Your Majesty
Title: Your Majesty
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Ohno Satoshi/Sakurai Sho
Summary: His king is rarely one to demand much deference to begin with.
Notes/Warnings: Yama Pair NC-17? Is it the apocalypse? No! It's rainbowfilling, an Arashi rare pair writing challenge! This is my Ohno/Sho offering based heavily on the Arashi ni Shiyagare episode with King Ohno and Queen Sho, but maybe not in the way you'd expect. AU with crossdressing Sho.
When the privy council meets in the daylight, Sho is outfitted as any other of the king's councillors might be. In a doublet and itchy hose, whiling away the hours as policy is discussed. Today is one of those typical days. His Majesty is in an ill temper, plagued eternally by having reached the age of thirty and offering no legitimate heir. Though the ladies of the court rouge their cheeks and smile kindly in an attempt to reach the altar at the king's side, the monarch remains unwed.
Sho holds himself to blame for this daily sideshow. Even now as the council rambles on about this or that duchess and her ample...land holdings, His Majesty sits at the head of the table looking glum. Having no planned audiences or visits that afternoon, King Satoshi has left his diadem with the Lord Chamberlain and sits uncrowned, itching at his powdered wig in irritation.
He does not look forward to returning to the Commons on the morrow and reporting that "His Majesty will see none of the suggested ladies." They will ask Sho why. Why is the man so stubborn? Has he no interest in ensuring the future of his kingdom? And Sho will have no satisfactory reply.
"Let us move on already," the king murmurs in his quiet voice. Though he strikes a regal figure when he absolutely has to, in the council chambers there is little reason to believe that the man at the head of the table is a leader of any sort. Of course, Satoshi had been a fourth son and had never been prepared for or interested in rule - the wars and illnesses that had claimed his brothers had left him with little choice but to wear the crown himself.
The Archbishop frowns. "If there will be no further discussion of His Majesty's legacy then might we turn to the other matter at hand? Piracy along the coast remains a dreadful problem. Some say that the Dread Pirate Aiba's fleet is growing larger still..."
Thoughts of the sea trap the king in another daydream. Nothing will be accomplished today, Sho suspects, for His Majesty is lost in his mind, fishing like he had in the days before the crown had ruined his life.
--
When he meets the king in his private chambers in the moonlight, Sho is outfitted as any of the other ladies of the court might be. It makes the king feel more comfortable about his predilection for the same sex if Sho is in a gown and perhaps it always will. It had taken some months to perfect his image - there'd been the matter of getting gowns tailored to his frame. He has not a lady's waist or measurements, but the wig of light curls has the more immediate transformative effect.
Sho remains unsure of his own feelings about ladies' dress, but he'd far prefer hushed whispers about some whore leaving the king's chambers late at night rather than a high-ranking and most certainly male privy councillor. He never complains and asks nothing of his king, knowing that he is already favored indeed to be the king's confidante in all things. If wearing the lace stockings pleases the overworked Satoshi, then Sho will wear the lace stockings.
The king has poured them each a glass of sherry. Though Sho must arrive properly dressed, his sovereign is out of his stuffy robes, his wig deposited on its stand so his short brown tufts of hair can be freed at last. He smiles with the look he saves just for Sho.
"I trust you had no trouble?" Satoshi asks.
"None. It is a quiet night in the palace, Your Majesty."
Sho curtseys, and he's pretty sure he's never done it properly after all this time. But Satoshi loves him as he loves no other, and all is usually forgiven. His king is rarely one to demand much deference to begin with. Sho wobbles a bit as he accidentally shuts the secret door on the bottom of his dress, but he rights himself to accept the sherry from Satoshi's outstretched hand.
Satoshi eyes him warily. "Looking a little flat tonight."
Sho chuckles, patting his chest. "Oh, shall I go back and ball up some hose and shove it in my bodice?"
The king downs the rest of his sherry. "I'm teasing." He leans forward, reaching for one of the fake blonde curls that lies against Sho's neck. Satoshi twists the hair around his finger while Sho's gaze never leaves his king's deep brown eyes.
