[Claude saunters over to the switch waiting for him on Dimitri's blind side, rubbing his thumb against the raised metal of one of his rings. The familiar friction of it is steadying, as is the knowledge of the secret it unlocks. He turns back to their audience, seemingly in his element, humming lightly as he "considers" where to start. As though this isn't all planned out in its entirety.
It's good that they see that suppressed rebellion in Dimitri's face. Better still that this charade doesn't require much acting from Dimitri-- he only has to endure. Well. "Only".]
Count. [This time he speaks in Almyran, to Dimitri but his voice pitched to carry through the room. At Dimitri's obedient nod (gods, it feels so wrong), he delivers the first blow to his back. It's not as hard of one as it really should be, as Claude needs it to be for this act to work. Nowhere near as hard as he knows Dimitri can take. He tightens his grip on the instrument of pain, pressing the pad of his thumb hard against the ring until the pain grounds him. He can't let all of this go to waste because he couldn't do the very thing he asked of Dimitri, go against his own nature just for a little while.
The second blow, a perfect inch lower than the first, causes some impressed eyebrows to raise.]
( Claude moves on his blind side, and he has to tell himself not to look. But if anyone is going to be there in his blind spot, he would rather it be Claude. So he sits quiet and unmoving, only listening to the man move as his eye stares a hole into the wall. There's a noticeable tension in his shoulders - not unusual even on a normal day - but the tension is only growing the longer this goes on. It really is difficult to stay in place.
At the sound of Claude's voice, his eye clips towards the other man, but he keeps his head forward. There is a part of him that tells him to stay silent. To rebel against Claude who should be kneeling to him.
But the first blow comes and his lips part, counting as ordered. The first strike is hardly anything, and he doesn't even blink at the contact. The second is the same - no reaction from him beyond another count. It stings in a way, but nothing compared to the wounds that have painted the scars across his back. He doubts Claude will truly be able to hurt him here. )
[Claude continues, 20 strokes in all making a cross-hatch pattern over Dimitri's back. The vertical stripes have to hurt more, cutting across all the horizontal marks that are undoubtedly still stinging, and there's a few impressed murmurs from the crowd when Dimitri stays as still and steady as he's been the entire time. Their own submissives would be in tears at this point.
Claude's smile tinges with relief once he's finished, but he turns it into a look of approval.]
Very good. [He strokes a hand through Dimitri's hair, fingers lingering on the braid. He holds the hand with his ring out expectantly in front of Dimitri's face for him to kiss.] What do we say, Dimitri? [It's only appropriate for the submissive to thank the Dominant for giving them what they need, after all. It's what is expected.]
( By the end of those strokes, Dimitri's skin does sting. There's an urge to reach back and touch the edges of those mark. But he's still, quiet. Breathes through every strike without fail and still manages to count. 20, he notes, 20 strokes he'll return the first chance he gets. And that thought is soothing, enough to drive away any pain or discomfort from those marks on his skin.
The hand stroking through his hair is comforting, and he tells himself he does at least enjoy this part. Feeling those touches, telling himself there's affection behind them, not just a display of control or dominance.
His gaze turns towards the hand as it's offered, and it's only when Claude speaks that he lifts his own hand. His hand catches the other's hand in his own, turning his head and leaning to press his lips to his hand. They're pressed over the ring, a reminder of what will come after they're done with this whole... charade. ) Thank you, Your Highness. ( He says it loud enough that the others can hear, considering taking a moment to press another kiss to that ring. But he doesn't, wasn't ordered to.
His hand lowers, releasing Claude's own hand. He still doesn't look up at him despite how badly he wants to. )
[Those watching will think his pleased look is for Dimitri's obedience-- it isn't. It's for the feeling of Dimitri's hand taking his own, reminding him of how easily it can wrap around his wrists and pin them in place. It's for the brush of lips against the ring that serves as his collar... for now. Just for now.] Good boy. Now turn, give everyone a proper look at your marks. [It's partly a show of Dimitri's pain tolerance, partly a display of Claude's skill. There's polite applause as they show off the clean, even lines and Claude gives a showy bow.
Not too long ago, they wouldn't have even given him that much acclaim. It's all progress, every time they do this. He has to remember that.
After that there's some sitting and chatting; politicking. There's a pillow for Dimitri on the floor by Claude's chair, and he keeps a hand idly playing with the man's hair as he talks trade policy with a Lord from the south, all the while ticking down the time in his head until it'll be acceptable for them to take their leave.]
( The order is followed after only a couple seconds of a stubborn resistance, offering their onlookers a view of the marks across his back. They stand out against the fair skin and the texture of the scars. He doesn't care for the applause, but having his back to them means he can look up at Claude, and the look he gives the other man says it all - that he's reaching a limit. That the longer this goes on, the more he'll need to unwind later.
