Now, how did that ridiculous saying go? It seemed to be especially prevalent leading up to Valentine’s Day.<i>Her lips say no, but her eyes say yes. </i>Or some sappy bullshit like that, Orion amusingly thought. And<i>yes, </i>to what exactly? Probably diamonds instead of sex, no doubt. Typical.<br/><br/>Under the present circumstances, however, he presumed jewelry of any kind was the furthest thing from Cassiopeia’s mind. Because everything about her bellowed,<i>Full speed ahead!</i>at the top of its lungs. The Prince, after all, was somehow successfully suppressing a more than eager torpedo of his own. And, why was this so? Was it to tease the Princess? Far from it, he thought. He wanted her as much as she did him if all signs were to be believed. They would have already enjoyed each other’s personal touch, if not for that unclean room they’d stumbled upon during their roaming expedition throughout the castle. Well, that and his insistence on room cleanliness before sex. Go blame his mother about that one.<br/><br/>Orion had to admit how much he relished her glancing touch upon his erection, which of course, predictably added to its swelling. He was positive he felt a bit of leakage, too. Following a brief ass-grab from Cassiopeia (result? a bit more seepage), encroachment of some kind seemed to be the next logical step in their proceedings.<br/><br/>Index and middle fingers plunged inside of her, immediately in a competitive pursuit of being the first to discover her enchanted nub. And like two peas in a pod, both digits located her “precious” simultaneously, caressing it vigorously. Her squirming at his touch resulted in a slowly evolving smile. As far as he was concerned, her reaction reinforced the fact that she appeared to be feeling pretty good right now, and he had, ahem, a hand in it. Who wouldn’t appreciate feedback, especially when it’s positive?<br/><br/>Unlike that stiff from France, Princess Dorothée de Talleyrand-Périgord. And the only reason he remembered her name was on account of how adamant she was about kissing. Or<i>not</i>kissing, actually. She told him point-blank during their very brief courtship that his mouth, and anything within it, should be kept to himself. Orion highly doubted the French woman had ever been introduced to deodorant, either. Thanks to Dorothée, France had been duly removed from further courtship consideration.<br/><br/>Which brought him to a writhing Princess Cassiopeia. His fingers, he decided, had had enough fun. All this time, he’d forgotten about her jeans (and quite rightly so), which were around her knees. Well, that just wouldn’t do, he thought. So began jeans removal, though her ankle-high boots would remain on. The Prince was kinky that way.<br/><br/>While her denim jeans settled on his bedroom’s carpet, Orion then hooked a middle finger through the crotch of her panties, and slowly lowered them. Although he briefly considered plummeting face first into Cassiopeia’s Holiest of Holies, he concluded how his hard-on had patiently waited long enough. Operation Insertion proved successful. And by the crowns that his parents sometimes wore, finally being inside of her felt nothing shy of divine.<br/><br/>Although the Prince thoroughly enjoyed where he was at this moment, his bare chest rubbing against hers, a visualization soon took root in his mind: Cassiopeia on top. Maintaining his steady, rhythmic thrusts, her mouth and breasts also received more attention. Soon after, he deftly rolled onto his back, while also holding her waist and remaining inside of her pleasure palace. Orion thought, after all, how it was only courteous to permit her an equal opportunity to drive.<br/><br/>And, it must be said, while the Princess considered her options while on top, Orion fondled and squeezed (same thing?) her sweet, sweet caboose.