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

The words followed me like a curse.

My room. Tonight, soldier.

All through the evening, they echoed in my head, turning every step into a weight, every breath into a battle.

Dinner was agony. The long table glittered with silver and crystal, the air thick with chatter of ministers and aides. I stood at my post behind Elias, professional, unreadable, while he toyed with me without ever speaking a word.

Every so often, he glanced back. Just a flick of his eyes over his shoulder, lingering a second too long. His lips curved, faint but knowing, before he returned to his meal. To everyone else, it looked like nothing. To me, it was everything; every smirk, every glance, every slow sip of wine deliberately drawn out to wet his lips, knowing I would watch.

I tried not to. Gods, I tried. I fixed my gaze on the marble pillars, the tapestries, the flickering torchlight. Anything but him. But it was no use. My eyes betrayed me.

Every time he leaned forward, his jacket stretched across his shoulders, and I remembered the heat of his weight in my lap. Every time he reached for his cup, his fingers flexed, and I remembered them fisted in my shirt, dragging me down into him. And when he licked the corner of his mouth, subtle, sly, I nearly groaned aloud in the hall like some fool.

I told myself I wouldn’t go back to his chambers tonight. That it was madness, that if anyone found out, both our lives could end in ruin. I reminded myself of duty, of restraint, of oaths I had sworn. I am not supposed to want this. He is a prince. I am his guard. Nothing more.

But the memory of his whisper undid every wall I built.

When the meal ended, I escorted him back to his wing of the palace. We walked side by side in silence, his stride lazy, unhurried. Once, his shoulder brushed mine deliberately, and I nearly stumbled. He didn’t look at me, but I saw the shadow of his smirk in the corner of his mouth.

At the doors of his chambers, I bowed. My throat was dry.

“Good night, Your Highness,” I managed.

His eyes lifted to mine. Cool. Amused. Hungry. “Good night, Damian.”, he winked.

The door closed between us.

I stood there a long time, rooted to the marble, heart pounding. Then I forced myself to turn, to retreat down the corridor. Back to my own small quarters, stripped of luxury. I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, head in my hands.

Don’t go.

Don’t go.

The words repeated like a mantra, but the ache in my body mocked me. Every inch of me still burned with the memory of his mouth on mine, the heat of his body pressed into my lap, the sound of his breathless laugh when he felt how hard I was for him.

I tried to lie down. Tried to sleep for minutes… an hour passed by... The sheets felt suffocating. My cock pressed painfully against the fabric of my trousers, throbbing with every heartbeat. My mind betrayed me again and again..his lips red, wet from our kiss; his voice low when he said he couldn’t stop thinking about it; his whisper, Tonight, soldier.

I cursed under my breath. Pushed to my feet. Prowled the room like a beast pacing its cage.

And then, before I could talk myself out of it, I was moving.

The corridors were quieter now, lit only by torches burning low. My boots struck soft against the stone as I made my way back to his wing. Every step was another chance to turn around, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

When I reached his chamber doors, my hand hovered over the handle, trembling despite myself. I should have left. Should have walked away.

Instead, I pushed it open.

The room was dim, bathed in the glow of a single candle. Elias stood by the window, his silhouette framed by moonlight. He was already watching me.

I froze, the door shutting softly behind me. My pulse thundered.

“You came,” he said simply. His voice was quiet, but heavy with triumph.

I swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet.” He turned, stepping toward me, slow and deliberate. His robe hung loose on his shoulders, his hair mussed as though he’d run his fingers through it in impatience. His bare feet whispered across the carpet.

My body betrayed me instantly. Heat surged low in my stomach, my cock straining against my trousers.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he said, closer now. “About you.”

He stopped just short of me. His breath brushed my throat. His hand lifted, hesitant for the first time, fingers hovering near my chest.

“This is madness,” I whispered, though my voice cracked with hunger.

“Then let’s be mad together.” His hand pressed flat against me, right over my pounding heart.