Without his finery and his shoes, the king is shorter, smaller in build. He is not as they paint him in official portraits. But it matters little to Sho. What he has learned over the years is the depth of the king's thoughtfulness, the intelligence in him that mostly stays hidden since he does not wish to be a monarch in his father's way.
Satoshi prefers to rule without making it appear as such. He may be unwed and lacking an heir, and he may doze through a privy council meeting or twenty, but the man is far more beloved by his people than most would guess. A king needn't always be a force of nature. With kindness one might also rule.
There is kindness, too, in the way Satoshi's long fingers twist the blonde strands, his thumb skimming across the bare skin of Sho's neck and shoulders. Sho allows the king to circle him, his footfalls soft on the chamber rug as he admires the way Sho has played dress-up for him. In the day Sho leads the Commons with the strength of his speech and the confidence of a man in his prime. By night, he switches off and becomes putty in the hands of a man his polar opposite.
Sho finishes his sherry, returning the glass to the table. He knows without asking that His Majesty is needy tonight. He usually is when the council spends most of the day pressing him to marry, and he only defies them further by ensuring Sho spends the evening with him. Not that the council knows this is the case. Sho turns so that he might be unlaced, but Satoshi stops him with a warm palm to the space between his shoulder blades.
"If it pleases Your Majesty," Sho murmurs with a nod.
It stays on then. The constant nagging about a bride has gotten to him, and he wants the feminine guise to remain in place tonight. He feels the king's lean body behind him, pushing them toward the bed. As Sho mounts the mattress, he inhales in anticipation, positioning himself on his hands and knees. He faces the bed linens, curled hair not his own hanging down in his face as he attempts to remain steady.
Satoshi attends to him, sliding off the buckled shoes one at a time. He hears them each land on the rug as the king tosses them aside. Sho shuts his eyes, breath coming out in a hiss as the king's fingers dance up the back of his legs, teasing through the lace stockings. His Majesty may snooze through matters of state, but matters of this nature are far more to his liking.
He's a methodical man, tracing all the way to Sho's bare thighs where the lace ends. The heavy brocade fabric lifts as Satoshi moves the dress aside. "Thank you" is all Satoshi says to him before their coupling.
Thank you for continuing the charade. Thank you for all that you do for me. He doesn't need to say it out loud. If it pleases His Majesty and sets him at ease, then Sho will do it with no hesitation.
And there is little hesitation once the king is behind him minutes later, hands firmly around Sho's hips to bring their bodies together. Sho's fingers gather in the bed linens, balling them in his fists. To be favored so by the most powerful man in the realm fuels Sho's pleasure all the more, his breath coming in gasps from both the feeling of Satoshi moving inside him as well as the way the dress clings to his body in a manner his usual attire is not designed to do.
Satoshi's early gentleness fades as the tension mounts, both men driven closer to the edge. His frustration and the burdens of the crown are obvious as he slowly loses his usual calm, fingers ripping at the lacing on the back of Sho's dress while the fingers of his other hand dig into Sho's hip, claiming and demanding more. The king doesn't utter a word, but Sho knows everything he means to say with each punctuated thrust of his hips.
Completion nears, and Sho's seeing stars. He wants the king to come, begs for it in a manner that seems more like an order than a request. Satoshi acquiesces despite Sho's rudeness, spilling into Sho with one last satisfied movement.
His wig is askew when he prepares to depart, wishing there was some way to lengthen the time they could spend together. But the king's guards tend to check in on him at least once during the night for his safety. Satoshi's cheeks are pink, and his eyes are tired, but he gently pulls Sho's curls back into place so their secret remains.
"I think tomorrow I shall go fishing," Satoshi decides, crossing his arms to admire the way he's put Sho back together as a passable lady after he'd so thoroughly deconstructed him.
"But Your Majesty, the threat of piracy..."
Satoshi squeezes his hand. "Let me at least fall asleep with the thought in mind, won't you? I promise, I'll be a well-behaved little king come daybreak. But at least for tonight, let me dream of you and let me dream of fishing."
Sho squeezes in return. "And where do I fall? Before or after fishing?"
His Majesty releases him with a playful shove toward the secret door. "I'll never tell."
