The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 6: Prince’s Hunger (Patreon)

All characters are 18+ and this story is entirely fictional.Everything that happens is safe, sane, and consensual.

Author’s Note: This part of the story is written from Elias's point of view.

All day long, I could think of nothing else.The kiss haunted me…. no, it possessed me. The way Damian’s mouth crushed against mine, the roughness of his grip, the way his chest felt like a wall of heat pinning me down. I’d been kissed before, of course, little encounters stolen at parties, half-hearted attempts with girls I’d been paraded beside. But never like this. Never with fire. Never with the ache of wanting more even as my body screamed it was already too much.

I told myself it was curiosity. A test. Another way to push Damian’s endless self-control until I found its limits. That was the story I rehearsed as I sat through council meetings, nodding at reports I didn’t hear, staring at ministers whose mouths moved but whose words slipped straight past me.

But then my gaze would flick across the room to him… Damian, standing at attention against the far wall, his posture flawless, his eyes forward, unflinching. And my chest would tighten all over again.

I hated him for that. For looking so unaffected, so calm, as though it hadn’t happened. As though he hadn’t pressed me against a wall and kissed me like he wanted to tear me apart.

I shifted in my chair, hiding the restless way my body responded to the memory. My pulse spiked as I replayed the moment I’d felt the rigid press of him against my thigh; hot, hard, undeniable. I’d touched him there, fleetingly, but enough to know he wasn’t untouched by it. Enough to know that soldier’s restraint of his cracked.

And yet now… nothing. He stood like stone.

I smirked faintly to myself. Infuriating.

I signed my name at the bottom of a document, realizing too late I hadn’t actually read it. My steward cleared his throat nervously, but I waved him away. My mind was elsewhere. My lips still tingled.

It was my first real kiss. The thought echoed through me, raw and unbidden. And it was with him.

I’d always known I was different. Knew it in the way I looked at men when I was younger, in the way my stomach twisted watching the knights spar, in the way my pulse raced watching sweat drip down the necks of courtiers in summer. But I had never admitted it aloud. I had never acted on it. I had never allowed myself to.

And yet in the courtyard, I had.

In the courtyard, I’d leaned in and tested him, whispered in his ear to see if I could rattle the unshakeable. And he had responded with fire. His kiss had left me marked, lips swollen, mind unsteady. I touched my mouth absently now, remembering the taste of him, the sharpness of his breath, the rasp of his jaw against mine.

I wanted it again.

By late afternoon, my composure was gone. I caught myself glancing at Damian more than once, lingering too long on details that made my body betray me. The stretch of his jacket over his shoulders when he shifted. The veins along his forearms where his sleeves had been pushed up, corded and strong. The way his watch glinted at his wrist, the same wrist that had pinned mine to the wall with effortless strength.

I imagined those hands again. Not holding me still in warning, but touching me; sliding lower, rough against my bare skin, closing around me. Heat rushed to my face, and I quickly dropped my gaze, feigning interest in the notes before me.

When dinner ended and the court began to thin, I excused myself early. I didn’t trust myself to sit through another hour with him watching me, or rather with me watching him. Because that was the truth: I had become the observer. The predator who could not stop hunting with my eyes.

The corridors of the palace were quiet as I walked toward my chambers. Damian followed, of course; my shadow, my soldier, my punishment and temptation alike. His steps behind me were steady, unrelenting, echoing down the marble halls.

I slowed once, just enough that he had to close the distance between us. My shoulder brushed against his chest as I glanced back. His eyes flicked to mine, just for a moment, before he looked away again. That single, stolen look sent something molten coursing through me.

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back a grin. He felt it too.

We reached my chambers, the carved oak doors looming tall, the golden sconces throwing shadows across the polished stone. I stopped in front of them, but didn’t reach for the handle. Instead, I turned just enough to face him, tilting my head slightly in invitation.

“Come inside,” I said softly. The words carried the weight of command, but my tone was slower, lower. Suggestive.

Damian froze. His jaw tightened, his eyes flicked briefly to the doors, then back to me. For a heartbeat I swore he’d obey… step in, close the door behind us, and finally give in to the pull that had been gnawing at both of us since that kiss.

But then his face shuttered. He inclined his head with soldierly precision.

“Goodnight, my prince,” he said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. He stepped back before I could answer, retreating into the shadows of the corridor where his post waited.

The sting was sharper than I’d expected. My throat tightened, my chest ached in a way I didn’t understand. I wanted to call him back, to order him in, but something in his eyes that restrained fire… stopped me.

