Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fight was fated; it was destined.

Link wasn't meant to lose.

And yet here they were, coughing out blood, hands shaking as they collapsed down to the ground. They held themself on shaking hands and knees, their vision swimming, and listened to the heavy and deliberate footsteps of the approaching king.

"Look at me." Ganondorf's voice was low and resonant. Link couldn't lift their head far enough, spots dancing in their blackening vision, staring at Ganondorf's scuffed boots.

Ganondorf gave them a moment to comply: when they didn't, he snorted, reaching down and grabbing Link's jaw, hauling them up by it until their hands left the ground. They whined in pain, soft and broken, eyes watering, but they met Ganondorf's eyes. Perhaps if they could just reach their sword...

"I won. Do you understand? I could kill you now, and not a thing would stop me." Ganondorf's other hand rose, to stroke Link's cheek. They flinched, though the touch was soft.

"But I won't. After all, you have something of mine."

Ganondorf released Link's jaw so abruptly that all they could do was crumple. Their chin hit the floor, stars burst before their eyes, and there was nothing.

▲

The air was cold, and something soft lay across their body. Bare skin. They tried to take account of their surroundings without opening their eyes, but the pain made focus difficult.

Still - they weren't dead.

"Surprised to find yourself alive, I take it."

Link opened their eyes with some reluctance. Everything hurt and their breathing was ragged, not helped by the chill of the night air.

Ganondorf sat beside the bed, with a sort of unexpected daintiness. The chair was far too small, more designed for a Hylian than one of the immense Gerudo kings, and the wood creaked a little as said king shifted his weight.

"Trust me," he murmured, looking down at Link, his yellow eyes sharp as a hawk's and narrowed with the same predatory intent, "it's on my whim that you are. Don't make me regret it."

Link bared their teeth in response, tried to push themselves upright. Pain blossomed in their bones, spreading through them like a glowing network of heat and regret. Hylia only knew how bad their injuries were, but for that moment Link could barely breathe for the pain.

Ganondorf picked something up off the floor, with the clink of glass on stone, and held it out.

A potion. Red, pearlescent fluid shifted in the bottle, thick and viscous, like something sluggishly alive and squirming. Link lifted their eyes to stare at Ganondorf.

"You don't have to drink it," he murmured, in a tone of smug, cool amusement. "That's your choice. But it's there if you want it."

Link stared at the bottle, and then at Ganondorf.

"I have things to do," he said, rising to his feet lazily. "Your clothes, your weapons, and your princess - " Link tensed - " - I have them all under lock and key. You can drink that and try to escape, in the desert, nude, if that's what you wish. I'm sure someone will find your carcass before too long."

The king walked to the door, touching the wooden frame. "Or you can wait for me. Theoretically, you could even try your luck at slaying the great evil again." He stepped out into the hall, casting an entertained glance back at Link. His eyes were still the same predatory blank as a hunting hawk's.

"Personally," he drawled, "I'd be using this time and my mercy to rest up."

Link swallowed, giving Ganondorf their best blank and stony stare. He snorted, closing the door.

Link counted to ten, listening to his heavy footsteps down the stone stairs, and only then did they take the bottle with shaking hands, uncork it, and drink.

▲

They slept. They weren't sure how long for, but when they awoke the sun was setting through the narrow window, an ache in their lower abdomen that felt particularly urgent.

Their body hurt a lot less, now, and they almost made the decision to slip out of bed before the realisation struck them once more that,  bar these blankets, they were in the alltogether. A flush struck them, and they hesitated for a long moment, before coming to their conclusion.

Naked or not, they needed to use the garderobe. There was no getting around it. They swung their legs off the edge of the bed, pain shooting through them as their feet first took the pressure. One potion had clearly not been enough; they gritted their teeth, pushed themselves upright anyway, and shuffled to the door at the side of the room.

That dealt with, they stood by the door, looking around gingerly. They put their arms around themself as they took stock: there were books and a lantern, set on a desk only a little too high to be comfortable for a Hylian. The sheets of the wide bed, they now noted, were vibrant orange as a dusty sunset, and whisper-soft to the touch.

There was a bedside table, with a drawer, and a lush red flower in an earthen vase on top of it. They opened the drawer, finding a nail file, and shoved it under their pillow.

The door creaked. Link startled, slipped back into the bed hastily, and was just smoothing the blankets to cover their chest when Ganondorf slunk back in.

Now that Link looked more closely, the king looked restless, and had to bow his head down, even in his own castle, to get through doors. The jewel at his brow was smudged, his complex crown sitting just slightly crooked. 

"Rest well, little hero?" Ganondorf murmured, in a tone of deep entertainment, perching once again in the too-small wooden chair. Link parted their lips, making a small noise.

"They say," the king continued, casually, as he leaned forward to press another bottle of red potion into Link's hand, "that the Gerudo are a race of honourless thieves, cruel and blasphemous. They say it because we don't follow your Goddess.

"Tell me, Link - how religious are you? How devout?"

Ganondorf was leaning closer, his yellow eyes gleaming as if he were feeding on Link's discomfort. Link clutched the bottle of potion tightly, lips pressing together, and made no indication in any direction to respond to the king's words, keeping their other hand under the pillow to lean their body back, away from the king.

Ganondorf's lips curled, parted, as if to say something, and Link took their opportunity. The nail-file sunk deep into Ganondorf's neck, severing an artery, and blood flowed out with sudden and explosive force.

Ganondorf screamed, rearing back, and Link let out a shaky exhale, briefly triumphant. The king, however, snatched back the red potion, downed it in two deep swallows, and wrenched the nail-file out. Suddenly Link was aware of the futility of this, and felt a deep, cold dread hit their stomach.

"You," Ganondorf growled, as the wound closed - and then he laughed. It was an unpleasant noise. "You are going to be paying for that for some time, little hero. I hope it was worth it."

Link looked at the blood, still shining wet on the stones, matte as it soaked into the sheets, set their jaw as they met Ganondorf's eyes, and nodded.

The king looked down at him coolly, expression something darkly amused, dangerous.

"I'll see you in a day or two, then," he said abruptly, smirking, and then without another word he turned and left.

Link stared at the king's retreating back, frowning in thought. Where was the suffering? Surely solitude wasn't their punishment.

Their stomach growled, low and drawn-out, and they settled back down into the bed, despite the blood, turning on their side and closing their eyes.

▲

Solitude wasn't the punishment - not at all. Link opened their eyes in the middle of the day, mouth dry, the sun glaring through the window, and rose naked and careful. They stepped on the dried blood, still faintly sticky on the cold stones, and grimaced, but they managed to arrange the curtains to block most of the light. The air was stuffy and hot, hard to breathe. Though the stones were mercifully cool, there was no water waiting, and none of their own possessions were in the room so there wasn't even a bottle of milk to rely on. 

They felt dried out and dazed, and eventually, frustrated, they crawled back onto the bed, to lie on top of the covers, sweat beading on their skin.

As the day slid to night, nobody arrived with anything to drink but the thirst became less urgent. Instead, their stomach began to growl and cramp, in protest to its emptiness. They had nothing to eat, nothing to drink - and other than that one potion, how long it had been since they'd had either was a mystery to them.

Eventually they slept, restless and hollow, and woke to the heat again the next day. They crawled off the bed and lay naked and weary on the cool stone floor, closing their eyes. 

Still nothing - still no mercy. It wouldn't have been so bad, they thought, if their body hadn't worked so hard trying to heal, if they weren't still hurt. The sun set, and they stayed on the floor, watching the room darken. It was only when the desert air had reached such a chill that their breath was fogging that they reluctantly crawled back into the bed.

Their whole body felt hollow with hunger, shriveled with thirst, when they awoke, and when they opened their eyes, the king's cold yellow eyes were looking down at them.

"I brought you breakfast," Ganondorf said, and when Link started to sit up, he held up his hand. "But you're going to prove to me that you deserve it."

Link paused, raising their eyebrows, and then watched as Ganondorf lifted the plate from the bedside table, made eye contact, and tipped the food onto the stone floor.

Link's stomach lurched in disbelief, but the king smiled, gestured slightly. "There's a bowl of water by the bed," he nearly whispered, as he watched Link. "Go ahead."

Link's body trembled, briefly overcome with rage. They stared at Ganondorf's smug, placid face, and wondered how badly they'd be mistreated if they snapped and tried to strangle the king.

Still half-healed, and weak with hunger and thirst, though, it was pointless. They turned their face away, gesturing at the door.

"Oh no," the king responded, folding one leg over the other. "I'm going to watch."

And so, faced with little other choice, Link slipped out from under the blanket, onto their shaking hands and bruised knees on the stone, and reached for one of the pieces of potato, shoulders hunching.

"I didn't say you could use your hands," the Gerudo king all but whispered, now, and his voice was rich with entertainment. Link could feel their eyes stinging, their face heating, but they bowed down reluctantly, stiffly, to pick up the piece of potato delicately between their teeth.

It was still warm, and rich with spices and flavours. Link was salivating, drool dripping on the floor, but suddenly they didn't care so much: the smell and the taste was such a relief after what must have been a week without food, they simply ate in busy silence. After a moment, they pushed their face into the ceramic bowl of water, drinking urgently.

A big, heavy hand touched their back, stroking along their spine, and they froze as if electrified.
"Isn't that better?" Ganondorf murmured, sounding amused. He ran his fingers through their hair and they let out a noise of protest, trying to shift away.

