These Boots Are Made For Knockin’

By Cheezey

Rated MA

 

Part Two

 

With a strut in his step more confident than that of a flamboyant peacock and a grin on his face that would have put the Cheshire cat to shame, Cossack the Terrible swaggered down the halls of Castle Doom.  He had just come from Queen Merla’s ship—oh yeah, he was supposed to be finding out about a mission or something, right?  But rather than enduring a run-of-the-mill debriefing from the haughty Seventh Kingdom queen as it turned out, instead Merla had declared an irresistible attraction to him and dragged him off to her personal quarters to debrief him.  Well, more like de-boxer, actually, as he was not the type to wear tightie-whities, but regardless the fact still remained that he had just gotten an unexpected and pretty incredible lay, and that had him in a great mood.  Forget Arus and Voltron, in the afterglow of boinking prissy Queen Merla, Cossack was ready to conquer the universe!

 

Still feeling quite smug about his undeniable masculine prowess as he made his way toward Lotor’s quarters to inquire about the mission—and he hoped the prince would not be too pissed off that he was running late—he crossed paths with a pretty slave pushing a wine cart, presumably having come from the prince’s suite.  Upon seeing Cossack approach she paused, as all slaves were trained to do when a master Doomite of high station neared, but instead of bowing or even quietly scampering out of the way, she found her eyes curiously drawn to the commander as he came closer.

 

Cossack only noticed her when he was right beside the cart, and he was temporarily distracted out of his I-just-got-laid reverie when he felt the servant’s eyes intense upon him.  Unbeknownst to him, she had picked up on the magical scent of the lust-inducing odor eaters still in his boots almost as soon as he had entered the corridor, and if Haggar had been watching, the old witch would have been pleased to see that they were still working at full effect.  In fact, her magic worked so well that the longer the enchanted foam remained in contact with a pair of hot, sweaty feet, the more potent they became.  Needless to say, Cossack had them going at full blast.

 

When Cossack met her gaze with a sharp one and authoritative one of his own, the slave girl straightened to a provocative position and pulled a goblet from the wine cart.  “Would you like a refresher, Commander?”

 

Although it struck him as a bit out of the ordinary that a slave would be so forward and accommodating—most were timid and did not speak or approach their masters unless ordered to do so—he was not one to turn down free booze, especially the good stuff on the royals’ tab.  Prince Lotor’s fondness for the finest vintages of wine was a well-established fact and if she was coming from his quarters it had to have met his stamp of approval.  “Sure,” Cossack replied, and watched the girl curiously as she poured it, wondering what inspired the sudden generosity.  Once she finished pouring and Cossack reached to take the offered drink, the proximity to him and the arousing scent of his magical shoe foam was too much for her, a human of considerably weaker constitution than any Doomite, to resist, and she was overcome with desire for him.

 

As soon as Cossack’s fingers closed around the stem of the goblet, the slave girl boldly reached up and slipped an arm around his neck, and then pressed her lithe body against his, catching the commander completely by surprise.  He stumbled for a moment, sloshing the expensive wine over the edge of the cup, until he regained his balance.  Before he could say anything to her, however, she began rubbing his shoulder suggestively.

 

He glanced down at her, although he was still in a good enough mood that he did not turn down the free massage.  “Are you hoping for a good tip or something?” he asked, noticing then that her linens were tight and exposed a good amount of cleavage. 

 

“I just want to serve you, Commander,” she answered flirtatiously, and smoothed her other hand along his chest.  “That’s my job… to serve my masters and please them.”  She emphasized the word please in an overtly suggestive manner.

 

Cossack blinked in surprise, and then smirked.  Well, I must be oozing the charm today, he thought smugly as he recalled Merla and now had the cute slave girl crawling all over him like a gladiator beast on fresh meat.  Very briefly he again had the thought about his stinky feet and the odor-eaters, but he dismissed it quickly.  No, it was his irresistible charm and rugged Doomish good looks, not a lack of stinky feet!  Straightening to a more confident pose, he laid his hand upon her waist just above the curve of her hip and asked, “Serve me how?”

 

With a seductive smile she replied, “Any way you see fit, Master Cossack.”

 

Though his mind immediately plunged headlong back into the gutter upon hearing that, he did have enough of a glimmer of self-preservation to wonder for a moment if she was part of some elaborate slave ruse or escape.  Then again, they were only a couple of yards from Lotor’s door and that was the only room in that particular hallway, so that seemed unlikely, but still it never hurt to be careful.  He eyed her with a measure of caution while settling into the gentle massage of her fingers.  Casually he glanced at the wine cart and asked, “But aren’t you a kitchen slave?”

 

“Yes, but I can do other things than pour drinks.”  Her hand slid teasingly over his torso and over his hips as she spoke, distracting him further.  “Do you have a harem, Commander?” 

 

“I, uh, well sure I do.  I’m Cossack the Terrible, after all!  I’m important enough to rate that!” he informed her with bold assurance.  That statement was quite true, for Cossack did have a harem, although it was nowhere near the size of Prince Lotor’s or even King Zarkon’s more conservative collection of exotic pleasure slaves.  Actually calling it a “harem” was a bit of a euphemism.  What he had was a grand total of two concubines, a nice looking pair of slave women named Cara and Sara.  Cossack only kept women with simple names that rhymed, because he had trouble keeping track of more than two names and experience had taught him that it really sucked to call out the wrong one in the heat of passion and then have to deal with the frosty treatment from a disgruntled love slave.  Even though he was the master and they had to do as he wished regardless, it was hardly fun when they sulked about it.

 

The wine servant then planted a suggestive kiss on the commander’s lips and shamelessly reached behind his cape to pinch his behind, causing Cossack’s golden eyes to go wide in surprise.  “I can bring you drinks just as easily as I can the prince, Commander, and if it pleases you so much more,” she told him sweetly.  “Besides, I’d enjoy a position where I didn’t have to be on my feet all day.  I perform well in all sorts of positions.”  She kissed him again.

 

A wry grin crept across the commander’s features.  Distraction or not, she was hot!  “So, you want to do your work laying down?”

 

“Lay me however you want me, Commander,” she panted breathlessly, overcome completely with the insidious desire inspired by the odor eaters and Cossack’s sweaty feet.  “I’m all yours!”  She threw her other arm around his neck and kissed him deeply, tongue delving hungrily into his mouth, unable to control herself or do anything other than feed the fire of lust that Haggar’s magic riled within her.