The sitting and chatting means Dimitri only needs to sit - quiet and still - and he prefers that than most other orders he's given. The warmth of Claude's hand playing in his hair is a welcome distraction from all the talking and movement around them. He does dislike this whole ordeal in that his Almayran still isn't great, and he often misses important parts of conversations. He trusts Claude will share the important information with him later.
It's only when the person who was chatting with Claude last wanders off that Dimitri's eye turns towards Claude. ) How much longer? ( He asks quietly, dutifully keeping his head forward. Dimitri's own patience has its limits, especially when he's nearing the end of his own rope on this play of submission. The last thing he wants to do is make a fool of Claude in public. )
[Claude recognizes that expression-- Dimitri is getting close to hitting his limit. He moves his internal time table up accordingly. It's fine, he always knew he'd be playing the long game, and Dimitri is too important, not just to his plans but on a deeply personal level, for him to risk what they have by pushing his boundaries any more than he has to, especially not just for a few more conversations with minor lords he's nearly convinced to support him.
Dimitri has good timing, asking when he does. Claude smiles, his hand coming to rest on the back of Dimitri's head.] Now. [He answers, just as quiet, then raises to his feet. He says his goodbyes, making up a lie about work needing to be done-- everyone knows he's a busy man, after all, he does always have work needing doing. Just, not until tomorrow. The rest of the evening is theirs.
He keeps a sedate pace back to his chambers, no matter how much he longs to get there as quick as possible, and by the time they reach his doors his smile feels more like a mask than ever.
The tension in his shoulders was barely visible unless you knew what you were looking for, but it eases when the door closes behind them and he turns the locks, methodically checking the little traps he sets up to alert him of intruders. Everything's in place, as it should be.
It's only once he's done that that he turns to Dimitri, eyes lowered. He once more offers his hand with the ring, but not for Dimitri to kiss. Unless he wants to, of course.]
( Such a simple word is enough to bring a sense of relief Dimitri feels to his core. He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief, but he says nothing in response. He's quiet and obedient in the way he stands and collects their things, following dutifully after the smaller man.
Their is no hurry in their pace back to Claude's chambers, and for all that the journey is short, he feels... anxious. As if it's taking hours. He wants the privacy of Claude's chambers, to discard this image of obedience as quickly as possibly. A part of him is certain Claude feels the same, can see that tension in the line of his shoulders and the way it finally starts to ease when the door closes behind them. The sound of the lock sliding into place draws a relieved sigh from him as he neatly discards their things.
Dimitri wastes no time turning to look at Claude and is greeted by the sight of Claude's eyes lowered, the offer of his hand. He takes a couple steps closer to bring them closer, catching Claude's hand easily in his own and reaching with his other hand to stroke it fondly over the dark hair, down the back of his head and neck. Bringing the hand to his lips, he does kiss it again, soft and affectionate over the length of the fingering with that ring. He pauses along the smooth surface of the ring to kiss there, a reminder of what it is, who Claude belongs to in the privacy of his chambers.
Drawing his other hand back, he lowers the other one to carefully slide the ring off the man's finger before stepping away. ) Wait here. ( He orders simply as he steps away to the box tucked away out of sight. Gathering it up, he brings it to Claude's line of sight, takes his time trailing a hand over the box before using the ring to unlock it and reveal the ornate collar inside. His eyes trail over the surface before lifting to where Claude is. )
[It's these shows of tender affection that draw him to Dimitri just as much as his dominance. His cheeks flush as Dimitri kisses down the length of his finger, lips lingering over the ring, and he feels more tension in him melt away as a strong hand strokes easily, possessively, over his hair to the back of his neck.
His always busy mind, always planning, thinking ahead, always on guard and seeking out threats... it needs rest, and he only finds that in letting go of his tight grip of his control. In letting Dimitri take charge. But it's difficult, some days even more so. He's physically relaxing, but his mind is still toiling away, thinking about how much more support he needs to secure the throne, where he might get it that he hasn't already reached out to, how close some are to being convinced... a million threads demanding his attention at all times, even when all he wants is to give the entirety of his attention to Dimitri.
Lips pressed over that ring bring him back, though, grounding him. He nods at the simple order, giving a small sigh of relief as the ring is tugged off his finger. Grounding though it is, it's removal always means the addition of something else-- in the world he's going to build, something he can wear with pride.
