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"submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "Redalt finds that he needs to be more blunt with the bratty prince he sleeps with every night.\n\nA commission for Renn.\n\nYou can find stories like this and more over on my [url=https://www.patreon.com/c/Ralanrwrites]Patreon[/url] and/or [url=https://subscribestar.adult/ralanr]Subscribestar[/url]. Tiered members get early access to stories and discounts on commissions.\n\nEnjoy! ", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Redalt finds that he needs to be more blunt with the bratty prince he sleeps with every night.

A commission for Renn.

You can find stories like this and more over on my Patreon and/or Subscribestar. Tiered members get early access to stories and discounts on commissions.

Enjoy! ", "writing": " Two months had passed and neither Rocky nor Redalt opted to be subtle. The two gnolls spent more time together in a way reminiscent of two friends in a friend group suddenly dating. \n \n That wasn’t to say that neither Holga or Hariett noticed, or were unbothered. Hariett gave them two weeks, upping the bet to a month, and now Holga had fifty gold pieces on the line. She told Redalt as much in the next town, over drinks. Redalt did a spittake when he heard. \n “You weren’t being subtle.” The half-orc said, raising her hand to the barmaid for a towel.\n \n “I suppose tents aren’t known for their quietness.”\n \n “Tents?” Holga laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her seat. “You think it was the tents? We heard you through the walls, behind the tree, and don’t get me started in the dungeon with all that echoing.”\n \n “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point!” Redalt snapped, keeping his voice low with a cringed head. It failed to deter the onlookers. Quite the opposite actually, with them all staring on until Holga reached for her axe. “Why didn’t you say anything?”\n \n “Why didn’t you?”\n \n “Because it’s unprofessional for adventurers to, well, have such relations with another.”\n \n Holga raised her brow. “How many parties have you been in?” \n \n “A few.” This was the fourth party he’d joined as an adventurer. Though it was the only one officially licensed. The others were either research teams from magical colleges, a ragtag group of freedom fighters, and one bandit group he’d been roped into by mistake. Redalt still had a bounty on his head in Afastan and refused to go back. “Why?”\n \n “Because that’s the biggest load of hogwash I’ve ever heard.” Holga slapped the table, then the maid, who didn’t seem all that bothered by it to Redalt’s surprise. “Adventurer’s hook up all the time. This is a dangerous lifestyle where you could die any day at any time. People get stressed. You know what people do when they’re stressed?” \n \n “Meditate?” Redalt asked. Holga’s expression said otherwise. Like a nervous student, Redalt threw out answers in the hopes one would land. “Eat? Sleep? Play games?”\n \n “They fuck, Redalt. They fuck hard, like they’ll die the next day. Some of my best fuckbuddies were adventurers. This one guy called Longsaddle, well, if it weren’t for that arrow I’d still be with him when I need a good pounding. Nothing gets you off edge before a raid like getting your shit rocked until your legs don’t work. Or doing it to someone else.” Holga eyed the barmaids, who had been blushing and giggling with one another. Now that Redalt thought of it, Holga had a habit of spending her time with working folk. \n \n “I never expected people to find their mates on the battlefield.”\n \n Holga shook her head and guzzled down an entire mug of ale with one finger up to keep Redalt from interrupting. “Not mates. Fuckbuddies. People don’t look for partners to raise kids with on the road.”\n \n “Oh…” Redalt looked down for a moment, deep in thought with his cheeks flushing red. “But…they happen, right?”\n \n The badger raised her brow, dropped it, and sighed. “Good gods, you’re falling for the twink.”