One night J1sng, the royal court jester, gets called to the prince's chambers for private entertainment. He had no time to put on his signature silly costume, making him feel naked as he stands before the prince. He asks the prince what he'd likeβ A joke? A story? A song?+
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The prince, sitting on the edge of his bed, answers. "I just want to watch."
His feline eyes make J1sng's knees tremble. The staring was easier to ignore while performing in the ballroom. But standing here, inside the prince's own lair, under his heavy gaze, J1sng feels trapped.+
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"WβWellβ Uh," J1sng stutters, making a fool out of himself. "Then I'llβ I'll tell you a story, my prince."
"Alright. Come closer," the prince says, and beckons J1sng over.
J1sng obeys, finding himself inappropriately close, trying to prevent his knees from touching thick thighs.+
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His heart is beating wildly from their proximity, but he manages to find his voice to start a story. βTβThere once was a jester whoββ
βNo, not yet,β the prince says, placing a hand on the back of J1sngβs upper thigh, squeezing, making J1sng squirm. βCloser, J1sng. Sit on my lap.β
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