” Harry agreed with a smile, glancing up shyly at taller man. “I don’t need to.” He twisted the handle to his rooms and stepped inside, chancing another brief glance back before shutting the door. For just a moment Harry stood still in his rooms, his eyes cast down to the floor and then he shook himself into action, moving to get washed and changed for a visit to the stables. The prince was waiting for him.