His smile softens to something longing when the box containing his collar is opened in front of him, hands itching to reach out and touch it, put it on himself, as if that wouldn't defeat the purpose. The order to strip is expected, a part of this little ritual. It gives his hands something to do, makes a metaphor out of him removing all the symbols of his status, the markers of royalty, where control and dominance is expected. They are placed carefully on his dresser to be picked back up tomorrow. It's after that he removes his clothing, and that is treated with a little less care, simply dropped to the floor. If he were in a more playful mood he'd tease with this, test Dimitri's patience a little-- neither of them have much patience right now. It's not long before he's bare in front of the other man, physical and metaphorical armor and masks removed. No longer a prince, just Claude, forcing himself to stillness so that he doesn't tremble with need. Dimitri isn't the only one their act takes a toll on.]
( As often as he's seen the other man strip, Dimitri watches the Claude intently. There's a lack of usual teasing and care than what he usually sees in the movements, but he doesn't mind it. It's a sign that feels the same way he does - that they're both so close to the edge and desperately in need of a release of what comes naturally.
The blue eye trails up the length of the other's naked body, lingering on his neck. More than anything, he wants the day to come where he can put a collar there permanently for the world to see. But those are thoughts for another time, don't have any place in this moment when they're both so tense. Instead, he carries the box closer, sets it down only in favor of grabbing a cushion to place neatly onto the ground in front of Claude. His gaze drops from Claude's face, down to the cushion expectantly. )
On your knees.
( His hands move back towards the box, this time so he can gather up the collar to hold it carefully in his hands. The way he handles it says how precious the item is, and he turns expectantly towards Claude. )
[Claude hesitates for only a moment, the last stubborn resistance of the control he has to have outside these walls. Then he drops, looking up at Dimitri, up at the collar, with an increasingly desperate and visible hunger. He already has to look up at Dimitri when he's standing-- like this, the man looms over everything.
The pet name makes him shiver, his throat feeling suddenly too dry, too tight. Even like this, admitting to his more vulnerable feelings doesn't come easily.] So badly. [His voice is hushed, the paranoid part of him afraid there might be someone listening at the door, even though he knows full and well that it's thoroughly sound proofed.] It's been on my mind all day. The whole time we performed, thinking about this got me through it.
( This feels right. The way Claude looks up at him, the collar. The want for the weight of it around his neck and what comes after... If the day had unfolded differently, he would have considered dragging this out further. Seeing what else he might be able to get the other to say before he finally put the collar around his neck. But Dimitri doesn't have it in him for that today.
He takes a couple of steps forward, one hand reaching out to stroke Claude's cheek fondly. The touch trails over his jaw and down to his neck where the collar will be. ) I know. ( And he feels the same. Knowing he'll be able to come back to these chambers and be with Claude helps ease the process of this whole endeavor.
Finally, Dimitri moves, stepping around Claude to stand behind him instead. The collar slides around Claude's throat, and he fastens it into place with practiced ease. Once its in place, one hand moves to curve under the collar, a firm pressure as he leans down and presses his lips against the smaller man's ear. ) Do you know what I am going to do to you now, Beloved? ( He wonders, voice low, the hand not around Claude's throat moving slowly to trail over one of Claude's shoulders, across his back. )
[Claude leans in to the hand on his cheek like a cat being pet by their favorite person, taking a slow, steadying breath when Dimitri's fingers burn a line down to his throat.
He keeps his chin tipped up as the man steps behind him, goosebumps rising on his shoulders as the cool metal settles on his throat. Dimitri's hand follows it, holding him just under the collar, and he moans softly. He doesn't have to give up his control if Dimitri simply reaches out and takes it. He swallows roughly against the hand holding him as steadily as the collar at the question. He may not know the specifics, but he has some idea, especially with the touch to his back, reminding him of what he'd had to do to Dimitri's back.] Punish me? [They both need it, Dimitri to work out his frustration and Claude to atone for how he has to use Dimitri, so the guilt doesn't eat at him as much.]
( There's the slightest press of his fingers around Claude's throat, a tease of what those hands can do and what might come. Dimitri makes a sound in the back of his throat as if to say the other man is correct, and he trails his lips gently over the line of hair on Claude's jaw. ) Very good.
( His hands slide away, a small flicker of disappointment rising in him to lose the warmth of having his hands on Claude. But it doesn't last knowing it won't be long until his hands are all over the man once more, in many different ways. Stepping around Claude again, he moves the box to settle it elsewhere and out of the way, taking the time to strip off his own shirt and any accessories that might be on his arms. Normally he'd ask Claude to do it, but the slowness of those sorts of orders is too much for a time like this.
Instead, he steps back towards Claude, offering his hand down to him expectantly. ) Come. ( He uses Claude's hand to help him to his feet before leading him towards the bed.