"It's okay," the king murmured, and the chair creaked as he rose to his feet, "you can finish your meal. I have a country to run, but I'll be back."

Ganondorf moved to leave, and then paused at the door, looking back at them. "Oh, and Link?"

Link hesitated, and then lifted their head reluctantly to focus.

"I expect you to clean up all the food - with your mouth, of course. Don't get the sheets dirty."

Link stared, in tense silence for a long moment, hoping that Ganondorf would look away first - but when he didn't, they grunted, averting their eyes, and bowed down to drink again.

Ganondorf left the room laughing.

Chapter Text

The next meal came in much the same manner. Ganondorf entered, spoke to Link in a carelessly mocking tone for a little while, and then tipped the plate, letting the still-hot balls of meat and rice hit the floor. This time, however, when Link went down reluctantly to eat, Ganondorf's hand settled on the back of their neck, forcing their face to the ground.

Link made a noise of protest, trying to struggle, but Ganondorf spoke over their grunts. 

"Listen, hero," he scolded, voice pitched low, "this is my kindness. Do you want to know what it's like to deal with me when I'm feeling unkind? Especially after you deemed it appropriate to stab me while I tended your wounds. Tut tut."

Link made an incredulous noise, managing to twist enough to shoot a glare up at Ganondorf, baring their teeth.

It was the wrong reaction, apparently. There was brief relief as the king lifted his hand from their neck, and then his boot came down instead, pressing to the back of their neck, holding them down.

Link closed their eyes, breath constricted by the pressure, cheek smearing rice into the grain of the stone floor. Their cheeks flushed and their teeth bared, but they didn't dare look up.

A tone of rich pleasure crept through Ganondorf's voice as he spoke again.

"Keep defying me, hero. Go on. My patience is rapidly running thin, and I intend to have you soon enough."

Link paused, and then cracked one eye open, fixing their gaze on Ganondorf blankly. What did he mean?

The king looked down, meeting Link's gaze, and then spoke in a tone rich with amusement, dripping with condescension.

"You have no idea what I mean, do you?"

Link pressed their lips tightly together, and, despite their position, managed to shake their head just slightly. All the unhealed aches were flaring up in this position, and their breath was shallow from discomfort and throat constriction. They shouldn't have been answering Ganondorf's questions at all, they supposed, but the alternative was a blank silence - and most likely a boot to the ribs.

"Oh, little hero." The Gerudo lifted his boot from Link's neck, sounding somewhere between mocking and sympathetic. Once more he took his seat in the too-small chair. "You've never even been touched, have you?"

Oh. 

Realisation flooded in and Link flushed, their face heating, sitting back on their haunches and setting their jaw, staring at the scattered rice rather than at Ganondorf's smug, condescending expression.

"A shame," he mused, shaking his head. "And after all that closeness with the princess. How very..." He trailed off, looking at Link's bared form unreadably for a moment, and then snorted and clapped his hands on his thighs. "No matter! You'll learn for her, you'll see."

Link slanted a glowering, suspicious look at Ganondorf, and found the king smirking. 

"And for me." 

So much for charity. Link bared their teeth and looked away again, trying to ignore the beginnings of another flush and the whispers of a shiver running through them.

"Finish your meal," Ganondorf murmured, still looking infuriatingly entertained, and he stood to leave.

Link hesitated for a moment, and then grunted in agreement, bowing forward to their hands and knees again, picking the food off the floor with their mouth. There was no point risking anything more dignified until the king was gone.

Ganondorf exited, the door swinging, and just as Link was reaching for one of the rice balls, with the door still a sliver open, he called out.

"And Link? You're my dog. Dogs do not have hands, you eat from the floor."

The door clicked shut, just in time, as Link threw their discarded plate at it.

As it turned out, the plate was wooden, and bounced away harmlessly. 

Link felt like an ass, glowering at the door. But they obeyed, nose brushing the stones as they picked up another rice ball with their teeth, fuming.

▲

The next meal wasn't delivered by Ganondorf, but by a bored-looking woman - dark-skinned but lacking his green tint, with fiery hair and hawk-yellow eyes. She was dressed all in green, the fabric wafting around her, and pursed her lips at Link, eyeing them up and down. They covered themself hastily, turning the blanket backwards on itself to cover their groin and thighs, but there was no hiding their chest from that position. Instead they covered it with their arm and glowered, cheeks pink.

"I don't understand what the king sees in some self-important, scrawny little voe."

Link pursed their lips tighter, and the Gerudo woman crossed the room, footsteps prowling like a coyote's, getting close enough to look down at them with cool disinterest.

"He could have anyone he wished, you know - and he wastes his time playing games with two voe. At least the princess is the heir to Hyrule, it could unite our lands, but you?"
She set the tray down on their lap sharply.

"You're nothing."

Link hesitated, for a long moment, and then shifted, maintaining eye contact, and lifted their hand. On was the mark of one-third of the Triforce, the segment of Courage, and it gleamed like something bronze embedded in their skin.

The Gerudo took in the sight for a moment, eyes narrowing, and then turned away with a flip of her hair.

"All the more reason to have killed you on sight. If I were he -"

There was a slight creak from the door, and Link's stomach plummeted.

Ganondorf stood there, resplendent in his dark clothes and his shining crown, looking down at her. He bowed down slightly to step into the room, voice soft, falsely mild.

"Oh, Vaheesa, do continue."

The Gerudo woman had gone still, swallowing twice, suddenly tense as a hunted hare. She stared up at her king, opening her painted lips and then closing them. There was a pause, before she tried again, voice small. 

"My liege -"

"Silence," Ganondorf commanded, his voice resonating from the stone walls of the room, and the woman flinched, shrunk in on herself. "Leave."

Vaheesa didn't need any more commands; she left as fast as she could without running, head bowed, crossing the stones quickly.

Ganondorf looked at Link, for a moment, in silence, his head slightly tilted, and then stepped forward. They rushed out of the bed, sudden and urgent, and set the plate on the ground - better than eating off the dirty floor itself.

"Hmm." The king's tone was low, thoughtful, and a sweat broke out on Link's bare skin. Even this was a risk. Their body was healing slowly and they were in no fit state to take any violence.

Link looked up, locking their green eyes with Ganondorf's predatory yellow. After a moment, the king grunted, and moved to his regular spot on the little chair. "I suppose even dogs get a dish to eat from, if they're good pets."

Link swallowed, tried not to show their relief too clearly - tried not to embarrass themself, despite the spreading flush across their skin - and bowed their head down to eat. 

Today's meal was pastries, filled with spices and legumes and meat. It tasted entirely unfamiliar, but the pastry was flaky and buttery, the filling rich. Link ate until their stomach felt tight, and then shifted their weight, sitting on the cold stone floor with barely a flinch.

They flinched a little more when Ganondorf's heavy, callused hand dropped down to run through their hair, but by now they knew better than to move away, staring at the side of the king's leg in silence.

"You're adjusting well," Ganondorf murmured, running his fingers against their scalp. It was making Link uneasy, but their skin was prickling as well, their body going through a slow tremor at the contact. It must have been because of the Triforce, they concluded, mouth pulling to the side uncomfortably, and they shot the king a flat look.

Yellow eyes, bright and inscrutable as the desert sun, were staring back down at them. Great King Of Evil though he might have been, Ganondorf at this moment didn't look particularly violent. No anger was written on his heavy features at all - instead there was an almost gentle sort of speculation.

"I'll reward you," he finally decided, and then leaned back, the chair creaking dangerously as he did. "You've been to the garderobe recently?"

Link hesitated, lips pursing in unease, and then nodded slightly, looking away. An uneasy feeling was building in the pit of their stomach, and their limbs felt heavy with it, their blood hot.

There was no point bolting for the door, though - even if it hadn't been for the fortress full of Gerudo warriors, they were in the middle of a desert, with no clothes, no horse, no water and no allies. They took a breath.

Ganondorf stood, slowly.

"Link," he commanded, voice like iron. Their spine stiffened, and they reluctantly slid their gaze back to the king. "Get onto the bed, on your stomach."

Link paused, skin prickling with unease, stomach lurching, watching Ganondorf's unmoving face. Just as he started to frown, they came to their conclusion and crawled onto the bed. They turned their head, to watch Ganondorf with chill and wary eyes; their whole body jumped when Ganondorf's warm and callused hand settled on the back of one of their thighs.

This was too much. They grimaced.

"Be still," Ganondorf commanded, going down briefly to one knee to reach under the bed. He produced a bottle shaped like an orb with a slender protruding neck, and in the afternoon light the fluid inside shone like honey, golden and viscous. He set it down on the bed beside Link, and squeezed their thigh; his big hand covered a lot of skin, and the touch was firm and sure. Link made a noise of discomfort, reaching for the blankets as if to cover themself again.

"Don't," he warned, and their hand twitched, curling on the silken covers, and then finally fell. Ganondorf smirked, as he pushed their legs apart slowly. "Good dog."

Link gritted their teeth, shifting restlessly, tensely, but they didn't trust themselves to move away. Their skin was prickling into goosebumps wherever Ganondorf's heavy, warm hands weren't touching them. Panic was starting to tremble up their spine, but Ganondorf's hands were so warm, so sure, and so unexpectedly gentle - when they slid up to grip Link's ass and squeeze, they turned their face against the covers and made a low and plaintive noise.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Ganondorf murmured, in a tone of almost gentle patience, as one hand lifted away. When he opened the bottle, a faint floral scent drifted through the room, overlaying the scent of something neutral and plant-based. Link wasn't sure what was about to happen, but the king's steady and gentle hands were almost reassuring.