\n \n “No. Maybe? What’s a twink?” \n \n “Why him?” Holga pointed to Rocky from across the bar. For the last hour he, and Harriett halfway through with a couple drinks, had joined a dancing ceremony with the local priests and their conclave. Some villages defined piety by shying away from indulgences, and others defined it by embracing them. Rocky preferred the latter, as did the rest of the party. The last time Holga was told to wear more clothes she broke the man’s jaw. In his defense, she gave him ample warning. \n \n The question lingered. Why did he feel that way around the prince? Yes, Rocky was attractive but Redalt had no shortage of attractive people to see. Even Holga was attractive in her own way, handsome like a man which wooed some ladies and even some men to their surprise. The prince was playful bordering on annoying. Arrogant too. Did that have something to do with it? Redalt, who hated confrontation, enjoyed the prince’s forward and teasing nature? He shook his head, certain it was something else. \n \n Being a tribal outcast didn’t give him many options for mates of his own kind. Rocky might have been the first other gnoll he’d been able to be close to. That must have been why his blood boiled when he saw someone flirting with the prince. A large bull with a thick bronze nose ring and a theater pouch containing little to the imagination. Thick muscled arms pinned the prince to the wall. Rocky smiled, eager for what sort of things this person could dish out. \n \n Redalt whispered a spell. A minor incantation that sent static electricity across the room. It hit the bull’s nose, who shrieked and bucked away to nurse his sudden pain. \n \n “Never figured you for the possessive type,” Holga said, taking a drink. “He know it yet?”\n \n “No…I don’t think he does.” Redalt realized he might have been the only one thinking there was something. But long nights remembered by possessive bite marks said otherwise. Surely Rocky knew the traditions universal of gnoll tribes. If not, then was he playing him? Redalt spat a short incantation into his drink, making it bubble. Rocky peered his way and grinned. \n \n The little shit was playing him. \n \n “I want to teach him a lesson.”\n \n “What do you have in mind?”\n \n Redalt grinned. “I’ll need iron ore. I’m not ready for steel.” \n \n ***\n \n The blacksmith parted with more than enough iron for him at the cost of a fistfull of gold. Redalt later invited Rocky into their room, and when Rocky tried to egg him on he growled and pressed the prince against the wall. “Do not keep me waiting.” \n \n Redalt had the iron into smooth orbs when the prince arrived. “You know, you can drag me here. Or do you want me to do some kicking and screaming. Oh, is that was this is? Some kind of roleplay?” \n \n Rocky took to the nearest bed without fanfare. With spread legs he highlighted the bulging outline of his chastity cage. Redalt gulped, trying not to take the bait just yet. The prince was a brat and, as Harriett described it, a powerbottom. And as much as Redalt enjoyed that, he needed to set some guidelines first. \n \n “Do you know what a geomancer is?” \n \n Rocky frowned. “What?”\n \n “We’ve been adventuring for a while now, surely you can guess.”\n \n “A wizard with rocks.”\n \n Redalt smiled but shook his head. If an apprentice had asked that they’d be reprimanded. But Rocky had little to no understanding of magic and his interest only piqued when it came to uses in bed. “It is the study of magic’s relation with the earth.”\n \n “So, wizard with rocks.”\n \n “No, it’s more complicated than that.”\n \n “Says the wizard that throws rocks.” Rocky stuck out his tongue. It was cute. Redalt wanted to grab it between his fingers but held it steady. “It’s ok, you have lightning too.”\n He sighed. “What are rocks made up of?”\n \n The prince frowned. “I don’t know, more rocks?”\n \n “Stone, rocks, dirt, and such are made up of many things. It isn’t like water where you only factor in one element. Geomancers must master several materials in order to access their spells. Anything that lacks life in the earth is subject to geomancy.”\n \n “Wait, does that mean necromancers are geomancers?”\n \n Redalt held his tongue. The logic was sound, but the prince unknowingly stated heresy in front of him. “It is a…school of thought, yes. Try not to repeat that, lest you want to be entombed by a more traditional geomancer.”\n \n “Sounds fun.”\n \n “I assure you, it is not.” Redalt held up one of the balls of iron ore. “This is more what I meant. A geomancer can, with enough training, manipulate metals. Natural metals, like gold, silver, copper, and iron. Mixes such as bronze or steel are doable, but are complex.” As he spoke the ball shifted into the alchemical symbols of each metal. He suspected the prince’s attention was more for how metal shifted like a liquid in Redalt’s hands more than his knowledge.\n \n “So why are you telling me this now?”