He sits comfortably on the edge of the bed, well within reach of the bed side table and any oils or other things he might need. He gives a tug of the other's hand and arm in a way that says he wants Claude to join him, motioning to his lap. ) Lie down. ( Stomach down across his lap. )
[Claude soaks up the praise like a flower in the sun, biting back a sound of complaint as Dimitri pulls away. Dimitri expects him to be patient, and he can do that. He stays kneeling, watching Dimitri strip from the waist up, ridding himself of all those little things that mark him as Claude's when they're outside this room. The collar helps to keep him here, keep him focused just on Dimitri, but it's still not enough to quell his doubts, make his thoughts stop spiraling in a million directions while he waits.
He snaps back to attention when Dimitri comes back over to him, smile faint but far more real than anything he put on earlier, and takes that offered hand. Dimitri pulls him to his feet with no effort at all, leading him over to the bed. Anticipation ties knots in his stomach as Dimitri settles at the end of the bed and tugs expectantly at his arm. Claude knows he could simply force him into his lap if he wanted-- he's done so before. But this time, Dimitri is demanding he put himself there. Submit to his punishment. His cock, which had already stirred to life the moment Dimitri's hand wrapped around his throat, gives an eager twitch, hardening further. And it's such an obvious tell, a reaction he can't control, telling Dimitri exactly what this is doing to him, how needy he is for it.
He wrestles with the ever-present discomfort of being so thoroughly seen and known as he lays himself down over Dimitri's lap, his face burning with arousal and a bit of embarrassment. Maybe one day it won't scare the hell out of him on some level, that he lets Dimitri do this, see him like this, and worse, craves it.] Where do you want my hands? [Claude isn't interested in breaking any rules-- not during his punishment, at least. But he has to know what they are.]
( Claude truly is beautiful. Dimitri can't stop the way his gaze trails down the length of the other man's body, doesn't miss the sight of his cock already starting to rise. His own excitement and arousal is already simmering under his skin, and he's certain it won't take much longer before it's obvious. Certainly Claude will notice once it is stretched across his lap.
He gives Claude a moment to settle, though his hands roam freely over the warm skin. The way he touches him is slow and firm, indulging the contact, appreciating every bit of the man across his lap as if it's both the first and last time he'll ever be able to lay hands on him. ) You are beautiful. ( He praises, stroking one hand down Claude's back, over the curve of his ass, and lingering at the top of one thigh. There's a gentle scrape of his nails there, and his other hand moves to where Claude can see it.
There's a careful motion to a spot on the bed. ) Here. Don't move them. ( The spot is far enough that Claude can stretch his arms comfortably in front of him and that Dimitri can reach his wrists and hold them if need be. )
[Dimitri always touches him like it's the most indulgent thing in the world to do so, and it never fails to make his heart clench in his chest to be treated so preciously. He's glad he's face-down, so his obvious blush at the simple compliment isn't so visible. Dimitri always means it, and Claude knows that, can't deny it even to himself. It's what makes his praise so potent.
He moans and shivers as nails gently tease at the skin of his upper thigh, sensitizing the nerves there.]
Yes, Dima. [He whispers, placing his hands where Dimitri indicates on the bed. He grasps lightly at the blankets, taking a slow breath and settling more into his Dominant's lap. Twenty strokes to make up for. Gods, he's going to be a wreck.]
( The way Claude moans makes blood start rushing to his own cock, and Dimitri has to breathe out slowly to keep his calm. Having the other man spread across his lap is the perfect opportunity to do so much more than punishment, and he reminds himself there will be time for that later.
Eye glancing towards where Claude's hands are, he moves one of his own to rest it lightly on one of his arms. Ready to restrain Claude if he does move.
Dimitri trails his hand slowly over the curve of Claude's hand once more, stilling it on the curve of one cheek. ) Count. ( It's the only warning that anything is coming as he lifts his hand before bringing it back down against Claude's ass with a satisfying smack. The smack is meant to sting, but it's nowhere near as hard or rough as he can be, has been in the past. )
[As one of Dimitri's hands comes to rest on his arm, he fights with the urge to move just so Dimitri will restrain him. Just to have that hand wrapped around his wrists, pinning him down.
The other hand on his ass quickly demands his attention, though, able to inflict all manner of harm with little effort but promising only the right kind of pain. Dimitri's order gives him enough warning to reflexively tense, not enough to force himself to relax again, and he hisses through his teeth at the stinging blow. It sounds worse than it feels, but this is just the warm-up.] One. [For now his voice is still steady, though the arousal in it is obvious.]
( Given where Claude is across his lap, Dimitri can feel the way he tenses at the sound of the order, and it's strangely satisfying. His hand moves to the opposite cheek at the sound of Claude's voice, and he lifts his hand to bring it down against it the same as the other. The strike is much the same as before, simply a warning of what's to come, but he hardly plans to be this lenient in his attention.