 

Any remaining traces of restraint or question quickly vanished from Cossack’s thoughts as the simple math of “hot chick + horny Cossack = sex!” filled his consciousness.  The wine goblet in his hand fell to the floor forgotten as he drew the servant girl against him while they kissed, her wiggling curves having the same effect on him that his odor eaters had on her.

 

The clatter of the precious metal against the stone floor created enough of a noise to catch the attention of Prince Lotor inside his suite, and he opened the door to find out what had caused the racket.  He frowned in disgust when he saw that it was that clumsy oaf Cossack getting frisky with one of the kitchen staff.  “Cossack!”

 

Both irritated that he was interrupted and embarrassed to be caught by the prince in such an undignified position with a slave, Cossack lifted his head.  “Uh, hello Sire,” he said sheepishly while the girl, only temporarily distracted from her lust by the sound of Lotor’s voice, continued to cling to him and nuzzle at his neck.

 

“What do you think you’re doing with my wine servant in the middle of the hallway?” Lotor demanded, more put off by the notion that Cossack was base and classless enough to paw a servant so lasciviously in public than he was with the notion of him doing so with one of his non-harem slaves.

 

“I… uh, well, you see she wanted to try out for my harem…” the commander managed to stammer out as the girl began to nibble at his earlobe.  “And she’s performing really well,” he murmured as an afterthought, eliciting a knowing giggle from the odor-eater-enchanted kitchen slave.

 

At that Lotor rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh.  “Please, Cossack, she’s not harem material for you.”

 

Cossack frowned slightly, although his indignation was severely undermined when the slave began to deliberately wriggle against his crotch, inspiring a very positive reaction despite the presence of his boss a few feet away.  “What do you mean, Prince Lotor?  Is she one of your exclusive ones or something?”  He glanced down at her in mild alarm, ready to shove her off, drop, and grovel if necessary.

 

Lotor shook his head no, folded his arms across his chest, and asked, “Do you even know her name?”

 

Cossack glanced down at the slave in his arms.  “What’s your name?”

 

“Aramarinisi, master,” she answered obediently before resuming her nibble.

 

Upon hearing the long name, Cossack sighed in visible disappointment.  “Oh.  I see what you mean.”  He smoothed his hand down her back as he straightened.  “I don’t suppose you’d consider changing your name to Tara?”

 

“That’s enough,” Lotor interjected before she could answer.  “Leave him, servant.  I want a word with him privately in my quarters.”

 

Regretfully the slave girl released Cossack, although she eyed him with almost unbearable longing as she did so.  “Yes my lord,” she answered the prince.

 

Once he was disentangled from the amorous wine servant, Cossack took a few steps toward Lotor before turning toward the girl again.  “Hey, if you change your mind about the name thing, you know where my quarters are!” he said with a leer before obediently following the prince into his suite.  “So,” he said to Lotor as they stepped inside, “Is this about that mission to Arus?”

 

Nodding, Lotor shut the door so they would not be interrupted or eavesdropped upon in their discussion of classified information.  “I assume with how long it took you to get here that Merla was quite thorough with you?”

 

Cossack failed at stifling a knowing snicker as he answered.  “Oh yeah.  She was right on top of things!”

 

“Good,” Lotor said as he strode over to where Cossack stood.  “That saves me the trouble of explaining it all again, since you obviously have other things on your mind,” he finished on a snide note, noticing the obvious bulge that remained in the commander’s pants from the slave teasing him. 

 

When he realized what Lotor was getting at, Cossack flushed purple.  “Uh, yeah, well I’m back on track now, Sire.  Business before pleasure!  Work before play, and all that!” he assured him in a rush of embarrassed babble as he vainly tried to cover his improper state with a shift in posture.

 

Lotor was about to make another sarcastic remark when the potent magic of Cossack’s odor eaters began to work its charms on the prince himself.  Rather than cut his subordinate down with another pointed insult, Lotor instead found himself staring at the commander—and his indecent predicament—with a strange curiosity rather than sneering contempt.  A sly smile tugged at his lips.  “Are you sure about that?  You still look rather distracted to me.”

 

Feeling even more sheepish, Cossack attempted to save face by slumping down onto one of the prince’s plush couches so that he could sit in a way that made his pants look less tight.  “I—uh—I’m fine, really,” he insisted.  He still felt too self-conscious to really notice that Lotor was eyeing him a touch more intensely than someone merely looking to crack a joke at his expense warranted.  “Just tell me what you need me to do and I’ll get to it.”

 

The prince let out a chuckle, thoroughly enjoying Cossack’s abashment.  “I’m not the one who seems to have unfulfilled needs,” he quipped with a raised eyebrow.  Right after he said it he was somewhat startled at his own bluntness, as he was not usually that crude, but Cossack was hardly the type to get offended at such talk.  In fact, he usually started it.  Besides, he was so much fun to tease…

 

Cossack laughed nervously, unable to deny the prince’s statement but not quite sure how to take it or answer it.  “You know Sire, sometimes I think you enjoy picking on me.”

 

At that Lotor grinned, although it was not snide or malicious—it was flirtatious.  “I’ve said it before, Cossack, and I’ll say it again.  You squirm so well.  I can’t help myself.”  But I’d like to… he finished silently, a thought that was even more shocking to the prince himself than it would have been to Cossack had he said it aloud.

 

Where did that come from?  Lotor thought wildly even as his gaze remained fixed on the commander on his couch, tracing the contours of his body against the velvety cushions.  The only thing I want to do with that fool is give him his orders!

 

Yes, and you know obedient he is.  You can order him to serve you real well… maybe on his knees…the prince’s contrary thoughts finished.

 

Lotor’s facial muscles tightened and his pulse began to quicken.  There was something about the way Cossack was sitting, the subtly submissive message sent by his slumped shoulders and less than exemplary posture, the way his strong fingers interlaced together as he held his hands in a nervous wring, and even the way his frizzy hair spilled out from his helmet like a robeast out of control, that Lotor found undeniably sexy.  And it disturbed the hell out of him.  Yet still—he found himself unable to ignore it and powerless to fight it.

 

This is Cossack! Lotor’s rational side pointed out desperately to the inner voice of his insistent libido.  You know, that loudmouthed dumbass your father put in charge of the fleet when he ran out of competent fools to promote?

