The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 7: Carriage Ride (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 Damian's point of view.

Morning light streamed across the training grounds, painting the world in a pale, golden haze. I’d risen before the sun, as I always did, armor polished, sword sharpened, discipline layered over me like a second skin. Yet no amount of ritual could burn out the memory of his lips.

That kiss.It lingered like a brand on my mouth, a sin I could still taste if I let my mind drift for even a heartbeat.

I tried to bury it under the weight of drills, under the sweat and sting of practice steel, but the memory persisted; his desperation, his hunger, his hands tugging me closer. My prince. My sworn duty. The man I was never supposed to touch.

By the time the sun stood high, I had carved my face into something unreadable. Professional. Detached. I wore restraint like armor, because if anyone…if he…saw a crack, it would undo me entirely.

When the summons came that afternoon for the journey into the city, I welcomed the distraction. Escort duty was familiar ground. Carriage rides, patrols, eyes sharp on the world outside. It was supposed to be easy.

Supposed to be.────────────────

The carriage was a dark, enclosed space lined with velvet, its windows curtained, its rhythm a steady rattle of wheels over cobblestone. I took my seat opposite Elias, every inch of my posture rigid. Sword at my side. Hands clasped in my lap. Eyes fixed on nothing.

He, however, was anything but rigid.

The prince lounged with the effortless grace of a man who had never had to fight for space in his life. His shoulder pressed into the cushions, one leg stretched forward, the other bent, his boot brushing near my knee. His eyes…those bright eyes…flicked to me again and again, never lingering long enough to be called a stare, but always returning.

And when the carriage jolted over a rut, his thigh slid against mine.

I froze. My breath caught, though I masked it with a cough, shifting just enough to reclaim the space. His lips curved into something that was almost a smirk, like he’d seen straight through the façade.

“You seem tense, Damian,” he said softly, his voice low enough that the clatter of wheels nearly swallowed it.

I cleared my throat. “My duty requires vigilance, Highness.”

“Of course,” he murmured, leaning back. His gaze dropped deliberately, just for a second, to my mouth. Then lower still, to the tense set of my thighs. Heat flared beneath my armor, unwelcome, dangerous.

Silence pressed between us, thick and heavy. I kept my eyes on the curtain, on the passing blur of the city outside, but my body betrayed me. Every nerve strained toward him.

Then it happened again…the carriage jolted, and this time, Elias didn’t simply stumble. He leaned into me, his shoulder pressing firm against mine.

“Forgive me,” he said, though the apology carried no sincerity. His breath ghosted close, warm, intimate.

I shifted, but his hand moved before I could retreat. Just the lightest touch, his fingers grazing over my thigh. Barely there. But it might as well have been a brand.

My pulse roared in my ears. I caught his wrist instantly, my hand closing hard, tighter than I meant to. “Highness,” I hissed, voice low, warning.

He didn’t pull back. He tilted his head, eyes bright with something reckless. “Say my name.”

I should have released him. I should have shoved his hand away, reinforced the wall of duty between us. Instead, I sat there, holding his wrist, our bodies inches apart, my breath harsh, his steady.

The wheels clattered on. The world outside went on as though nothing were amiss. Inside the carriage, though, time slowed, warped, narrowed down to the heat of his pulse under my palm, to the curve of his lips daring me to break.

“Elias…” The name left me rough, torn from a throat that had no business saying it.

His smirk deepened into something softer, hungrier. He leaned closer, the air between us charged. “Yes,” he whispered.

My body moved without permission, instinct warring with duty, restraint with need. For one terrible moment, I nearly closed the distance, nearly gave him what he was silently begging for.

The carriage lurched to a sudden halt.

We both startled, our hands breaking apart, bodies jerking back into the illusion of propriety. Outside, the driver’s muffled voice called that we had arrived.

I swallowed hard, forcing composure back onto my face, my voice. “We’ve reached the council hall, Highness.”

He adjusted his cloak, but his eyes never left me. They gleamed, victorious, as though he had learned something dangerous.

As the door swung open and daylight spilled in, I climbed out first, extending a hand as duty demanded. He took it, his grip firm, lingering longer than necessary. His smirk was subtle, a secret just for us.

The rest of the world saw only a prince stepping gracefully from his carriage, his guard a silent shadow at his side.

But I felt the truth burning in my blood:That line we’d drawn in the dark? Elias had no intention of letting it stand.────────────────The morning after our sparring session, my body still hummed with the memory of his weight pinned beneath me. The echo of his voice…breathless, taunting, almost seductive..had refused to leave my mind all night. Even now, as I fell into my routine, escorting him from room to room, standing in my place behind his chair in meetings, my chest was tight with restraint.

I was supposed to be invisible. That was what a soldier turned aide became in these gilded walls; a shadow, precise and disciplined, never wavering. But Elias made it impossible to vanish.

