Elian sat on the edge of his bed in the servant's quarters, staring at the System Shop interface with the intensity of a day trader watching a market crash.
[Item: Fertility Blocker (99% Effective). Cost: 500 LP.][Current Wallet: 85 LP.]
"Four hundred and fifteen," Elian muttered, gnawing on his thumbnail. "I need four hundred and fifteen points before the Solstice or I'm going to end up as the protagonist of a genre I really, really don't want to be in."
The Solstice Mating Run sounded like a horror movie title. And with his traitorous Omega biology already swooning over sweaty towels, Elian knew he was a ticking time bomb.
A notification pinged.
[Daily Quest Available: The Royal Fitting.][Objective: Dress Target Cassian for the Pre-Solstice Banquet.][Reward: 40 LP.][Bonus Objective: Achieve 'Stunning' Rating. Reward: +20 LP.]
"Sixty points," Elian calculated. "It's a start. I just have to put clothes on a grown man. How hard can it be?"
It turned out, it was very hard.
When Elian arrived at the Royal Dressing Chamber, he found he had been preempted. Standing amidst a sea of silks and velvets was a short, round man with a tape measure around his neck and an attitude that screamed 'Artiste'.
"No, no, no!" the little man shrieked, tugging at Cassian's sleeve. "It must be tight! The silhouette must be severe! Princess Rowena insisted on the crimson brocade!"
Cassian stood on a podium in the center of the room, looking like a tiger trapped in a phone booth. He was wearing a stiff, heavy red coat that looked visibly uncomfortable. His expression was murderous.
[Target Status: Irritated.][Current Outfit Stat: -10 Comfort / +50 Flashiness.]
"Master Verrick," Cassian growled. "I cannot move my arms."
"Fashion is pain, Your Highness!" Verrick sniffed. "Princess Rowena said this matches her gown perfectly. You will be a matching set!"
Elian leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. 'Oh, Rowena. Trying to play dress-up remotely? Amateur move.'
"Fashion might be pain," Elian announced, stepping into the room. "But if the Prince can't lift a fork at dinner because his sleeves are too tight, he's going to be very 'hangry'. And trust me, you don't want to see him hangry."
Cassian's eyes snapped to Elian. Relief washed over his face. "Valet. Save me."
"Get out!" Verrick turned, brandishing a pin cushion like a weapon. "This is a private fitting! I was commissioned by the Princess!"
"And I am employed by the Prince," Elian countered, walking up to the podium. "And right now, the Prince looks like a trussed turkey."
He turned to Cassian. "Arms up."
Cassian obeyed instantly. Elian didn't hesitate. He grabbed the expensive crimson brocade and ripped the Velcro-like fasteners (magic fasteners?) open. He peeled the heavy coat off Cassian, tossing it onto a pile of rejected clothes.
Cassian let out a breath, rotating his shoulders. "Burn that."
"But the aesthetic!" Verrick wailed.
"Quiet, pin-cushion," Elian snapped. He turned to the wardrobe. "System, scan for optimal outfit."
[Analyzing Wardrobe...][Recommendation: The Midnight Blue Velvet. High Mobility. High Sex Appeal. Matches Target's Eyes.]
'Good bot,' Elian thought.
He pulled out a deep blue velvet tunic with silver embroidery. It was elegant but cut loose enough for movement. He paired it with black fitted trousers that had a distinct lack of frills.
"This one," Elian said, holding it up.
"Too simple!" Verrick scoffed. "It looks like something a merchant would wear."
"It brings out his eyes," Elian argued. "And look at the fabric. Soft. Breathable. Perfect for a man who runs hot."
He stepped into Cassian's space. [Contact: +1 Minute.]
"May I?" Elian asked softly.
"Please," Cassian murmured.
Elian slid the tunic over Cassian's head. He smoothed it down over the broad chest, his hands lingering on the pectorals to 'flatten the fabric'.
'Oh yeah,' Elian thought, feeling the solid muscle underneath the velvet. 'That's the stuff. High-quality grain-fed Alpha.'
