I was flattered that he'd singled me out for attention. Who wouldn't be?

He'll hate me for saying this, but there's a vulnerability in JC that he works hard to mask. There's a guardedness in him, too, a wariness of others that comes from being a king, which I understand. He's sensitive about what people want from him, because prayers and requests for favors are non-stop.

Even though I knew this about him, even though I tried to be careful of his feelings, it was all too easy for me to hurt him in a forgetful moment. I'd cringe a second too late, realizing what I'd done or said. It was no wonder he was wary of me; all I seemed to do was hurt him.

I was giddy with desire for him, couldn't get my fill of him.

I'd sit in meetings, my mind on JC rather than the plans for a new civic building. I'd rub my cock under the table, wondering if the old fools would be scandalized if I pulled myself out, there and then, and took myself in hand while they watched. Other times I couldn't wait until the meeting was over; fully hard and throbbing, I'd mutter vague excuses and disappear into an adjoining workroom for an agonizing ten minutes or so, hearing discreet coughs on the other side of the door. How many times had I done that?

I was consumed by him, utterly consumed.

When JC and I hit what seemed destined to be our last rocky patch, I sought out my oldest friend and closest advisor.

"I'm not sure what I can do or say to comfort you; you've been moodier and more unresponsive than usual." Chris shook his head.  "I wouldn't have believed it was possible, but I see that it is."

I just nodded, because he was right. I'd been snapping at the staff, and generally snarling at anyone who tried to help. I was being a general pain in the ass.

"Majesty...Justin..." He had that lecturing tone in his voice. I shot him a look that dared him to say anything further. He gave one of his long-suffering sighs, and picked up his fork.

I watched Chris out of the corner of my eye, and glanced down when he looked at me. I was miserable.

"OK, let's talk." He slammed his fork on the table, probably a little harder than intended. "What happened."

I shook my head. "I can't talk about it yet. I just. I can't. Not yet."

Chris leaned back in his chair, getting settled for a long talk.

"You wouldn't understand anyway," I continued. "You didn't approve when we were together. Why are you comforting me now?  Here to gloat?"

"Do I look like I'm gloating?" he answered. "I'm here because you sent for me, and you're hurting. I knew it would be hard for you."

"It hurts, Chris. I couldn't be what he wanted. As much as I loved him - still love him - as much as I loved being with him, I just wasn't what he needed." I stared at my plate.

Chris smiled but he looked sad. "I want you to be happy Justin, I really do." He took a breath and shrugged lightly. "He made you happy most of the time." He watched my face carefully. "You two had fights, I know."

I laughed for the first time since Chris had arrived. "When we clicked it was wonderful. When we didn't. We'd work it out and things would be good for awhile. But lately we hit this rocky patch where nothing was going right. I just seemed to do and say all the wrong things. I couldn't please him."

"But you love him."

"I do."

Chris cocked his head. "I didn't realize you were so--"

"Greedy? Needy?" I kept my eyes on my plate. "I am. I want to be everything to him."

"Can you do that? You both have responsibilities that have nothing to do with the other." He paused a moment. "And you have the queen," he said softly. I know I winced when he said it, and I let him think whatever he wanted.

How could I tell him that I hadn't been with my wife in weeks? That every overture was met with either a light laugh and a promise that things would get better, or a creased brow, and the complaint that it was all I ever thought about? She'd been withdrawn since the baby died, and I know that she was still trying to get over it, but I just wanted to be close to her. I knew she still loved me, but I needed to be touched.

I ran a hand over my eyes, thinking about it. Fuck, not only was I greedy and needy, I could add desperate to the list. Maybe that's why JC was drawing away from me. Or was I pushing him away? I was so fucking confused I didn't know anymore. Did he think I only wanted sex from him?

"I know I have Britney, but when JC and I are together, I want to be everything to him." I smiled, a sad smile. "Am I actually talking to you about this?" Embarrassed, I raised my eyes to Chris' face and down again.

Chris grinned, letting some of the tension ease between us. "Am I actually listening to this." He shook his head, smiling. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I don't want you to be afraid to come to me if you need to talk about him. Anyway," he scowled - not convincingly - I'm here if you need me."

I smiled. "The offer means a lot. I know this is hard for you, which makes me even more appreciative. Thank you."

"Just remember that you can't be everything to him, Justin, I don't think that's possible. He'll share things with others that he doesn't with you, and you'll do the same. Consider yourself lucky, if you like, he's an old friend and we barely speak." I wasn't convinced. "What' so bad about sharing the good things with him?" Chris asked.