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Ohno Satoshi/Sakurai Sho
Summary: His king is rarely one to demand much deference to begin with.
Notes/Warnings: Yama Pair NC-17? Is it the apocalypse? No! It's rainbowfilling, an Arashi rare pair writing challenge! This is my Ohno/Sho offering based heavily on the Arashi ni Shiyagare episode with King Ohno and Queen Sho, but maybe not in the way you'd expect. AU with crossdressing Sho.
When the privy council meets in the daylight, Sho is outfitted as any other of the king's councillors might be. In a doublet and itchy hose, whiling away the hours as policy is discussed. Today is one of those typical days. His Majesty is in an ill temper, plagued eternally by having reached the age of thirty and offering no legitimate heir. Though the ladies of the court rouge their cheeks and smile kindly in an attempt to reach the altar at the king's side, the monarch remains unwed.
Sho holds himself to blame for this daily sideshow. Even now as the council rambles on about this or that duchess and her ample...land holdings, His Majesty sits at the head of the table looking glum. Having no planned audiences or visits that afternoon, King Satoshi has left his diadem with the Lord Chamberlain and sits uncrowned, itching at his powdered wig in irritation.
He does not look forward to returning to the Commons on the morrow and reporting that "His Majesty will see none of the suggested ladies." They will ask Sho why. Why is the man so stubborn? Has he no interest in ensuring the future of his kingdom? And Sho will have no satisfactory reply.
"Let us move on already," the king murmurs in his quiet voice. Though he strikes a regal figure when he absolutely has to, in the council chambers there is little reason to believe that the man at the head of the table is a leader of any sort. Of course, Satoshi had been a fourth son and had never been prepared for or interested in rule - the wars and illnesses that had claimed his brothers had left him with little choice but to wear the crown himself.
The Archbishop frowns. "If there will be no further discussion of His Majesty's legacy then might we turn to the other matter at hand? Piracy along the coast remains a dreadful problem. Some say that the Dread Pirate Aiba's fleet is growing larger still..."
Thoughts of the sea trap the king in another daydream. Nothing will be accomplished today, Sho suspects, for His Majesty is lost in his mind, fishing like he had in the days before the crown had ruined his life.
--
When he meets the king in his private chambers in the moonlight, Sho is outfitted as any of the other ladies of the court might be. It makes the king feel more comfortable about his predilection for the same sex if Sho is in a gown and perhaps it always will. It had taken some months to perfect his image - there'd been the matter of getting gowns tailored to his frame. He has not a lady's waist or measurements, but the wig of light curls has the more immediate transformative effect.
Sho remains unsure of his own feelings about ladies' dress, but he'd far prefer hushed whispers about some whore leaving the king's chambers late at night rather than a high-ranking and most certainly male privy councillor. He never complains and asks nothing of his king, knowing that he is already favored indeed to be the king's confidante in all things. If wearing the lace stockings pleases the overworked Satoshi, then Sho will wear the lace stockings.
The king has poured them each a glass of sherry. Though Sho must arrive properly dressed, his sovereign is out of his stuffy robes, his wig deposited on its stand so his short brown tufts of hair can be freed at last. He smiles with the look he saves just for Sho.
"I trust you had no trouble?" Satoshi asks.
"None. It is a quiet night in the palace, Your Majesty."
Sho curtseys, and he's pretty sure he's never done it properly after all this time. But Satoshi loves him as he loves no other, and all is usually forgiven. His king is rarely one to demand much deference to begin with. Sho wobbles a bit as he accidentally shuts the secret door on the bottom of his dress, but he rights himself to accept the sherry from Satoshi's outstretched hand.
Satoshi eyes him warily. "Looking a little flat tonight."
Sho chuckles, patting his chest. "Oh, shall I go back and ball up some hose and shove it in my bodice?"
The king downs the rest of his sherry. "I'm teasing." He leans forward, reaching for one of the fake blonde curls that lies against Sho's neck. Satoshi twists the hair around his finger while Sho's gaze never leaves his king's deep brown eyes.
