Chapter 14

The carriage rocked gently as it moved, wheels crunching over gravel, then settling into the smoother rhythm of the forest road.

Inside, the silence was absolute.

The morning sun filtered through sheer curtains, casting shifting gold patterns across the plush interior – fine green velvet seats, carved wood, the faint scent of lemon oil and old books. The compartment was large enough to seat four, yet it felt too small, too close.

Est sat opposite the prince, hands resting lightly on his knees, posture perfect. His swordbelt had been adjusted slightly to accommodate the seating, but everything else remained precise – his shoulders square, his expression impassive. His gloves were clasped in one hand. His other rested lightly on his thigh – a picture of military discipline.

William sat sprawled, legs long, elbow resting against the window ledge as he looked out at the passing trees.

He hadn’t said a word since they’d climbed in.

Neither had Est.

The only sounds were the creak of the carriage and the occasional call of birds in the trees beyond.

But inside the cabin, the tension was unbearable – a silence that vibrated between them like static, too loud in its quiet, too heavy with what wasn’t being said.

Est’s eyes drifted to the prince’s boots. Then his hand. The line of his jaw.

That night came back in uninvited flashes – the hissed accusations, the way William had kissed him like he wanted to burn him, the way Est had denied him his pleasure with a whisper and a walk-away.

The memory made Est’s throat tighten.

Est moved his gaze onto the passing trees, arms folded behind his back, posture rigid.

But then he felt it.

The weight of William’s gaze.

The way it slid over him – quiet, invasive, searching – until it pressed so firmly into the side of his face that he couldn’t pretend not to notice.

Est kept his gaze forward, locked on the window, on the shifting countryside beyond. But the heat of William’s stare was too heavy, too insistent. Eventually, Est turned his head – met his eyes. Their eyes met.

And what he saw there unraveled him.

The prince’s expression was tense, jaw tight, but his gaze – his gaze was dark and searching, like something fractured had been slowly, painfully held together for too long.

It was Est who looked away first.

“You’re not what I expected,” William said softly, voice rough at the edges. “I thought…”

He trailed off.

Est didn’t fill the silence. He wasn’t sure he could.

William’s voice was quiet. Even. But the way it filled the space between them felt like a blade being drawn slowly from its sheath.

And there was something about that unfinished sentence that stung more than if he had. It left too much open. Too much room for disappointment, for unmet fantasies.

The prince studied him for another long moment, then continued, “Some of the things I said that night… may have been unfair.”

May.

Est almost laughed.

Almost.

But he swallowed it. Let it turn bitter on his tongue.

His jaw tightened visibly.

“And yet,” the prince continued smoothly, “your behavior – “ he paused, eyes narrowing slightly ” – was entirely out of line.”

There it was – the weight of power. The careful line between what could be admitted and what would not be forgiven.

Est inhaled through his nose, slow and controlled.

He held William’s gaze, pulse loud in his ears.

Then, after a long moment, he nodded once. Slow. Controlled.

“I apologize, your Highness.”

The words came out clean, precise. Polished like steel.

Not because he believed them.

No.

He said it because he had to. Because that was the script.

Because the balance between them demanded it.

He didn’t apologize for the words they had exchanged. Or the way he touched him. Or the part where William had trembled under his hands, gasping for release he’d never been granted.

He apologized because he knew his place.

Because it was the only thing to say that wouldn’t cost him more.

William finally turned to look at him. “You don’t mean that,” he said flatly.

Est met his gaze, jaw tight. “No,” he said after a beat. “But I know my place. As you’ve made quite clear.”

That landed.

William didn’t respond right away. The only sound was the dull clatter of hooves and wheels and the slow hum of wind through the open slit of the carriage window.

And then – quieter – William asked, still not looking at him, “Would you leave?”

Est didn’t answer.

The question lodged in his chest like a thorn. He looked down at his gloved hands, the way they curled too tightly in his lap.

Still silence.

Finally, William turned to face him – waiting.

“No,” Est said. The word was low. Barely audible. But unwavering.

William nodded once. “But you could,” he added, tone unreadable. “If you felt disrespected. I wouldn’t stop you.”

That pricked deeper than it should have.

Est looked at him – and for once, didn’t mask the flicker of anger in his eyes. “So you’d sooner let me walk than say sorry?” he asked. “Not even for a fight you started?”

William’s jaw ticked. He didn’t speak.

“You accused me of things I didn’t do,” Est said, voice tight. “You pushed me until I broke. I said one thing in the heat of it, and you pulled rank – dismissed me like I was nothing.”