I gave a short laugh that sounded more like a bark. "What am I then? A fair-weather friend. A bed-warmer. He can't rely on me in a crisis, but we can share a few laughs when he's feeling better. I want to be more important to him than that."

"You want more."

I nodded. "I want more." I gestured between the two of us. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't bother you with this."

With infinite patience, Chris smiled. "Justin, I've been your advisor since you were fourteen, but I'm also your friend and I love you.  Of course you can bother me, that's what I'm here for."

I smiled. "See? That's what I mean, that's what I've been trying to tell you. If JC stood at the edge of the world and threatened to jump, I don't think I could convince him otherwise. In fact, he'd probably jump to get away from me." I rubbed my head, then my eyes in frustration and fatigue. "Gods, don't pay any attention to me, I'm just feeling supremely sorry for myself."

Chris gave me an honest and open evaluation. "That's obsessive, Justin. Should I be worried?"

"I think it's too late for that," I replied.

When the new priest entered JC's life, it was the beginning of the end for me.

"I talked with one of my new priests today," JC said, stretching out on the bed. He laced his fingers behind his head.

"Oh?" I unrolled a scroll, glanced over it for changes. "What's he like?" I scribbled on the scroll, then glanced up when I realized that JC was taking a while to answer.

"He's...interesting," he finally said.

I felt a knot of tension gathering in my stomach. "Interesting? How so?" I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer.

"He's just interesting. He's got a good head on his shoulders. And even though he's a priest in the palace temple, he makes personal offerings to me. Good ones, too."

"Really." I hated this. Hated being jealous, hated showing my jealousy.

"You have nothing to be jealous of, you know," JC said, his eyes dancing. "I'm with you, not him."

"I'm not jealous," I said, careful not to sound snappish.

"I think you are. I don't mind, I like it. Shows you still care, that you still want me." JC seemed amused, but his eyes softened somewhat.

"What kind of offerings does he leave?" Why was I asking, did I really want to know? Yes. Yes, I did.

JC shrugged lightly. "He's written poems to me. He's given me exotic fruits, and pieces of the most wonderful jewelry. He crafts it himself. He's quite talented."

I felt sick. Handcrafted jewelry. How could I compete with that? My head was spinning.

"I'm just telling you this to make you jealous, of course," JC teased. "I love it when you get that 'Get my sword' look in your eyes."

I laughed, letting a little of the tension drift out of my body. The spinning of my head slowed, and I felt the night might be a good one after all.

"I'm going to do something special for him," JC announced.

I was suddenly flat on my back again. "Special?"

JC nodded. "In exchange for the jewelry. It's only fair; he goes to such trouble," JC said reasonably.

"Of course." I scratched angrily on a piece of parchment. "He goes to such trouble."

"He does," JC confirmed. He held out a hand, one finger of which was banded with a tracery of iron and silver.

I blinked. I had to admit, it was a lovely ring, and the craftsmanship involved in combining the two metals was considerable. "Very pretty," I said grudgingly.

You're just jealous," JC said, standing.

Pulling my shirt out of my pants, I risked a smile. "Maybe."

"Not tonight," JC said, indicating my erection. He gave me a quick kiss.

"But--"

I'm kind of tired, it's been a long day." His blue-grey eyes swept over me. "You're my favorite," he said.

"Am I?" I'm as transparent as water. I'd tried not to sound so damn hopeful, but I could hide nothing from him, not even when I tried.

"You are," JC assured me, giving me another kiss before he swept out of my suite.

I stood in the middle of my empty bedroom, flabbergasted and frustrated. My erection poked angrily at its coverings, demanding attention. I sat slowly on the bed, holding my head in my hands.

A new priest. Interesting, with a good head on his shoulders, and I didn't even want to try to guess at what that could mean.  Handcrafted jewelry. And JC was doing something special for him! The last caused a lump in my throat.

The beautiful king and I had been lovers for months, and he hadn't done anything special for me. He's *mine*, I thought angrily, no interloper's going to come in and take over. But my shoulders sagged. How could I compete? What could I do? Nothing except be myself and hope it was enough.

Over the next month I began our visits by asking about my rival. Everything I heard about the priest's attentiveness, devotion, and singleness of purpose made me hate him more.

It was easy to note the progression of their relationship; the priest forged all sorts of lovely trinkets for JC. Cunning ear dangles, clever bracelets, wily rings, even a few smug pendants.

"You're going to need a new castle just for his offerings," I snorted.

JC nodded, a smile on his face as he thought.

"What?" I shifted to look up at him.

