A Last Farwell [1/1]
anonymous
September 2 2009, 00:42:28 UTC
(Prussia fill)
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He had finally managed to get his servants out of his old household, the last disembarking to the new estate he had acquired that morning. He was alone, but he wanted it that way, just for a while longer. He needed to reflect on this place he had occupied, for soon he would be relocating closer to the battlefield, where he was needed. But he couldn’t leave just yet. He wanted to say a proper goodbye. This house, no, his home… It deserved one, by far. And it was going to get it.
White drapes were covering most of the furniture now, but he didn’t mind. A soft finger slid over one of the covered pieces, sighing a bit and contemplating for a moment on taking it with him. But he knew the place he now owned already had everything he needed. There were definite perks to war, he mused. Definite perks. But there were sad consequences that came with it, which was why he was staying behind. Eyes on the grandfather clock, giving it a small salute before he was slowly ascending the stairs, taking his time and feeling the wood. It really was going to be sad leaving it behind.
He was up at the top, wandering until he was viewing the bedroom where he had spent many of his nights, feeling a bit depressed on abandoning it. His hand caressed one of the sheets and he grinned, remembering fond memories that he now associated it with his chambers. The nights Hesse came crawling into his bed, scared of a little thunderstorm…. The wonderful feeling he got when he returned from a battle and had a soft place to lay instead of the ground. Those cold mornings he spent wrapped up in the sheets… And of course, the lovers he took upon it.
One last look and he was laying down, the bed creaking as he flushed, running his fingers over the soft quilts. Oh yes, the lovers that he took. A few of his captain’s, some foot soldiers that were of strong build. And his prize.. His king, Frederick II.
He laid on his side, almost remembering the night perfectly. He has slipped into his room at night, declaring it was to discuss battle strategies, but he knew why his King had really come, what his real motives were. He had played so naïve, pretending not to notice, but he couldn’t play innocent when he kissed him. It still was burned on his lips, and he could remember ever detail and taste of it, not ever letting it get away. His buckle was being undone and he was lying back, closing his eyes. He had to indulge…
Breathing in the fabric of the quilt, remembering that strong hand on his body, he rubbed the skin above his pelvic bone, mirroring what he had done that night, the image vivid in his mind. He whimpered, biting down on the quilt as he did countless times before, and his hand was sliding into his trousers, stroking himself, shifting until he was on his stomach. He buried his face into one of the pillows, remembering how ashamed he was on how unskilled he had been. But his beloved King only smiled, mounting on top of him, teaching him, praising him. His hand was moving fast on his length, hips starting to rock as he went back to that night and the countless that followed. To when his King had taken him gently, promising him he would make him great.
He bucked, his hand no longer his but his lover’s, stroking him faster and faster until the pillow once again became a muffler for his cries, biting down on possibly the exact same spot he did a long time ago while spilling his seed out onto the sheets. A few strokes to make sure he was empty, and the nation slowly relaxed, his body connecting with the wet stain and releasing the obvious bite from his grip. He let out a pant and nearly purred, satisfied with his ministrations, hand still on his softening member just a few moments more to remember his lover. His body shook and he nuzzled the abused pillow.
He was really going to miss his home. It had served him too well.
---
He had finally managed to get his servants out of his old household, the last disembarking to the new estate he had acquired that morning. He was alone, but he wanted it that way, just for a while longer. He needed to reflect on this place he had occupied, for soon he would be relocating closer to the battlefield, where he was needed. But he couldn’t leave just yet. He wanted to say a proper goodbye. This house, no, his home… It deserved one, by far. And it was going to get it.
White drapes were covering most of the furniture now, but he didn’t mind. A soft finger slid over one of the covered pieces, sighing a bit and contemplating for a moment on taking it with him. But he knew the place he now owned already had everything he needed. There were definite perks to war, he mused. Definite perks. But there were sad consequences that came with it, which was why he was staying behind. Eyes on the grandfather clock, giving it a small salute before he was slowly ascending the stairs, taking his time and feeling the wood. It really was going to be sad leaving it behind.
He was up at the top, wandering until he was viewing the bedroom where he had spent many of his nights, feeling a bit depressed on abandoning it. His hand caressed one of the sheets and he grinned, remembering fond memories that he now associated it with his chambers. The nights Hesse came crawling into his bed, scared of a little thunderstorm…. The wonderful feeling he got when he returned from a battle and had a soft place to lay instead of the ground. Those cold mornings he spent wrapped up in the sheets… And of course, the lovers he took upon it.
One last look and he was laying down, the bed creaking as he flushed, running his fingers over the soft quilts. Oh yes, the lovers that he took. A few of his captain’s, some foot soldiers that were of strong build. And his prize.. His king, Frederick II.
He laid on his side, almost remembering the night perfectly. He has slipped into his room at night, declaring it was to discuss battle strategies, but he knew why his King had really come, what his real motives were. He had played so naïve, pretending not to notice, but he couldn’t play innocent when he kissed him. It still was burned on his lips, and he could remember ever detail and taste of it, not ever letting it get away. His buckle was being undone and he was lying back, closing his eyes. He had to indulge…
Breathing in the fabric of the quilt, remembering that strong hand on his body, he rubbed the skin above his pelvic bone, mirroring what he had done that night, the image vivid in his mind. He whimpered, biting down on the quilt as he did countless times before, and his hand was sliding into his trousers, stroking himself, shifting until he was on his stomach. He buried his face into one of the pillows, remembering how ashamed he was on how unskilled he had been. But his beloved King only smiled, mounting on top of him, teaching him, praising him. His hand was moving fast on his length, hips starting to rock as he went back to that night and the countless that followed. To when his King had taken him gently, promising him he would make him great.
He bucked, his hand no longer his but his lover’s, stroking him faster and faster until the pillow once again became a muffler for his cries, biting down on possibly the exact same spot he did a long time ago while spilling his seed out onto the sheets. A few strokes to make sure he was empty, and the nation slowly relaxed, his body connecting with the wet stain and releasing the obvious bite from his grip. He let out a pant and nearly purred, satisfied with his ministrations, hand still on his softening member just a few moments more to remember his lover. His body shook and he nuzzled the abused pillow.
He was really going to miss his home. It had served him too well.
---
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