He never hid the glances anymore. When the chancellor droned on about trade routes, Elias lounged in his chair and let his gaze flick toward me, quick as lightning but charged enough that my pulse betrayed me. Once, his eyes lingered openly, traveling from my shoulders to the wrist where my watch glinted. He smirked faintly when he caught me noticing.

Later, in the city, as we moved through a crowd, I felt the weight of his eyes on me while I cleared a path. A prince should have been looking at banners, at shopfronts, at his subjects waving from the cobblestones. But Elias’s gaze burned into the back of my neck instead. Every time I turned, his smirk was already in place, daring me to call him out. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

By the time evening fell, I was taut as a bowstring. We stepped into the carriage for the ride back to the palace, the air still hot from the day but cooling with the first traces of night. Elias slipped into the seat opposite me, his posture lazy, but his eyes sharp as knives. The seat creaked beneath us as the carriage lurched into motion.

I kept my gaze fixed out the window. Professional. Silent. His presence was too loud in the small space, every shift of his body drawing my attention whether I wanted it or not.

Minutes passed like hours. Finally, he spoke.

“Damian.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Stop it.”

My eyes cut back to him. He lounged with one arm draped along the seatback, his lips curved in something halfway between a smile and a snarl.

“Stop pretending,” he said. His voice was low, deliberate. “That there’s nothing going on.”

I forced my jaw to stillness. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His eyes glinted with mischief. “That kiss. In the courtyard.”

I inhaled sharply, but he didn’t let me speak. He licked his lips, slow, deliberate, his gaze never leaving mine.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

The words landed like blows, each one striking where I was weakest. His smirk softened into something else; raw, almost vulnerable. Then he shifted, rising from his seat, crouching low as though to steady himself against the rocking carriage.

My breath caught as he began to move toward me, the space between us closing inch by inch. His eyes never wavered, his smirk returning like a blade drawn across my chest.

And then the carriage jolted over a rut in the road. The lurch sent him sprawling forward. He landed against me with a grunt, his palms braced on my thighs.

My body betrayed me instantly. My cock, already straining from the closeness, throbbed beneath the press of him. Elias froze, then laughed…a soft, disbelieving sound right against my chest.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice wicked. “I was wondering if I imagined it.”

He shifted deliberately, his hips brushing mine, his weight squarely on my lap now. My eyes snapped shut for half a second, willing control into existence, but when I opened them again, his face was there, close enough that I could taste the heat of his breath.

“Damian,” he whispered, voice roughened with certainty. “I can feel it.”

My throat worked, but no words came. His smirk spread slow, triumphant, and then he leaned closer, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth without quite kissing. My cock jerked, betraying me again, and his laugh was low, pleased, cruel in its sweetness.

“Stop fighting it,” he said softly. “You want this as much as I do.”

Something in me snapped. My hands shot to his waist, gripping, holding him in place as if I could anchor myself by sheer force. But anchoring only pulled me further in.

The kiss was inevitable. Forbidden, reckless, but inevitable. My mouth crushed against his, fierce and hungry, claiming. He gasped once, then melted into it, his hands sliding up my chest, fisting in my shirt.

The world outside ceased to exist. There was no city, no palace, no duty. Only the wet heat of his lips, the desperate clash of tongues, the sound of his soft groan swallowed into my mouth.

He rocked against me in my lap, and I groaned low, deep, unable to disguise the grind of my cock against him. His answering moan was shameless, triumphant. His body molded against mine, and I pulled him closer, one hand splayed across his back, the other gripping his hip with punishing pressure.

Every second stretched into eternity. His taste, his scent, his heat…I was already too far gone. He licked into my mouth, bold and demanding, and I gave back just as much, just as dangerous.

The carriage swayed and creaked, but neither of us noticed, too consumed by the fire igniting between us.

Then the wheels rattled over cobblestones. The sound of the palace gates. Reality surged back like cold water.

I tore myself free, breathing hard, my lips swollen, his taste still thick on my tongue. Elias sat astride my lap, his hair mussed, his lips wet, his chest heaving.

For one long moment, neither of us moved. Then his smirk returned, faint but devastating.

“Careful, Damian,” he whispered. “People might think you enjoy this job.”

The carriage jolted to a halt. Panic surged through me. I gripped his waist and all but lifted him off my lap, setting him back on his seat just as the footman’s voice called out. Elias laughed softly, delighted, and I hated how much the sound thrilled me.

Frantically, I adjusted my trousers, my bulge still painfully obvious, before the door opened. Elias smoothed his hair with regal grace, though his lips were still red, glistening.

We stepped out into the fading light. My boots hit the stone with a heavy thud, my jaw locked tight. He moved more slowly, deliberately, like a man savoring the aftertaste of something sweet.

As I turned, he leaned close. Too close. His lips brushed my ear, his voice a whisper only I could hear.

“My chambers,” he murmured. “Tonight, soldier.”

Then he walked ahead, his shoulders square, his head high. And I stood frozen, pulse hammering, the word echoing in my head like a command I could not refuse.

────────────────The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 8: Prince’s Chambers