Your Wish is My Fantasy

     “I knew the role was perfect for you,” Jarin swooned, watching the Prince Charming dismount his ebony steed like he had just come in from the royal parade. Jarin took the reins as any good groom would, more than happy to do all of the grunt work. It’s what he was here for, after all. For the best braidwork on the grounds and to cheer Tristan on (even though he needed no motivation to do well). “Don’t you just love themed shows like this? Look how cool everyone looks,” Jarin continued to swoon over all the high society-looking contestants. He sighed with a smile on his lips, wishing he could have competed just so he could have dolled up one of his horses like this too.

     A daydream as they walked from the arena to the stalls…

     “Excuse me, sir,” Jarin poked his head into the stall of a young man, tending to his dark steed. “I just wanted to wish you well in your class,” he extended his well wishes to the competition. 

     Up, stood a towering man of slender but toned build, adjusting his necktie. He had a stern set of dark eyes the same as his head of dark brown hair that could not be tamed by the stroke of his hand. He had a rigid look to his face but out quivered a subtle smirk as he examined the shorter man before him. “I appreciate the gesture. We will not need such things as a wish. But if you believe in such things, perhaps you should hang onto your wishes for yourself.” 

     Jarin’s cheeks warmed at such words, retreating from the stall’s opening with a coy smile. “Maybe I should then,” he chuckled before giving a bow and another look at the handsome man before he whisked down the aisle way. 

     Jarin wasn’t secretive about his interests in the man, watching his performance from the sides. He could be warming up his own ride but he couldn’t take his eyes away. He gasped, catching the eyes of the man, so bold as to look away from his own performance. What beauty between man and animal to be able to have such harmony. For a moment as they held each other’s gaze, Jarin felt like the man was only performain for him, spotlighted by the sun above and circled by the clouds of heaven. The horses’ coat glistened like a babbling brooke, the man’s eyes so captivating, twinkling with- was that mischief? Impossible for such an angelic being. 

     Tristan smirked, putting his hand onto those lucious hips, pulling Jarin closer and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Something on your mind?” he murmured into his ear, expecting him to absolutely melt. His curiosity piqued as Jarin turned around in his arms and he started undoing the buttons of his vest. An eyebrow shot up, “Someone’s feeling awfully forward.” But he was so curious to see where this was going. 

     “Shhhhh,” Jarin tapped a ginger on his lips. “I have an idea…” he whispered. He let his eyelids gently close, returning to his wonderful daydream. 

     “Next up is Prince Lord Jarin of the Abalone Kingdom.” 

     Jarin returned the look to the man, catching his surprise that Jarin was no meager peasant. No, he was a Prince Lord. Even more flashy than a regular Prince. Everyone wanted to be a Prince Lord but there could only be one in the kingdom. And one that rode his immaculate white steed that carried himself with pride and dignity. Floating through the clouds that they came on. Jarin caught all the eyes around the arena but when he looked up, he only saw those beautiful brown eyes looking back at him. His heart swooned and fluttered about in his ribs. 

     Jarin turned around again, fluttering his lashes at Tristan with a smile on his lips. He stepped forward, bashfully at first but then tipping his chin up, flicking his hair out of his eyes to better see Tristan. “Hello, fellow nobleman. Have you come to meet me, the Prince Lord?” Jarin slipped a finger into the bottom slit of Tristan’s shirt where the buttons came together. With a gentle pull, he started to untuck the shirt, still red on the cheeks but he continued. “I don’t think I’ve laid eyes on such a beautiful man in all the lands,” he swooned. “Such a master of horses, such a gentle touch to tame such a magnificent beast. Perhaps, you have something you can teach me…” 

     Jarin’s gentle touch rubbed over the beltline of Tristan’s breeches and further down, finding the magnificent beast to be handled. Jarin’s half-lidded eyes were glossed over in a haze, finding peace in some kind of fantasy realm he was painting for himself. Just one more facet of Jarin that Tristan couldn’t have predicted. But then again, no matter how shy and bashful he might present himself outside of the bedroom, he had yet to find the limits behind closed doors if he could just get him talked out of his pants. This however, didn’t seem like he needed any negotiations. Hello, Prince Lord (whatever) Jarin. 

     “You wish to teach me?” Jarin asked, biting his lip as the man approached. 

     “I’ve told you before about those wishes,” the man whispered, tucking Jarin’s hair behind his ear. His chest so close and warm, Jarin could feel his breath across his cheek. “They are for you to make use of, Prince Lord Jarin. Is that what you wish for?”

     Jarin shivered from his touch down his arm. Just his fingertips alone made him lean in closer, not wanting a moment apart from his touch. 

     “Yeeeeesssssss,” Jarin moaned loudly over Tristan. In his throes of fantasy, he couldn’t keep his hands off Tristan, pulling his ruffled shirt open. Tristan was hardly but a prop at this point, getting escorted to a day lounge in the room he had booked for the show. Jarin insisted he didn’t need the extra guidance or motivation. He wasn’t even going to take the time to get either one of them undressed. No, no, no, in his words, “I need this. Just-” and there was no other reason given. The lube hardly had time to warm before Jarin was rocking his way down into Tristan’s lap, moaning on about something to do with a wish. 

     Jarin gasped and panted in between the hot kisses on his lips. Where he would normally shy away, this man had him by his eyes alone. He felt every move of the man, the harmony he had with his body, how a subtle thrust of his hip filled him with a sensation of euphoria. “I have to know,” Jarin panted. “I wish to know. What is your name so that I may feel it on my tongue. I must know.”

     The man simply caressed Jarin’s cheek, letting his hand slide down his neck and gave his bowtie the gentlest pull like a cue on the reins. “Your wish is my desire…” 

     “Oh my god, Tristaaaann,” Jarin moaned louder, pounding his ass down his dick. He fucked him with the fury that he might just take his dick off and keep it for himself. Sweat rolled down his thighs and arms as he didn’t let up for a second. Not even as the moans became shorter, louder, and more high pitched as he worked himself into a heated orgasm. “Mmmmmn woooow,” he moaned, still rocking his hips for Tristan. He had ascended to his cloud kingdom where he and his handsome man walked amongst the rainbows and swam in the waters of bliss. He swooned warmly again, feeling how warm his body felt, looking down at Tristan in reality, or may fantasy, the line was blurred. He stroked his cheek and then his lips before leaning down, pulling his hair back again. Those curls that couldn’t be tamed. “We have to do more of these shows…” He kissed him hot and sloppy, still somewhere in the fog of fantasy. 

     Tristan smirked, pulling his thighs towards him so he could have a squeeze. Whatever the hell all this dress up had over Jarin…maybe he was right… Parading around in a Halloween costume might have its unforeseen benefits here…