I groaned low, deep, and before I could stop myself, my hands gripped his waist, dragging him flush against me. His gasp was sharp, delighted.

And then his mouth was on mine.

The kiss exploded between us, fierce, desperate, more dangerous than any battle I’d fought. My lips crushed his, claiming, demanding. He kissed back with a hunger that nearly undid me, his tongue sliding against mine, his teeth grazing.

His robe slipped from his shoulders, pooling at his feet, leaving him in only thin velvety nightclothes. My hands roamed his back, gripping, pulling, my cock grinding against him through the layers. His moan vibrated against my mouth, shameless, needy.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, breathless: “I want you.”

My head spun. My body screamed yes. My duty screamed no.

But when his hand slid down, pressing over the bulge straining my trousers, all thought vanished. I groaned into his mouth, my hips jerking helplessly into his touch.

“Gods, Damian,” he whispered, eyes wide, lips swollen. “You’re already so hard for me.”

I tried to speak, but words died in my throat when his fingers fumbled at my belt. My hands caught his wrists.

“Elias…” I panted. “If we do this…”

His gaze locked on mine, fierce, unrelenting. “Then do it.”He kissed me again, messy, hungry, and my restraint shattered. His mouth opened against mine and I groaned into him, a raw, guttural sound that vibrated through my chest. I didn’t remember moving, but my hands had already cupped his face, thumbs dragging along his jaw as though I couldn’t get enough of the feel of him. My tongue pressed past his lips and he whimpered, clutching at the fabric of my shirt like a drowning man.

The taste of him was still new, still shocking. Sweet, sharp, forbidden. His lips parted wider, inviting, demanding, and every second of it cracked the armor I had built around myself. This was wrong, dangerous, the kind of thing that could ruin us both. But his body trembled against mine, and I knew with a certainty that terrified me…neither of us wanted to stop.

“Prince…” I moaned, pulling back just far enough to catch my breath, my forehead pressed to his. The word felt heavy on my tongue, a reminder of what he was and what I was not.

“Let me have this tonight,” he whispered. His voice broke on the words, as though he was asking me for something far bigger than a kiss. His hands slid down, clutching at my wrists, pulling them lower until they rested against the curve of his waist. “Please Damian.”

My chest heaved. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

His eyes burned. “I do. And I don’t care.” He shook his head, curls falling into his face, mouth swollen and red. “I want you, Damian. Please… I’ve wanted nothing else since the moment you were assigned to me.”

The sound that tore out of me was more animal than man, and then my mouth was on his again, hot, desperate. His teeth grazed my lower lip, and when I growled in response he let out a sharp, breathless moan that went straight to my cock.

He tugged at my shirt again, more insistent this time, fingers working over the buttons with frantic impatience. “Let me see you,” he gasped, licking his lips as his hands shook. “Please, let me.”

I leaned back slightly, watching him as he fought with the last of the fastenings, and then I helped him, shrugging the fabric off my shoulders until it fell to the floor in a careless heap. His eyes widened, his lips parting in awe as his palms slid over the planes of my chest.

“Fuck,” he whispered, reverent and hungry all at once. His fingers trailed down the ridges of my abs, his thumb circling over a scar on my side. He moaned softly, like even touching me was too much. “Holy fuck soldier.”

I couldn’t help it…I smiled, dark and satisfied, even as my chest ached with the need in his voice. “Yours,” I said, letting him see every ounce of truth in my eyes. “All yours, my prince.”

He whimpered, dragging his hands over my biceps, squeezing, as though testing the strength beneath his fingers. His thumbs brushed over my nipples and I hissed through my teeth, my cock twitching in my pants.

His gaze snapped down, his lips curving in something like wonder. He leaned in and kissed my chest, soft, wet presses of his mouth trailing lower until his tongue flicked over one of my nipples. My head fell back, a groan tearing free. “Elias…”

He hummed against my skin, then leaned back, eyes glazed and lips swollen. And then he reached for my bulge, tugging at it with shaking fingers.

I caught his hand, trembling with the effort it took to stop him. “Careful,” I warned.

