Philip/Henry, Philip/Richard: kink
Feb. 9th, 2007 11:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparklebutchTitle: Kink # Voyeur
Fandom: The Lion In Winter
Pairing: Philip/Henry hinted, Philip/Richard past and UST
Note: inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50kinkyways
Philip has always been cruel; with his clever tongue, with his bedroom eyes, he could bring kings to their knees. He could break Richard's heart like an iron glove crashing down on an icicle in mid-winter. And it's with that sweet, lying tongue, that he is now twisting his thorns into Henry's heart. Turns those same seductive eyes at the father as he did the son.
The flirt! Richard watches and his heart burns with envy, with rage. With lust. Every sin in the book is incurred upon his head when it comes to Philip. Has the man no shame? He compliments Henry, and to Richard's jealous eyes it seems as if the old womaniser is gladly diving into the king-boy's net. Henry laughs, his strong, warm laugh, and Philip licks his full, soft lips, and behind a curtain Richard bites down on his own lips, curls his hand furiously around the hilt of his gem-adorned dagger, and seethes.
More than he hates what Philip does, he hates himself for having fallen for the man. And more than that, he hates that he still is smitten. That instead of charging forward with a war cry on his lips, he's cowering here, watching from afar, the tightening and warmth between his legs increasing by the moment. Philip lays one treacherous, delicate hand on Henry's, and the old fool suspects nothing, but Richard knows. Knows that touch, knows the gentleness, the infinite softness with which these sword-calloused fingers can caress, promise, tantalise, all with a single stroke. Anxious, fury blinding his sight and his hands, Richard fumbles with the strings, attempting to relieve himself of the leather pressing against him. The crown, the kingdom, the glory, those could all wait. He hears Philip's delighted chuckle just as he grasps his hot, hard flesh, and it keeps him aching, keeps him yearning, his desire not dampened even when he hears Henry's answering laugh.
Fandom: The Lion In Winter
Pairing: Philip/Henry hinted, Philip/Richard past and UST
Note: inspired by
50kinkywaysPhilip has always been cruel; with his clever tongue, with his bedroom eyes, he could bring kings to their knees. He could break Richard's heart like an iron glove crashing down on an icicle in mid-winter. And it's with that sweet, lying tongue, that he is now twisting his thorns into Henry's heart. Turns those same seductive eyes at the father as he did the son.
The flirt! Richard watches and his heart burns with envy, with rage. With lust. Every sin in the book is incurred upon his head when it comes to Philip. Has the man no shame? He compliments Henry, and to Richard's jealous eyes it seems as if the old womaniser is gladly diving into the king-boy's net. Henry laughs, his strong, warm laugh, and Philip licks his full, soft lips, and behind a curtain Richard bites down on his own lips, curls his hand furiously around the hilt of his gem-adorned dagger, and seethes.
More than he hates what Philip does, he hates himself for having fallen for the man. And more than that, he hates that he still is smitten. That instead of charging forward with a war cry on his lips, he's cowering here, watching from afar, the tightening and warmth between his legs increasing by the moment. Philip lays one treacherous, delicate hand on Henry's, and the old fool suspects nothing, but Richard knows. Knows that touch, knows the gentleness, the infinite softness with which these sword-calloused fingers can caress, promise, tantalise, all with a single stroke. Anxious, fury blinding his sight and his hands, Richard fumbles with the strings, attempting to relieve himself of the leather pressing against him. The crown, the kingdom, the glory, those could all wait. He hears Philip's delighted chuckle just as he grasps his hot, hard flesh, and it keeps him aching, keeps him yearning, his desire not dampened even when he hears Henry's answering laugh.