\n \n “I wanted to show off before I did this.” With a few magic words the metal shifted into a thick iron band that clapped around the prince’s throat. Four more shot forward, turning into cuffs that locked around the gnoll’s wrists and ankles. A combined spell of geomancy and lightning magic magnetized them to bind together, forcing the cuffs above his head and making him stand. Before another word could be uttered, Renn stuffed the last orb into the prince’s maw. It shifted, seeping between the teeth and reforming behind it as an iron ring forcing his jaw open. \n \n His thumb pressed down on the prince’s loose tongue, grinding down its autonomy while he inched closer to whisper. “I don’t hate you flirting with others. I’ve watched you do it for a while now. But I know you don’t intend to do anything with them. That it's just a ploy to make me jealous, and when it works you do it again.”\n \n Though gnoll claws weren’t sharp they could rip and tear clothes with effort and the prince’s relaxing clothes weren’t so durable to make it an issue. Not that the prince struggled. No, Rocky would have smiled behind that gag if it gave him the room to do so, and Redalt would have smiled back. Since he didn’t, Redalt could push on the darker charm. He was mad, sure, but not so much to use it as an excuse. At the end of the day, he wanted the prince to enjoy him. Sometimes that meant getting a little harder than Redalt was comfortable with. \n \n Sometimes it meant getting possessive. With his clothes sheared away the prince curled into a meek little ball that Redalt broke immediately. Hand clenched his throat to the bed. He leaned close, whispering of all the towns and people Rocky had flirted with since they became intimate. On occasion he’d rest the prince’s sack in his paw, squeezing to get a delightful squeal from the bound bitch. \n \n “You’re mine.” Redalt cast off his cloak. His towering erection pulsed and bounced. Rocky’s face went red, his eyelids descending to a sultry, hungry, glare at the massive rod. Redalt let him drink it in, thankful that someone lusted after it instead of baulking in sight of it. \n \n That’s all Redalt allowed. He stopped Rocky by his forehead when the prince tried to taste it. The musk of an entire day on the trip just barely bracing his tongue. “Who said you get a choice?” Redalt growled, digging his nails just deep enough to keep him firm in more ways than one. “You’re mine, remember? A hound may beg to go out for a walk but it is the master who decides when to get the leash. So go ahead, beg.”\n \n His silver tongue flopped useless in the iron gag. He no doubt argued strong points. None of them mattered. Redalt knew what he wanted before Rocky came into the room.\n \n He lifted his sack and spread his legs, revealing the taint separating his genitals from his ass. Without fanfare he pulled the prince into it, rubbing his royal noise into his sweat and musk like a poorly trained hound being punished for staining the floor. \n \n The prince’s struggle was more out of reflex than defiance. No one enjoyed being shoved somewhere new. But quickly he adapted, tail thumping as his tongue lapped into the folds between Redalt’s legs.\n \n “Drink it in. Remember it. The scent. The taste. This is what your master is like. This is who you belong to.\n \n He couldn’t see Rocky’s eyes on account of resting his sack on the gnoll’s nosebridge, but he swore they’d be in heaven now. “A royal prince, reduced to nothing more than an outsider’s sweat rag. Could you be any more pathetic?” When the prince didn’t answer he pulled away, grabbing a tuftful of hair and batting the gnoll’s head with his cock like it were his backhand. \n \n It only made his point. The prince’s face ran hot, his tongue dangling loose like a thirty hound. Redalt offered no sympathy as he placed his cock over that pink muscle and, gradually, buried his shaft down the forced open maw. Just slow enough to make the prince struggle, to make him whine and lurch, to make him know that he had no control over what was happening. Redalt enjoyed it more than he expected. There was something about those eyes darting about with every inch that made him rigid with delight. \n \n He held the prince’s head with both hands once his nose touched the base of his cock. “Be a good cocksleeve.” He pulled back until an inch was still inside. “And stay still.”\n \n In one thrust he buried his full cock down the royal throat. His balls slapped the prince’s chin as watery eyes looked up to him. Wide and shocked. Redalt did it again, repeatedly slamming his shaft into Rocky’s maw without worry for every gag and grunt mixed in with the sloppy wet slaps of his cock. He knew the prince could take it, he’d seen him gargle bigger dicks. Redalt buried the worry aside. This was about using Rocky’s throat like it belonged to him. Because it did, just like the rest of the prince’s body. The collar was just for show.