William’s hands flexed in his lap.

“I apologized,” Est went on, soft but sharp. “I’ve taken the punishment. I did nothing wrong, and I’m the one still bleeding for it.”

There was a long pause – and then William muttered, almost more to himself, “You left me like that.”

Est’s gaze snapped to him. “I was aching too,” he said, breath sharp, tone firm. “But I still walked away. Because my self-respect is the only thing I own in your world. And that’s not something you’d understand.”

That struck deep – a sharp intake of breath. William turned, slowly, fully.

And then – without warning, without thought – he grabbed Est by the front of his uniform, dragged him forward, and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was frustration and longing and shame and want poured into skin and mouth and silence.

It caught Est off guard – the heat, the hunger – but he didn’t push him away.

He froze for a moment – then kissed him back.

Just as fiercely.

Teeth. Tongue. Breath. Everything they couldn’t say.

The carriage rocked gently under them, and the world outside blurred, forgotten.

When William finally pulled back, his lips were parted, breath shaking. He looked at Est – really looked at him – and then, just barely audible beneath the carriage wheels and the thunder of Est’s pulse, he whispered:

“…I’m sorry.”

Est froze.

It wasn’t some flippant excuse or indirect implication. It was an actual apology. Spoken aloud. From a prince who almost never admitted fault.

His breath caught. His hands tightened where they’d been resting on his thighs. The shock of it made something in his chest ache.

“You – ” he began, but the words faltered.

He surged forward instead, catching William’s mouth again – this time slower, deeper, like he was trying to taste the apology on his tongue. His hand curled around the nape of William’s neck as he kissed him harder, messier, licking into him like he couldn’t get enough.

The moan William let out against his mouth made Est’s cock twitch, heat rushing up his spine.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your self- respect,” William whispered against his lips, the words rough-edged and hoarse, like they’d clawed their way out of his throat.

And for a second – just a breath – Est stilled again.

Because it wasn’t a tease, wasn’t part of their game. It was real.

He pulled the prince in, rough and sure, dragging him across the cushions and into his lap until William was straddling him – flushed and gasping, hands braced on Est’s shoulders.

“Est,” he breathed, voice unsteady, “what are you – “

“I’m making up for that night,” Est said, low and dangerous, as he bit gently into the prince’s lower lip.

William’s eyes fluttered shut.

Est pulled back for a moment, his forehead pressed to William’s, breaths coming in warm little bursts.

“I know,” Est whispered, lips brushing his. “You didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“I didn’t,” William said again, voice cracking. “I was angry. I was – “

“You were jealous,” Est murmured. “And mean.”

William nodded, throat tight. “I was.”

Est cupped his face, thumbs stroking over flushed cheeks.

He kissed his way along William’s jaw, then down to his throat, leaving sharp little nips in the delicate skin that would darken by nightfall. His hands slid beneath the fine layers of fabric, pushing William’s tunic up, baring inch after inch of skin.

He kissed down his chest, pausing to suck hard on one nipple until it peaked and William whimpered – then lavished the other with attention, his teeth grazing before he soothed it with his tongue.

And just when William was arching into him, hips grinding slow and needful into his lap – Est stopped.

He pulled back, lips shiny, flushed with heat.

William blinked down at him, dazed, breathless.

And Est… smiled. A wicked, familiar little smirk that spoke of mischief and punishment both.

“You want me to keep going?” he asked, voice low, almost cruelly soft.

William nodded, wide-eyed.

Est leaned in again, trailing hot kisses up his neck.

Then he pushed William back into the seat, laying him out like something sacred.

He pulled William’s breeches the rest of the way off, hands slow and reverent. His palms slid up the inside of the prince’s thighs, spreading them wider as William shivered under the attention.

And then he looked – really looked – at the flushed, weeping cock he’d so cruelly denied earlier.

“So fucking beautiful,” Est breathed, licking his lips. “You’re perfect, my prince. Every inch of you.”

William whimpered, hips twitching toward his mouth – needy, undone.

Est kissed the head first – slow, open-mouthed – letting his tongue circle the slit, tasting the prince’s desperation as a low moan spilled from his throat.

Then he let his lips hover just above the prince’s cock – already hard and flushed and aching – his breath ghosting over it, enough to make William shiver violently.

“Say please,” Est said roughly.

William whimpered. “Please.”

But Est didn’t move.

And for a terrifying second, William’s expression crumpled. His lips parted, and he looked away like he couldn’t bear to be seen – like he was already bracing for the rejection, for some kind of punishment.

