Chapter 314: Funny Feeling.

Chapter 314: Chapter 314: Funny Feeling.

In Crade, it was tradition that the entire royal family be present when holding court.

Obviously, that was just one of many traditions, rules, and expectations that Loac had long since tossed aside and made no attempt to hide his disinterest in, so when Gurdet had dryly remarked that he’s sure that Loac had something better to do than sit in, he’s not sure who out of him and Xena had been more surprised when he said he’d go.

​It had been obvious who had been more pleased though.

​He’s not even there yet and Loac’s starting to regret it. Court days are always such a drag, but he figures that after all this time, he owes Xena this much. He’s done with letting her down.

​She had always liked these sorts of things; had always been good at being royalty.

​Not him.

​Too much of his father in him, so the castle says.

But dressed up like this at least he looks the part, although when he checks his reflection in the mirror, the circlet of silver perched on his head feels stupid, like it doesn’t really belong there.

Xena would probably be sad if he didn’t wear it though, so he keeps the damn thing.

​It’s funny, he’s been wearing armour so much recently that it feels kind of strange not to be.

​(He’s starting to prefer the armour, but this looks good on him, too. Really good, even.

Minus the fucking crown, that is.)

​In the mirror, he catches a glimpse of the last of the marks Khobi had left on him, just barely there behind his collar. He likes seeing them; likes remembering the fervent way Khobi’s teeth had felt on his skin, like he’d craved Loac just as badly as Loac had craved him.

​What he wouldn’t give to have his teeth on him again.

​Unconsciously, he wets his lips.

​One handed, he works open the top button of his shirt.

​Better .

​Then, after a moment of consideration, he pops another.

​For someone who claims not to want to fuck him, Khobi sure likes to look.

​...

​Well, who can fucking blame him?

​Sometimes Khobi kind of conveniently forgets that Loac’s a prince.

A rich one at that. He’s gotten so used to seeing him covered in mud that he is wildly unprepared to see him all dressed up like he’s going to some sort of party, crown and all.

So when Khobi barges on in to the room unannounced, just in time to see him pulling on a vest of all black leather and maroon stitching in Crade’s colours, there’s just no stopping the double-take.

​The third, when he catches a flash of dusky, bare skin around his collar, however, is borderline embarrassing.

​How does he look even better ?

​Sure, the marks there have almost faded but Khobi still knows instinctively where they were; can still see their shadows and feel the matching ones on his own throat.

​"How do I look?" Loac smirks, eyebrow raised as if sensing his traitorous thoughts.

Khobi gives him a dry look, fighting to keep his expression neutral as he crosses the room to his own pile of clothes.

He’s not sure how the soldiers conned him into joining them for the princess holding court today, but at least Binny’s generously allowed him to pick his own clothes for a change.

(It had gone without saying that if he picked anything terrible, it would absolutely be the last time.)

​"...What, you goin’ to a fancier brothel than usual or something?" he remarks flatly, fishing around for the one shirt Rogard bought for him that only makes him feel like a slight idiot rather than a complete one.

​" –You sayin’ I look fancy?" Loac shoots back, eyes glinting wickedly, and with his shirt halfway over his head, Khobi rolls his eyes so hard his brain hurts.

" –Xena’s holdin’ court," he continues, unperturbed, "She asked me to go."

​"And you’re actually going?" Khobi remarks, eyebrow raised; not missing the way Loac shoots a look at his naked torso and hurriedly yanking his new shirt on before his gaze can set his skin on fire.

​"Yeah. What of it?"

​"Nothing," Khobi snorts, and gives him a dry look, as he passes him by, "Your crown’s crooked."

Loac checks his reflection in the mirror, squints, and then decides, "What are you talking about? It’s fine."

​"Whatever you say," he retorts, and snickers loudly when Loac adjusts it in entirely the wrong direction.

​Now it’s seriously not straight.

​" --You fix it then," Loac huffs obnoxiously, and just glares at him impatiently when Khobi gives him an incredulous look.

The number of ways this guy can get under his skin is seriously impressive; as is the speed at which he can go from wet dream to fucking nightmare.

And apparently he’s not joking; if the way he jabs a finger at his crown is anything to go by.

So with an exaggerated roll of his eyes Khobi reaches out with one hand to nudge the damn thing back into place.

But as he does so, the tip of his finger grazes against his skin, and then catches on a lock of his fringe, and Khobi inexplicably finds himself wanting to card his fingers back through his hair.

​Soft.

​It’s just as soft as he remembers.

​Curious, almost, Loac inclines his head, and for some reason it makes Khobi want to do the same.

And just like that, he suddenly feels too close; way too close, and Khobi has to hurriedly swallow to stop the wind from shooting straight out of his lungs.

​"...Was that so hard?" Loac smirks, shattering the silence, and this feels like another one of those moments where Khobi isn’t sure whether he wants to die or kill him.

Splitting the difference, he yanks the stupid crown down over his forehead, and when Loac laughs as he ducks away, it doesn’t do anything funny to him.

​It doesn’t .

That’s what he tells himself.