Slick with oil and warm, two of Ganondorf's thick fingers pressed firmly behind Link's balls: their whole body jolted, starting to squirm, and he put his other hand on the small of Link's back, voice low and warning. 

"Be still. This isn't going to hurt."

Link's stomach was knotting with fear, but they took a shaky breath, trying to will their body to unknot. So far Ganondorf hadn't lied to them, so what would be the point of starting now? It wasn't exactly comforting, but it was enough that they could will themself to stop squirming. There wasn't anything they could do about the rhythmic tremors, but both of them would just have to live with that. They took a shaky breath, twisting enough to glance back at Ganondorf's sober face.

"Relax, and unclench," the king commanded; his voice was soothing and low and Link took another shaky breath, trying to oblige.

One slick finger traced up their perineum, found their tense hole, and started to massage it. They let out a sharp noise, almost a squeak, and then, shaking, pressed their face back into the covers. 

The skin was sensitive, unused to contact, and thin. They could feel the texture of Ganondorf's finger through the oil and it was bizarre and alarming, made their spine want to tense and prickle all over again. But the slow and massaging press wasn't unpleasant, and wasn't, after a few moments, so alarming after all. Their body was starting to unknot, bit by bit, their breath starting to smooth out, and when Ganondorf's thick finger started to press, started to stretch their hole open, there was no pain - a shaky, ragged groan, throaty and soft, escaped them. It felt bizarre, invasive, and a million miles away from the pain they'd been expecting.

"Is that good, little hero?" The king's breath was brushing Link's spine, and they let out a low and shaky noise in response. As his finger sunk in slowly, they were feeling the pressure increasingly intensely, their body was stretching and tingling as their hole slowly opened to the pressure. 

It shouldn't have felt good, they thought, pressing their burning face into the covers, but one of Ganondorf's heavy hands was smoothing against their back in a slow and reassuring glide, callused enough for the faint scratching to be pleasurable, and the other was, with such care and attention, stretching them open.

Their balls were twitching and tingling; their cock was starting to stir, an electric sort of tension starting to build, and they couldn't help themselves anymore: as Ganondorf's finger sunk in to the second knuckle, they moaned. Their legs twitched a little, restlessly, unsure whether or not to move away, their whole body shuddering lightly. Ganondorf's hands were much larger than their own, their finger thick enough that there was a definite stretch to it, and they hadn't been expecting any sort of pleasure.

Ganondorf's hand lifted, fingers carding through their hair slowly. "You're doing so well." His voice was like liquor, hot and rich and praising, and Link twitched again. "Take a breath now, the sensation is going to change." Link paused, a spike of anxiety going through them, and lifted their head, just in time for the new feeling - Ganondorf had curled his finger down, stroking inside Link and finding something unbearably sensitive.

It was too much - it didn't hurt, exactly, but it was too much. Link clenched hard and let out a choked noise, body twitching and shuddering. Their dick was throbbing, now, but the sensation was overwhelming and they started to squirm urgently.

"Shhhh," Ganondorf soothed, rubbing Link's back with one hand, and his other hand's finger started to glide against that too-sensitive spot again. Link let out a choked noise, thrashing their head restlessly, but it was like an electric current pulling at their nerves: they let out a desperate moan, hips twitching, pushing up into the sensation. Their cock was filling, thickening rapidly, hanging heavy between their legs as they raised their ass up, and Ganondorf's big, clever hands weren't anywhere near it, instead just slowly working them open.

"See? Isn't it good, little hero?" Ganondorf's hand slid up Link's back, gripped their hair, and forced their head to tilt back, his other finger working inside their ass with relentless expertise. All Link could do was let out a moan almost like a sob, their cock twitching closer to their stomach with every movement, their ass shockingly sensitive, overwhelmingly pleasurable.

The king shifted closer, knees on the bed now, and when Link glanced from the corner of their eye, in a daze, they saw the huge, tightly constrained bulge of his cock, trapped in his fine clothing. His expression was soft and hungry at once, yellow eyes fixed on his task, and Link had never seen anything so predatory or so arousing as that gaze fixed on them. They moaned, low and throaty, and Ganondorf looked up then, met their gaze and smiled slowly.

"Do you want more, Link?"

Link's body trembled, briefly afraid, staring mutely at the thick curve of Ganondorf's hardening cock through his pants. He took a moment to notice, glancing down, and then laughed softly, rubbing his fingers against Link's scalp. 

"Relax, hero. I know you wouldn't be able to take it yet - I meant another finger."

Link exhaled a breath they hadn't known they'd been holding, and then, as their body started to relax, they nodded - and, for good measure, pushed their ass up a little, knees shuffling further apart on the bed. 

Ganondorf laughed then, low and rich, profoundly satisfied. Link flushed, looked away, and then let out a low, drawn out moan through gritted teeth, trying to keep their mouth closed. Ganondorf was starting to sink another thick finger into their hole, and the stretch set off a strange and unfamiliar ache, bordering on pain: their cock throbbed and twitched, though, their whole body electrified.

"You're doing so well," the king nearly whispered, shifting closer. Link made a guttural noise in the back of their throat, ass twitching, trying to clench around the slow invasion, oil dribbling slowly down their perineum. It hurt, but barely; there was something thrilling and heated about it, and the heat was pooling in the pit of their stomach in response to it.

Ganondorf's fingers started to pump into them in slow, careful thrusts, getting a little deeper each time, and Link grunted, making low and broken noises in the back of their throat, mouth clamped shut. They had to try to maintain some dignity.

But when those two fingers glided against that too-sensitive spot again, their cock throbbed hard and their mouth forced open in a sudden and urgent cry. Ganondorf was massaging a raised nodule a few inches into their ass and their mind was drawing a blank - with no control of their body they found themselves rocking back into the touch, sinking his thick fingers in deeper, panting and salivating on the covers.

Ganondorf laughed, lowly, working them in a taunting, slow rhythm. They cried out, head turning restlessly. "It's called a prostate," the king informed them, lowly, and they spread their legs, jerking back, Ganondorf's long thick fingers sinking into their ass to the knuckle. It was unbearable; it was the best thing they'd ever felt. Humiliation and degradation forgotten, they let out another wordless, open-mouthed noise and arched their hips up urgently. Their cock was throbbing, pulsing and hot and harder than they remembered it ever having been. Their balls were drawn up close to their body, tense and hot and aching.

Ganondorf released Link's hair, squeezing their ass briefly as his fingers started to move inside their ass a little faster. His hand then dropped down, wrapped easily around Link's cock; they were so much bigger that their hand could cover the whole thing, and dry and callused though it was, the friction was desperately needed. Link's precum was making his hand a little slippery as he started to stroke their cock in lazy pulls, and Link thrashed their head, urgent, overwhelmed. They couldn't breathe, the sensation too much, building up -

They cried out, a loud and sharp and urgent sob, as sensation exploded through them, whole body rocking desperately as their ass clenched and spasmed, cum spilling in a sudden desperate burst into Ganondorf's hand.

It didn't stop, though, not straight away - instead of easing down from the high, they started to shake and gasp as Ganondorf kept stroking their cock with a now cum-slick hand, his fingers rubbing Link's prostate continuously. More cum leaked out, their body wracked with violent shudders, their balls clenching up and trying to empty more out. It went on too long and they let out a sob, slumping, pushing their face into the covers - and only then did Ganondorf relent, making a low and soothing noise, thick fingers unwrapping from Link's cock. They whined, softly, relieved, and spread their legs a little to let Ganondorf's fingers ease out with a minimum of pain.

He'd been careful, though - there was a faint dull ache as their ass spasmed again, shuddering in the aftermath, but it didn't really hurt.

"Well done, little hero," Ganondorf murmured, voice low, and leaned down. He placed a kiss on their shoulder, and then, without another word, turned to leave.

Link turned their head to stare at Ganondorf's retreating back, eyes wide and glazed. Without his fingers inside them, they felt hollow and disoriented, and their groin still faintly ached with the force of their orgasm, but sleepiness was overcoming them.

Ganondorf opened the door with his elbows, holding his messy hands before himself, glanced back at Link, and smirked darkly. Dulled by exhaustion, Link's stomach still managed to quirk in a strange mix of fear and confusion.

The door clicked closed, and, with no other reaction available to them, the imprint of Ganondorf's dry lips still warm against their skin, they closed their eyes and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

Link woke sometime after midnight, to judge by the light of the moon, and tried to rest further; all they managed was a series of restless and unhappy dozing states.

Ganondorf’s glittering eyes were burned into their mind, and it was maddening. They tossed restlessly in the bed, still feeling a little sticky and aching, the sensation of his thick, clever fingers inside them nothing more than a memory but no less haunting for it. Their throat was dry and at some point they became overly aware of their eyes, the scratchy sensation that came with sleeplessness in the too-early hours of the morning, but they tried to reserve their energy.

This particular humiliation was too much to bear. They scrubbed their face, rolled over in the grey light of predawn, and tried to get comfortable. The longer they were awake, the further their embarrassment shifted to anger, though it seemed as if they couldn’t direct it anywhere else with as much conviction as they aimed it at themself with.