He looked up at me, lips parted, breath ragged. His hand twisted against mine. “I want to.”

My control snapped thread by thread, fraying until there was nothing left. “Then do it.”

His eyes gleamed. Slowly, deliberately, he tugged the fastening loose. My breath came hard as he worked the fabric down, pulling it past my hips until I stood in nothing but my underpants.

The sight of me; hard as fuck, straining against the thin fabric made him stop breathing altogether. His lips parted, eyes darting from my face to the thick outline pressing against the cloth.

I could see it in him…the hunger, the disbelief, the desperate craving. His hand twitched as though he wanted to touch me but didn’t dare.

His chest rose and fell sharply, his voice breaking into a whisper. “Gods, Damian…”

I stepped closer, just enough that the head of my cock brushed against the fabric of his gown. He let out a soft, strangled sound, his body jolting in response.

“Look at me,” I said, my voice low, rough.

He obeyed instantly, gaze snapping back to mine, his pupils blown wide with lust. His lip trembled, his breath hot and uneven.

“Do you see what you do to me?” I asked, pressing closer, letting him feel every inch of my need.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking down once more, then back up. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Yes,” he whispered, almost reverent. “Yes.”

I brushed a thumb along his jaw, savoring the way he leaned into the touch, aching for more. “You’re playing with fire.”

His lips curved in the faintest, trembling smile. “Then burn me.”

My chest tightened, my cock throbbed against the straining fabric, and for a moment, I almost gave in completely. Almost.

But I forced myself to still, to breathe, to hold the line between wanting and surrender.

He didn’t notice. He was lost in me, his gaze still fixed on my body, on the thick bulge beneath my underpants.

Slowly, reverently, he reached for the edge of his own gown, pulling it loose. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, falling to the floor in a whisper of velvet.

My breath caught. His skin was smooth, pale, flushed with heat. His nipples were small and pink, pebbled from the cool air. My hands itched to touch, to claim, to taste.

He stood there, bared before me, his chest rising and falling, eyes locked on mine as though waiting for me to move first.

And gods help me, I wanted to. Every muscle in my body screamed to close the distance, to press him back onto the bed and take what he was so recklessly offering.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, I stepped close enough that the heat of our bodies mingled, that the barest breath of air separated us. My cock pulsed, straining, the thin fabric damp at the tip. His eyes dropped to it again, wide, awestruck, and hungry.

I reached out, brushing my fingers over his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing under his skin. He gasped at the touch, his body arching into me, desperate for more.

My mouth found his ear, my breath hot against his skin. “You have no idea what you’re asking me to give you.”

He shuddered, his lips parting. “Please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

I groaned, my forehead pressing to his forehead, my body trembling with the force of my restraint.

He tilted his head, brushing his lips against my jaw, soft, desperate kisses trailing higher, closer to my mouth. His hands slid over my chest again, down my abs, stopping just at the waistband of my underpants.

His fingers curled, tugging lightly, and I almost lost it.

Almost.

But instead, I caught his wrists, holding them in place, and looked at him…his swollen lips, his flushed skin, the wild hunger in his eyes.

“Elias,” I rasped.

The words nearly broke me. They nearly broke him too. But I knew if I let him go any further, there would be no turning back.

His gaze dropped once more to the straining bulge beneath the cloth, his throat working as he swallowed. His lips parted, whispering the words I wasn’t sure I could survive.

“Please… let me.”

I groaned, my body trembling, and knew I was one breath, one heartbeat away from surrender.

And then, mercifully or cruelly, I stopped.

We stood there, bodies so close we might as well have been one, heat radiating, breath mingling, lust thick in the air.

But the line held.

Just barely.

And the world narrowed to nothing but him, his flushed skin, his pleading eyes, and the knowledge that if he pulled that last barrier away, I would be lost.

The cliff’s edge was there, yawning wide, and we stood on it together….waiting, trembling, wanting.

And neither of us stepped back.

────────────────The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 9: Bound in Restraint