 

But he’s such a sexy dumbass, the libido argued back.  An obedient and accommodating dumbass who could do all sorts of things to please you if you took command of him.

 

But it’s Cossack!  Lotor continued to stare at the commander, trying to find any rational reason other than the obvious ones, such as the fact that he was a toad-pond born idiot whose bad jokes made him cringe, or that ninety nine percent of the time he had almost no respect for him, as grounds for dismissing his sudden and intense attraction to him, but try as he might, he found none.  No matter what he tried to tell himself, he could not deny that he wanted a piece of that dimwitted Doomite.

 

Cossack noticed the odd expression on Lotor’s face as his conflicting thoughts wrestled in his consciousness.  “Prince Lotor?  You all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” he responded quickly, forcing a neutral look.  When did it get so hot in his suite, anyway?  And why did Cossack have to look at him like that, with those innocently inquisitive, inviting bedroom eyes?

 

The voice of his lust was cruelly insistent.  He could make you feel very fine indeed.

 

“It’s just hot in here,” Lotor added in a rush, more in defiance of the naughty thoughts involving Cossack that for some gods-only-knew-why reason that he could not explain nor banish from his mind. 

 

“I didn’t notice,” Cossack replied with a shrug.  “I’m not hot.”

 

“Yes you are.”  The prince’s reply was completely automatic and slightly breathless in its unfiltered honesty.  The gods help me, Lotor thought in horror as he spoke the words and conceded defeat to his lust, I mean it, too.  For whatever insane reason, I want that horn-helmeted buffoon and I want him now! 

 

That time Cossack caught the hint in Lotor’s voice, as well as the unmistakable and predatory gleam of lust in his eyes as he looked at him, and he turned to his liege with surprise.  “Er, what?” 

 

Unable to fight his desire any longer, Lotor leaned closer to Cossack, the startled expression on the commander’s face only turning him on all the more.  “Don’t be coy, Cossack.  I know what’s on your mind.”  He eyed him up and down, allowing his gaze to linger a moment on the swell still present in his pants from the earlier encounter and smirked.  “It’s quite obvious, after all.”

 

When Cossack realized that Lotor was seriously hitting on him rather than just messing with him as he had initially suspected, he inched back slightly on the couch.  He did not want to offend the prince, both because he admired and respected him and more importantly because he did not want to wind up in the Pit of Skulls, but on the same token he did not want to give him the wrong impression either.  “Wait, Sire, I didn’t mean to imply—”

 

Amused by the way Cossack scampered back and how his cape thwarted his progress by bunching around his shoulders, Lotor crept across the cushions to catch up with the evasive object of his affections and laid a hand on his thigh.  “You’re squirming again.  I like it.”

 

Cossack swallowed as his cape stopped him short and he ran out of cushion to skitter across, coming into abrupt contact with the couch arm.  Though previously he had attributed Merla’s uncharacteristic amorousness as her finally giving in to an attraction she had been fighting since they had met, and classified the encounter with the slave as part of a run of exceptionally good luck, the commander now began to suspect something was up other than the libidos of everyone around him, although he still had no idea it had anything to do with his footwear.  “Prince Lotor, I—”

 

“You don’t need to play hard to get,” Lotor said disarmingly in his most charming bedroom voice as he crawled on top of him.  “Unless that’s what turns you on?”  The prince raised an eyebrow as locked eyes with him.

 

That time it was Cossack’s turn for his heart to pound, though it was more from adrenaline and shock than it was from anything else.  He liked Lotor and all, but…

 

“I, uh, I don’t think I’m your type, Prince Lotor,” he stammered nervously, uncomfortable under the intensity of the prince’s gaze.  He supplemented his words with a squeak when he felt Lotor’s hand smooth its way from his thigh up over his abdomen and onto his chest, where it tangled with a lock of his sandy-toned hair. 

 

“Don’t be silly, Cossack,” Lotor laughed.  “You know I can’t resist dumb blondes.”

 

Completely missing the combined complement and insult in the statement in light of his predicament, Cossack’s eloquent reply was, “What?”

 

Lotor slipped a strong blue arm around the other man affectionately and chuckled.  “Exactly.”

 

“But… ah…” Cossack’s words failed him in heavy distraction as Lotor began to plant wanting kisses along the underside of his jaw.  He let out a small whimper even as he found his eyes closing in enjoyment of the pleasant sensation, but finally he found his voice again.  “Sire, isn’t this inappropriate?  I mean, you are my boss and all…”

 

“You’ve served my father well for years in the fleet,” Lotor argued in the short breaths between kisses.

 

“But not like this,” Cossack protested, although his tone was more pleading than angry or indignant.

 

Lotor was not convinced or even swayed, made evident by how he continued to alternately speak and smooch as if Cossack had never said a word.  “Now you can serve me just as loyally.”  He lifted his head and met Cossack’s eyes with a pointed look.  “You’ll enjoy the rewards, I promise.”

 

Breathing heavily as Lotor’s hand began to inch southward again, Cossack shifted beneath the prince, inadvertently causing the pair of them to sink deeper into the cushions and him to fall more firmly into Lotor’s embrace.  He reached up to right himself, but instead found his hand caught in the thick of Lotor’s silken white hair, splashed all about the prince’s muscular back.  “I’m sure I will, but—”

 

That affirmation was all Lotor needed to hear, and he cut Cossack off with an aggressive and lusty kiss.

 

Temporarily stunned, Cossack acquiesced to the advance, and it was only after several seconds of the prince plundering his mouth with a surprisingly sweet wine-coated tongue that he came to the full realization that he was in a lip-lock with Lotor—and that he was responding to it.  Cossack began to squirm a little more insistently and threw his head back, breaking the kiss.  “Wow, Prince Lotor,” he panted, not sure of what else to say in such an awkward moment, so he just babbled nervously.  “You know, you’re a better kisser than my ex-girlfriend!”

 

Lotor’s response was to let out a confident chuckle as he began to nip at and kiss his neck instead. 

 

Cossack made a small noise of restless pleasure at the sensation, and he continued to ramble on while Lotor had his way with him.  “Then again, you’re also better looking than my ex.  She was really kind of a robeast of a woman—”  Cossack’s voice trailed off with a squeak as Lotor’s wandering hand crept across his belt and began sizing up his weapon, and not the one in his holster.