"He's so...focused," JC said. "On me. It's interesting."

"Intriguing," I offered, my mouth dry.

"It is intriguing," JC agreed. "He's so devoted. Why? He's at the palace, at the temple. I talk to him every day."

"He wants you," I said simply, sliding from the bed to get dressed.

"He's one of my priests," JC pointed out. "I like talking to him. His prayers to me are--"

"Interesting, yes, you've mentioned it." I stepped into my pants and laced them up quickly. No need to be naked tonight. I sat on the bed. "He's in love with you, JC. It's not hard to figure out."

"He is not." He laughed, then quieted. "You think he is? I'm confused."

I had my own thoughts on the matter, but said nothing.

"Am I obsessed with him?" JC asked.

"Yes, more obsessed than you are with me, I think," I said softly.

"I can't figure it out," JC said.

My nausea returned, noting that JC hadn't proclaimed his devotion to me. My feeling intensified when JC mentioned doing something else especially for the priest.

"Are you serious?" I exclaimed, unable to hold back.

"I hurt his feelings today," JC said. "I snapped at him and I shouldn't have. He was babbling a little, and I was trying to concentrate on something else."

I proceeded cautiously. "What did he say?"

"I could tell he was upset. I wonder if I should apologize?" he mused.

Apologize? JC? I can live through this, I repeated to myself.  He was concerned about this man, this priest. So concerned that he was about to go apologize to him. Fearful nausea clutched my throat in an iron grip.

"You'd better go," I croaked, trying to summon more sympathy than I felt. "Go ahead, I'll be here when you get back." Where else would I go, I thought glumly as once again, JC left me alone and aching in my rooms. You're my life.

I hated the fact that I was an open scroll. All of it close, too close to the surface. So easy to read; there is no mystery in me.  How did this priest do it? What was so special about him? How did he retain the mystery that kept JC intrigued? I sipped my wine, and the taste was leaden in my mouth. I spat the mouthful back in the goblet, too sick to even swallow. I wondered why JC stayed with me when he had a new priest ready to fulfill every need.

JC greeted me less than enthusiastically one night. He seemed reserved, distant, cool. He was irritated with someone and I had a feeling it was me. I reached for him and he eluded me easily.

Icy fingers of dread pulled at my spine and my mouth went dry. "What's going on?"

"I need more." A light shrug. "You tell me I'm the only one but I don't see it. How can I believe in your devotion if you never show it?"

I stared at him, so beautiful it made my heart ache. That quick mind of his, his dry humor...  It had finally happened. He'd found someone who was everything I wasn't.

"I just wanted to let you know," he continued. "Don't bother arguing or trying to change my mind. No begging, no pleading. It's over."

I was having trouble breathing. I knew that this was my fault somehow, that I had pushed him into the waiting and oh-so-willing arms of my rival. "The priest?" I asked, staring at the toes of JC's boots.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

It didn't really. He wouldn't be with me anymore, and that was enough of a heartache. Did I need to add insult to injury? Of course I did. I wanted to know who he'd be fucking while I lay in my bed at night, regretting every mistake I'd ever made in our relationship.

"The priest?" I repeated. I knew I was being tiresome, but I hoped he'd humor me. "Is it the priest?" I asked one last time. "I want to know."

"He gives me what you don't," JC said simply.

I sat by the window in my room, watching the early evening sky bruise to purple. I sat thinking of my lost lover, thinking of things I could have - should have - done or said differently. Though the servants saw my puffy eyes afterward, no one saw me cry. My ministers grew alarmed at my lack of concentration, at my apparent disinterest in state affairs.

I had lived the last few days on the trembling edge of tears. Every time I thought of JC and his priest, a fresh wash of tears would fill my eyes. I grew  tired and cranky, and though my staff could hardly believe it, even more unpleasant to be around. My temper was short, and I snapped and snarled orders until everyone pretty much left me to myself, which was exactly what I wanted.

Joe and Lance showed up about a week later and insisted on taking me out for an evening's entertainment. I hadn't been out since JC's departure; I really had no desire to leave the palace. But Joe, being Joe, wouldn't take no for an answer. The play was dreadful, full of pompous lines, forced comedy, worse drama and horrendous acting. Joe and Lance loved it.

I was about to feign heart seizure when the drama on the stage caught my attention. A dagger to the breast of one character's rival, and the man crumpled to the boards.

Why hadn't I thought of it on my own? I'd kill the bastard. I'd visit the temple at JC's palace, I'd say a prayer and leave my offering.