\n \n So, when he came, balls bracing the gnoll’s chin as he shot thick ropes down that eager throat, Redalt didn’t finish. He pulled out, marveling at the saliva and semen coating his cock for a moment before settling down and forcing the prince’s face into it. “Clean it up.” Just because Redalt needed a minute to regain his composure didn’t mean the prince had to be useless. That gag didn’t stop his tongue from lapping up his new master’s rod. He drank the taste of his saliva and Redalt’s seed greedily, lost in a trance of desire with cheeks matted with tears. The sight zapped something into Redalt’s brain. He was hungry for more. \n \n So he took it. By his majesty’s collar he hoisted the prince up to the bed, shoving his head into the nearest pillow as he hiked the ass up. He slapped it twice, each time calling him a derogatory slur of slut or whore. Rocky’s winces were closer to moans. His caged cock leaked a steady stream of precum. Redalt coated his finger with it and stuffed the scent up Rocky’s nose before cleaning it off with the prince’s tongue like a spare rag. More cruelty than anything else, as he used more of it to lube up his cock and the waiting asshole. \n \n “Mine,” Redalt whispered, leaning over to nip the prince’s ear as he lined his cock. “I don’t care what your mother says. This is mine. Whatever wife you get can use your cock for an heir, but this hole is mine.” He sank in as slowly as he did the maw, enjoying every inch of his property while the slutty prince pleaded he go faster. Redalt had to sink his teeth against the prince’s skin to keep him from wiggling closer. \n \n He buried his cock deep. He pulled out far, then slammed in again. The prince’s moan echoed off the walls. If Redalt were lucid he’d have heard the knocking from the other side telling him to keep it down. He did not, instead picking up his speed until the slaps of his hips against the prince’s backside and the wet squelching of his cock going in and out filled the room, overshadowing the ragged moans. He nipped at the prince to keep those noises coming. \n \n Not that it was enough. Redalt’s magic flared through him. He cracked his hand along the price’s backside, sending electricity surging through. One cheek, then the other, back and forth until the prince wailed with a body shaking orgasm that made a mess of the bed. \n \n Redalt didn’t stop until he’d had his fill. Hilting the prince again once the urge came. His seed overflowed down the gnoll’s hole like one of those special cream-filled pastries. Cool air brushed past his cock upon his withdrawal, rapidly chilling the softening and sore pink rod. He rolled over, panting as his concentration fell apart and, with it, the bindings holding the prince in place. Rocky didn’t move to escape, having relaxed into his position long enough to enjoy the same bliss.\n \n After a moment, when the heat died down and their bodies collided for warmth, Rocky spoke. “If this was meant to discourage me from flirting, you’re not doing a good job.”\n \n Redalt grunted. “No, I suppose that’d be too abusive.” He sighed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing they were outdoors. He could lose himself in the stars then. “It does bother me a little.”\n \n “Why?” Rocky asked.\n \n Redalt didn’t expect that and didn’t give his answer right away. He mulled on it. Was it wrong to say he wanted the prince and himself to be a single pair? While gnoll culture didn’t shirk away pairs of the same sex, it was expected for royals to find a partner of the opposite. Passing on the lineage is important. Who was he to go against tradition? He sighed, cursing himself that even after abandoning his culture it refused to abandon him.\n \n “It makes me worry you’re using me.” He said, finally. “That I am just a distraction. And if I was, I would be fine with that if I was told.”\n \n “Would you though?”\n \n Redalt thought on it. “No. I suppose not.”\n \n After a moment of silence Rocky spoke again. “I know the way you look at me when flirting. I like that look. Weird as it is, I enjoy you being as grabby as you are.”\n \n “Then why test me? Why not ask me to be like this?”\n \n “Because you get stuck in your own head,” Rocky said, kissing Redalt’s cheek. “And you shouldn’t be when we’re doing this.” \n \n \n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "       Two months had passed and neither Rocky nor Redalt opted to be subtle. The two gnolls spent more time together in a way reminiscent of two friends in a friend group suddenly dating.
      