In the dark, there was nobody to see them. Staring at the ceiling, they exhaled, shifting enough to slide their hand against their own inner thigh, frowning intently.

They pressed their first finger against their tight ass, but the skin was only faintly sticky, and far too dry. They managed to get up to the first knuckle, grimacing at the rough sensation - not terrible, but a far cry from what Ganondorf did to them - before giving up, dick still entirely flaccid and lying unstirred against their hip. It was no good. They pulled it back out with a grimace and rolled on their side.

Anger seething in them, they still managed to drift back into an uneasy slumber, quietly furious at themself for not being able to hold out under Ganondorf’s cunning touch.

-

They woke abruptly, groggy and sour, to a tall shadow cast over them: dread spiked in their stomach, and they reached for a sword they didn’t have, before groggy recognition set in.

Ganondorf was standing between them and the window, expression cool and contemplative, holding a tray.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The king was brisk, moving towards the bed with narrowed eyes. Link gathered the blankets closer and sat up, feeling the fear diffuse into something more familiar, a rich cocktail of anger and indignation. They said nothing, looking flatly at Ganondorf - who, after a moment of apparent discomfort, turned to the desk and picked up the tray, as if he were going to hand Link their breakfast.

Link could smell cooked eggs and some kind of rich meat, and their stomach started to growl and churn despite it feeling shriveled up with discomfort. The towering Gerudo was getting closer, and their mind was pulling up memories from their battles and memories of his dry, warm lips against their shoulder, the feel of their hands, expert and teasing, and it was too much. Their body was betraying them, heart pounding in their throat in fear, something hot and sharp in their stomach at the memories, a tangled and humiliating mess. They were going to jump out of their skin, breath catching in their throat in a white-hot instant as his footsteps brought him quietly closer -

Link acted on a sudden burst of adrenaline, with no thought, no planning: they picked up one of their pillows and hurled it straight at Ganondorf’s face.

There was silence, broken by the muffled thump of pillow hitting his face, the soft clatter of it knocking the plates and cup across the tray. Water spilled and dripped on the floor, on the fallen cushion, and Ganondorf’s face was terrifyingly calm and blank.

“That,” he rumbled, after a moment, stepping towards the bed with sudden and chilling purpose, “was unwise -”

Link let out a small noise of alarm, shifting onto their haunches, and swung the second pillow with both hands, gripping the corners and walloping the king in the face.

That was more immediately effective: Ganondorf dropped the tray.

Unfortunately, as it fell, he also grabbed the pillow and yanked it out of Link’s grip almost effortlessly, letting out a low displeased noise not entirely unlike a snarl. Link’s stomach did a half-panicked backflip as they tried to move backwards across the bed, away from the suddenly near-tangible danger, but Ganondorf grabbed onto one of their ankles and dragged them back across the bed towards himself, the blankets twisting and rolling into deep wrinkles as Link struggled.

He jerked them sharply closer as they grabbed the sheets, some of them starting to come untucked, and then, with one hand and terrible force, he crammed the pillow tightly against their face; they had an instant to gasp in air and then they were being smothered.

Automatically, against their will, their limbs thrashed. They struggled, blind and desperate, their arms too short to effectively hit Ganondorf, kicking at his stomach to no avail, the weight of him holding the pillow so tightly against their face that no air was coming to them at all.

“Stop struggling,” he suggested, voice pitched low and dark, muffled through the layering of the pillow. Link started to claw at his wrist, their nails pulling up skin and leaving raw marks, fear and anger morphing into panic, and then into a heady mess of desperation.

Through it, Ganondorf’s voice was as heavy and dark as cast-iron, commanding. “Stop. Struggling.”

Spots were starting to dance in front of Link’s eyes, and their struggling was getting harder as their limbs started to feel shaky and weak. They weighed their options, for a split second, feeling the wetness of blood on their fingertips, feeling their own pulse throbbing in their throat and their hands, fast and urgent.

They dropped their hands, curled them into fists.

The pillow was lifted. They blinked their eyes against the sudden brightness of the world, spots still swimming in their wobbling gaze, and they realised without the capacity for embarrassment that they’d left three wet spots on the pillow; their eyes and their gaping mouth. Sluggishly they wiped their face, but they didn’t dare sit up.

“You will not disrespect me in my house.”

Link blinked rapidly, looking at Ganondorf’s icy, untouchable face for a moment, and then they gave the barest of nods.

“Better.” With his yellow eyes narrowed in faint contempt, the king gestured towards the floor. “You’ll make up for your misbehaviour, of course.”

Link hesitated, grimaced, and then crawled off the bed. Food was smeared into the floor again, mingled with the spilled water, and their appetite was shriveled by adrenaline, but they reluctantly leaned in to take a bite. Ganondorf interrupted them by clicking his fingers sharply.

“No. You don’t get your meal until you earn it.”

They looked up, gaze flat with discomfort, and gave Ganondorf their most expressive, expectant stare, eyebrows raised, lips tight. He stared back, eyes chill and distant, and then commanded in a voice as soft and strong as silk, “You’re going to earn it by cleaning my boots.”

Link blinked, once, straightening a little, casting around for a cloth. Ganondorf’s voice came out tinted with a spreading, subtle tone of amusement, almost overpowered by condescension.

“No, Link. With your tongue.”

They froze, hand on the bedside table, and turned their head to give Ganondorf an incredulous, wide-eyed stare, unpleasantly stunned.

And there he stood, the towering king, desert dust clinging to his black boots, clothes elegant but unable to hide the tension of their stretch over his muscle-heavy body, nor the bulge of his cock inside his pants, starting to stir a little at the new humiliation he’d dreamed up for his captive.

Link stared, dread prickling the back of their neck, and abruptly shifted to rise; the faint narrowing of Ganondorf’s eyes and the curling of one of his hands was enough to keep Link from actually standing, though, as their body remembered the pain of only a few days prior. They opened their mouth, intending to protest, letting out a tiny sound, but Ganondorf’s stare was shriveling away all the courage they were meant to possess.

They set their jaw, shaking their head tightly.

“Link,” he warned, straightening a little, eyes narrowing subtly. “You’ll do as I say. One way or another. Don’t make me tell you again.”

After a long moment of this tense standoff, Link gave in, bowing their head forward. Revulsion for the act was stronger than any fear for the taste, but with a leaden stomach they opened their mouth slowly, shoulders hunching, and licked a glossy stripe across Ganondorf’s left boot.

Dust coated their tongue, the salt and grit of the desert starting to dry out their mouth at the first taste. Humiliation prickled along the inside of their throat, joining the parched dryness of coarse sand and clinging dirt, but they bit down on their distress, set to work. Their body wanted to gag, and they didn’t dare glance up, but they ran their tongue across the smooth leather, starting to work from the toes and blanching with every lick.

Bad enough that their body was so easy for Ganondorf to manipulate - now they were groveling as well. Fury made their stomach feel heavy and hot, as if they were going to be sick, but they shook it off and continued on, tongue pressing into the creases of the leather, mouth feeling dry despite the saliva dripping from their open mouth.

It was unpleasant work mostly for the debasement, the humiliation, but they worked quickly, lapping away every streak of dust along the tops of both boots. When they glanced up - dreading the next order, stomach leaden at the possibility that Ganondorf would have them clean the soles as well - they caught his fierce eyes accidentally.

His yellow gaze was hot and hungry again, fixed on them with an impossible intensity, and his cock was outlined huge and tightly constrained in the fabric of his trousers. Their body gave a sudden cold chill, their own groin twitching involuntarily at the sight, at once deeply alarmed and shamefully eager.

“Good,” Ganondorf murmured, in a voice like thunder and silk. Trepidation shot through them as he shifted, but didn’t manage to overwhelm the tight spiral of heat and want.

It wasn’t something Link had really thought about before, but here in the flesh, face to face without blades or burning magic between them, Ganondorf was handsome. His face was defined and strong, with a solid jaw and a thin, expressive mouth, hooded eyes and a dangerous curl to his smile. The sickly green tint to his dark skin and the smouldering malice in his eyes, though, added such a strong sense of danger that Link had never really focused on it; if pressed, they’d guess that the same was true of everyone else as well.

They twitched as their mind came back to focus, feeling another twinge of mixed lust and alarm: Ganondorf was watching them carelessly as one hand unbuttoned his trousers.

Link blinked once before registering the movement, and then reared back and sat up on their haunches, alarmed. He snorted, shifting his weight.

“You didn’t think you were done, did you?” He reached down, fingers running through their hair in a casual act of possession, and they focused hard to repress their flinch. “I’ve been so patient with you, Link, and you’ve thrown it back in my face. You’re going to atone.”

Link swallowed, the dread they were feeling making room for a hot thread of lust to expand in the pit of their stomach. Ganondorf’s cock, finally free of his trousers, was thick and heavy, a darker greenish brown than the rest of his body, the tip flushed a dark pink. With the foreskin halfway pulled back, the smooth golden sheen of a piercing was visible, two little orbs of shining metal that caught the light.

It was huge.

Link swallowed again, looking up tensely at the king, and he smiled down at them, a little cruel and mocking, fingers sliding into Link’s hair and gripping tightly. Link’s breath caught in their throat, the fear spiking back into place, but not quite crushing the throb of heat that came with Ganondorf’s sure and commanding touch.

“Open your mouth, little hero. If you do a good job, I’ll consider us even.”

