The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 13: In His Arms (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.

Damian had already pulled out, but his softening cock still brushed against my sensitive hole when he shifted, and the contact made me flinch with a sharp gasp. The aftershocks were relentless; my body trembling, my skin dripping with sweat, every nerve still attuned to him. I could feel the mess we’d made trickling down my thighs, warm, sticky, intimate. It should have been shameful. It should have terrified me. But gods help me, the only thing I felt was his. His mark. His claim. His cum.

I sagged against him, my cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beneath his sweaty skin. It was still too fast, still ragged, proof that he hadn’t fully come down from the high either. His arms wrapped tight around me, one hand braced at my lower back, the other curled protectively at the base of my head as if he could shield me from the very world outside these walls.

For a long while neither of us spoke. The only sounds were our mingled breathing, the faint crackle of candles, and the distant hush of night beyond the chamber windows. I should have said something…about what we’d done, about what it meant but words caught in my throat, because if I spoke them aloud it would make this real. Irrevocable.

Instead, I let myself sink into him, burying my face in the curve of his neck. His beard scraped lightly against my forehead as he turned his head, pressing the softest of kisses there. My eyes fluttered shut. Gods, that kiss…the gentle press of his lips, so different from the hunger that had consumed us earlier undid me even more than the act itself.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice low, hoarse.

“I can’t help it Damian.” My voice cracked, betraying everything. “I can still feel you inside me.”

He stiffened, just slightly, before exhaling a long, shuddering breath. His hand smoothed down my back, a tender repetition meant to soothe. “Don’t say things like that, my prince,” he whispered against my hair. “You’ll undo me again.”

I smiled weakly, a laugh tugging at my lips despite the rawness of the moment. “Maybe I want to.”

He groaned softly, a rumble that vibrated through his chest and into me, and then tilted his head so his lips brushed my ear. “You’re reckless. Do you know that?”

I pulled back just enough to look at him, to catch the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth, though his eyes burned with something deeper…something almost reverent. “You keep saying that,” I teased, though my voice wavered, softer than I intended. “Maybe I just trust you.”

His thumb dragged along my jaw, calloused but tender. “Don’t…Elias.”

The word should have stung, but it didn’t. It trembled with the weight of a man trying to protect me from more than just the world…from himself. Still, his touch never left me, his eyes never let me go.

I leaned into his palm, pressing a kiss to the rough pad of his thumb. “Too late,” I whispered.

The look that crossed his face then…equal parts frustration, desire, and devotion left me breathless. He kissed me again, slow this time, lips lingering, tongues brushing lazily as though neither of us wanted to sever the thread that bound us together.

When he pulled back, his hand slid lower, brushing across the curve of my ass, fingers ghosting dangerously close to where his cum was still leaking out of me. The touch made me shiver violently, my body clenching instinctively around emptiness.

I gasped into his shoulder, mortified by how easily he could undo me with the lightest graze. “Damian…”

He hummed, low and amused, his lips at my temple. “So sensitive, my prince.” His fingers didn’t press further, didn’t invade again, but he let them rest there, a reminder of where he’d been, of what he’d claimed.

I should have been horrified. I should have pushed him away. But instead my hips tilted, chasing the ghost of his touch, and I cursed under my breath.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “You’ll be the death of me, Elias.”

“And you of me,” I murmured, curling tighter against him. “But I’d rather die like this than live untouched.”

His arms crushed me closer then, his forehead pressing to mine, and he kissed me again, a desperate clash of mouths that carried no restraint.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, trading kisses and whispers, letting silence fill the spaces between. My body ached, stretched in ways it never had before, but it was a good ache, a right ache. Every time I shifted I could feel the wetness slide lower, wet against my thighs, and every time Damian’s eyes darted down, I flushed scarlet.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I muttered once, embarrassed at how ruined I must have appeared.

“Like what?” he asked, smirking faintly.

“Like you’re proud of yourself.”

He laughed then, low and quiet, his hand cupping my cheek again. “I am proud,” he admitted. “Proud of you.” His lips brushed mine in a feather-light kiss. “You took my cock like no one ever has. Like no one ever will.”

Heat flooded my face. I hid against his chest again, but the words lingered, searing themselves into me, making me feel both exposed and cherished in equal measure.

After a while, when my breathing evened out, Damian shifted beneath me, easing us onto our sides. I whimpered at the movement, every drag of my body against the sheets reminding me how utterly used I was. The cool fabric caught the slickness on my thighs, a shocking contrast to the warmth of his body still pressed against mine.

He gathered me close, one leg sliding over mine, his arm tight around my waist. I should have been uncomfortable, sticky, aching but I wasn’t. I was safe. Wrapped in him, tethered to him.

I tilted my head to look at him, candlelight painting shadows across his rugged face. “Do you regret it?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

His eyes searched mine, dark and fathomless, shadows flickering across his face from the guttering candlelight. For a moment he didn’t speak, and my heart beat so hard I thought it might crack open my chest.

“No,” he said finally, his voice steady but quiet, like a vow meant only for me. “Elias… I’ll never regret this. Even if it destroys me.”

The weight of his words pressed down heavier than the crown ever had. I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. A dozen responses crowded my tongue, but all I could do was lean in and kiss him…slow, deep, reverent. His hand cupped the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, and the ache in my body faded beneath the sheer need to be close to him again.