       That wasn’t to say that neither Holga or Hariett noticed, or were unbothered. Hariett gave them two weeks, upping the bet to a month, and now Holga had fifty gold pieces on the line. She told Redalt as much in the next town, over drinks. Redalt did a spittake when he heard.
       “You weren’t being subtle.” The half-orc said, raising her hand to the barmaid for a towel.
      
       “I suppose tents aren’t known for their quietness.”
      
       “Tents?” Holga laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her seat. “You think it was the tents? We heard you through the walls, behind the tree, and don’t get me started in the dungeon with all that echoing.”
      
       “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point!” Redalt snapped, keeping his voice low with a cringed head. It failed to deter the onlookers. Quite the opposite actually, with them all staring on until Holga reached for her axe. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
      
       “Why didn’t you?”
      
       “Because it’s unprofessional for adventurers to, well, have such relations with another.”
      
       Holga raised her brow. “How many parties have you been in?”
      
       “A few.” This was the fourth party he’d joined as an adventurer. Though it was the only one officially licensed. The others were either research teams from magical colleges, a ragtag group of freedom fighters, and one bandit group he’d been roped into by mistake. Redalt still had a bounty on his head in Afastan and refused to go back. “Why?”
      
       “Because that’s the biggest load of hogwash I’ve ever heard.” Holga slapped the table, then the maid, who didn’t seem all that bothered by it to Redalt’s surprise. “Adventurer’s hook up all the time. This is a dangerous lifestyle where you could die any day at any time. People get stressed. You know what people do when they’re stressed?”
      
       “Meditate?” Redalt asked. Holga’s expression said otherwise. Like a nervous student, Redalt threw out answers in the hopes one would land. “Eat? Sleep? Play games?”
      
       “They fuck, Redalt. They fuck hard, like they’ll die the next day. Some of my best fuckbuddies were adventurers. This one guy called Longsaddle, well, if it weren’t for that arrow I’d still be with him when I need a good pounding. Nothing gets you off edge before a raid like getting your shit rocked until your legs don’t work. Or doing it to someone else.” Holga eyed the barmaids, who had been blushing and giggling with one another. Now that Redalt thought of it, Holga had a habit of spending her time with working folk.
      
       “I never expected people to find their mates on the battlefield.”
      
       Holga shook her head and guzzled down an entire mug of ale with one finger up to keep Redalt from interrupting. “Not mates. Fuckbuddies. People don’t look for partners to raise kids with on the road.”
      
       “Oh…” Redalt looked down for a moment, deep in thought with his cheeks flushing red. “But…they happen, right?”
      
       The badger raised her brow, dropped it, and sighed. “Good gods, you’re falling for the twink.”
      
       “No. Maybe? What’s a twink?”
      
       “Why him?” Holga pointed to Rocky from across the bar. For the last hour he, and Harriett halfway through with a couple drinks, had joined a dancing ceremony with the local priests and their conclave. Some villages defined piety by shying away from indulgences, and others defined it by embracing them. Rocky preferred the latter, as did the rest of the party. The last time Holga was told to wear more clothes she broke the man’s jaw. In his defense, she gave him ample warning.
      
       The question lingered. Why did he feel that way around the prince? Yes, Rocky was attractive but Redalt had no shortage of attractive people to see. Even Holga was attractive in her own way, handsome like a man which wooed some ladies and even some men to their surprise. The prince was playful bordering on annoying. Arrogant too. Did that have something to do with it? Redalt, who hated confrontation, enjoyed the prince’s forward and teasing nature? He shook his head, certain it was something else.
      