Link grimaced, as if they were going to voice their objection, but as always, no words formed. After a moment, they opened their mouth obediently.

Ganondorf shifted, the tip of his cock brushing Link’s lower lip, and then gripped their hair a little tighter and dragged them in.

It felt even bigger than it looked, as their jaw stretched uncomfortably to accommodate its girth. The head was smooth and glossy, metal gliding against their tongue, and they couldn’t help the tiny whine that escaped them; whether it was complaint or need, they weren’t sure.

With his cock sliding deeper, until it was gliding against the back of their tongue, they had to focus hard not to gag. Their eyes watered, and they looked up at Ganondorf’s face: his eyes were burning bright, his expression dark with some terrible hunger. Link had to close their eyes to break that gaze, and he took that as his signal - it took Link by surprise as he started drag Link’s head up, away from him for a moment before pushing them back down.

He was fucking their mouth. Link’s cock twitched with interest, a flush going through them, balls contracting a little. Ganondorf wasn’t in any sort of hurry, thick cock stretching Link’s lips and jaw, sure and forceful, and for all that it was degrading, their body was tingling with a pervasive sense of heat and pleasure.

They lifted their hands, gripping the fabric of his trousers a little blindly, and let his hand guide them down again and again. The sensation was bizarrely appealing; they could feel the metal gliding against their tongue a split second further ahead than the thick, solid weight of the shaft, and Ganondorf’s cock was hard, yes, but the skin was soft as velvet, pliant and warm, and his pulse jumped against their tongue with every thrust. They kept their eyes closed, tried to focus on the sensation instead of anything else, and felt heat build in their stomach slowly.

“You’re doing well,” Ganondorf rumbled, and Link’s eyes snapped open as if they were coming out of a trance, meeting the king’s gaze mutely. “Now I’m going to give you more.”

They blinked once. Their mouth was already filled with his thick cock, as far as they could take it -

Ganondorf started to force their head down further, and Link seized up a little, sudden panic striking them as their body tried to gag. It was to no avail, though: the thick, hot head of his cock was starting to force into their throat, stretching it open painfully. They shoved at his thighs, panic hitting as their airway was blocked, but his grip was sure and his cock kept sinking in, deeper and deeper, stretching their throat open roughly. Their eyes watered, tears spilling down their cheeks, swallowing involuntarily and feeling the inescapable thickness of the king’s cock inside their throat -

And just like that he was pulling out again. Link swallowed urgently against their body’s gagging, trying to settle it, sucking deep and desperate breaths through their nose, staring up at Ganondorf with wide, shocked eyes. He smiled a little, as if entertained by Link’s reaction, and touched their cheek.

“Relax,” he nearly whispered, wiping away the track of Link’s tears on one cheek. “You just breathe in the spaces between thrusts - you’re clever, you’ll get a handle on it.”

They took another shaky, urgent breath, swallowing and feeling the ache of their throat, before steeling themself and nodding. On impulse, they flattened their tongue against the underside of Ganondorf’s thick cock, feeling out the shape of it tentatively.

He huffed out a low noise of satisfaction, gripped their hair again, and pressed his thick cock back into their mouth.

Now that they weren’t panicking and they knew to take a breath beforehand, the stretching ache of their throat felt almost good - foreign, unfamiliar, but satisfying. They didn’t have to watch the terrible king’s face to know he was looking down at them with a gaze like a hunting lion’s, but when they glanced up with watering eyes and saw it, their whole body seemed to set off a strange shiver, a spike of heat in the pit of their stomach. It was only faint, but it was there, making the ache of their jaw seem inconsequential.

He started to move Link’s head again, grip tight, and now he was fucking their throat, setting off a burn of lingering pain as it stretched to accommodate his obscenely thick cock. They hissed in breaths through their nose and out again between thrusts, taking advantage of the gaps, but they were getting less frequent as Ganondorf picked up his pace, taking their throat cruelly.

Suddenly the thought invaded their mind - how Ganondorf’s huge fat cock was going to feel in their ass, so much bigger than his fingers, and discomfort melted away to a desperate, sudden sort of lust, overwhelming. They let out a tiny whimper around his cock, dropping one hand from his thigh to grip their own dick and give it a single, squeezing stroke. Their whole body felt electrified, desperate to please suddenly, and they curled their tongue around his cock as best they could, swallowing around it, throat contracting.

Ganondorf fucked their throat roughly, faster, and then pulled out abruptly: Link gagged and gasped, trying to ignore the sense of loss and the hollow ache of their throat, mouth hanging open, but the king gave his cock two rough strokes, cock glossy and shining with Link’s drool, and then hot, thick seed spurted across Link’s face. They squeezed their eyes shut tightly, panting open mouth splashed with cum, the bitter salt of it coating their tongue, and it was dripping on their chest, running down their skin - they whined involuntarily, cock twitching in their hand, so close and driven closer by the sensation -

And then he sighed out in contentment, speaking low and commanding. “Hand off yourself, Link. Clean me up.”

Link squinted their eyes open, whining in protest: their balls felt tight and heavy, their cock aching, heat pooled in the pit of their stomach. One withering glance from the king was enough warning, though, and reluctantly they put their hand back against Ganondorf’s thigh, sliding their mouth around his cock and sucking it slowly, tongue swiping at the head to gather the last of his cum.

Satisfied at last, the king pulled away, tucking his softening dick back into his pants and starting to button them again.

“You’ve earned your meal. But keep your manners in mind in the future, little hero, or I may feel less kind.”

As he turned to leave, Ganondorf stepped in the mingled, soggy pastry and water, leaving a boot-print.

Link made no noise, other than their panting, and watched his back until the door closed between them.

Chapter Text

When Ganondorf was gone and the haze of lust had subsided, Link tried to take stock. It took a while, perhaps half an hour, before they could feel anything but confused and distressed in some nebulous, ill-defined way, but the conclusion they came to was - shame. 

The weary kick of that humiliation made them feel ill, and after a long few minutes’ pause, trying to calm down, they punched their pillow around, kicking it too, across the room, making wordless, wild noises of fury. 

They stood. They started to catch their breath. After a few minutes, eyes closed, tears sprang up again, panicked and intense. They paced, wiping their eyes furiously. Willing away the confusion; the stress at their lack of freedom, their guilt over losing. What must be happening out there? What was Ganondorf’s dread army doing?

It was at least another hour before, eyes stinging with tears, they once again knelt down and started to pick at the mess of food ground into the stone-tiled floor. It was cold, and the water had turned the pastry halfway to mush, but with no alternatives, they scooped it from the floor and ate it. The meat and egg inside were still faintly warm. 

Their whole groin ached oddly by the time they tried to sleep. 

Link had tried to bring themself to some sort of satisfying completion before bed, but the remembered finality of Ganondorf’s tone and his sudden disappearance were both so discomfiting that their erection kept wilting away listlessly. Between that and the damage they imagined out there in the rest of the world, nothing felt real, and their mind simply shut down, centering on their body alone. 

Not with any particular relief, though. It left their balls sore and their stomach feeling leaden and nauseous, the meal they’d salvaged from the ground feeling like they’d eaten a large handful of fishing weights. 

Restless in bed, they twisted the sheets around themself, twitching, sighing, before they finally slammed their hands against the sheets and stood up, a desperate sharp exhale escaping them. 

Were they really so trapped? 

They moved to the door first. Listened. At least two guards were patrolling, their desert slippers soft on the stone, their gaits purposeful - women not under any expectation to perform for the male gaze, striding instead of swaying. Link rubbed their eyes, and moved instead to the window, peering out. 

The drop was huge. A small family of desert raptors had made their home in the series of awnings below Link’s window, a falcon or some such tearing something small into mouthfuls for its gaping-beaked young. Further down the grey and dusty walls of the fortress there were other windows, open, faint music or conversations drifting out, just barely audible. The town below was too far to hear.

On the ground, far beneath the window, some skinny beasts - coyotes, perhaps - were gathered, sniffing and circling, picking up marketplace scraps. 

They were ignored by the women under bright fabric awnings, a good thirty or so yards from the fortress walls, but Link’s gaze strayed to the market nonetheless, eyes moving from the hungry beasts to the low-lit strings of lanterns between the lowest awnings, the dull ochre and grey tones of the buildings offset by the rich colours of the paper and the fabric. 

A woman was sitting on a blanket, selling melons and something shining, and another was sitting on what looked, at this distance, to be some kind of fur, huge and striped, thick and plush at one end. Her clothes glittered, even in the low light, as if she were strung with golden coins. 

Link stared down at the barely-lit, rich colours below, their chest suddenly aching. Even with the vibrant jewel-tones of the marketplace, nothing was green and alive here, even the grass a raspy silver-yellow. Not even the smell of the fruit or the bread or the meat made it up this high, and beyond the outer walls of the town, the desert stretched out in immense rolls, the sand reflecting moonlight like some dulled-down ocean. 

With a dull and aching realisation, they missed their home in the forest, and they missed the vibrant grass of Hyrule’s fields, and the darker green around the lake. 

They missed the dappled light, and their freedom. They stretched out on the bed, heart aching, guts twisting, groin sore - and they closed their eyes. 

▲

Dreaming was a nice respite. In the dream, the cool, dappled light of the sun filtering through the forest’s immense boughs was enough to see by. The kokiri were far; the koroks further; Link walked soft-footed, their horse trailing after them, tail swishing, and they padded gentle across the moss on bare feet, hopping a small rivulet to get across to a slippery branch. 