And Est… stilled.

The sudden shift gutted him. That raw vulnerability in William’s eyes – the way his entire body tensed, preparing for another emotional wound – made something inside Est twist hard.

He couldn’t.

Not again.

He leaned forward again without another word – wrapped a hand around the base of the prince’s cock and ran his tongue up the length of it, slow and indulgent. William cried out, hips jerking – and Est pinned them down.

“Next time,” Est murmured, just before taking him into his mouth, “remember this before you pick a fight.”

And then he sucked him down in one slow, steady motion – lips slick, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling with every pull.

Warm, wet, deep.

William’s gasp was ragged, his hands flying to Est’s hair as he choked on a moan.

William sobbed – actual sound breaking from his chest – as Est sucked him down slow and greedy, letting him feel every inch, every slide of tongue and press of lips. He hollowed his cheeks, drew back with a lewd wet sound, then sank down again until William’s thighs trembled violently.

Est’s hands gripped his hips, holding him steady as he worked him with his mouth – up and down, swirling his tongue, letting saliva drip and smear as William writhed beneath him, crying out, helpless and panting.

“Gods, Est – fuck – “

Est groaned around him, dragging him deeper, fingertips digging into the prince’s thighs as he bobbed his head – slow, relentless, merciless. He wanted him ruined. Shaking. Silenced by pleasure.

And William was.

He was already trembling, already moaning high and sweet, already whispering things Est couldn’t even make out through the desperate sounds spilling from his mouth.

“Please – Est – I’m so close – please don’t stop – “

And Est didn’t.

Not this time.

He took him deeper still, tongue teasing that sensitive underside, lips dragging slick and perfect until William was practically shaking apart – sobbing his name, head tipped back in surrender.

And Est stayed there – holding him, owning him – until the prince came apart in his mouth, shuddering and gasping and spilling with a hoarse cry.

When he finally pulled back, he licked his lips – slow, shameless – and looked up at William’s flushed, stunned face.

“That’s how you say sorry,” Est murmured, voice thick and hot with pride.

The prince could only nod, lips parted, eyes glassy.

And Est – possessive, unspeakably pleased – pulled him in for another kiss, this one gentler, slow, full of the heat that still crackled between them.

William’s breathing was still uneven, the aftershocks of Est’s mouth lingering through every inch of his flushed skin. His body felt loose, overstimulated, and yet – still aching. Still wanting.

Est sat beside him like nothing had happened. Calm. Composed. One arm resting along the back of the seat, legs spread ever so slightly – his uniform still neat, his face unreadable except for the faintest curl of his mouth that William could feel more than see.

That smirk.

It was devastating. It said I ruined you, without a word. It said I could ruin you again.

And gods help him, William wanted it.

He reached out – unable to stop himself – and brushed his fingers along Est’s jaw, gaze hungry, still chasing some kind of grounding. But Est leaned slightly back, not pulling away, not recoiling – just withholding.

“Don’t,” Est said, low and easy. “I just swallowed your cum.”

William froze mid-motion, hand half-raised.

The words hit him with the force of a slap – vulgar and true and impossibly erotic. His breath hitched, hips twitching involuntarily.

Est let it settle – let him feel it – before slowly turning his head to look at him.

William should’ve looked away.

Instead, he surged forward and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t a kiss born of grace or control – it was messy, desperate, grateful. William’s tongue pushed past Est’s lips, tasting himself on the man who had just taken him apart with nothing but his mouth and a few cruel words. It was possessive – please don’t pull away – but wrapped in velvet and spit and heat.

Est let him.

Just for a few slow moments.

Then he deepened it – one hand catching the back of William’s neck, guiding him closer, until William was practically crawling into his lap again. Est’s tongue moved with that unhurried dominance that always set William trembling – stroking, coaxing, owning him inch by inch.

When they finally broke, they were both flushed, panting again, the carriage rocking gently beneath them.

William leaned his forehead against Est’s cheekbone, eyes half-lidded, breath hot.

“I should take care of you,” he rasped, voice low and hoarse. “Let me – “

Est’s hand was already sliding down his thigh – not toward pleasure, but stilling him.

“No,” he said.

William blinked. “No?”

Est’s gaze was half-lidded, pupils dark.

“You’ll have to wait.”

A pause. William stared.

Est let the words come slow, deliberate – every syllable meant to burn.

“I will only come inside you,” he said. “And unless you want me to bend you over this velvet seat and fuck you until the whole royal escort hears, I suggest you wait.”