The third hit follows the second almost immediately, coming down onto the same spot with more force. It's brings a bright color to Claude's skin, and the sight of it is enough to make Dimitri fully hard. Something the other man will certainly feel. )
Two. [The word is barely out of his mouth when Dimitri's hand comes down a third time, harder and in the exact same spot. He practically yelps out the count, hands twisting in the bed sheet to try and rid himself of the urge to squirm.
He feels Dimitri's cock hardening underneath him and shudders with pleasure knowing it's because of him.]
( Dimitri notices the way Claude's hands twist in the sheets, and he reaches out to wrap his hand around the other's wrists. Claude's hands and wrists are smaller than his own, and he holds them easily, pressing them down against the bed. It's an easy task to hold him without hurting him, though he knows just the right spots to apply pressure to get a reaction if he needs to.
The next motions of his hands come in steady motions, alternating between cheeks. The force of each strike increases slightly, and he's satisfied with the color that is spreading across Claude's skin. Knowing Claude will feel this later only adds to the excitement of it all and feeds into his arousal.
His hand only stills after the last smack, slowly palming one cheek and then squeezing. )
[Claude moans with gratitude as Dimitri's hand pins his wrists to the bed, as inescapable as iron molded to his flesh.
He keeps up the count throughout, but with each strike his voice gets shakier, higher-pitched until it's practically a whine. His ass burns and he already knows he'll still be feeling the soreness of it tomorrow, the thought making his already achingly hard cock leak a drop of precum. By twenty, he's a squirming, whimpering, needy wreck, all composure gone. But he's done it, he's made it through the punishment. He's atoned.
He doesn't try to fight Dimitri's grip on him until that large hand comes to settle on one sore cheek... then squeezes. He jerks his hips, instinctively trying to squirm away and getting nowhere.]
( Claude jerks and squirms, and one brow goes up. He's endured his punishment, but Dimitri finds there's still an edge to his mood. A need for a bit of extra control that he longs for after hours spent on his knees.
The thought makes his hand flex around Claude's wrists, enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to leave a mark. Perhaps in the future once Claude has realized his dream, he can allow himself to indulge in that particular urge - to leave a mark showing where he's held the other man. But the wrists and neck are too obvious for such things now.
Instead, he settles for releasing the cheek he had squeezed in favor of delivering a short, quick slap to the already abused skin. )
Can you handle more, Beloved? ( Those words are followed by another smack against the opposite cheek. His hand stays where it's landed, squeezing as he waits for an answer.
His own cock is swollen and straining against his pants, and every time Claude squirms, there's just the slightest hint of friction. It makes him ache to pin the other man down, to sink into him, and fuck him until they're both exhausted. His gaze flicks to the nightstand with that thought, considering the oil they have there. Oh, the things he can do with Claude just like this... )
[Dimitri grips his wrists harder and Claude stills, panting roughly and wishing Dimitri could leave him with a ring of bruises there too. Something he could easily look down and see...
Another smack sends him reeling, giving a whimpering moan. He nods at the question despite the tears starting to form in his eyes-- Dimitri wants it and he wants to give Dimitri what he wants. He can handle it.] Sh-Should I still count? [Gods, his voice is shaky... Dimitri hadn't seemed to expect him to count for the last two.
He can feel the man's erection pressing up against him, and he wants. Wants to touch it, have it in his mouth, wants to be spread open and fucked until he screams. He rocks his hips just a little, just enough to rub his cock against Dimitri's clothed thigh.]
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It's good that they see that suppressed rebellion in Dimitri's face. Better still that this charade doesn't require much acting from Dimitri-- he only has to endure. Well. "Only".]
Count. [This time he speaks in Almyran, to Dimitri but his voice pitched to carry through the room. At Dimitri's obedient nod (gods, it feels so wrong), he delivers the first blow to his back. It's not as hard of one as it really should be, as Claude needs it to be for this act to work. Nowhere near as hard as he knows Dimitri can take. He tightens his grip on the instrument of pain, pressing the pad of his thumb hard against the ring until the pain grounds him. He can't let all of this go to waste because he couldn't do the very thing he asked of Dimitri, go against his own nature just for a little while.
The second blow, a perfect inch lower than the first, causes some impressed eyebrows to raise.]
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At the sound of Claude's voice, his eye clips towards the other man, but he keeps his head forward. There is a part of him that tells him to stay silent. To rebel against Claude who should be kneeling to him.
But the first blow comes and his lips part, counting as ordered. The first strike is hardly anything, and he doesn't even blink at the contact. The second is the same - no reaction from him beyond another count. It stings in a way, but nothing compared to the wounds that have painted the scars across his back. He doubts Claude will truly be able to hurt him here. )
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Claude's smile tinges with relief once he's finished, but he turns it into a look of approval.]
