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I put together a few snippets for a publication (more on that later) and this was one of them. It has the Chevalier de Guise (I mean Knight) kissing and making up with the Prince de Cleves (I mean Count). I redid this portion in first person. Of the pieces I submitted, it was my favorite, because I love the Chevalier! It’s a tie between him and the Marechal for my favorite character.


Warning 18+, Anglo-Saxon titles!

Albrecht Durer [Public Domain] via WikiPaintings


After the King’s death, I was kept busy with my family’s political machinations. The entire court believed the Knight of Guise had been written off as weak and left to his own devices. I, the Knight of Guise, had never been given reason to doubt this, until the Duke of Guise told me how useful spies are. It was decided I would be allowed to develop naturally into a voyeur, he explained. Then he handed me a list of times and places. Black ink for where I was to spy, and red ink for where I was to report.

Even though my spying was of vital importance to my family’s fortune, I couldn’t focus on it. The Count of Cleves was mad at his wife, thinking she’d spread the rumors of his impotence, something which she and I both knew was a lie. Caught between them, I thought it best to allow the Count to calm himself and reconnect with his wife. If things became desperate, I would intervene on the Countess’ behalf.

I continued to see her, though we were no longer lovers. It disturbed me how strained her relationship with the Count had become. He had such bile for his wife, even speaking with her, it felt like I was betraying him.

Not that he had much love for me these days. The man had been sulky and intractable, half the time locking his door and feigning sleep when I visited him. I was determined to speak with him before the chaos of the court’s journey to Chambort.

Much to the Duke’s displeasure, I told him I was unavailable after 9 tonight. If I wasn’t so useful, there would have been a row. They needed me, I’d been cooperative, and so I was given the night off. I spent my first hour sniffing around the Cleves’ quarters. The Countess was shut up in her rooms crying, and from the Count’s chamber came an unnatural stillness.

I scratched at the door, but my lover would not deign to hear me. I scratched again, then tried the door. It was locked. “Stubborn man,” I muttered, taking my key from my pocket. Surely the Count realized I’d made a copy. Opening the door, I expected the Count to say something, but he lay motionless in his bed.

When I touched his shoulder, he remained limp. My heart juddered in my chest, and I pressed his body, searching for signs of life.

“Wretched man, can’t you see I don’t want you,” the Count said.

His words cracked open the dam to release all the misery of these past weeks and I began to wail. The Count touched me, trying to embrace me as I crouched over his prone form. I knew what he wanted, that we not be discovered, and I stuffed my wrist in my mouth. The Count was making soothing sounds, but I couldn’t understand him over the blood pounding in my ears and the keening that continued in my head.

Something wet touched my cheek, and it was not my tears. I turned to see the Count’s pink and cream face hovering close to mine. Our lips met, and it had been an eternity since he kissed me like that.

“I’m sorry. It’s stupid of me to be jealous of you and my wife. After I instigated the affair, I can hardly be cross if you share her bed.” He pulled back the covers of his bed, and I could see him trembling in his nightshirt.

He kept talking about court intrigue and nonsense as I caressed his thighs, slowly revealing more and more of his velvet skin. Just as my tongue reached out to touch his sex, the Count stopped me. “No, please, before you touch me, tell me that you love me, that you forgive me for my jealousy.”

“I haven’t touched your wife since you quarreled with her. In all honesty, even talking to her feels like a betrayal.” I took his hand. “I love you, and I forgive you. Now that my family is in power, and they need me, I shall bedeck you in riches and honors, and you will be a king in everything but name.”

We kissed, and his tongue wreathed around mine. I could feel the seams of his clothing as we pressed our bodies together. “I don’t want those things, I just want you, and I don’t want to have to share you.”

The anger, the need, in the Count’s voice startled me. The man I’d first met wasn’t capable of such fire, but it seemed the gossip and rumors of court had finally cracked the Count’s sweet and noble spirit. It only made me love him more, and want to protect him. If I put it in the Countess’ head to run off with someone, I and the Count could live in peace.

I made these plans as I made love to him. I took his sex into my mouth, thrusting it deep in my throat until I gagged and the saliva streamed from my lips. I’d feel hoarse tomorrow, and every time I spoke I’d think of the Count’s soft moans, his hand clutching the back of my head as he thrust his hips upward. With one hand, I stroked his shaft, twisting my wrist as I worked my fingers up and down. My other hand I used to loosen his anus, preparing him for my sex.

My phallus ached as I thought about taking him. I moaned and worked my mouth on the Count with greater ferocity. His sex surged in my mouth, and I tasted his seed as it flowed down my throat.

It was while he lay in the afterglow of an orgasm that I liked to make love to him. I rubbed the tip of my sex against his anus, and his limbs spasmed. He feebly batted me away as I milked his soft phallus, rubbing the drops of dew I coaxed from it onto my own sex.

He hissed as I slid myself in, slowly, gently, until he arched his back allowing me to sheath my entire length in him. He gripped my hip, urging me to a hard and rapid rhythm. His phallus grew turgid and pressed uncomfortably into me. With his head was thrown back, his mouth stretched open in a grotesque contortion, he came.

As he came the second time, his anus clutched me so tightly I gasped in pain. I grunted as I spurted inside the Count. He wrapped his arms around me, undulating his hips to move me inside his body until I slipped out in a hot wash of seed.

We fell asleep in one another’s arms, filthy, exhausted. When we woke from our first sleep, we found we had become stuck together. It was difficult to conceal our laughter as we cleansed ourselves. After that I crept home to my own bed, and for the first time in weeks, I slept soundly.

About this text:

This is yet another snippet from Rosalind, only redone to submit to an anthology. I published the first chapter on Literotica, and as the response was positive, I pulled my submissions in order to publish it there in it’s entirety. Pop on over, and find out how this weird love triangle really began!

Also, I’d like to note I veered from the plot from the original novel for the Chevalier. He should have died in the middle, but I didn’t want that, he deserved some happiness, right?