I couldn't wait to feel his flesh against my blade, to feel the hot liquid life as it pumped out of his body and flowed over my hand.  The thought made my cock hard. The priest had to die.

I lay on my back that night, alone in my bed, and fantasized about killing the priest. I'd been hard through the remainder of the play, and I was throbbing painfully. I gripped myself lightly, raising and spreading my knees so my left hand could dip lower. As my fingers stroked my cock, I imagined the look of surprise and shock on the priest's face when I bared my knife. Yes. I stroked slowly, wanting to enjoy the fantasy as long as possible.

Maybe I'd rape the fucker. Bend him over the big, marble altar and let him know what it felt like to get fucked by a king. I gripped my cock tightly, wondering how hot and tight his ass would be. Had JC shown him any special tricks yet? Had the priest shown JC a few things, perhaps?

I'd never seen him, but I imagined a pale, sickly-looking creature with beady eyes, a weak chin and a wet, eager mouth. I was sure he wasn't beautiful, because that wasn't what had JC intrigued. Something internal, some essence of self had drawn the king.

I blurred his face in my mind and came over my hand.

He wasn't handsome, but I'd known he wouldn't be. The combination of slavish devotion, talent and the hint of barely repressed desire had attracted JC.

I stayed at the back of the temple, watching the man at work. He seemed capable; he moved efficiently, reducing the pile of offerings just as it seemed to overload the altar. His voice was quiet and controlled and he moved with assurance, helping worshippers as they asked for help and guidance. If I hadn't known better I'd have taken him for a senior priest. He'd work his way up quickly, I had no doubt. With his calling and JC's patronage, he'd have been in charge of one of the bigger temples in no time.

The room cleared and I was alone with JC's new lover. "Carlos," I said softly, stepping forward.

He peered at me a moment and smiled, all efficiency. "Yes?"

"I've come to leave an offering. I'm Justin, my lands border these." I watched his face carefully when I announced my identity. He bowed, as is proper, but only the most vague flicker of interest crossed his features. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd patted my head and shooed me away with some sweet-treat. "JC has never mentioned me?" I asked casually. I saw the gleam in his eyes at the mention of his king's name.

"Lord JC?" Two words, one breath; an orgasm. The moment his eyes lit up I set aside any misgivings I had about what I was going to do.

I fought to keep disgust from my voice. "Yes, JC," I said, stressing my use of his name only. "We were friends." I fingered the hilt of the dagger under my cape. "Are you lovers yet?" I asked.

A crimson flush brightened his skin. "Begging your pardon, I don't think that's your concern, Sire." His slight emphasis on the title of respect gave it anything but. The bastard. "No," he continued, "We're not lovers. Our relationship is based on something purer than desires of the flesh."

I waved at him impatiently. Of course they would become lovers; he was so naïve I almost felt sorry for him. I moved closer.

"If JC left you it wasn't because of me," Carlos said. "It was because of you. It's not my fault that he found you lacking."

I was breathing heavily. The priest was attacking my sorest point. A sob of despair began in my chest, burning as I tried to keep it from rising. I wouldn't show this priest my pain. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Pausing the conversation to tend to his duty, he moved quickly at the altar, plucking the choicest bits out for JC's personal inspection. The significance wasn't lost on me. JC would entrust this task to someone who knew him well.

The wail was in my throat now, and tears blurred my vision. So much hate for this man who knew my lover so much better than I did.

Carlos turned and seeing my reddened eyes, smiled. The look in his eyes seemed to be a mixture of pleasure and pity. "I'm here when he needs me, it's that simple."

"I have a kingdom to run!" I burst out, impatient, angry and ready to take this arrogant life.

Carlos cocked his head. "For someone who seems to be reasonably intelligent, Sire, you have a hard time grasping basic concepts. I'm here for JC, not physically, but mentally. He knows that he can say anything to me, that he can tell me anything.  He comes to me for advice and to talk because he knows that he can trust me, that I'll always there for him. Always."

"Not always," I said softly. I advanced on the priest, my lips tight with rage. "One less person he can turn to," I whispered.

The knife was sharp and I'm very strong. The blade met little resistance from the priest's robes, flesh, muscle. Clasping a hand over Carlos' mouth, I leaned close to the dead man's ear, holding his body steady as he jerked and twitched, his eyes wide, staring in shock and pain.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, holding him in a death embrace. I leaned back to make eye contact with him. "Where's your king now?" I asked, just before the hated heart ceased to beat.

The stone floor was sticky, but I hardly noticed. I was waiting for my love, waiting for the king to acknowledge my love.

The proof of my devotion lay draped across the altar.