The Skyspire of Aeltharion shimmered under the twin moons of Elyndor, its crystal spires reflecting the faint pulse of the Starheart, now secured in the core temple after Varn's defeat. Zevryn Thaloryn stood on the balcony, his white hair catching the cosmic wind, his violet eyes scanning the horizon as a sleek royal shuttle descended. His repaired obsidian armor gleamed, his silver tattoos glowing with starfire, a mark of his power as the Prince of Blood. Beneath his ceremonial robes, his massive cock—a tool to satisfy anyone—rested heavily, a symbol of his dominance, though his political intelligence was his true weapon. The victory over Varn had strengthened his rule, but the arrival of King Eldrin Varos, a friend of his late father Emperor Kaelion, brought new complexities.King Eldrin stepped from the shuttle, his appearance a striking contrast to his age. At sixty, as old as Kaelion would have been, he looked no older than Zevryn at twenty-two—golden hair untouched by gray, a chiseled face with sharp green eyes, and a lean, youthful frame clad in silver armor that hugged his body. His presence was regal, his smile warm but layered with a hidden intent, a fatherly affection masking a deeper hunger. "Zevryn, my boy," Eldrin said, his voice rich with nostalgia. "Your father's legacy lives in you. I've come to honor him—and to secure our empires' future."Zevryn's political mind assessed the situation instantly. Varenthia, Eldrin's empire, was a resource-rich ally, crucial for Aeltharion's stability amidst rising threats. But Eldrin's tone carried an undercurrent, a subtle probing that set Zevryn on edge. "We'll honor him by ensuring peace," Zevryn replied, his voice steady. "What do you propose, Eldrin?"Eldrin's green eyes flickered with something unspoken, his smile tightening. "A private audience, my prince," he said, his tone diplomatic but laced with intent. "Some alliances require… deeper bonds, forged away from prying eyes. Let us speak in your chambers." His words were veiled, but Zevryn's intelligence caught the hint—Eldrin wanted more than words, though he wouldn't voice it directly, his age and fatherly role tempering his approach.They moved to Zevryn's private chamber, a grand room of obsidian and starlight, its walls etched with glowing runes, a massive bed draped in silks at its center. Zevryn dismissed his guards, ensuring privacy, his mind racing to balance duty with discomfort. Eldrin's fatherly demeanor—calling him "my boy," the echo of Kaelion's friendship—made this negotiation a moral quagmire, but Zevryn knew the stakes. "Speak plainly," Zevryn said, shedding his ceremonial robes, revealing his muscular frame, his tattoos glowing faintly. "What bond do you seek?"Eldrin's gaze lingered on Zevryn's body, his youthful face flushing slightly, but he masked his desire with diplomacy. "Varenthia and Aeltharion must stand as one," he said, stepping closer, his voice softening. "Your father and I shared a trust… I seek the same with you, a closeness that transcends mere words. Let me prove my devotion, Zevryn." His hand brushed Zevryn's arm, a subtle gesture, but the hunger in his eyes was clear—he wanted to worship Zevryn's massive cock, to take it whole, though his age and role made him hesitate to demand it outright.Zevryn's starfire flared, his tattoos glowing as he processed the request. He loathed the idea—Eldrin's fatherly presence stirred memories of Kaelion, making this feel wrong—but his political mind saw the necessity. Varenthia's resources were vital, and Eldrin's subtle plea was a test of Zevryn's willingness to sacrifice for power. "You want devotion," Zevryn said, his voice hard, stepping closer until their faces were inches apart. "Then show me yours, Eldrin. But know this—I'm not my father, and I don't bend easily."Eldrin's breath hitched, his youthful facade trembling with desire as he knelt, his hands shaking as he reached for Zevryn's robes, pulling them aside to reveal the prince's massive cock—thicker and longer than any man's, a tool of dominance. "By the stars," Eldrin whispered, his voice awed, his fatherly restraint crumbling. "Such power… let me honor it." He leaned forward, licking the tip, slurping the pre-cum with a reverent moan, his tongue tracing every vein, biting gently as he drank Zevryn's essence, his worship a mix of lust and awe.Zevryn's stomach churned, his starfire dimming to mask his discomfort, but he allowed it, his political mind focused on the alliance. Eldrin sucked him deep, his throat stretching to take the massive length, slurping and licking with a hungry devotion, his green eyes glazed with pleasure. Zevryn thrust into Eldrin's mouth, his cock filling the king's throat, cum spilling as Eldrin drank it greedily, moaning like a man worshipping a god, his age forgotten in the haze of desire."More," Eldrin pleaded, his voice breaking, his youthful body trembling. "Fill me, Zevryn… let me feel your power." Zevryn's reluctance lingered, but duty drove him. He bent Eldrin over the bed, spitting on his hand to slick his cock, and thrust into the king's tight ass with a brutal force, his massive length stretching Eldrin beyond limits. The king gasped, his body trembling, but the pleasure was intense—his cock twitched, leaking cum without touch as he writhed, his mouth foaming slightly at the corners, a rare reaction to Zevryn's size and the overwhelming ecstasy it brought.Zevryn fucked him all night, his starfire flaring, his tattoos glowing as he pounded harder, his political sacrifice turning into a relentless rhythm. He bit Eldrin's shoulder, licking the blood, slurping the sweat, drinking the juices as the king moaned and foamed, his body convulsing with each thrust. Eldrin worshipped Zevryn's cock between fucks, licking it clean, slurping the cum and blood, his devotion a mix of reverence and desperation, his fatherly role erased by the night's intensity. Zevryn came inside him, his cum flooding the king, who licked it from his own skin, foaming more as the pleasure overwhelmed him, his youthful body pushed to its limits.As dawn broke, Eldrin lay spent on the bed, his golden hair matted with sweat, his green eyes dazed. "Varenthia is yours, Zevryn," he rasped, his voice weak but fervent. "Our alliance… unbreakable." Zevryn nodded, wiping his mouth, the taste of Eldrin's juices lingering, his political intelligence victorious. But the king's weakened state—his body trembling, his breathing shallow—hinted at a cost, the extreme pleasure taking a toll on his aging heart, setting a dangerous precedent for the days ahead.Meanwhile, Lysara Veyne stood in the core temple, her shadowweave armor shimmering, her amber eyes focused on the Starheart as she consulted with Selene Mirath. "The artifact's power is unstable," Selene warned, her golden hair loose, her starry eyes nervous. "We need to seal it before it draws more enemies." Lysara nodded, unaware of Zevryn's night, her mind on the empire's defense, though her pussy ached for the prince.In the undercity, Mira Tselvar moved closer to the Skyspire, her ash-blonde hair hidden, her green eyes fixed on her stolen holo-map. The nineteen-year-old thief had infiltrated Aeltharion's upper levels, her blade ready, the Starheart her prize. She overheard whispers of Eldrin's arrival—and his weakened state—seeing an opportunity to exploit the chaos.