 

“Lotor,” Cossack panted, closing his eyes in desperate protest as the prince stroked and fondled him in a way that was most definitely inappropriate even if it did inspire a physically positive reaction.  The prince’s well-renowned skill with a sword was not the only way he was good with his hands.  Cossack squirmed again, but it only helped Lotor to get at a better angle to grope him and nibble on a pointy blue ear at the same time.  “We gotta stop,” the commander blurted out.  “We can’t do this!”

 

Pausing for a moment, Lotor lifted his head and looked him deeply in the eyes.  “Yes we can.  I’m the crowned prince of Doom!  I can do whatever I want—and I want you.”  The poor odor-eater enchanted man had no idea why, but gods help him, he did.

 

“But I’m straight!  Honest!”

 

Shrugging as if that was an unimportant fact, Lotor resumed groping him and kissed him again.

 

“No, really, I am,” Cossack argued with unconvincing breathlessness between hungry kisses from his white-haired would-be lover.  “I mean yeah, there was that one time back when I was a lieutenant that I went home with that guy in drag from the bar, but that was really just an experiment…”  He whimpered as he felt Lotor’s hands on his belt.  “I didn’t even get his number the morning after…”

 

“You excite me when you fight it, Cossack.”  Lotor’s voice was smooth and confident as he finished unfastening his belt and yanked it from its loops.  It was only when Cossack felt Lotor’s insistent fingers pull up his shirt to expose his belly that he realized that somehow the prince had already gotten his weapons belt off without him even noticing.  Damn, he is smooth!  I should get some pointers from him sometime.  I bet four-prong bras don’t give him any trouble, he mused with a trace of bitterness for a moment.

 

Noticing a distinct and incredibly sexy tremble in the man beneath him, Lotor flattened his fingers against his abdomen and smirked at him.  “You look quite overdressed.”

 

“I’m fine,” Cossack squeaked, inching back instinctively, only to find himself thwarted once again by the arm of Lotor’s cushy couch.  He swallowed nervously under the hungry and lustful look of his liege as he eyed him like a starving man would a juicy steak, and as he tried to sit up straighter he felt his cape, bunched tightly underneath him from all the writhing and wrestling, pull taut against his throat.

 

“Strip, Cossack,” Lotor said with unchallengeable authority, the same tone he used to convey orders to soldiers and slaves.  When Cossack made no immediate move to do so, the prince added with a devious smirk.  “That’s a royal order.”

 

“But—but think of the scandal, Sire,” Cossack argued plaintively as Lotor sat up straight above him and peeled off his own shirt, exposing his perfectly chiseled chest muscles to the commander beneath him.  “You could be accused of sexual harassment!  I mean, I wouldn’t do it,” he amended hastily to avoid giving the impression that he was making a threat that could easily get him run through with a light blade, “But you know how the rumor mill goes around here…”

 

Lotor smiled back at the commander confidently.  “Of course you wouldn’t.  Your loyalty is one of the things I like about you, Cossack.  Your loyalty and your obedience,” he amended, and gathered up the collar of his cape in his fingers.  “And your submissiveness,” he finished with a deliberate grin.

 

“But Prince Lotor…”

 

The prince raised an eyebrow.  “I gave you an order, and I expect it to be followed.  You wouldn’t want me to have to discipline you, now would you?”  A dangerous gleam sparkled in his yellow eyes.  “Because that could be arranged if you want to be a bad boy.  I have toys that will ensure you behave.”

 

“I’m a good boy,” Cossack squeaked, blanching at the thought of Lotor whipping out sex toys on top of what he was about to whip out as he fumbled with his own belt.

 

Smiling complacently once more, Lotor pulled off his belt, held it by the skull, and twirled it around once.  “Then get to it,” he said, and then flicked the leather down onto the other man’s belly in a teasing lash.

 

Cossack yelped, and then sat up.  “Yes, Sire.”  He pulled off his bracers, and as he looked up at Lotor, who watched him with expectant pleasure, he resigned himself to his fate.  It was put out or get put in the Pit of Skulls, and all things considered, Lotor’s bed—or at least his couch—was the preferable of the two.  “I am so screwed,” he sighed in a soft whisper, barely loud enough to be heard.

 

Of course, Lotor heard it anyway, but rather than get angry or insulted, his smile only broadened.  “Oh yes, you will be.”  He dangled the belt above him again.  “And don’t keep me waiting too long, or I won’t be gentle.”

 

Silently Cossack nodded, the look in his eyes pleading wordlessly with the domineering prince to take it easy on him.  Lotor found it all the more attractive and smoothed his hand over a now bare arm in a wanting caress.  As Cossack slipped his shoulder armor off, he came to the resolution that maybe it would not be so bad, and tried to look at the bright side of being made the prince’s bitch in the bedroom as well as the battleship.  He was a good kisser, at least, and he had the reputation around Doom of being a pretty good lay.

 

Still trembling slightly, Cossack finished pulling off his armor while Lotor stood to divest himself of the rest of his clothes.  The commander then carefully lifted his cape up over his helmet, taking care not to tangle it on any of the horns, and when he went to do the same with his shirt, Lotor—by then wearing nothing but the tight azure pants he wore under the rest of his clothes—let out an amused laugh.  “Oh Cossack, don’t tell me you wear that helmet for everything?”

 

“I like to be prepared,” he replied as he slipped his shirt off.

 

Lotor eyed Cossack appreciatively, finding the strange contrast of his bare chest and his battle helmet intriguing, but after a brief consideration of the logistics of allowing him to continue to wear it and the possibility of an eye being put out in the heat of passion he decided it had to go.  “Yes, well, I’m all for safe sex when the situation calls for it, but that’s not quite what I had in mind.  So take it off.”

 

“If you insist.”  Cossack reached up and pulled off his helmet, instinctively shaking his head afterward to allow his hair to fall more naturally after being pressed down for so long. 

 

“Gods, Cossack, that’s the worst helmet hair I’ve ever seen!” Lotor exclaimed.  “Remind me to let you borrow some of my conditioner.”