       Being a tribal outcast didn’t give him many options for mates of his own kind. Rocky might have been the first other gnoll he’d been able to be close to. That must have been why his blood boiled when he saw someone flirting with the prince. A large bull with a thick bronze nose ring and a theater pouch containing little to the imagination. Thick muscled arms pinned the prince to the wall. Rocky smiled, eager for what sort of things this person could dish out.
      
       Redalt whispered a spell. A minor incantation that sent static electricity across the room. It hit the bull’s nose, who shrieked and bucked away to nurse his sudden pain.
      
       “Never figured you for the possessive type,” Holga said, taking a drink. “He know it yet?”
      
       “No…I don’t think he does.” Redalt realized he might have been the only one thinking there was something. But long nights remembered by possessive bite marks said otherwise. Surely Rocky knew the traditions universal of gnoll tribes. If not, then was he playing him? Redalt spat a short incantation into his drink, making it bubble. Rocky peered his way and grinned.
      
       The little shit was playing him.
      
       “I want to teach him a lesson.”
      
       “What do you have in mind?”
      
       Redalt grinned. “I’ll need iron ore. I’m not ready for steel.”
      
       ***
      
       The blacksmith parted with more than enough iron for him at the cost of a fistfull of gold. Redalt later invited Rocky into their room, and when Rocky tried to egg him on he growled and pressed the prince against the wall. “Do not keep me waiting.”
      
       Redalt had the iron into smooth orbs when the prince arrived. “You know, you can drag me here. Or do you want me to do some kicking and screaming. Oh, is that was this is? Some kind of roleplay?”
      
       Rocky took to the nearest bed without fanfare. With spread legs he highlighted the bulging outline of his chastity cage. Redalt gulped, trying not to take the bait just yet. The prince was a brat and, as Harriett described it, a powerbottom. And as much as Redalt enjoyed that, he needed to set some guidelines first.
      
       “Do you know what a geomancer is?”
      
       Rocky frowned. “What?”
      
       “We’ve been adventuring for a while now, surely you can guess.”
      
       “A wizard with rocks.”
      
       Redalt smiled but shook his head. If an apprentice had asked that they’d be reprimanded. But Rocky had little to no understanding of magic and his interest only piqued when it came to uses in bed. “It is the study of magic’s relation with the earth.”
      
       “So, wizard with rocks.”
      
       “No, it’s more complicated than that.”
      
       “Says the wizard that throws rocks.” Rocky stuck out his tongue. It was cute. Redalt wanted to grab it between his fingers but held it steady. “It’s ok, you have lightning too.”
       He sighed. “What are rocks made up of?”
      
       The prince frowned. “I don’t know, more rocks?”
      
       “Stone, rocks, dirt, and such are made up of many things. It isn’t like water where you only factor in one element. Geomancers must master several materials in order to access their spells. Anything that lacks life in the earth is subject to geomancy.”
      
       “Wait, does that mean necromancers are geomancers?”
      
       Redalt held his tongue. The logic was sound, but the prince unknowingly stated heresy in front of him. “It is a…school of thought, yes. Try not to repeat that, lest you want to be entombed by a more traditional geomancer.”
      
       “Sounds fun.”
      
       “I assure you, it is not.” Redalt held up one of the balls of iron ore. “This is more what I meant. A geomancer can, with enough training, manipulate metals. Natural metals, like gold, silver, copper, and iron. Mixes such as bronze or steel are doable, but are complex.” As he spoke the ball shifted into the alchemical symbols of each metal. He suspected the prince’s attention was more for how metal shifted like a liquid in Redalt’s hands more than his knowledge.
      
       “So why are you telling me this now?”
      
       “I wanted to show off before I did this.” With a few magic words the metal shifted into a thick iron band that clapped around the prince’s throat. Four more shot forward, turning into cuffs that locked around the gnoll’s wrists and ankles. A combined spell of geomancy and lightning magic magnetized them to bind together, forcing the cuffs above his head and making him stand. Before another word could be uttered, Renn stuffed the last orb into the prince’s maw. It shifted, seeping between the teeth and reforming behind it as an iron ring forcing his jaw open.
      