Without his finery and his shoes, the king is shorter, smaller in build. He is not as they paint him in official portraits. But it matters little to Sho. What he has learned over the years is the depth of the king's thoughtfulness, the intelligence in him that mostly stays hidden since he does not wish to be a monarch in his father's way.
Satoshi prefers to rule without making it appear as such. He may be unwed and lacking an heir, and he may doze through a privy council meeting or twenty, but the man is far more beloved by his people than most would guess. A king needn't always be a force of nature. With kindness one might also rule.
There is kindness, too, in the way Satoshi's long fingers twist the blonde strands, his thumb skimming across the bare skin of Sho's neck and shoulders. Sho allows the king to circle him, his footfalls soft on the chamber rug as he admires the way Sho has played dress-up for him. In the day Sho leads the Commons with the strength of his speech and the confidence of a man in his prime. By night, he switches off and becomes putty in the hands of a man his polar opposite.
Sho finishes his sherry, returning the glass to the table. He knows without asking that His Majesty is needy tonight. He usually is when the council spends most of the day pressing him to marry, and he only defies them further by ensuring Sho spends the evening with him. Not that the council knows this is the case. Sho turns so that he might be unlaced, but Satoshi stops him with a warm palm to the space between his shoulder blades.
"If it pleases Your Majesty," Sho murmurs with a nod.
It stays on then. The constant nagging about a bride has gotten to him, and he wants the feminine guise to remain in place tonight. He feels the king's lean body behind him, pushing them toward the bed. As Sho mounts the mattress, he inhales in anticipation, positioning himself on his hands and knees. He faces the bed linens, curled hair not his own hanging down in his face as he attempts to remain steady.
Satoshi attends to him, sliding off the buckled shoes one at a time. He hears them each land on the rug as the king tosses them aside. Sho shuts his eyes, breath coming out in a hiss as the king's fingers dance up the back of his legs, teasing through the lace stockings. His Majesty may snooze through matters of state, but matters of this nature are far more to his liking.
He's a methodical man, tracing all the way to Sho's bare thighs where the lace ends. The heavy brocade fabric lifts as Satoshi moves the dress aside. "Thank you" is all Satoshi says to him before their coupling.
Thank you for continuing the charade. Thank you for all that you do for me. He doesn't need to say it out loud. If it pleases His Majesty and sets him at ease, then Sho will do it with no hesitation.
And there is little hesitation once the king is behind him minutes later, hands firmly around Sho's hips to bring their bodies together. Sho's fingers gather in the bed linens, balling them in his fists. To be favored so by the most powerful man in the realm fuels Sho's pleasure all the more, his breath coming in gasps from both the feeling of Satoshi moving inside him as well as the way the dress clings to his body in a manner his usual attire is not designed to do.
Satoshi's early gentleness fades as the tension mounts, both men driven closer to the edge. His frustration and the burdens of the crown are obvious as he slowly loses his usual calm, fingers ripping at the lacing on the back of Sho's dress while the fingers of his other hand dig into Sho's hip, claiming and demanding more. The king doesn't utter a word, but Sho knows everything he means to say with each punctuated thrust of his hips.
Completion nears, and Sho's seeing stars. He wants the king to come, begs for it in a manner that seems more like an order than a request. Satoshi acquiesces despite Sho's rudeness, spilling into Sho with one last satisfied movement.
His wig is askew when he prepares to depart, wishing there was some way to lengthen the time they could spend together. But the king's guards tend to check in on him at least once during the night for his safety. Satoshi's cheeks are pink, and his eyes are tired, but he gently pulls Sho's curls back into place so their secret remains.
"I think tomorrow I shall go fishing," Satoshi decides, crossing his arms to admire the way he's put Sho back together as a passable lady after he'd so thoroughly deconstructed him.
"But Your Majesty, the threat of piracy..."
Satoshi squeezes his hand. "Let me at least fall asleep with the thought in mind, won't you? I promise, I'll be a well-behaved little king come daybreak. But at least for tonight, let me dream of you and let me dream of fishing."
Sho squeezes in return. "And where do I fall? Before or after fishing?"
His Majesty releases him with a playful shove toward the secret door. "I'll never tell."