Very good. [He strokes a hand through Dimitri's hair, fingers lingering on the braid. He holds the hand with his ring out expectantly in front of Dimitri's face for him to kiss.] What do we say, Dimitri? [It's only appropriate for the submissive to thank the Dominant for giving them what they need, after all. It's what is expected.]
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The hand stroking through his hair is comforting, and he tells himself he does at least enjoy this part. Feeling those touches, telling himself there's affection behind them, not just a display of control or dominance.
His gaze turns towards the hand as it's offered, and it's only when Claude speaks that he lifts his own hand. His hand catches the other's hand in his own, turning his head and leaning to press his lips to his hand. They're pressed over the ring, a reminder of what will come after they're done with this whole... charade. ) Thank you, Your Highness. ( He says it loud enough that the others can hear, considering taking a moment to press another kiss to that ring. But he doesn't, wasn't ordered to.
His hand lowers, releasing Claude's own hand. He still doesn't look up at him despite how badly he wants to. )
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Not too long ago, they wouldn't have even given him that much acclaim. It's all progress, every time they do this. He has to remember that.
After that there's some sitting and chatting; politicking. There's a pillow for Dimitri on the floor by Claude's chair, and he keeps a hand idly playing with the man's hair as he talks trade policy with a Lord from the south, all the while ticking down the time in his head until it'll be acceptable for them to take their leave.]
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The sitting and chatting means Dimitri only needs to sit - quiet and still - and he prefers that than most other orders he's given. The warmth of Claude's hand playing in his hair is a welcome distraction from all the talking and movement around them. He does dislike this whole ordeal in that his Almayran still isn't great, and he often misses important parts of conversations. He trusts Claude will share the important information with him later.
It's only when the person who was chatting with Claude last wanders off that Dimitri's eye turns towards Claude. ) How much longer? ( He asks quietly, dutifully keeping his head forward. Dimitri's own patience has its limits, especially when he's nearing the end of his own rope on this play of submission. The last thing he wants to do is make a fool of Claude in public. )
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Dimitri has good timing, asking when he does. Claude smiles, his hand coming to rest on the back of Dimitri's head.] Now. [He answers, just as quiet, then raises to his feet. He says his goodbyes, making up a lie about work needing to be done-- everyone knows he's a busy man, after all, he does always have work needing doing. Just, not until tomorrow. The rest of the evening is theirs.
He keeps a sedate pace back to his chambers, no matter how much he longs to get there as quick as possible, and by the time they reach his doors his smile feels more like a mask than ever.
The tension in his shoulders was barely visible unless you knew what you were looking for, but it eases when the door closes behind them and he turns the locks, methodically checking the little traps he sets up to alert him of intruders. Everything's in place, as it should be.
It's only once he's done that that he turns to Dimitri, eyes lowered. He once more offers his hand with the ring, but not for Dimitri to kiss. Unless he wants to, of course.]
no subject
Their is no hurry in their pace back to Claude's chambers, and for all that the journey is short, he feels... anxious. As if it's taking hours. He wants the privacy of Claude's chambers, to discard this image of obedience as quickly as possibly. A part of him is certain Claude feels the same, can see that tension in the line of his shoulders and the way it finally starts to ease when the door closes behind them. The sound of the lock sliding into place draws a relieved sigh from him as he neatly discards their things.
Dimitri wastes no time turning to look at Claude and is greeted by the sight of Claude's eyes lowered, the offer of his hand. He takes a couple steps closer to bring them closer, catching Claude's hand easily in his own and reaching with his other hand to stroke it fondly over the dark hair, down the back of his head and neck. Bringing the hand to his lips, he does kiss it again, soft and affectionate over the length of the fingering with that ring. He pauses along the smooth surface of the ring to kiss there, a reminder of what it is, who Claude belongs to in the privacy of his chambers.
Drawing his other hand back, he lowers the other one to carefully slide the ring off the man's finger before stepping away. ) Wait here. ( He orders simply as he steps away to the box tucked away out of sight. Gathering it up, he brings it to Claude's line of sight, takes his time trailing a hand over the box before using the ring to unlock it and reveal the ornate collar inside. His eyes trail over the surface before lifting to where Claude is. )
Strip.
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His always busy mind, always planning, thinking ahead, always on guard and seeking out threats... it needs rest, and he only finds that in letting go of his tight grip of his control. In letting Dimitri take charge. But it's difficult, some days even more so. He's physically relaxing, but his mind is still toiling away, thinking about how much more support he needs to secure the throne, where he might get it that he hasn't already reached out to, how close some are to being convinced... a million threads demanding his attention at all times, even when all he wants is to give the entirety of his attention to Dimitri.