       His thumb pressed down on the prince’s loose tongue, grinding down its autonomy while he inched closer to whisper. “I don’t hate you flirting with others. I’ve watched you do it for a while now. But I know you don’t intend to do anything with them. That it's just a ploy to make me jealous, and when it works you do it again.”
      
       Though gnoll claws weren’t sharp they could rip and tear clothes with effort and the prince’s relaxing clothes weren’t so durable to make it an issue. Not that the prince struggled. No, Rocky would have smiled behind that gag if it gave him the room to do so, and Redalt would have smiled back. Since he didn’t, Redalt could push on the darker charm. He was mad, sure, but not so much to use it as an excuse. At the end of the day, he wanted the prince to enjoy him. Sometimes that meant getting a little harder than Redalt was comfortable with.
      
       Sometimes it meant getting possessive. With his clothes sheared away the prince curled into a meek little ball that Redalt broke immediately. Hand clenched his throat to the bed. He leaned close, whispering of all the towns and people Rocky had flirted with since they became intimate. On occasion he’d rest the prince’s sack in his paw, squeezing to get a delightful squeal from the bound bitch.  
      
       “You’re mine.” Redalt cast off his cloak. His towering erection pulsed and bounced. Rocky’s face went red, his eyelids descending to a sultry, hungry, glare at the massive rod. Redalt let him drink it in, thankful that someone lusted after it instead of baulking in sight of it.
      
       That’s all Redalt allowed. He stopped Rocky by his forehead when the prince tried to taste it. The musk of an entire day on the trip just barely bracing his tongue. “Who said you get a choice?” Redalt growled, digging his nails just deep enough to keep him firm in more ways than one. “You’re mine, remember? A hound may beg to go out for a walk but it is the master who decides when to get the leash. So go ahead, beg.”
      
       His silver tongue flopped useless in the iron gag. He no doubt argued strong points. None of them mattered. Redalt knew what he wanted before Rocky came into the room.
      
       He lifted his sack and spread his legs, revealing the taint separating his genitals from his ass. Without fanfare he pulled the prince into it, rubbing his royal noise into his sweat and musk like a poorly trained hound being punished for staining the floor.
      
       The prince’s struggle was more out of reflex than defiance. No one enjoyed being shoved somewhere new. But quickly he adapted, tail thumping as his tongue lapped into the folds between Redalt’s legs.
      
       “Drink it in. Remember it. The scent. The taste. This is what your master is like. This is who you belong to.
      
       He couldn’t see Rocky’s eyes on account of resting his sack on the gnoll’s nosebridge, but he swore they’d be in heaven now. “A royal prince, reduced to nothing more than an outsider’s sweat rag. Could you be any more pathetic?” When the prince didn’t answer he pulled away, grabbing a tuftful of hair and batting the gnoll’s head with his cock like it were his backhand.
      
       It only made his point. The prince’s face ran hot, his tongue dangling loose like a thirty hound. Redalt offered no sympathy as he placed his cock over that pink muscle and, gradually, buried his shaft down the forced open maw. Just slow enough to make the prince struggle, to make him whine and lurch, to make him know that he had no control over what was happening. Redalt enjoyed it more than he expected. There was something about those eyes darting about with every inch that made him rigid with delight.
      
       He held the prince’s head with both hands once his nose touched the base of his cock. “Be a good cocksleeve.” He pulled back until an inch was still inside. “And stay still.”
      
       In one thrust he buried his full cock down the royal throat. His balls slapped the prince’s chin as watery eyes looked up to him. Wide and shocked. Redalt did it again, repeatedly slamming his shaft into Rocky’s maw without worry for every gag and grunt mixed in with the sloppy wet slaps of his cock. He knew the prince could take it, he’d seen him gargle bigger dicks. Redalt buried the worry aside. This was about using Rocky’s throat like it belonged to him. Because it did, just like the rest of the prince’s body. The collar was just for show.
      