 

“That’s very generous of you, Sire,” Cossack replied, tossing his helmet onto a nearby chair while Lotor peeled off his pants, leaving the prince completely in the buff.  Despite Cossack’s reluctance to get in bed with his boss, he had to admit that Lotor was a good-looking guy, and he found himself a little envious of the prince’s perfectly defined muscles.  Although he was in pretty good shape himself, he still made a quick resolution to hit the weight room a little more often.  Of course, he was also pleased to note that Lotor did not appear to outdo him in one very important aspect to all men, although he was hardly lacking there either and if he had to hazard a guess he’d say they were pretty evenly matched.  And by the looks of things, Lotor was certainly not feeling shy about it given how aroused he seemed to be…

 

Pleased to note Cossack’s appreciative look at his naked form even if he hadn’t gotten around to getting his pants off yet, Lotor flipped a lock of his white hair over his shoulder and walked over to a cabinet.  He pulled something out and set it on the table beside the couch, and then beckoned for the commander to join him.

 

Not sure what Lotor was up to and debating whether or not he wanted to ask, he replied with a simple, “Coming, Sire.” 

 

At the sound of his tilted words Lotor’s grin widened once more.  “Not so soon, I hope.”  When Cossack came to his side as bidden, Lotor pulled him close, his lust intensified by the proximity to the other man’s magical shoe foam.  Cossack felt Lotor’s breath hot and heavy on his neck as he smoothed his hands along his torso and back, his body language—not to mention the erection pressing against his belly—making it clear just how much he wanted him.  The commander started to say something, but before he could, Lotor pushed him back down onto the couch and climbed back on top of him, covering him in a barrage of silken kisses.

 

“Oh, Prince Lotor,” Cossack groaned in a defeated—and more than slightly aroused, although he would have denied it—tone as he writhed beneath him, “You’re an animal!”

 

Lotor’s hand found its way to the pants that Cossack had conveniently avoided removing up to that point and easily unfastened them now that the rest of his clothes were missing.  Before Cossack could so much as eek out a word of objection, Lotor had his hand deftly down them in search of what lay beneath.  When the prince’s strong blue fingers found their prize and began fondling it, the commander let out a half sigh and half squeal, closing his golden eyes in reluctant pleasure and clenching at the other Doomite’s bare back in halfhearted protest.  Why did he have to be so good at what he was doing?

 

Inwardly Lotor had similar thoughts, although his ran more along the lines of questioning why it was that he wanted to screw the shifty, brash, smart-assed, dimwitted fleet commander’s brains out all of a sudden.  Just yesterday, or even an hour ago, such a thing never would have even occurred to him.  In fact, he never even thought of him as attractive before, but now everything about him just seemed to appeal—the unkempt mane of hair, the drab wardrobe of earth tones severely in need of an overhaul, the ditzy look in his eyes, even those silly pointed elf-reject boots! 

 

Absently Lotor rubbed his bare blue toes against the leather of Cossack’s footwear in a suggestive caress as he continued to lavish his amorous attentions on the prone commander beneath him.  It was at that moment that a light switch flipped in Cossack’s brain and he made the connection of the shoe pads he swiped from Haggar to everyone’s odd behavior.  She cursed me!  She’s pissed that I stole her odor-eaters and she’s trying to screw me by casting some spell that will get everyone else to, well, screw me!  He let out a growl at the realization that he had just been fucked by the witch’s magic, which in turn was getting him royally fucked… literally.

 

Lotor mistook Cossack’s angry growl as one of arousal, and he responded by nipping him hard on the neck—leaving a bright purple hickey and making him both twitch and squeal audibly.  He grasped at Lotor’s muscular torso and tried to wriggle into a better position beneath him, which only turned Lotor on further, especially when his thighs rubbed pleasantly against the other man’s erection.  “Enough teasing, Cossack,” Lotor said softly, but in a tone that made it clear he would not be challenged, and withdrew his hand from his pants.  “I want you out of these now.”  He tugged at the loosened garment insistently, and then sat up to speed things along in case Cossack still wanted to be coy and play games with him.

 

In a flash the commander’s olive-colored pants were at his knees, leaving him covered only by his boxers—bold black shorts decorated with horned-skull smiley faces intermingled with hearts.  Even through the haze of enchanted odor-eater-lust, Lotor could not help but laugh.  “I love the shorts.”

 

Cossack flushed defensively.  “They’re my lucky boxers!”

 

Lotor continued to smirk as he slid his hands across the soft cotton toward the waistband.  “Well I suppose they did get you lucky today,” the prince conceded.

 

“Cossack the Terrible owes many of his great achievements to the good fortune from wearing his lucky boxers, I’ll have you know,” he insisted huffily, trembling with nervous anticipation as Lotor’s fingers idled over the prominent bulge beneath them.  “Don’t mock them.”

 

“All right, if you insist,” Lotor agreed with a devious smile, inching his fingers up to the elastic holding them in place.  “I won’t say another word about them,” he continued, hooked his fingertips around the waistline on each side, and yanked them down past the commander’s knees.  Grinning appreciatively, Lotor took in the sight of Cossack effectively naked and sprawled out beneath him on the couch, helpless and by the looks of things, quite willing for some royal lovin’ despite his earlier protestations to the contrary.

 

Cossack’s pulse quickened when Lotor’s hand resumed its earlier activity, sensuously fondling him with far more skill and ease than the confines of his pants had allowed earlier, and he groaned aloud.  “You do that better than my ex, too.  Why the hell did I ever date her?  She sucked!”

 

“Which puts her a step above Merla,” the prince quipped back with a chuckle.  “I never even got any on my wedding day from her.”

 

“No,” Cossack argued with a vehement shake of the head.  “I can attest to the fact that Merla sucks,” he continued, smirking slightly as he recalled earlier, and that it was true in more ways than one.  “Don’t know if she swallows, though.”  Cossack found himself rocking his hips against Lotor’s stroking touch, and encouraging more by reciprocating the favor for the prince, who murmured with obvious pleasure as soon as he made intimate contact.  He was Cossack the Terrible, after all, and he had a reputation to uphold.  Besides, only a complete dumbass would be a bad lay for the Prince of Doom!

 

Lotor leaned closer and kissed his lips again.  “I do.”

 

“Oh, I bet you—do!”  Cossack squawked, his statement halted with a gasp of delight when Lotor fluidly shifted out of that position and enveloped him with his mouth.

 

Closing his eyes and throwing his head back against the plush couch cushion, Cossack grasped at Lotor’s silky white hair as his tongue did things to him that were both incredibly delicious and oh-so-wrong.  He knew he was squirming that time, but by the gods, he could not help it.  Okay, I can handle this, he told himself confidently.  Just because I’m getting a blowjob from the prince doesn’t mean anything… I’m still just as straight as I ever was!