Lips pressed over that ring bring him back, though, grounding him. He nods at the simple order, giving a small sigh of relief as the ring is tugged off his finger. Grounding though it is, it's removal always means the addition of something else-- in the world he's going to build, something he can wear with pride.
His smile softens to something longing when the box containing his collar is opened in front of him, hands itching to reach out and touch it, put it on himself, as if that wouldn't defeat the purpose. The order to strip is expected, a part of this little ritual. It gives his hands something to do, makes a metaphor out of him removing all the symbols of his status, the markers of royalty, where control and dominance is expected. They are placed carefully on his dresser to be picked back up tomorrow. It's after that he removes his clothing, and that is treated with a little less care, simply dropped to the floor. If he were in a more playful mood he'd tease with this, test Dimitri's patience a little-- neither of them have much patience right now. It's not long before he's bare in front of the other man, physical and metaphorical armor and masks removed. No longer a prince, just Claude, forcing himself to stillness so that he doesn't tremble with need. Dimitri isn't the only one their act takes a toll on.]
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The blue eye trails up the length of the other's naked body, lingering on his neck. More than anything, he wants the day to come where he can put a collar there permanently for the world to see. But those are thoughts for another time, don't have any place in this moment when they're both so tense. Instead, he carries the box closer, sets it down only in favor of grabbing a cushion to place neatly onto the ground in front of Claude. His gaze drops from Claude's face, down to the cushion expectantly. )
On your knees.
( His hands move back towards the box, this time so he can gather up the collar to hold it carefully in his hands. The way he handles it says how precious the item is, and he turns expectantly towards Claude. )
Tell me how badly you want this, Beloved.
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The pet name makes him shiver, his throat feeling suddenly too dry, too tight. Even like this, admitting to his more vulnerable feelings doesn't come easily.] So badly. [His voice is hushed, the paranoid part of him afraid there might be someone listening at the door, even though he knows full and well that it's thoroughly sound proofed.] It's been on my mind all day. The whole time we performed, thinking about this got me through it.
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He takes a couple of steps forward, one hand reaching out to stroke Claude's cheek fondly. The touch trails over his jaw and down to his neck where the collar will be. ) I know. ( And he feels the same. Knowing he'll be able to come back to these chambers and be with Claude helps ease the process of this whole endeavor.
Finally, Dimitri moves, stepping around Claude to stand behind him instead. The collar slides around Claude's throat, and he fastens it into place with practiced ease. Once its in place, one hand moves to curve under the collar, a firm pressure as he leans down and presses his lips against the smaller man's ear. ) Do you know what I am going to do to you now, Beloved? ( He wonders, voice low, the hand not around Claude's throat moving slowly to trail over one of Claude's shoulders, across his back. )
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He keeps his chin tipped up as the man steps behind him, goosebumps rising on his shoulders as the cool metal settles on his throat. Dimitri's hand follows it, holding him just under the collar, and he moans softly. He doesn't have to give up his control if Dimitri simply reaches out and takes it. He swallows roughly against the hand holding him as steadily as the collar at the question. He may not know the specifics, but he has some idea, especially with the touch to his back, reminding him of what he'd had to do to Dimitri's back.] Punish me? [They both need it, Dimitri to work out his frustration and Claude to atone for how he has to use Dimitri, so the guilt doesn't eat at him as much.]
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( His hands slide away, a small flicker of disappointment rising in him to lose the warmth of having his hands on Claude. But it doesn't last knowing it won't be long until his hands are all over the man once more, in many different ways. Stepping around Claude again, he moves the box to settle it elsewhere and out of the way, taking the time to strip off his own shirt and any accessories that might be on his arms. Normally he'd ask Claude to do it, but the slowness of those sorts of orders is too much for a time like this.
Instead, he steps back towards Claude, offering his hand down to him expectantly. ) Come. ( He uses Claude's hand to help him to his feet before leading him towards the bed.
He sits comfortably on the edge of the bed, well within reach of the bed side table and any oils or other things he might need. He gives a tug of the other's hand and arm in a way that says he wants Claude to join him, motioning to his lap. ) Lie down. ( Stomach down across his lap. )
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He snaps back to attention when Dimitri comes back over to him, smile faint but far more real than anything he put on earlier, and takes that offered hand. Dimitri pulls him to his feet with no effort at all, leading him over to the bed. Anticipation ties knots in his stomach as Dimitri settles at the end of the bed and tugs expectantly at his arm. Claude knows he could simply force him into his lap if he wanted-- he's done so before. But this time, Dimitri is demanding he put himself there. Submit to his punishment. His cock, which had already stirred to life the moment Dimitri's hand wrapped around his throat, gives an eager twitch, hardening further. And it's such an obvious tell, a reaction he can't control, telling Dimitri exactly what this is doing to him, how needy he is for it.