       So, when he came, balls bracing the gnoll’s chin as he shot thick ropes down that eager throat, Redalt didn’t finish. He pulled out, marveling at the saliva and semen coating his cock for a moment before settling down and forcing the prince’s face into it. “Clean it up.” Just because Redalt needed a minute to regain his composure didn’t mean the prince had to be useless. That gag didn’t stop his tongue from lapping up his new master’s rod. He drank the taste of his saliva and Redalt’s seed greedily, lost in a trance of desire with cheeks matted with tears. The sight zapped something into Redalt’s brain. He was hungry for more.
      
       So he took it. By his majesty’s collar he hoisted the prince up to the bed, shoving his head into the nearest pillow as he hiked the ass up. He slapped it twice, each time calling him a derogatory slur of slut or whore. Rocky’s winces were closer to moans. His caged cock leaked a steady stream of precum. Redalt coated his finger with it and stuffed the scent up Rocky’s nose before cleaning it off with the prince’s tongue like a spare rag. More cruelty than anything else, as he used more of it to lube up his cock and the waiting asshole.
      
       “Mine,” Redalt whispered, leaning over to nip the prince’s ear as he lined his cock. “I don’t care what your mother says. This is mine. Whatever wife you get can use your cock for an heir, but this hole is mine.” He sank in as slowly as he did the maw, enjoying every inch of his property while the slutty prince pleaded he go faster. Redalt had to sink his teeth against the prince’s skin to keep him from wiggling closer.
      
       He buried his cock deep. He pulled out far, then slammed in again. The prince’s moan echoed off the walls. If Redalt were lucid he’d have heard the knocking from the other side telling him to keep it down. He did not, instead picking up his speed until the slaps of his hips against the prince’s backside and the wet squelching of his cock going in and out filled the room, overshadowing the ragged moans. He nipped at the prince to keep those noises coming.
      
       Not that it was enough. Redalt’s magic flared through him. He cracked his hand along the price’s backside, sending electricity surging through. One cheek, then the other, back and forth until the prince wailed with a body shaking orgasm that made a mess of the bed.
      
       Redalt didn’t stop until he’d had his fill. Hilting the prince again once the urge came. His seed overflowed down the gnoll’s hole like one of those special cream-filled pastries. Cool air brushed past his cock upon his withdrawal, rapidly chilling the softening and sore pink rod. He rolled over, panting as his concentration fell apart and, with it, the bindings holding the prince in place. Rocky didn’t move to escape, having relaxed into his position long enough to enjoy the same bliss.
      
       After a moment, when the heat died down and their bodies collided for warmth, Rocky spoke. “If this was meant to discourage me from flirting, you’re not doing a good job.”
      
       Redalt grunted. “No, I suppose that’d be too abusive.” He sighed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing they were outdoors. He could lose himself in the stars then. “It does bother me a little.”
      
       “Why?” Rocky asked.
      
       Redalt didn’t expect that and didn’t give his answer right away. He mulled on it. Was it wrong to say he wanted the prince and himself to be a single pair? While gnoll culture didn’t shirk away pairs of the same sex, it was expected for royals to find a partner of the opposite. Passing on the lineage is important. Who was he to go against tradition? He sighed, cursing himself that even after abandoning his culture it refused to abandon him.
      
       “It makes me worry you’re using me.” He said, finally. “That I am just a distraction. And if I was, I would be fine with that if I was told.”
      
       “Would you though?”
      
       Redalt thought on it. “No. I suppose not.”
      
       After a moment of silence Rocky spoke again. “I know the way you look at me when flirting. I like that look. Weird as it is, I enjoy you being as grabby as you are.”
      
       “Then why test me? Why not ask me to be like this?”
      
       “Because you get stuck in your own head,” Rocky said, kissing Redalt’s cheek. “And you shouldn’t be when we’re doing this.”
      
      

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