 

Lotor of course had no such questions or concerns about his sexuality.  The prince had long since reconciled his occasional desire to mingle with the rougher sex with his well-known fondness for women, especially blondes, and the only threat either ever held to his masculinity was an implication that he was not up to par in the bedroom—a criticism he had yet to receive as he always went out of his way to see to it that his partners enjoyed themselves.  His royal ego would accept no less than being thought of as the best, after all.  The only question Lotor had that afternoon was why it was that idiot Cossack that he wanted, but that was a mystery to be pondered after he vanquished the flames of his lust with satisfaction, not before.

 

Cossack continued to writhe and wriggle in the throes of Lotor’s ministrations, and he distractedly rubbed at his neck, his shoulders, or whatever part of the prince was in convenient reach of his fingers to encourage him along—that is, until he abruptly stopped, leaving the commander throbbing and hard in his hand.  Cossack’s head whipped up in an instant and he stared at Lotor with wide, disappointed eyes.  “Don’t stop,” he blurted out with a pleading and almost whiny edge to his voice.  “Please?” he added, propping himself up on an elbow.

 

Pleased to see the tables of desire turned, Lotor sat up, but left his hand in place.  “And what will you do for me, Cossack?” he asked, his voice as suave and controlled as Cossack’s was flustered.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Anything I want?”

 

In the heat of passion, the commander weighed the pros and cons of agreeing to be Lotor’s love toy against the allure of instant gratification, and he debated for all of three seconds before he nodded out a vigorous yes.

 

Lotor grinned.  “I would have had you however I wanted anyway, but I like having your own words to hold you to your subservience,” the prince chuckled evilly.  “Now lay down like a good boy, Cossack, and enjoy yourself.”

 

Groaning with frustration, Cossack collapsed against the cushions as ordered and surrendered himself to the sweet pleasures offered by Lotor’s willing mouth.  “Oh Prince Lotor, you fight so dirty… no wonder you’re so good at capturing planets!”

 

Cossack then fell silent as the expert manipulations of the other Doomite’s lips and tongue took him to new highs of pleasure, and he could barely form a coherent thought let alone a sentence.  His breath grew ragged and heavy as he thrust against Lotor’s mouth, and it was only when he went to draw his legs up around the prince in the throes of ecstasy that he realized he couldn’t because he never got his pants all the way off.  Oh well, I’m getting good at doing it this way, he thought distractedly as Lotor brought him to the edge.

 

His body tensed in anticipation of delicious release, and that time when Lotor took him all the way into his mouth, he grabbed at the prince’s head roughly, holding it where he wanted it as the blinding pleasure of orgasm overtook him.  “Hot damn, Prince Lotor…” he gasped in reverent admiration, just before sinking breathlessly into velvety cushions of the prince’s couch.

 

Quite smug with how well he had seduced that naughty tease of a commander that he wanted for gods-only-knew why, Lotor afforded Cossack the courtesy of the promised swallow and then leaned up beside him, smoothing his hand along the other man’s belly and up to his heaving chest.  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Lotor purred smugly, eyeing him with truly wicked intent as both he and Cossack knew it was now his turn to be satisfied. 

 

Cossack’s golden eyes opened and met those of the prince positioned above him, and he realized in the afterglow of his oral satisfaction—even if it was among the if not the best he’d ever had—that perhaps agreeing to be Prince Lotor’s love slave for the afternoon was not the brightest thing he had ever done.  “I was a good boy, just like I promised,” he pointed out with a shifty and hopeful smile that all but pleaded with the prince to go easy on him.

 

“You didn’t promise to behave, Cossack, you promised to comply,” Lotor pointed out as his other hand snaked its way along his thigh, up, and then behind it to pinch his blue buns against the cushion.  “And comply you will.”

 

“Heh heh, sure, no problem, Sire!” Cossack said with far more confidence than he felt as suddenly a phrase he had heard many times in his early fleet days from his superiors, “Your ass is mine,” repeated itself in his mind and took on a whole new meaning.

 

Lotor’s fingers flexed against his cheek for a moment before he withdrew his hand and leaned back into an upright position on his knees.  The prince reached for something on the table beside the couch, presumably whatever he had put there earlier.  When Cossack saw that it was a glass jar, he leaned up on his elbows to see just what Lotor was up to, and his eyes went wide when he read the label on the vessel.  “Royal Jelly?”  He chuckled nervously again.  “And me all out of peanut butter.”

 

“We’re not having sandwiches, Cossack, although if I’d known you had a food fetish I’d have kept something around from lunch,” Lotor retorted as he removed the lid from the jar, smiling knowingly.  “This is the best lubricant in the Denubian galaxy.  Highly effective, very smooth, and wonderful for the skin.”

 

Cossack let out a small and apprehensive whimper, knowing full well where that was going.  “Uh, Sire…”  He sat up straight, only to find himself face to crotch with his aggressive lover, whose arousal was very, very evident in that close proximity.

 

Setting the opened lubricant jar back on the table, Lotor tipped Cossack’s chin up toward his face with his free hand.  “Much as I’m sure you’d like to return the favor I just did you, that won’t be necessary,” he informed him with a smirk.  “Nervous lovers tend to be careless with their teeth, and you’ll be much more fun when I can feel you squirm in new and different ways beneath me.”

 

“You know, Prince Lotor, I’m sure that will be fun but maybe—”

 

Again Lotor cut off Cossack’s babble with an authoritative advance, and his strong hands deftly turned him around and pushed him forward a bit.  “Now I know you excel at it, but don’t be an ass, Cossack.  You did get what you wanted, and you did promise to please me, or have you forgotten already?”  He raised an eyebrow at him in challenge.

 

Cossack shook his head an obedient no, causing his long hair to fall forward to hang in front of his shoulders, and glanced back anxiously at Lotor, whose hands were suddenly all over his backside—exploring his thighs, his lower back, and of course his very exposed blue cheeks.  Lotor was not crass, however, and even when he had the full intention of making someone his bitch, he prided himself on doing it with style.  A moment later the commander was pulled into the intimate embrace of an attentive lover, Lotor’s body hot and close against his as he favored him with a series of sensual caresses and wanting kisses.