William sucked in a breath – sharp, broken. His cock, which had no business being hard again, twitched helplessly against his trousers.

“You – ” William’s voice was a wreck, eyes wide, glassy. “You can’t just say that – “

Est hummed – amused. Lazy and lethal.

“I just did,” he murmured, lips brushing against the corner of William’s jaw.

William’s eyes fluttered shut, his hand gripping tighter.

“That night,” Est added, voice lower now, “I had to pull away before I could have you. So tonight – when we’re alone – I’ll fuck you slow. I’ll finish where I should’ve that time. Deep inside you.“

William let out a shuddering breath, his hips shifting instinctively in his seat. He looked like he didn’t know whether to kiss him again or crawl into his lap and beg.

Est smiled, just a little. And leaned closer – whispering into William’s ear now, filthy and hot and cruelly composed.

“Tonight, I’m going to take you apart. I’ll fuck you slow and deep. You’ll be dripping when I’m done – too full to speak.”

William made a sound – high and involuntary – his thighs shifting restlessly.

Est didn’t stop.

“You’ll come on my cock,” he murmured. “I’ll make you beg for it. I’ll make you mine. And you’ll thank me when you’re shaking under me, too fucked-out to move.”

“Fuck,” William breathed, eyes fluttering shut, head falling back.

Est kissed the corner of his mouth. “But not here.”

William groaned – genuinely, achingly – and then lunged for another kiss.

This time it was deep and needy, almost frantic – his hands pulling at Est’s jacket, his body pressing close like he wanted to crawl inside his skin.

Est let him.

Even let his hand slide down to cup the prince’s ass through those soft tailored trousers – kneading once, possessive and firm.

William whimpered into his mouth.

When they parted, Est gave one last, slow lick along William’s lower lip – watching his eyelids flutter.

Est smoothed a hand through William’s hair, fingers curling possessively at the base of his skull.

“Behave,” he murmured, voice quiet but firm. “Just a little longer.”

William looked at him – eyes glassy, lips red, the weight of too many things in his stare.

Then, soft and hoarse, “Okay.”

Est leaned back, just slightly – and with a wicked glint in his eye, pretended to adjust his gloves like nothing had happened.

William stared – stunned, hard again, and visibly wrecked.

“You’re a monster,” he whispered, dazed.

Est raised one brow. “You like it.”

William groaned – dropping his head into Est’s shoulder, nearly shaking.

“Tonight,” he said breathlessly. “Tonight, you – “

“I will,” Est interrupted, voice dark and smooth like wine poured over coals. “I’ll give you everything.”

There was no more conversation after that.

The carriage kept rolling, steady and silent – two men inside, pretending nothing had changed while everything had. William curled against Est’s side again, head tucked beneath his jaw, breathing him in like penance.

And Est – still hard, still aching – rested his chin on the crown of the prince’s head and closed his eyes.

Waiting.

Wanting.

And knowing tonight, William would be his.

Entirely.

_______

The palace loomed ahead like a memory – all shining domes and gilded balconies, blinding under the late afternoon sun.

The carriage rattled over the stone drawbridge with a heavy finality, its wheels clattering against polished cobbles that gleamed faintly with rain from the night before.

Est’s posture had shifted minutes before arrival – back straight, shoulders locked, chin lifted just enough to appear neutral. His uniform, once rumpled by heated kisses and the press of William’s body, had been meticulously straightened. He’d smoothed down every wrinkle with quiet precision. By the time the carriage began to slow, every inch of him was a soldier again.

Across from him, William adjusted the cuffs of his formal coat, eyes on the sliver of sunlight visible through the carriage window. He hadn’t spoken since the last kiss – since he’d pulled Est into him like he might never let go again.

Now, though… now his face had resumed its familiar polish. Composed. Aloof. Regal.

The carriage came to a final halt beneath the arch of the palace’s eastern portico. Guards stood at attention. A line of attendants waited with bowed heads.

The flags atop the spires fluttered, servants stood at the ready on the stone steps, and a dozen guards snapped to formation as the royal carriages came to a halt.

Est’s posture was perfect. Cold, composed. Every line of his body disciplined.

No one watching would know the things he had whispered to the prince on the ride back. No one would guess that the young royal beside him was still hard beneath his tailored trousers, still flushed and aching from having been brought to the edge of pleasure and denied with a kiss.

William didn’t look at him as the door opened.

And Est didn’t expect him to.

