Qatan

The heir. And leader of the Swallows.

“I will not tell you all their names, out of respect, as many were to die in the wars. I walk past their carved memorials, the ones that found themselves on the right side when at last the fighting ceased for long enough to make an hour for a decent burial. Even now I remember their faces. Their heraldic devices. The hang and the swing of their cocks as my tongue reaches out towards them, the wet tip curling to guide them into my mouth.

“A party. A faction of handsome hard men. In blue, like a swallow. I fuck my way into their midst. One night he will have me in his bed, Prince Qatan, and hold me on his cock as it softens inside me, and he will sleep beside me, his soft breath expanding into snuffles and snores as he wraps me tight, and his every exhalation tickles the nape of my neck. The next night he will share me, and they will pass me between them, these hard and handsome men, with their swords and their daggers and their armour ready to be polished with all my speed and skill in the morning; and I shall not sleep until the sperm of five or more of these warrior cocks has been wiped from my cheeks and my chest.”