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Kabru generally took his job as an advisor extremely seriously. He usually wouldn’t so much as dream of dozing off during a meeting. This one, however, was testing the limits of his patience.
The elven noble’s son didn’t participate in this meeting so much as treat it as an opportunity to lecture, reminding everyone of how important he was, of his family’s close ties to the queen, of his money. It was almost as if he needed to reassure himself. These sorts of men were wholly uninteresting to Kabru, he had met many before, and it took scarcely more than a glance to see every stitch that held them together. This one been doing little to prove him wrong in this regard.
The heir was, in essence, trying to talk them into accepting funding from his family in exchange for influence and special treatment in the new kingdom, which was politely (and repeatedly) refused. Melini would not surrender her independence so willingly. Emphasis that the heir was free to stay here and conduct business subject to the regulations placed on the general population did little to sway him. And so now here they were, talking in circles, trying their best to placate lest they offend the elven queen by proxy.
It seemed that during the few breaks the heir took to hear a voice that was not his own, he primarily only had interest in speaking to Yaad, probably due to his long lifespan. Kabru was left feeling largely extraneous, especially as the attempts Yaad made for his input trickled to a halt. He didn’t even have Laios here to advise, as he’d correctly foreseen the futility of this gathering and had come up with some damn good excuses so the king could actually be productive while a handful of his cabinet kept this brat entertained. The ideal outcome would have been simply been wrapping up this meeting as quickly as possible, but after two failed attempts to do so, Kabru figured the man was set on speaking his piece in full and relented.
Kabru dipped his pen into its bottle of ink, sliding the nib along the lip of the glass to remove the excess for probably the third time in about ten minutes, for lack of anything better to do. Ahead of him, the man was speaking about what his name would supposedly do for Melini’s reputation.
To his right, Mithrun shifted, crossing his legs and settling back down again. Kabru had asked Mithrun to come because he’d hoped his house title as a Kerensil would sway the heir’s favor, maybe even help convince him that Melini was already holding up fine enough as is and wasn’t exactly in need of more elven allies. The move seemed completely pointless now, and Kabru felt a twang of regret for even wasting Mithrun’s time with this.
To his left was the head of the table, a chair that sat empty with the king’s absence. Yaad was directly across from him on what would have been Laios’s left. It would of course make the most sense for the heir to speak at either the end or the head of the table, but this would be too efficient, and so he paced and gesticulated along Yaad’s side of the table, forcing him and everyone else on that half to either move their chairs or swivel uncomfortably towards their speaker. Ridiculous.
Kabru resigned himself to tapping his pen at his ink bottle again, was considering listing off capital cities in his head just to stop himself from drifting off, when he felt something brushing against the side of his thigh. He ignored it at first, but then it came again, a bit more persistent this time. He glanced down at himself, trying not to move too quickly and draw attention. Mithrun’s hand was resting there, braced on the seat of his chair, his forefinger idly tracing a pattern onto him.
Kabru looked over to Mithrun, hoping to glean what sort of intent he had with this. Mithrun simply stared straight ahead, though, his other hand flat against the surface of the table, looking all the world like he was still bored and unoccupied to an outside observer. Kabru had to give him points for subtlety for once at least, as he was quite sure no one else could even see what he was doing from this angle. The biggest risk was Pattadol, who was sat to Mithrun’s right, and she was far too absorbed in writing down nearly everything that was being said to pay them any mind.
Kabru tried to shift his attention back to the meeting, even made a show of pretending to write something down, anything to keep their treasured guest feeling important.
Just as he was starting to lose himself in the monotony of the lecture again, relax into the feeling of Mithrun’s trailing fingertips, Mithrun broke the pattern to lay his palm flat against the top of his thigh. Suddenly feeling much more at attention, Kabru glanced over to him again. This time Mithrun caught his eye, his dark gaze fixed on him with a quiet intensity.
Kabru should really put a stop to this. If he pulled away now he knew Mithrun would respect that, wouldn’t press. But, well, the heir started up another lecture on the history of his family’s line of business again, which was fully extraneous and which Kabru knew would not end anytime soon. So, why not. This would keep him awake at least.
Carefully, Kabru parted his legs, his thigh pressing intentionally into Mithrun’s hand now. A silent request.
He saw the ghost of a smile on Mithrun’s lips before his gaze slipped away, attention directed back to the man speaking as his hand made its way down, caressing his inner thigh now.