When we broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling. His thumb brushed my cheekbone in a tender sweep that made me ache in a way no thrust or kiss had. I wanted to freeze time right there, lock us into that fragile cocoon where nothing beyond this chamber existed.

But time was merciless. The candles guttered lower. The silence outside the chamber grew heavier, more dangerous.

I curled tighter against him, feeling the softening weight of him nestled against my sore entrance, his spend still warm inside me. “So….What happens now?” I whispered.

Damian’s jaw clenched, and for a long moment he didn’t answer. Then, with a low breath, he pressed his lips to my temple. “Now we forget. We bury this deep, Elias. No one can ever know.”

The words stung, though I’d expected them. “Forget?” My voice cracked. “You want me to pretend this didn’t happen?”

His hand tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. “No. Not forget between us. But outside these walls, you’re the prince. The heir. And I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m just your guard. One word, one glance, and it all unravels. You’d lose everything.”

I bit down on my lip, tasting copper, fighting back the rush of desperation clawing through me. “I don’t care.”

“You should.” His tone sharpened, but his thumb kept stroking my skin, betraying the softness beneath. “If anyone suspected, if they saw me leaving your chambers…”

My breath caught at the thought. A servant opening the door. My father hearing whispers in the council. My brother smirking, knowing exactly what he’d guessed. The idea of Damian dragged before the throne for treason clawed at my chest until I thought I might choke.

“You’re right,” I murmured, my voice breaking. “But I don’t want this to end.”

His lips pressed hard to mine, silencing me. The kiss was fierce, almost desperate, and when he pulled away, his eyes blazed. “It doesn’t end. It just… hides.”

The words settled between us, bitter and sweet both. I wanted to cling to them, but even as I did, a coldness crept in…the knowledge that secrecy would be its own prison.

We held each other until the candles burned low and the gray light of dawn began to creep through the heavy curtains.

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At some point, I drifted in and out of sleep, my cheek pillowed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. It was the safest I’d ever felt. But safety was an illusion. Reality bled in with the pale morning light.

I woke to the subtle shift of the mattress. Damian was sitting up, his broad back outlined in the faint glow of dawn. His head was bowed, one hand braced against his knee, the other raking through his hair. I caught the faint sound of his sigh.

“Damian?” My voice was husky, sleep-heavy.

He glanced down at me, his expression softening, but there was tension in the set of his jaw. “Go back to sleep, my prince.”

I pushed myself up onto my elbow, the sheets sliding down my bare chest. “You’re leaving.”

“I have to.” His voice was quiet, weighted. “The servants will be awake soon. If I’m seen…”

My heart twisted. I hated the truth of his words. I hated that the world outside this chamber dictated what we could or couldn’t be.

“Stay,” I whispered, though I knew it was futile.

His gaze lingered on me, torn. Then he reached out, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. “If I could, Elias, I would never leave this bed. But for your sake….for ours….I must.”

I wanted to argue, to beg, but my throat closed around the words. Instead I caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to the rough skin. He shuddered faintly at the touch, then bent down and kissed me, slow and lingering, as if trying to pour everything unsaid into that single moment.

When he drew back, he whispered, “Remember this. Hold it. But don’t let it show.”

I nodded, tears burning behind my eyes.

He dressed quickly, efficiently, every movement practiced, as if he’d done this kind of hiding before. Watching him pull on his shirt, buckle his belt, strap his boots..it felt like the shuttering of a dream. The man who had been mine, completely mine, only hours ago, was being replaced by the guard, the soldier, the mask he wore for the world.

When he was ready, he paused at the door, his hand resting on the latch. He looked back at me, still half-covered in tangled sheets, hair mussed, body aching with the memory of him.

Our eyes met. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but then he only gave a small, grim nod. And then he slipped out into the corridor.

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The silence that followed was deafening.

I lay there, listening to my own heartbeat pound in my ears, straining for any sound beyond the door. Once, faintly, I thought I heard footsteps in the hall, and my stomach lurched. Gods, what if someone had seen? What if word spread?

I pressed my face into the pillow, Damian’s scent still clinging to the linen, and let the ache of longing consume me. My body throbbed with soreness, my thighs sticky, my hole sensitive, as if marked by him in ways I couldn’t scrub away. And yet the greater ache was deeper…inside my chest, in my soul.

I had crossed a line I could never uncross.

Duty still waited for me. My father, the crown, the council, the kingdom. But all I could think of was the way Damian’s hands had held me, the way his voice had broken when he said he’d never regret it.

I didn’t regret it either. Not one moment. But gods, I feared what it would cost.

As the dawn brightened, I forced myself to rise, wrapping the sheet around me as I moved to the window. Below, the palace courtyard stirred with life…guards changing watch, servants carrying baskets of bread from the kitchens, a groom leading horses to the stables. The world carried on, oblivious.

And above it all, I stood, the prince of this realm, with Damian’s seed still inside me and a secret lodged so deep in my heart it threatened to split me open.

The crown would never allow this. My father would never allow this.

But as I pressed my fingers to my lips, still swollen from Damian’s kisses, I whispered into the morning light, “I’ll never let you go either.”

And I knew, with a certainty that terrified me, that this was only the beginning.

────────────────The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 14: The Crown Waits For No One