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Anything For My King
The sun dipped low across the savanna, painting the horizon in molten gold. The air shimmered with heat and unspoken tension as Scar stalked toward the great acacia that now served as Mufasa’s throne in the open lands. The mighty lion sat in regal repose, his golden mane catching the fading light, eyes sharp beneath his heavy brow.
Scar hesitated. Days had passed since Mufasa had claimed kingship, leaving Scar stripped of status, yet unable to shed the hunger that simmered beneath his skin, a hunger for recognition, for touch, for something more primal.
“Come closer, brother,” Mufasa commanded, voice low and thick with authority.
Scar obeyed. His movements were slow, deliberate, each step shedding the remnants of pride he once wore like armor. When he reached the base of the tree, Mufasa rose, circling him with a predator’s grace.
“You’ve always spoken with clever words,” Mufasa murmured, his breath warm against Scar’s ear. “Now, show me you can serve in silence.”
A tremor coursed through Scar’s body. The new king’s power was palpable - not just in title, but in the weight of his gaze, the expectation behind every word. With a soft growl, Scar pressed himself to the rough bark, baring himself in silent offering.
Mufasa’s paw traced Scar’s back with deliberate ease, claws grazing just enough to leave a memory, not a wound. “Good,” Mufasa rumbled, satisfaction lacing his tone. “You learn quickly.”
Scar shuddered beneath the king’s touch, the old dance of rivalry twisted into something deeper - an unspoken surrender. The savanna held its breath as dusk claimed the land, and beneath the shadowed tree, a new order was sealed not with blood, but with whispered dominance and willing submission.
Commission for Sugar Sammy.
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