The branch was rotted; they fell through. 

Throat aching, they couldn’t even shriek as they fell. 

Entwined in the clutches of some immense skulltula, they gasped for air, twisting, tangling, and when they woke, with a half-shout, wordless and crackling, they’d fallen out of the bed, arm twisted uncomfortably to grasp the bedframe, legs and their other arm knotted into the silken sheets. 

It only took an instant for one of the guards, a tall Gerudo woman with a scar tugging the corner of her mouth down sharply, to step into the room.

Link twitched a little.

She was beautiful. Her crimson hair caught the low lamplight; Link didn’t remember having a lamp, and they certainly hadn’t lit it, but there it was now, on a table in their room. She said something - unintelligible to them, the Gerudo tongue twisting oddly in her mouth - and then shook her head in irritation at herself, signing rapidly. 

“Safe? Unharmed?” Her Hylian Sign was slow, but Link could follow the clumsy gestures, nodding their head and signing back with care. 

“ A dream. Do not fear.”

She looked at them for a long moment, as if haunted by some deep unease, and then, still grasping her spear, fumbled at her belt. An unsettled quirk in Link’s stomach was replaced by a wave of thirst and relief as she offered them a waterskin. 

Link drank full and deep, and when they were done, they signed their thanks, over and over. The guard laughed, then grinning at their thanks and waving her callused hand in a soothing dismissal. She signed her goodbye after a few soothing gestures, and something they hadn’t expected: a sigil gesture from the lowlands of Hyrule’s farming belt, one of good luck and fertility. 

They went back to bed. No skulltula waited for them this time, only dappled light and, in the distance, visible through the mist, the faintest shine of an immense and familiar lake. Epona’s warm breath against their arm. A little snippet of a life that seemed an age ago, before the conflict began, cobbled together from bits and pieces of joy snatched between battles and duty. 

▲

When they woke, it was to Ganondorf on his way out of the room, having left a tray of breakfast for them; he paused as he heard them stirring, but didn’t yet turn to look at them. 

The food smelled unfamiliar, but there was fresh-cut hydromelon there, and joltfruit peeled and cut as well. Spiced egg mixed with some kind of rice and herbs were bringing up an aromatic cloud of steam in the cool desert morning, and there was a toasty bread scent joining it, and some kind of red meat. Sitting by the uncovered plate was a large ceramic cup, the same as the ones Ganondorf had brought water in a few times. 

“Good morning,” the king drawled, glancing over his shoulder. This time there was no smirk, no taunt, just his hawk-yellow eyes fixed calmly on their face. There was some kind of calculating unease in his expression, but Link wasn’t entirely sure what it could mean. He looked at them, and when they signed back a careful greeting, looking at him quietly, he simply nodded, satisfied, and stepped out of the room. 

Leaving the door open. 

“When you’re ready,” the king murmured, a shadow on the other side of the open doorway, turning his head to look at them again, “I’ve organised you a proper bath. Follow the hallway left.” 

Link stared. The armed guards were absent; the stairs were a coaxing, flat stone, easy enough to sprint down. 

And Ganondorf turned left, and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Link with breakfast, with unease, and with an uncomfortable thrill picking up in his throat. Escape was still unrealistic - but with it as a technical possibility, what would they do? 

They sat on the bed, tray on their lap, staring. There was even cutlery. A knife glittered, inviting.

For a long and desperate moment they weighed their sudden reluctance against a desperate sense of obligation. If they could stab Ganondorf, or any guard in the way, maybe they could make it to their gear. 

Unbidden, the thought of Ganondorf’s thick cock sinking into their throat came up again. Their stomach clenched, their whole body shivered, and they tried to will away the guilty heat. As they stared at the water, their flushing face reflected back, their mind drew up again the imaginings that had plagued them while they had the king’s hot cock in their mouth. The sensation of his fingers and the imagined fullness of what it might feel to take more. His hand in their hair, or pressing on their back. 

They ate in a sullen and uneasy silence, resenting their strange and unfamiliar eagerness. Watching the elegant curve of Zelda’s form through clothes had brought a smaller tingle, but it had always been edged with a sort of uncertainty of their own appeal. 

It was, in a guilty sort of way, a relief to know that they were so unabashedly wanted by the Gerudo king. As soon as the thought came they cursed it, tried to shake it away, but there it was, clear as day. Being coveted was a very specific sort of thrill. 

Done with their methodical and distracted chewing, they finished their water, visited the garderobe - and stood at the doorway. 

Realistically, to be a good hero - to be what would be best for Hyrule - they should be at least trying for the staircase. The knife was sharp and the stairs unguarded; they knew how to walk silently, how to run near-silently. It wouldn’t be impossible, and they’d worked with worse odds. 

The other path was safer. It led to doing as the king said; it led to being wanted, craved. To being degraded and used like a plaything. 

Link turned left, and went down the hallway. 

▲

Ganondorf stood waiting, unclothed and smiling lazily, beside a pool of softly steaming water. It was the first time Link had seen him laid bare, and their mouth went dry. Fear spiked through them swiftly, but the dizzying lust was just a hair’s breadth faster. 

Ganondorf was scarred heavily: there were dozens of them, the most prominent being a softly glowing white line across his chest, a wound that resembled a sword-slash. Others were across his throat - down his arms or across his taut lower abdomen, but they didn’t look anywhere near as severe, and they didn’t have the unconstrained glow. Instead they were the soft dark pink of old scars, just as anyone would expect. 

He was also, however, effortlessly handsome. Heavy-set with muscle, a layer of flesh over it making him soft-edged, he stood immense and unabashed. His hair was a fiery cascade, a volcano eruption of silky red that was untied and let loose down his back, and his yellow eyes were half-closed, lazy and unafraid. 

Link was suddenly aware that they were standing there blankly, just as nude and on-display, and that they were tightly grasping a knife.

With a little startled croak, they dropped the knife, stepping back from it and Ganondorf as if to show that they weren’t here to disobey. Ganondorf inclined his head, and then gestured at the water. 

“In, please,” the king prompted softly, and it was only now that Link’s mind was gathering itself enough that they noted the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle rising, a sweet note in the steam. 

They approached slowly, uneasily, and took a moment to pause, startled, as Ganondorf himself stepped into the small pool, sinking down past his hips, down to the very bottom of his ribs, before sitting himself on a bench in the water, now up to the centre of his chest in the fragrant water. 

“Come and sit.” 

Link moved closer again, careful as a mouse, and stepped into the water; there were benches set along like stairs, in the water, and they selected the one above Ganondorf’s seat, a little behind him and an arm’s reach away; with the tops of their shoulders rising out of the water, still shorter than the king but immersed enough in the heat that they could feel their muscles unknotting, slowly. 

Ganondorf considered them for a moment, and then scratched his jaw. He leaned back, languid and peaceful, turning his head, and Link looked at him in profile with a helpless sort of fascination, their stomach making the strange and restless flip that they’d come to recognise as their freeze response to the king’s presence. A conditioned response that they couldn’t shake: their cock twitched restlessly, despite the heat of the bathing pool knocking their senses around. They felt muddled, dazed by the heat, and simultaneously at ease. It was without much thought that they found themself watching the king comb a fragrant oil through his hair with a wooden comb, aided by the hot water. 

They could almost reach out and touch him - he could definitely have grabbed Link at this distance, effortlessly. Why the whole thing was so relaxing was beyond them, but after a long moment of just watching, Ganondorf turned to them and smiled. 

Their insides did a little uneasy flip as their pulse spiked, but Ganondorf was just smiling, lazy, almost sleepy. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, but his voice was soft. “Back to me, thank you.” 

Link found an easy excuse in their head - that he could drown them without a second thought - and turned. Their skin prickled with an anticipation they couldn’t nail down the underlying emotion of, but Ganondorf smoothed the warm water across their back, and, with very little fuss, began to comb the warmed fragrant oils through their hair.

“It will make it softer,” he explained, and with no other option they simply nodded their consent.

 His hands were firm but there was no tugging: he seemed to be an expert at working all the tangles out of hair, and was doing so to theirs without any hesitation, cleaning away flakes of blood and old sweat, unthreading impossible knots - and at one point removing several leaves.

Time seemed to be like honey, flowing lazy over the morning.

 Link didn’t know how long they’d been there. They flushed, but their body was relaxing into the contact. Treacherous as it was to feel this way, they were easing into a sort of peaceful daze, the Gerudo King of Evil simply tending to them. 

After their hair was clean and oiled, Ganondorf slid his hands down to their arms. They tensed, but it was half-hearted. 

“I want you on my lap,” Ganondorf murmured, simple and level, and though it wasn’t a question they nodded again, their consent automatic and nearly involuntary. 

They expected this to be some rough introduction to the king’s cock, but instead they were seated on one of his big thighs, his hands gentle, sliding down their arms into the water, feeling the strength in their slimmer body with a sort of hum of appreciation in the back of his throat. Link was too sleepy to try to squirm away, simply half-dozing, settled and warm against the king’s side, sitting sidelong on his lap. 

Those strong, callused hands slid down, taking and lifting their hands out of the water. He seemed to want to admire their aligned Triforce marks, and Link followed along in a haze, staring at his huge, dark hand holding their own smaller, callused and pale hand that held his up with a strangely delicate touch.