 

Well, this isn’t so bad, Cossack decided distractedly as Lotor pushed his hair to one side and nibbled at his neck, first nuzzling it and then giving him a hickey to match the one on the other side.  He closed his eyes and leaned into Lotor’s dominant embrace, only becoming nervous when he felt insistent press of the prince’s royal pride against the cleft of his flank.  His heart skipped a beat when Lotor’s strong hands came to rest on his rear, but the way they massaged him, insistent and demanding as it was, still felt rather pleasant.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, Cossack,” Lotor said in a husky whisper, and nibbled his earlobe.

 

“Of course not, Prince Lotor,” he murmured in response, craning his neck slightly in favor of the position.

 

“Father wouldn’t keep you around unless you were good for something, after all,” Lotor added, and then broke away just long enough to retrieve the jelly jar, though he still kept one arm around his toad-pond-born, magic odor-eater-wearing plaything. 

 

Cossack hardly had the time to get indignant at the dig before the smooth sensation of the overpriced royal goo came in contact with the sensitive skin of his blue behind.  Lotor’s finger traced along his cleft, leaving a generous amount of it for whatever kinky use the prince came up with, and then after he anointed himself with it, he set the jar aside and resumed the intimate touch.  Feeling Lotor’s warm breath against the back of his neck and his finger probe him in a way reminiscent of a fleet physical—but admittedly, much more pleasantly—Cossack stiffened slightly and let out a nervous snicker.  “That royal jelly kinda tickles.”

 

“Cossack the Terrible is ticklish?” Lotor queried, eyeing him curiously and enjoying the commander’s reaction to what he was doing to him.

 

Trembling from a mixture of arousal and nervous anticipation, Cossack responded to Lotor’s ministrations by wriggling in a very enticing way against him.  “Uh, kinda, yeah.  But please don’t tell anyone.  It’s kind of embarrassing… undermines my whole ‘ruthless bastard’ image and all.”

 

After indulging in a light laugh, Lotor decided that he had toyed with Cossack long enough.  “Then I guess you had better hope that you please me well enough that I’m not inclined to spill your dirty little secret,” he teased as he aligned his body to a more optimal position.

 

As soon as he felt Lotor’s strong hands on his hips and the insistent poke of what was quite obviously not a finger against his back door, Cossack braced himself for the inevitable royal invasion of his southern territory.  To his surprise, it was not quite as bad as he had anticipated it to be with the knowledge of how well the prince was endowed.  Although the sensation was sharp and intense, and it took his breath away for several seconds after Lotor entered him, he did little more than mewl and gasp instead of crying mercy to the gods.  “Wow, that royal jelly is some high class stuff,” he panted for lack of something more appropriate to say to the man who was usually in the role of superior as opposed to bedfellow.

 

Lotor savored the delightful way Cossack squirmed against him as he began thrusting, and he flexed his fingers appreciatively against his hips as he had his way with him.

 

Cossack meanwhile found it easier to fall forward and brace himself against that couch arm—the same accursed arm that had assisted in getting him in caught up in the naughty predicament in the first place—with his hands for support, while Lotor took full advantage of the momentum bonus afforded by the gravity of the angle and ravished him all the more intensely.  Although he found the whole experience surprisingly pleasurable in that kinky, flushed-purple-in naughty shame sort of way, he still found it really hard to rationalize his earlier assertion of straightness in that submissive position.  Then again, he supposed there was really no shame in the occasional satisfying tryst with a man, especially if he was as desirable a man as someone like the crowned prince of Doom.  His breath grew heavy with arousal…

 

Cossack was not the only one wound up into a tense ball of lust.  The overpowering lust that had driven Lotor to such aggressive distraction boiled to an intense high, and the more he got of the commander’s willing, writhing body, the more he wanted of it.  Faster and harder he plundered him, his supple and pampered azure skin against the more leathery and rugged texture of that of his partner as they moved in heated urgency, both slicked with perspiration, exuding the scent of unbridled sexual excess.

 

Finally the act reached its peak and Lotor locked his hands in an unbreakable grasp upon the other man’s hips, burying himself deep within him as he experienced the high of his passion, eyes closed and slowly exhaling to enhance the sensation.  He remained that way for a moment, and then loosened his grip and circled his arms around Cossack, pulling him tight against him for a moment of full body contact.  The commander leaned into the embrace, pliant and willingly, smiling with a mixture of relief and satisfaction.  Heh, I gave Prince Lotor a pretty good lay after all, he thought smugly, and privately decided that it had been kinda fun.  Kinky and weird, yeah, but still fun.

 

Once the sexual peak of his pleasure passed, Lotor slowly withdrew from him and smoothed his hands from where they lay on his chest back along his abdomen, before releasing him entirely.  He settled back into the cushions with a complacent grin while Cossack stretched a little, and smiled back at him.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Lotor silenced him by abruptly grabbing his wrist and pulling him downward, causing the commander to fall gracelessly on top of him.  Snickering, Lotor informed him, “You’re as graceful as a blind tentacle beast, Cossack.”

 

Yet he’s still strangely attractive despite that… his libido, which should have been well sated and silent at that point but was not, whispered in his mind.

 

“Sorry, Sire, but you never did let me get my pants all the way off.  Makes it kinda hard to maneuver.”

 

Lotor smirked and slipped an arm around the other Doomite to caress him.  “You never even got your boots off… and I’d ordered you to strip.”  He smoothed down a lock of Cossack’s unruly hair as he spoke.

 

Cossack eyed the prince curiously, not sure what to make of the fact that unlike Merla, Lotor apparently did like to cuddle in the afterglow.  While the sex with him had been kinda weird, snuggling with him was definitely weird.  “Sorry,” he said, unable to think of anything else even remotely appropriate to say.  He remained there for a few moments alternately finding Lotor’s post-coital cuddle pleasant and awkward, but eventually it settled more on awkward and as a result he grew restless.

 

“So, uh, Prince Lotor, about that mission to Arus I came here about…”

 

Blinking at the unwelcome reminder of the real world so soon after gratifying sex, Lotor looked up at Cossack in mild irritation.  Why did the dumb blondes always have to babble after sex, anyway?  It was such a mood-killer.  “The mission?” he repeated, an aggravated edge to his tone.

 

The commander nodded.  “Yeah… the invasion you and Merla were planning?”

 

“Oh, that,” Lotor grumbled.  “Merla probably isn’t even done powdering her nose yet.  I suppose I should light a fire under her though.  We were supposed to leave in,” he glanced at a nearby timepiece and saw that more time had passed than he had thought, and he sighed, “a little while, actually.”