He moved to the trousers. This was the dangerous part.
"Trousers, Sire," Elian said, holding them out.
Cassian stepped out of his current breeches (he was wearing privacy shorts, thank god, though Elian felt a pang of disappointment) and stepped into the black ones.
Elian knelt to fasten them.
His face was level with the royal crotch again. The fabric was tight. Very tight.
'Okay,' Elian thought, sweat forming on his brow. 'The System said 'High Sex Appeal', but I think it meant 'High Risk of Bursting'.'
He reached for the fasteners. His knuckles brushed against the front of the trousers.
Cassian inhaled sharply.
[Contact: +5 Seconds.][Target Arousal: fluctuating.]
"Too tight?" Elian choked out, looking up.
Cassian looked down. His pupils were blown wide. "Snug. But... manageable."
"We need to adjust the... lay," Elian said professionally, channeling every ounce of his 'Straight Bro' persona. "For comfort. Just a quick adjustment."
He reached out, tugging the fabric at the hips, trying to create room without actually groping the Prince. It was like trying to defuse a bomb with oven mitts.
"Elian," Cassian warned, his voice straining.
"Almost done," Elian whispered. He gave one final tug, smoothing the fabric down the thighs. His hands trailed down the powerful quadriceps.
'God, he's solid,' Elian's internal monologue screamed. 'I just want to bite it. Just one bite. For science.'
He stood up quickly, dusting off his knees. "Perfect fit."
He turned to the mirror. "Look."
Cassian turned. The dark blue made his eyes pierce like ice shards. The cut emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The trousers... well, the trousers advertised the royal lineage quite effectively.
[System Notification: Outfit Rating - Stunning.][Quest Complete! +60 LP.]
"Much better," Cassian decided, admiring the view. "I can breathe."
"It lacks drama!" Verrick insisted weakly.
"It commands respect," Elian corrected. He walked behind Cassian to tie his sash. He pulled it tight, pressing his chest against Cassian's back for a solid ten seconds of charging.
"And," Elian whispered into Cassian's ear, "it makes you look dangerous."
Cassian caught Elian's eye in the mirror. "Dangerous is good. Rowena wanted me to look like a decoration."
"You're not a decoration," Elian said, finishing the knot. "You're the weapon."
Cassian turned around, ignoring Verrick completely. He looked at Elian, stepping into his personal space.
"And you, Valet?" Cassian asked. "You are not dressed for a banquet."
Elian looked down at his standard-issue uniform. "I'm working, Sire. I stay in the shadows."
"No," Cassian said. He reached out, grabbing a black silk cravat from the pile.
He stepped closer. He draped the silk around Elian's neck.
[Contact: +30 Seconds.]
Cassian's fingers brushed Elian's throat, right over his pulse point. Elian's heart hammered against the touch.
"If you are going to stand by my side and guard me from 'Scale Rot'," Cassian murmured, tying the cravat with surprising dexterity, "you should look the part."
He finished the knot and smoothed it down. His hand rested on Elian's chest for a moment.
"There," Cassian said softly. "Now you match."
Elian stared at him, wide-eyed. He glanced at the mirror. The black silk cravat matched Cassian's trousers. They looked... paired.
Verrick gasped. "He's wearing royal silk! That is improper!"
"Verrick," Cassian said without looking away from Elian. "Get out. Before I decide to wear you as a coat."
The tailor squeaked and fled.
Elian stood there, touching the silk around his neck. It felt like a collar. A very expensive, very possessive collar.
[System Notification: Elian +1 Heart.][Current Hearts: 9 / 1000]
"Come," Cassian said, heading for the door. "We have a banquet to attend."
Elian scrambled to follow, grinning wildly.
'Take that, Player Two,' Elian thought, fingering the silk. 'You tried to put him in a box. I put him in tight pants. We are not the same.'
He checked his wallet. 145 LP.
"Only 355 to go," Elian whispered. "I'm coming for you, Fertility Blocker."