“One day,” Ganondorf murmured, and Link’s attention snapped up to him in a sudden wave of anxious clarity. “One day you’ll be mine, all of you. But for now -” 

With one hand still grasping Link’s left hand, where the Triforce was, the other hand slid smoothly away from their wrist, down against their stomach under the water.

His fingers wrapped around Link’s cock - and they let out a little noise. They hadn’t realised that they were reacting to the prolonged and gentle contact until it was brought to their attention by his hand, but now they couldn’t ignore it. Shameful heat burned a hole in the pit of their stomach as they shivered. 

“Relax, little hero,” he murmured, and they let out a little croak of protest. It turned into a crackling moan. Ganondorf’s hand was sure and careful, the residual oil making his calluses glide against their skin, and they whined, tilting helplessly against his side, their wet hair clinging to his skin. They gripped his thick arm with both hands, but they didn’t claw, or pull, or try to stop him. 

They were on the precipice of some strange and unfamiliar breakthrough; Ganondorf’s calluses were sliding with a touch of friction, the oil and the water creating the strangest sensation, and it was transforming Link into something pliant and usable. They whined again, and Ganondorf smoothed his other hand away from theirs, across their ribs and down their back, stroking their dick with a practiced, patient hand. 

He was too patient. Link was almost burning up, whining in their crackly, half-there voice, their ass squirming against Ganondorf’s thigh, their cock twitching helplessly in his hand, drawn to a torturously slow pleasure, mounting beyond what they’d ever managed themself. It felt good, it felt too good, their stomach was clenching and burning, but they didn’t have the voice to plead.

They dug their fingers into Ganondorf’s arm, panting open-mouthed. The king, finally feeling some mercy, threaded his fingers into their silky-oily hair, gripped tightly, and gave them a few more strokes, this time firmer, faster. Link turned their face helplessly upwards, to relieve the tension on their scalp, let out a throaty, hoarse noise, and came - their body tight and tense as a fiddle-string, twitching into Ganondorf’s hand helplessly, eyes squeezed tight with just the memory of those yellow eyes staring hungrily down at them. Their body twitched and spasmed, a desperate crawl of raw nerves sparking as they shuddered through it, their whole body clenching with the rapturous pleasure. It felt like an inescapable wave, as the humid air sucked into their lungs and little shudders wracked through their whole body, stronger than they’d ever felt by their own hand.

He kept stroking them, though - rapid, pulsing strokes, and they whined - began to claw at his arm again, struggling to push away. His cock was pressed against their lower back as they squirmed, a huge and dangerous promise that was driving them slowly up the wall. The sensation of that velvet skin and the raw-nerves pain of being pushed past their orgasm mingled with a sudden desperation; they let out what was almost a sob, mouth falling open, and finally Ganondorf relented. 

Link felt wrung clean, shivering despite the hot water. At some point their eyes had teared up enough to spill, and they gazed up at Ganondorf in a daze. 

He smiled, and Link’s stomach gave a strange, exhausted little flutter, an almost-lust, too spent to muster up any heat. 

“You did well for me, didn’t you?” 

Ganondorf’s voice sounded genuine, rather than mocking, but Link flushed just the same, made a small noise, and squirmed as if to get away. 

In response the king smiled, picking up another bottle, and poured a fluid into his hands. “Hold still,” he ordered, and Link, exhausted, couldn’t find it in themself to disobey. 

While they watched on sleepily, pliant and half asleep, entirely spent, Ganondorf took the time to clean them, manipulating their body effortlessly in the buoyant, fragranced water. They didn’t even have it in themself to flinch, only arching away a little, sluggish, when something tickled. 

The dozing took over, at some point, their body too pliant and satisfied to do anything but drift in Ganondorf’s powerful arms.

▲

Link must have fallen asleep at some point: they woke to the afternoon sunlight streaming through the curtains of their room. 

Their body and their sheets both smelled fresh and fragrant. Their hair felt silky. Muscles long-since used to being knotted by stress felt loose and relaxed again, and the door was closed once more. 

They rolled over, buried their cheek against the pillow, and let themself doze.

Chapter Text

Link went from dozing to sleeping, stretched out in the moonlight.

Time in this place had so little meaning that their life had begun to revolve instead around their meals and their time with… him. Loathsome as it felt to admit, a dawn was much more kind of an awakening when they had time to simply eat and enjoy the view, and the Gerudo King was beginning to give them a glimpse into a life less rigid.

Ganondorf drifted in and out of their life, over the next few days. Whenever they stirred to eat, either he was only just gone, the air still fragrant with campfire, metal, and the oils he used in his hair, or he was taking a moment to eye them before he left again.

It began to be almost comfortable. Link, feeling a little more alert, a little safer, spent less of their time wary, more of their time simply existing.
They would exercise, practising lunges and hops around the room, twisting and spinning, doing sit-ups, push-ups, keeping themself honed - but when they rested, they were brought meals.
It seemed like, for a time, at least breakfast each morning was being brought by Ganondorf himself. Days went by - maybe weeks.

Where the King of Evil was finding time to do this, they didn’t know; perhaps the war was on a standstill while he focused on breaking them in.

The thought sent a conflicting sensations through their body: the trained response of years’ worth of training, violent drills, over and over fighting straw men, til they could almost believe that their enemies would be made of straw as well - butting up against the half-remembered soft glide of Ganondorf’s skin, water-slick and warm and holding them securely as he touched them, driving them half out of their mind.

The realisation that this conflict existed in their mind dawned slowly, though. It took days of trying to pinpoint their unease, and the thought finally crystallised while they were staring at the ceiling, half-hard, thinking of their captor in a quiet moment of weakness.

Their cock twitched, and restlessly they palmed it - before exhaling, sitting up, and looking uneasily to the door. Dawn was starting to break, which meant a meal; it meant that man, and it meant some kind of lazy flirtation. He no longer hesitated to bring them cutlery, and seemed to have no fear of them.

It was a little confusing, and a little upsetting.

This morning, however, he brought them… a gift.
He walked in, set down breakfast, and left. Then returned an instant later with a bundle.

 A cloak of a fine, striped fur - plush yet sleek. Golden, each stripe a deeper ochre tone. It was so bright - perhaps even glowing a little. They had a sudden impulse to put their face in it, but it was folded carefully with a soft, silken tunic, and some kind of equally silky, almost gauzy short trousers, with trailing ends.

“Let me show you,” he said, and then, kneeling, began to dress them.

Stunned, Link simply allowed their body to be moved this way and that; the trousers went down just past their knees, and laced there with the trailing ends. They had layers of the gauzy fabric, nearly floating around their legs, each movement of their thighs within it soft and sensuous. As the king’s huge hands belted the pants, with the same trailing ends as each leg had, they couldn’t help but flush. The silk moving against their skin was enticing - Ganondorf’s heavy, scarred, oh-so-careful hands moreso.

The tunic, when worn,  draped loose off one shoulder, belted with the same trailing ends, like a sort of wrapped dress, almost. It was patterned in turquoise and green, with small golden threads along the band. After a moment, though, Link realised something: the embroidery was real gold thread, woven fine through a spool of the silk.

They wanted to ask why the finery - lifted their hands - but Ganondorf hushed them wordlessly, rising to his intimidating height, and threw the cloak around them in a flourish.
Even that was so plush, so obscenely soft, that they let out a little sigh. The weight of it, fine though the leather must be, was enough to anchor them, and the supple grain of the polished hide combined with the fur to give something that rippled around them.

He tucked one finger under their chin, and tilted it up. As they lifted their eyes, uncertain, they flushed at the intensity of his gaze - staring, hungry. As if there were some barely-banked fire in the coals of his yellow eyes.

“Do you know,” he began, his voice soft, “that the Triforce calls to its other pieces?”
Link swallowed, not daring to look away in this strange, hazy moment. They instead nodded. They’d known in an instant that they had to stay around Zelda, when they’d first met.

“We’re born,” Ganondorf continued, “again and again, in a perpetual cycle. Of distrust, and yearning.” He paused, his mouth an odd shape for a moment. “I will no longer be a victim to that distance, and I intend to make sure that you aren’t, either.”

Link licked their lips, a thread of unease winding its way through their stomach. Under the hungry gaze of the Gerudo leader, they couldn’t seem to catch their breath, much less get their thoughts together enough to sign. Instead, slow and uncertain, they lifted their hands, both of them, to grasp Ganondorf’s - to pull it away.

And for a moment, they were stunned.

It was like the pulse of the world was beneath them; like a heart of rock and magma jumping; like a bottomless well of something unknowable and solid, swallowing them up. Something was travelling from their hand to their heart, rapidly, and they couldn’t seem to let go, instead clinging to Ganondorf like a lifeline, dizzied by the sheer vastness of what they were feeling. An endless well of boundless, dizzying strength, as if they could fight the open sky and win.

When they could see past the haze again, there was the faintest ghost of green, lingering on their joined hands: a spectral seedling, weaving their fingers onto the back of Ganondorf’s hand. His Triforce was glowing, vivid and warm, and their own was as well, answering back with a slow pulsing. The light was building, between his larger hand and theirs, as the seedling’s first leaves began to unfurl.

As if synchronised, as if burned, they let go of one another. 

The image of the growing plant shattered into tiny pieces of golden light. It faded away like afterimages.

 It lingered, though, at the back of Link’s eyeballs, for several of their stunned, silent moments.