So I let the door close.

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Inside, silence pressed heavy. The fire in the hearth burned low, casting the chamber in shades of gold and crimson. I shed my jacket, tossing it across a chair, then sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, head in my hands.

I tried to sleep. Truly, I did.

But every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. The cut of his shoulders beneath his jacket, the dark veins along his hands when his sleeves were rolled up, the disciplined lines of his body that had pinned me to the mat, to the wall, to himself.

My lips burned, remembering the way he kissed me. Dominant. Possessive. Like he had wanted me just as bad and finally lost his restraint. I touched my mouth with my fingers, pressing, as though I could summon him back through memory.

The ache in my body wouldn’t let me rest. My pulse thrummed heavy in my throat, my chest, lower. Heat coiled tight in my belly.

I leaned back against the pillows, eyes half-lidded, letting myself sink into it. The forbidden. The hunger.My hand slid down over my chest, tracing the faint rise of my ribs, the hollow of my stomach, until I reached the front of my trousers. Already I was hard… straining, throbbing. I bit my lip as I pressed my palm against it, the friction sparking a groan from my throat.

“Ummmgh…”

I closed my eyes, letting the sound fill the chamber. My hips lifted slightly, desperate for more.

With a low curse, I pushed my trousers down, the fabric dragging across my thighs until it freed me. My cock sprang forward, heavy and rigid, curving up toward my stomach. Six thick inches flushed deep, the head wet already with need. My hand closed around it, squeezing, stroking slow and deliberate.

“Ahh… Damian…” His name escaped before I could stop it, a whisper into the firelit dark.

I imagined his hand instead of mine… those strong fingers wrapping me, stroking me with the same control he held in every other part of his life. Only this time, control would be mine to break.

My thumb circled the head of my cock, smearing the wetness over sensitive skin. My hips bucked up into the motion. My breath hitched.

Images crashed through me: the sharp cut of his jaw, the heat of his body pressed against me, the deep rasp of his voice when he said my name. And lower… his hard cock I’d felt against me when my fingers brushed over his bulge. I’d touched him, fleetingly, but it had been real. The thought of it now made me groan louder, thrusting into my fist.

“Ungghh F-fuck…”

I spread my legs wider, stroking faster, then slower, teasing myself until I was trembling with need. My free hand drifted lower, cupping my balls, squeezing lightly. The touch pulled another gasp from me.

And then lower still.

My fingers slipped between my thighs, searching until I brushed against my hole. The shock of it made me whimper, biting down hard on my lip. I’d never done it before, not like this. But the thought of him there… Damian pressing into me, stretching me open had my body desperate.

I circled the spot with my fingertip, teasing, my hips jerking at the sensation. My cock throbbed in my hand, leaking down my fist.

“Damian…” I moaned again, louder this time, helpless.

The fantasy consumed me. His weight pressing me down, his breath hot against my ear, his cock driving into me until I screamed for more. My fingers pressed harder at my hole, just enough to imagine it, enough to make my entire body clench with want.

I pumped myself faster, rougher, matching the rhythm in my mind. The room filled with the sound of wet skin, with my gasping breaths, with the low, needy groans I could no longer hold back.

“Uhhhnn… yes… fuckk”

The fire inside me coiled tight, unbearable, until it snapped.

I arched off the bed with a strangled moan, spilling hot and hard across my stomach, thick ropes of cum painting my abs. My fist worked me through it, milking every last pulse until I was shaking, chest heaving, head thrown back against the pillows.

For long moments I lay there, ruined, panting, sweat cooling on my skin. The taste of his name lingered on my tongue. The ache of wanting him lingered everywhere else.

I dragged my hand through my cum, bringing it absently to my lips. My tongue flicked out, tasting myself, pretending it was his.

But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

I wanted the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the rasp of his beard burning my skin, the sound of his breath breaking against my ear as he took me apart. I wanted his mouth, his hands, his body….everything that was forbidden, everything that should never belong to me.

I thought of the way he looked at me, torn between restraint and hunger, and my chest ached. That kiss had cracked something open inside me, something I could never seal away again.

One taste and I was ruined.

I closed my eyes, pulse still racing, body humming with the ghost of his touch. And in the darkness, I whispered his name to no one but myself.

Damian.

The man I shouldn’t want. The man I couldn’t stop wanting.

And I knew, with brutal clarity, that one night of fantasy would never satisfy me. I wouldn’t rest until I felt him again.

Until he was mine.

────────────────The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 7: Carriage Ride