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Xander quickly decided that, yes, these so called ‘choppingsticks’ were actually the work of the devil.
Deceptively innocent and harmless-looking, those two slender sticks gleamed up at him from his own unsteady hand. Mocking him, he was sure. Here he was, the crown prince of Nohr, kept from the delicious-smelling spread in front of him by dining utensils. He was the commander of armies! He had brought down kings! Prince Xander of Nohr will not be defeated by mere ‘choppingsticks’!
Resolutely, he lowered his hand to his plate again, trying to use the sticks as a makeshift spoon to scoop up some of the vegetables on his plate. They wobbled dangerously, but stayed put, so if he just moved slowly enough…
Slowly…slowly…
Blast!
He heard a small cough from across the table. “Would you like some help, Prince Xander?”
He struggled with his pride for a bit, but eventually conceded that, yes, he was in dire need of help.
“That would be much appreciated, Prince Ryoma.” He could at least be relieved that only one person would witness this humiliation.
The other man rose from the (frankly uncomfortable) cushion serving as a chair and walked the short distance around the table to Xander’s side. Settling down again, he eyed the offending utensils with no small amount of humor.
“You need not be so embarrassed. It takes some time to get accustomed to using chopsticks.”
Hmph. Then perhaps they should consider using something a bit more intuitive.
“May I?” Ryoma gestured to his hand.
“Of course.” He went to relinquish the sticks but instead found his hand taken captive by sword-callused fingers.
“Chopsticks, while used together, are not a single entity and should not be treated as such. The bottom one is the anchor.” He maneuvered one stick to sit in the groove of Xander’s hand, snug against the root of his thumb. “This one holds everything in place and should not move.” He guided Xander’s ring finger under the stick and placed his middle finger on top. “The top one does the work. You move this one in order to pick up food.” The other stick was placed above the last, held between his pointer finger and thumb. Ryoma manipulated Xander’s hand, demonstrating how the movements felt.
“Do you understand, Prince Xander?”
He felt himself flush down to his neck, abruptly broken out of his reverie. Ryoma was all but pressed against his right side, fingers still all over his hand, brushing against spots that Xander didn’t even know were sensitive. And now whispering into his ear…?
That sly fox was teasing him!
He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away a bit harder than was warranted. “I…yes, that is…thank you, Prince Ryoma.”
He could feel the other’s smug smile at the sudden rough quality of his voice. Probably because it was all but pressed into his neck. Shivers ran down his back as those sinful lips moved again.
“Why don’t you try picking something up? See if I taught you properly.”
“R-Right.” He swallowed harshly and tried to refocus on the food. It still smelled delicious, but it suddenly didn’t seem as appealing as before.
Adjusting his hold and recalling Ryoma’s, ah, lesson, he went after some kind of fried roll on his plate. The curve on it made the sticks slip a few times, but with some encouragement from the other prince, Xander was able to pick it up.
It was slightly ridiculous how happy this made him.
“Excellent! Now just make sure you don’t press too hard - “
A few inches from his mouth, the roll escaped and fell onto the table. Xander may have said some words that are unfitting of a prince.
He felt Ryoma’s hand in his hair, stroking gently in a way that the other knew would calm him down. “It’s alright, little moon. These things take practice.”
“Don’t patronize me,” he said, but there was no fight in his words. Instead, he just stared at the utensils in his hand like they had insulted his great ancestors. Ryoma made it look and sound so easy, so why was such a task beyond his capabilities?
“Xander,” the chopsticks were gently removed from his hand. “I have been using these since I was a small child. Of course it comes more easily to me. I wasn’t joking when I said you’ll get better with practice.” A soft kiss was placed in the middle of his palm. “Now, if you are done pouting, perhaps we can enjoy our food?”
A prince doesn’t pout. “You can enjoy your food. I suppose I shall content myself with watching.”
Ryoma didn’t bother hiding his laughter. “I would not be so ungracious a host as to let my guest starve.” He reached around Xander and delicately picked up some rice. Moving around to face him, he held the morsel up to Xander’s lips. “Shall I feed you?” he asked, a playful light twinkling in his eyes.
Show off. He didn’t know whether to feel flustered or annoyed. But if this was the game Ryoma wanted to play…
He can give as good as he gets.
Lowering his head, he bit at the end of the chopsticks, making sure to use plenty of lips and tongue. He glanced upwards to find Ryoma frozen in the middle of a word, staring in surprise with his mouth hanging open. Xander flicked his tongue out to catch a stray grain of rice, then slowly pulled off the chopsticks, letting his lips kiss every inch along the way.
He sat back. Made a show of swallowing. Ran his tongue over his lips again for good measure. And the entire time, he watched as the look in Ryoma’s eyes turned hungrier and hungrier.
He positions himself so he could glance up at Ryoma through his lashes in false modesty and feels pretty proud when he hears a thick swallow. Leaning even closer, he murmurs, “Well, Prince Ryoma? I’m waiting…”
Watching the other’s face grow redder than his signature armor was more satisfying than he was willing to admit. And watching him stutter out an excuse before hastily exiting the room was just icing on the cake.
Xander celebrated his little victory by helping himself to the food that could easily be picked up with his fingers. That had been quite fun. Perhaps next time, he could interest Prince Ryoma in learning about Nohrian utensils…