 

Inwardly Cossack breathed a sigh of relief that Lotor was getting back down to business.  “Guess we’d better get dressed and get ready then.”

 

Lotor nodded and released Cossack, although it was with more regret than he wanted to own up to.  I can’t still want that idiot now that I already had him, can I?

 

Why not? came the teasing voice of his inner lust, still being fed by the insidious power of the odor-eaters.  Now you know just how well he can serve and please you, after all.

 

I’m the Prince of Doom and I have planets to conquer, Lotor’s rational inner voice argued.  Besides, he’s still an idiot!

 

You don’t keep Cossack around for his brains.

 

I don’t keep him around as a love toy either! Lotor’s logic asserted vehemently.

 

Bet you will now.  The voice of his lust was sweet but insistent.

 

I will not!

 

To prove his point, Lotor sat up straight and faced Cossack with the haughtiness befitting his princely station.  “Get dressed and go to the command center to get me a status report,” he ordered, straightening his white hair into place as he spoke.

 

Cossack nodded as he pulled up his lucky boxers and then his pants, only to happy to obey.  “Sure thing, Sire.  I’ll get right on it.”  He began collecting the rest of his clothes while Lotor began retrieving his.

 

“Oh, and Cossack…”

 

The commander adjusted his cape and looked over.  “Yes Prince Lotor?”

 

Lotor frowned slightly.  “Er, keep this between us.  Like you said before, a scandal would be… unfortunate.  Especially for you,” he added, and as he watched Cossack finish getting dressed, he hoped that the fool would keep his mouth shut. 

 

Though he might be fun to punish anyway…

 

“No problem,” Cossack assured Lotor confidently, cutting off the annoying urgings of his inner lust.  “My lips are sealed.  Mum’s the word.  No one will hear a peep from me,” he babbled on as he straightened his helmet.

 

The prince let out a heavy sigh, somewhat regretful as Cossack started for the door, but it was only as he was leaving that he noticed something that gave him pause for alarm.  “Cossack!  Wait.”

 

Cossack spun around as Lotor walked over to him.  As he neared the commander again, standing in his sweaty boots and powering his odor-eaters at full blast, Lotor felt a resurgence of the sick sexual compulsion to throw Cossack against the nearest wall and ravish him.  Somehow, however, he managed to refrain, mostly because he was already tired and he would be damned if he would appear so desperate and undignified.  A prince had to have some decorum, after all!

 

“Yeah?” Cossack asked, trying to read the expression on Lotor’s face.

 

“You have two hickeys on your neck.  Cover them up for crying out loud.”

 

“Oh,” Cossack replied sheepishly, and adjusted his cape accordingly.  “Yeah, that’d be a sucker to explain, wouldn’t it?”

 

Lotor winced at the commander’s bad choice of words.  “Indeed.  Now go.”  Because I need a cold shower, he added silently.

 

Recognizing the gleam in Lotor’s eye all too well, Cossack was quite happy to comply.  After giving an amiable wave to the prince, he ducked out the door and breathed a sigh of relief, while Lotor did the same behind his closed one. 

 

In the subsequent moments after Cossack left, Lotor wandered over to his bathroom and climbed in the shower.  It was only after he was in the stall and the cold water hit his face that the last of the magic of the lust-inducing odor-eaters wore off, and he began to comprehend exactly what had just transpired.  I had sex with Cossack.

 

The thought was disturbing in and of itself, but with the vivid memories of actually having done the deed, it was doubly so.

 

I had sex with Cossack.

 

There was no euphemistic way to put it, no casual way to rationalize it, only the cold hard truth that beat down upon him like the cool water of his shower.

 

“I had sex with Cossack.”

 

The words hurt when spoken, and he winced before adding an amendment of painful honesty to them, confessing his sins in the confines of the shower stall to whatever forgiving god might be listening.

 

“I had incredible sex with Cossack.”

 

He grabbed his tube of shower gel and squeezed it so tightly that it burst, spewing a stream of gooey liquid against the tile in an explosion reminiscent of a physical representation of his earlier lusty tension.

 

“I had incredible sex with Cossack…” he whimpered, dunking his head under the stream of water to dull the pain, before adding one final statement.

 

“Gods… why?!”

 

As he laved the sweat of his kinky encounter off of his body with the bubbly cologne-scented soap, he realized that he had not felt so dirty in a long, long time.

 

* * *

 

Elsewhere in the halls of Castle Doom, Cossack strode at a quickened pace through the corridors, careful to keep his cape high and his profile low to avoid questions while he figured out what to do.  Haggar had cursed him for stealing her odor-eaters, and that meant he was a walking love machine that everyone wanted a piece of.  Normally that would not be a bad thing, but he had limits, and furthermore, there were plenty of individuals around that he most certainly did not want to have sex with, individuals that made that naughty encounter with Prince Lotor look very inviting by comparison.

 

He explored his options.  He could go to Haggar’s lab and return the odor-eaters, and she’d probably lift the curse.  But what if she was not immune to her own spell, and she in turn tried to have sex with him?  He blanched in horror at the mere thought.  Merla was one thing, Lotor was another, and heck he would willingly screw almost any slave in Castle Doom, but he drew the line at the crusty old witch!  No, he could not risk that, not if he wanted to maintain any shred of sanity.

 

So what did that leave him?  Maybe he could take the odor-eaters and put them in an envelope and mail them through Doom’s postal system to her?  Nah, he couldn’t trust the DPS with something that important.  Perhaps he could just sneak in to her lab instead…

 

Cossack was wrapped up in thought when he rounded the corner and walked straight into a tall, hulking form.

 

Frowning, he looked up to snap at whoever got in his way when he saw who it was—King Zarkon.  Immediately he scratched Plan A of laying into the idiot for walking into his path and instead put Plan B, grovel and apologize to the high king of Doom, into action.  “Sire!  I’m sorry, I didn’t see—” 

 

“Cossack!” Zarkon snapped sharply, about to hurl an appropriate insult the clumsy fleet commander’s way when something stopped him.  Something odd.  Something that made him stop and look twice at Cossack…

 

Though Zarkon was clueless, Cossack recognized the look that flashed through the king’s reptilian eyes all too well, and his blood ran cold with the oh-shit feeling of a lifetime, especially when his lips parted into a sly smile.

 

“Why Cossack, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 

The End… or is it?