He was the first to step down – scanning the area, eyes flicking instinctively to corners, rooftops, the assembled staff waiting with bows at the ready. As always.

Behind him, the prince emerged – not as the man who had kissed Est breathless in the carriage, but as the prince of the realm. Commanding. Composed. Regal. His voice carried crisp and clear as he greeted his steward and accepted the morning’s schedule with an elegant flick of his gloved fingers.

Est remained just behind his shoulder, silent and alert, his presence felt but never distracting. The line had been redrawn the moment the palace came into view, and neither of them crossed it.

But Est didn’t resent it.

In truth, something in him steadied under the return to protocol. He admired the way William carried himself – the sharp authority in his voice, the clean precision of each movement, the way his gaze hardened into something immovable when speaking to officials.

This was a different side of him – the prince that ruled, not teased; the leader, not the lover. And Est respected it deeply.

The steward of the royal court approached at once with a leather-bound folio and a nervous expression.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing low. “There are urgent matters from the northern border. The council has been waiting since dawn. You are expected at the solar.”

“Send for the chancellor,” the prince said as he walked. “Prepare the solar. I’ll speak with the northern delegation at once.”

A servant jogged ahead to make the arrangements while another rushed to collect the prince’s luggage. Est moved silently behind him, half a step to the side – always close, but never too close.

It was like watching the slow construction of a wall – each step, each order, each title spoken aloud with formality another brick mortared into place. William didn’t look back. Didn’t touch him. Didn’t soften.

The short walk to the main hall was lined with bustling staff, nobles peeking curiously from columned doorways, and guards bowing low. The return of the prince was not a quiet affair – not even after only a few days away.

Their footsteps echoed down the grand marble corridor. Servants rushed forward with missives and messages, and a guard in full court armor stepped aside to admit them to the inner halls.

The palace felt colder than the country estate, grander but less forgiving.

When they reached the east wing, an attendant approached with a lowered head.

“Sir Est,” he said. “His Highness has requested you resume your regular detail – security for the royal wing. You’ll stand outside the solar until the council retires.”

Est nodded once. “Understood.”

William didn’t say a word to him as he swept inside the tall double doors. But just before they shut, Est caught a flicker of his eyes – a glance, subtle and fleeting, that no one else would have noticed.

It wasn’t affection. It wasn’t longing.

But it was something.

And it was enough.

Est took his place at the door – back straight, expression neutral, his hand resting just above the pommel of his sword.

There would be no heated glances here, no murmured jokes, no rough hands dragging him closer. Here, William was the prince, and Est was his guard.

And that was fine.

This part, at least, he knew how to play.

But beneath the armor and stillness, something in him pulsed with the memory of the night before – of the way William had touched him, kissed him, whispered sorry like it cost him something.

He stood watch.

Unmoving.

Unshaken.

But never unaware.

_______

The sun had long dipped behind the palace walls, casting the stone corridors into amber glow and deepening shadows. Evening had settled across the royal court, but for William, the hours only grew denser – thick with advisors, ministers, foreign emissaries, and the subtle power plays threaded through every bowed head and carefully measured word.

Est watched the day stretch into night from his post outside the council chamber. He kept still, of course – practiced in the art of being present yet invisible – but beneath his calm exterior, the hours tugged heavier and heavier on him. He knew the demands of the prince’s position, admired the way William shouldered it with grace and fire both. Still, part of him – the smallest, quietest part – had hoped for even a moment alone before the night was done.

Instead, just after the Crown Prince James arrived with his entourage – all pomp and tension tucked beneath familial smiles – William had stepped out briefly, his voice quiet but unwavering as he said, “Est, you’re dismissed for the night. I’ll have the night guard take over from here. You must be tired.”

It was said with care. With consideration, even.

But not affection.

Est nodded, his voice even. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

He bowed – just enough, nothing dramatic – and stepped aside as two of the crown’s elite night guards moved into place. He didn’t look back as he turned and walked the long stretch of corridor alone, though the familiar ache began building in his chest with every step.

He knew this role. He had no claim on the prince’s time. And yet, despite all the logic and discipline in his bones, Est couldn’t stop the mild sting of disappointment from curling inside him like a cold draft beneath a closed door.

It was childish, maybe – to ache for the intimacy they’d shared just nights ago in the countryside. But it lingered.

And tonight, it would remain only a memory.

__________

They’ve reconciled AND – AND – AND- the prince apologized. THE PRINCE! (Oh William, you’re a goner…) 

I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter. 

How are y’all feeling so far about the story guys? Would love to hear your overall thoughts.