He wrestles with the ever-present discomfort of being so thoroughly seen and known as he lays himself down over Dimitri's lap, his face burning with arousal and a bit of embarrassment. Maybe one day it won't scare the hell out of him on some level, that he lets Dimitri do this, see him like this, and worse, craves it.] Where do you want my hands? [Claude isn't interested in breaking any rules-- not during his punishment, at least. But he has to know what they are.]
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He gives Claude a moment to settle, though his hands roam freely over the warm skin. The way he touches him is slow and firm, indulging the contact, appreciating every bit of the man across his lap as if it's both the first and last time he'll ever be able to lay hands on him. ) You are beautiful. ( He praises, stroking one hand down Claude's back, over the curve of his ass, and lingering at the top of one thigh. There's a gentle scrape of his nails there, and his other hand moves to where Claude can see it.
There's a careful motion to a spot on the bed. ) Here. Don't move them. ( The spot is far enough that Claude can stretch his arms comfortably in front of him and that Dimitri can reach his wrists and hold them if need be. )
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He moans and shivers as nails gently tease at the skin of his upper thigh, sensitizing the nerves there.]
Yes, Dima. [He whispers, placing his hands where Dimitri indicates on the bed. He grasps lightly at the blankets, taking a slow breath and settling more into his Dominant's lap. Twenty strokes to make up for. Gods, he's going to be a wreck.]
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Eye glancing towards where Claude's hands are, he moves one of his own to rest it lightly on one of his arms. Ready to restrain Claude if he does move.
Dimitri trails his hand slowly over the curve of Claude's hand once more, stilling it on the curve of one cheek. ) Count. ( It's the only warning that anything is coming as he lifts his hand before bringing it back down against Claude's ass with a satisfying smack. The smack is meant to sting, but it's nowhere near as hard or rough as he can be, has been in the past. )
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The other hand on his ass quickly demands his attention, though, able to inflict all manner of harm with little effort but promising only the right kind of pain. Dimitri's order gives him enough warning to reflexively tense, not enough to force himself to relax again, and he hisses through his teeth at the stinging blow. It sounds worse than it feels, but this is just the warm-up.] One. [For now his voice is still steady, though the arousal in it is obvious.]
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The third hit follows the second almost immediately, coming down onto the same spot with more force. It's brings a bright color to Claude's skin, and the sight of it is enough to make Dimitri fully hard. Something the other man will certainly feel. )
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He feels Dimitri's cock hardening underneath him and shudders with pleasure knowing it's because of him.]
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The next motions of his hands come in steady motions, alternating between cheeks. The force of each strike increases slightly, and he's satisfied with the color that is spreading across Claude's skin. Knowing Claude will feel this later only adds to the excitement of it all and feeds into his arousal.
His hand only stills after the last smack, slowly palming one cheek and then squeezing. )
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He keeps up the count throughout, but with each strike his voice gets shakier, higher-pitched until it's practically a whine. His ass burns and he already knows he'll still be feeling the soreness of it tomorrow, the thought making his already achingly hard cock leak a drop of precum. By twenty, he's a squirming, whimpering, needy wreck, all composure gone. But he's done it, he's made it through the punishment. He's atoned.
He doesn't try to fight Dimitri's grip on him until that large hand comes to settle on one sore cheek... then squeezes. He jerks his hips, instinctively trying to squirm away and getting nowhere.]
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The thought makes his hand flex around Claude's wrists, enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to leave a mark. Perhaps in the future once Claude has realized his dream, he can allow himself to indulge in that particular urge - to leave a mark showing where he's held the other man. But the wrists and neck are too obvious for such things now.
Instead, he settles for releasing the cheek he had squeezed in favor of delivering a short, quick slap to the already abused skin. )
Can you handle more, Beloved? ( Those words are followed by another smack against the opposite cheek. His hand stays where it's landed, squeezing as he waits for an answer.
His own cock is swollen and straining against his pants, and every time Claude squirms, there's just the slightest hint of friction. It makes him ache to pin the other man down, to sink into him, and fuck him until they're both exhausted. His gaze flicks to the nightstand with that thought, considering the oil they have there. Oh, the things he can do with Claude just like this... )
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Another smack sends him reeling, giving a whimpering moan. He nods at the question despite the tears starting to form in his eyes-- Dimitri wants it and he wants to give Dimitri what he wants. He can handle it.] Sh-Should I still count? [Gods, his voice is shaky... Dimitri hadn't seemed to expect him to count for the last two.
He can feel the man's erection pressing up against him, and he wants. Wants to touch it, have it in his mouth, wants to be spread open and fucked until he screams. He rocks his hips just a little, just enough to rub his cock against Dimitri's clothed thigh.]
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