Malachite | L. S [Completed]

1: Brothel Whore

Anygays, the weather?

I sort of gave up on writing mafia again cos well...

This one's g'nna be fictional historical with made up names of the places and stuff. And oh, it's abo 💀

Warnings:
• smut
• foul language
• minor violence
• mental abuse
• pissed author if you all fail to comment.

☽

The thuds of the horses' hooves echoed in the air of the summer night, skin flushed and sweaty as their bodies moved in the filth of the shadowed corner of the stable, moans muffled into each other's mouths. It was truly disgraceful of a prince like himself to be fucking one of the dukes' youngest omega son in the stable of his own castle, but Louis' heart and knot were rather fond of the curly haired omega he was hosting, blinding his own wisdom with lust. He was the magic of the night and a wish in the morning, a coy, little thing that seeped into Louis' life in the beginning of the summer again and conjured him in his spell.

"My father must be looking for me," he gasped between the sharp plunges Louis gave him, his scent as sweet as venom. Duke Styles was not a man of worry after nightfall, Louis was well aware of that, just as he was aware that the rotund duke must be drowning in Louis' father's collection of wine.

"Do not speak of your father while I do such things to you, precious," Louis husked. "I mustn't think of myself as a sinner for ruining your innocence." The omega laughed, a breathy one as Louis pushed him against the stack of hay, his hair falling out of his bun like silk. He knew the omega was far from anything to do with innocence save his cherubic face, but Louis fancied the idea of him playing a role in his mind; an untouched prize that only Louis dared to possess in the confines of his chambers, in the shadows of hallways and stables and ball rooms.

"You humour me, my prince." His words were wine in a glass, lilt sultry. Louis took him with more force, placing his palm against the writhing omega's mouth when his mouth fell ajar in a scream.

"Shh, my precious, your pretty melodies only belong to my ears." Harry's green eyes twinkled in the dim light of the burning torch, like malachite, as if to mock Louis, remind him that there had been a few before him who had heard just how melodious Harry was. But for Louis Harry was his angel for the night, a devil in the guise of an angel. "Oh, how wonderful would it be for your dearest brother to find you here, allowing me to take you any way I wish to, like a brothel whore."

"Look at you," the omega smirked, lips swollen and rubicund, words venom. "Look at you burying your knot in me like a filthy commoner tired of his wife. What will your father think, my prince? The heir to the throne, the future king, taking advantage of Duke Styles' youngest? My, my, the scandal -- ah!" Louis' skin burned with pride as the omega's words bloomed into a moan, his nails scratching the skin of Louis' back. His wetness was glorious, the warmth of his insides enough for Louis to almost knot him immediately.

"You have got a sharp tongue for a thing as pretty as you." Louis' mouth was on his skin, the softness lined with the saltiness of his sweat, scent strong and bewitching. "You are brave -- fuck, you feel heavenly -- do not forget that I am the p-prince, little Styles, and a prince shan't be talked to in that manner."

"A prince is not to bed an unwedded omega either, let alone your father's closest companion's son." Harry, as soft as he was, akin to a petal in Louis' mind, bit down onto the meat of Louis' shoulder as Louis felt him tighten around him impossibly just as Louis' knot tied them together. He went boneless against Louis', limbs wrapped loosely around Louis frame as Louis helped him into his lap, kissing his plump lips wetly.