At first, Mithrun’s touch was slow, almost innocent, the pads of his fingers simply tracing him where his hand landed as he’d done before. Then, slowly, they made their way up the length of his thigh, nails occasionally grazing at the fabric now where his skin grew more sensitive, making Kabru shiver. Then he started stroking that skin with a bit more intent, a bit more pressure. Kabru was sure he could feel every time the muscles of his thigh tensed and released under his touch, was probably relishing in it. Slowly, he brought his energy back down again after that, resumed that light tracing, the scratch of nails on fabric.
For a painfully long amount of time, his hand stayed right there, hardly an inch away from where Kabru really wanted it, moving slowly, with a restraint.
Then, in a move that felt nearly accidental but that Kabru was sure was in fact very intentional, the tip of Mithrun’s pinky finger grazed the space between his legs, right where he could feel himself throbbing properly now.
Kabru shifted in his seat, just slightly, not enough to draw attention but enough for Mithrun to hopefully get the hint, to catch onto what he was trying his best to ask for with only his body.
Mithrun glanced at him, a slight quirk of his eyebrow. And this really wasn’t fair, he thought, to torment him like this when he knew he couldn’t even speak. What did he want him to do, beg?
Kabru gave a minute nod, shifted again, knowing he was pressing his luck on having someone notice but still taking the gamble. It felt like half the room was nearly asleep now anyway. Ahead of him the heir babbled on, completely none the wiser.
Mithrun looked away again but his hand started to move, cupping the space between his legs for a moment, taking in his warmth. His hand didn’t stay still long though, he started moving it in slow, even circles, a motion that felt almost like a massage. Kabru had to fight the urge to tilt his head back, let his eyes drift shut.
After a moment Mithrun pulled back again, but before Kabru could shoot him a look that was half dejection and half a plea, he felt the pads of his fingers still on him, moving lightly now. They started where his body met the fabric of the chair and traced up, coming up to the warm knot of his clit and circling it idly, almost languidly. Kabru bit the inside of his cheek nearly hard enough to bleed.
Finally, Mithrun pressed his fingers against him properly, finding the spot perfectly somehow even through his clothes, and Kabru had to bite back a whine as he repeated the motion, finally offering some relief. The fabric of his trousers suddenly felt both thinner than he’d anticipated and far, far too thick. He spread his legs even further, as far as dared to, driven by an instinctive hope that he’d somehow be able to feel the touch more intensely that way.
Mithrun found something of a rhythm in his motions as he stroked him, and Kabru had to swallow the urge to move to match them, knowing that would certainly be far too obvious. He traced the faces of everyone else sat at the table and it was clear no one had caught on to what was happening, no one was even looking their way. All there was to focus on was keeping himself still and fully at the mercy of Mithrun’s careful fingers-
“And what do you think about this, Advisor Kabru?” the heir asked him, because of course now of all times he would finally acknowledge Kabru’s existence.
Kabru knew Mithrun must have felt his thighs tense again at being singled out. Mithrun’s hand stilled on him, but remained where it was. Maybe this was part of the game now. Or maybe moving his hand away so suddenly the second the whole room had its eyes on them would be too obvious.
Kabru held the man’s gaze, unwavering. Nearly everyone else was watching him now. He needed to change that, fast.
“I think your family’s merits are obvious to everyone here,” Kabru said, gesturing widely with his hands, anything to keep everyone’s attention up and not at the slightly more conspicuous angle Mithrun’s arm was at now compared to before. “And your offer is very generous,” and blatantly self serving, “but Yaad’s earlier point must be considered. If we align ourselves too closely with the elven royal line, it would only sour our relations with our neighbors in Khaka Brud, and would ultimately only cause problems for both of us.”
Mithrun’s hand was still warm against him, perfectly still. It felt like eons passed before the heir spoke up again.
“Yes, dwarves do have a tendency to meddle in these thing,” he began, good, redirect his frustration somewhere else. “but I have considered this, and I believe that if we were to-” and oh god, he was off again now.
Mercifully, most eyes slipped off of him then, attention firmly back on the heir now.
Slowly, Mithrun removed his hand from Kabru’s body, sensing the fun was over now with their close call.
It was for the best, really. Not to mention going along with this was poor planning on Kabru’s part, because now he felt fully wound up and wanting when god only knew how long it would be until he and Mithrun could have a minute alone, one where he could have Mithrun finish what he started. The rest of this meeting was going to feel even more like it’s taking ages now.
Almost dejectedly, Kabru picked his pen back up, scribbled something else unimportant on a sheet of parchment he was sure he would never look at again after today, and more importantly tried to ignore the throbbing of his now sadly neglected clit.