“Sorry,” Ganondorf croaked out - and then, looking shocked with himself, turned and left, as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Link was left perplexed, sitting on the edge of the bed. They looked down - there were even finely laced sandals, left behind when the king fled.

They sat quietly at the little table, and had their breakfast in shaken silence.

▲

Ganondorf didn’t return that day, and so, reluctantly, Link stripped down again. It seemed like ill manners to sweat through such fine clothes. Guiltily, though, they slept curled with the cloak. If they concentrated, beyond the smell of fine leather, there was the campfire and steel and sweet-spiced aroma that Ganondorf carried with them everywhere.

Why it was a comfort, despite everything, was a mystery. Link didn’t care to examine it too closely. Instead they slept coiled in it, otherwise bare, the blanket draped loosely across them.

When they woke, in the dawn, they found themself hard again, pressing into the plush fur, which they’d somehow managed to wedge between their legs, arms gripping tight around it.

They took a moment, in that grey and chill light, to pretend that nothing had gone wrong. Instead, for just a moment, they imagined Ganondorf as a lover instead of a captor - his callus-heavy hands touching lazily, his mouth curled sly, murmuring praise, the warmth of that contact spreading through them. The Triforce glowing between them.

That last thought, though, sent such a dizzying rush through them that they rolled on top of the cloak, grinding against it, whining under their breath. The fur was glossy, and slid against them - at once too much sensation and not enough. They needed his hand again, with a sudden desperation they’d never expected of themself, touching, taking -

The King always knocked as he entered, but as Link never spoke in response, he usually paused only a moment before entering. Thus it was that today he caught them - having not heard the knock - humping blindly against their own hand, legs spread on either side of the thick cloak, their cock twitching. Rather than stroking their cock properly, they were just rubbing against the callused palm, eyes squeezed shut, trembling.

But the door was heavy enough to make a noise at the end of its arc, and as Ganondorf pushed it open, it creaked.

Link opened their eyes. Staring, flushed, their cock twitched against their hand, their stomach burning with a reinforced sort of heat as their lips parted involuntarily, as their whine escaped.

Ganondorf arched his eyebrow, made a don’t-worry gesture, voice soft. “Don’t mind me, I’m not intending to stop you.” There was a long pause, Link frozen, before he continued, voice low and thoughtful as he started to cross the stone floor, “In fact. I want you to keep going, for me.”

Link paused, mouth opening, and then, uncertainty winning them over, snapped it closed again. But the Gerudo persisted, moving to stand over the bed, and put a hand into Link’s hair - tugging lightly. They let out a shaky gasp, their cock twitching sharply. It was bordering between control and stinging, but only the barest twitch of pain. He grasped their hair, tilting their head back to meet their eyes. 

Again they were struck with the way his eyes focused on them. He had a hunger in his expression that Link hadn’t before been able to articulate, but now he’d been told it was obvious. He wanted them, plain and clear as a starving lion after its prey. Some incalculable desperation lurked in him, as wound-tight as it was in Link now, and thinking of it made their lips part soft and eager.

“I want to see you lose yourself, Link,” he murmured, and his grip gentled, fingers running through their hair slowly.

“Or do you need my help, now?”

A strange thrill of humiliation and need spiked through them - they let out a little noise, precariously balanced between pleading and protest, and Ganondorf shifted all at once.

He picked them up, by the waist, with both hands - manipulating their body again as their legs kicked out a little, so that he could sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread loosely, and put Link on their stomach over his lap.

Their ass was raised, with their legs bent against the bed, their torso across Ganondorf’s thick and solid thighs.

“Go ahead,” Ganondorf murmured, one strong hand still against their waist, holding them. Gentle but firm, his touch was likely unshakeable, and Link turned their cheek against the other side of Ganondorf’s spread thighs, grinding the underside of their cock against the inside of his thigh. There wasn’t enough friction, and Ganondorf seemed to know it, shushed them gently as they squirmed against him.

“That’s all you’re getting, there,” he murmured, and they whined, hips moving - stopping abruptly with a shudder when his hand rested on the curve of their hip. Now they couldn’t think.

It was, they thought distantly, a little pathetic. He was barely touching them, but the implications, the possessiveness and hunger and careful deliberation behind each touch were sending them into a hazy and disoriented state. Nothing else mattered, right now, other than Ganondorf touching them. Their cock twitched up towards their stomach a little, as his heavy, deliberate hand slid from their hip to their thigh, barely pausing before settling on the curve of their ass.

They wanted so acutely. Their mouth was watering, their cock was tingling, and they felt, in an undefined way, empty and aching. The images, the wants and needs flickering through them, were moving too fast to nail down, and all they could focus on right at this moment was how good it would feel for Ganondorf to touch them even more. With the thought half-formed, they spread their legs a little - which made the king huff out a startled half-laugh.

“Already, hero?”

Link didn’t feel like a hero - they felt like a toy, a possession, something to be used, packed away, and then used again when the whim struck. It was a lot less horrifying than it should have been.

This time, when Ganondorf’s oil-slippery fingers started to glide up their perineum, they didn’t flinch. They just let out a throaty, rough noise. Spreading their legs elicited a sharp inwards inhale from him, and then a pleased sigh, and Link knew intuitively that if they just moved the right way, they’d be able to feel the pressure of Ganondorf’s cock against their side through the fabric pulled taut.

He started, again, with one finger. This time, though, Link patted his thigh urgently - gestured the Road-Common Sign for ‘more’, desperate  - and dropped their head down against the bed before their guilty conscience could catch up. With a chuckle, the king ran his other hand down Link’s side, voice soft. 

“You’ll have to be patient, but now you know how to relax, I can spread you a little faster.”

They braced their knee on the bed, so that they could arch their hips up into the touch. Their reward was the thick, lingering stretch of one finger sunk into them, joined much more swiftly by a second.

The stretch still felt like a lot; they were disappointed in themself, both for their submission and for their inability to give as quickly as they wanted to.

After a few moments of this, Ganondorf seemed to realise what had Link clenching their fists and turning their head restlessly.

“Don’t fret, Link,” he soothed, his fingers spreading them, stretching them, finding the sensitive heat of their prostate and beginning to rub against it. They thrashed their head restlessly with the sensation, gasping, but he soothed again.

“It will be a lot of work, at first, but your body will adjust. Besides, I want to break you in properly, when I take you - it’s better if you tighten back up between sessions.”

Link let out a helpless, throaty noise, the words registering at the speed of honey flowing in winter. Most of their thoughts were simply heat and white noise, their body rocking back blindly against the touch, saliva pooling in their mouth.

This time, though, there was no hand to help them along, and barely any friction with the way Ganondorf’s legs were spread. They ached, desperate, the jolts of pleasure running through them at even the barest brush against that point, their balls pulling up, their cock stiff and bumping lightly against their stomach as they squirmed. They rocked into the touch, as Ganondorf brushed inside them, whining.

And then he started to press down - no longer brushing Link’s prostate, but rubbing firmly inside them, fingers spreading a little, the intensity far too much to bear. Link let out a choked, urgent noise, trying to hump against anything, rocking back against Ganondorf’s fingers, desperate suddenly to be fucked on them.

But the king was unrelenting, and instead took to pinning Link in place with one hand, their cock untouched and flushed and heavy, while his other hand pumped inside them.

It was too much - their body, unable to get the ferocity of sensation out, seemed suspended in desperation, burning as they writhed their head around. The noises coming out of them were incoherent; were loud; were pleading in wordless, crackling desperation, but it was like Ganondorf was determined to drive them out of their mind, and the solid, continuous pressure made their cock spasm, cum twitching out. 

It wasn’t enough - at first. But instead of it feeling incomplete, it felt maddening, because it simply didn’t relent. It was like everything in slow motion, but it kept going - their cum not so much spurting as oozing out, dripping against Ganondorf’s thigh, against the floor, until Link couldn’t breathe, until all they could do was sob and gasp in breaths, struggling mindlessly.

Eventually their vision began to haze - the lack of air, or the oversaturation of it, making their head spin too much, the pleasure still dragging on and on, and they let out a genuine, wracked sob. Their cheeks were wet, and they didn’t know when that had started, but their whole face felt hot and sticky, saliva smeared across their mouth.

It was then that Ganondorf slid his long arm around them, still working them open with his fingers, and gave their cock a few solid, squeezing strokes.

A renewed spurt of cum escaped, a hot wire of pleasure cutting through them from spine to groin, and if he’d stopped, then, it might have been enough, but now his fingers worked inside Link faster and rougher, and at some point, without them realising, he’d started sinking in a third finger. With the pressure, the heat, the desperation overwhelming, Link’s eyes rolled back. They could distantly feel their body still twitching, trying to cum again around the stretching burn of Ganondorf’s fingers.

Sensation came in waves, in bits and starts - a mosaic of nonsense. His thick fingers sliding out, trailing oil. Those strong arms hauling them upright, one arm locked around them. Being laid down on the thick fur again, wrapped loosely in the blanket. A long pause and the sound of splashing water. Having their hair stroked lightly. Deliberate, slow touches.

None of it made any sense, pieced together, but what did? Still shaking when their mind reformed a little more, they saw Ganondorf’s eyes, nearly glowing in the dark, fix on them for a moment, saw his slow smile. They buried their head in the fur to sleep away whatever this was. Their skin prickled with shivers, but the blanket was soothing, and the fur heavy; their eyes were already drifting closed.

The door clicked closed behind him.

Link slept.