Fyodor

He was dangerous, you knew that. But the lure of his danger was something even you couldn't resist.

You were the Queen of your kingdom. You had fought tooth and nail for that title and wore it as a badge of honor. In public, you were worshipped. Many adored you for your beautiful features and proper manners, someone who many young girls looked up to and many of the women envied. All the men wished they could court you, but you belonged to your husband, the King.

Secretly, you two despised one another. Well, at the very least, you hated him. It was impossible to share a bed with him, let alone agree on any other personal or political matters. You avoided him like the plague, preferring to spend your time amongst your servants and other noble friends rather than him. You barely kissed, and God forbid he suggest being intimate.

And that's where Fyodor came into the picture.

He was your courts beloved jester. Your husband had him arrive from Russia, and despite his aloof demeanor, he was quite the talented performer. You found yourself enjoying numerous shows he stared in, and eventually, you and him met face to face.

He was... alluring. No, more than that. He was tempting. Tempting in a way you couldn't stand.

He always seemed to watch you, no matter what move you made. He'd never pry his eyes away from you, his gaze a heavy burden on you as he watched you while performing. It got to the point you'd fantasize about him, wondering what it'd be like to finally have him claim you.

And one night, it finally did happen.

The wine flowed into your cup as he poured you a glass, the two of you in a much more private setting than usual. It started off simple with small touches, and before long, he was balls-deep inside of you while you screamed his name.

The rest of the kingdom was none the wiser to your affair with the jester. You acted like you hated him, complaining about his performances to your husband and others that asked. He'd punish you for those words in private, spitting in your mouth as he called you his. And fuck, you loved it.

You never wanted him to quit.

---

You gasped as you opened the door to your personal quarters, finding none other than Fyodor laying out on one of your long chairs. His legs were tantalizingly crossed, making it hard to focus on any other part of him. He smelled like honey and sin, making you clench your fists slightly from how much you wanted to pounce on him.

"You seem surprised. Worried the King will come soon?" He teased, finding genuine amusement in your shock. He slowly sat up, undoing two buttons from his shirt, revealing more of his pale skin. Fuck, he was messing with you. Right in the King's bed. Cocky bastard...

"He won't be back for another two days. You can relax, malyshka." Fyodor added smoothly, gesturing with one finger for you to come over. "Why don't you join me?"