Chapter 15
Est walked slowly, back to his chambers – deep in thought.
His chambers were modest but comfortable – a stone room tucked neatly into the southern barracks wing reserved for the guard closest to the royal household. He unfastened the heavy clasps of his uniform with slow, tired fingers, peeling back layers of linen and leather until his skin could finally breathe.
A tray of supper had been left for him on the narrow oak table – warm bread, sliced meat, cheese, and fruit. Simple, but generous. Likely ordered under William’s instruction, even if it hadn’t been spoken aloud.
Est ate in silence, muscles loosening slightly as the familiar rhythm of solitude settled over him. Afterward, he moved to the bath tucked behind a carved wooden screen – letting the hot water ease the strain in his back, in his arms, in the quiet places that still remembered how tightly he’d gripped William’s waist only nights ago.
He washed quickly, efficiently. There was no one to linger for tonight.
By the time he slipped into fresh linens and sank into the small but well-kept bed, the moon had risen high above the courtyard outside his window. The night was quiet – too quiet, without the rustle of William’s silks or the scent of his skin.
Est lay still, arms folded behind his head as he stared at the stone ceiling above. He told himself not to feel anything. That this was the natural return of their roles, nothing more. That he had done his duty. That he had been given more than he ever should’ve asked for.
And yet…
The bed felt colder without the heat of a prince curled around him.
Eventually, sleep took him – slowly, heavily – the kind that presses itself over your chest like a blanket made of stone.
And in the dark, he dreamed of nothing at all.
___________
Morning sunlight streamed pale and cold through the arched palace windows, softening the edges of stone and casting faint gold across the corridor floors. Est stood at attention outside the prince’s chambers, posture straight, hands folded neatly behind his back, expression impassive.
Just like every other morning.
But inside, something restless stirred – remnants of the tension from the day before still coiled in his chest. He had expected another day of silence. Another day of watching from a distance as the prince moved through his world of politics and pageantry.
So when the chamber doors opened and a palace attendant stepped out, Est’s brows lifted slightly in surprise.
“Sir Est,” the young man said politely. “His Highness would like a word. Please, come in.”
Est blinked once – just once – then nodded and stepped inside.
The door closed behind him.
The prince’s rooms were quiet save for the rustle of fine cloth and the murmured dismissal of other attendants. William stood at his dressing table, shirt unfastened halfway down his chest, sleeves still rolled to his elbows as he inspected a piece of correspondence beside a steaming tea tray.
“Sit,” William said without looking. “Have some tea. I’ll be ready in a moment.”
Est hesitated – just for a heartbeat – before obeying, settling silently into the low chair by the hearth. A moment later, a fresh cup of tea was placed before him by a footman, who bowed and left as the remaining attendants filed quietly out. He reached for the cup, fingers curling slowly around it, watching the prince’s silhouette in the mirror.
And then they were alone.
William exhaled, long and tired, then turned slowly toward him – his shirt still gaping at the collar, dark hair mussed slightly from where a valet had run fingers through it. His eyes – ever unreadable – were softer than they had been in days.
William’s gaze flicked to him then – sharp, direct.
“I was hoping,” he said after a beat, voice low, “to find you in my bed last night.”
Est held the cup still. Steam curled between them, carrying the faint scent of citrus and spice.
“Even after all your filthy promises – you weren’t there,” he replied, tone neutral.
“I came back late.” William turned from the mirror now, lazily fastening his cuffs. “Still. I’d hoped.”
Est didn’t respond.
William’s eyes narrowed slightly, then softened. “You didn’t want to wait for me?”
Est looked up, gaze steady despite the soft throb in his chest.
“It’s not about want,” Est answered calmly. “I’m not permitted inside unless you’re there, Your Highness. You know that.”
The prince smirked at that, taking a step closer. His shirt hung loose, chest half-exposed, bare feet silent against the floor. “Mm. Yes, well. That’ll be changing.”
He stepped closer, lazy, like the conversation was barely serious – but his eyes didn’t leave Est’s.
“If there’s ever a question of whether we’ll be together on a given night… if we’ve spoken about it,” He paused. “Then I expect you in my bed.”
Est’s lips parted slightly – but he said nothing.
William studied him, gaze dropping for a beat – to the sharp line of Est’s jaw, the way he held his shoulders tense despite the stillness.
“Even if I’m not there. Even if it’s just to sleep,” William added, like a whisper folded in velvet.
Est swallowed. He couldn’t help the warmth that flared up his neck. “Yes, Your Highness.”
William’s smile deepened, pleased by that little flush.
“I meant it, Est.” His voice sharpened just slightly, threading something possessive through the softness. “I expect you tonight.”
Est didn’t speak. But something in his posture shifted. William noticed.
“I’ll be busy again,” he said more softly. “Meetings all day. The northern delegation is still here. The King and James will want time too.”
He tilted his head. “But when I’m done…” His eyes flicked to Est’s mouth. “There’s only one thing I want waiting for me.”
Est’s throat worked – whether from the heat curling in his gut or the press of something deeper, he wasn’t sure.
William’s smile turned lazy. “And don’t worry,” he added. “The night guards won’t stop you.”
Still, Est didn’t move.
And then, slowly, deliberately, William stepped close enough to tilt his chin down and speak directly into his ear.
“If you’re not in my bed tonight,” he said, “I’ll assume you’re punishing me.”
Est finally turned his head – just enough that their cheeks brushed. His voice came quiet and clear.
“Your wish is my command,” he said.
William drew back just enough to look at him, his expression unreadable – but his eyes burned with promise.
“We’ll see,” he murmured, then finally stepped away to dress.
_________
The day passed in a blur of polished formality and sharp restraint.
From the moment William stepped out of his rooms dressed in court finery – navy and silver brocade that caught the sun and commanded the eye – Est was half a step behind him, silent as ever. Around them, the palace whirred to life: chamberlains, advisors, foreign dignitaries, and a royal agenda so tightly packed that even the prince barely had time to breathe.
But Est never lost track of him.
He stood at the walls of the meeting chambers, motionless and alert as voices rose and fell around polished tables. He kept pace beside William through the eastern gardens as they met with the coastal delegation, the breeze teasing at the hem of the prince’s cloak. He stood sentry outside the grand conference hall, one gloved hand resting on the hilt of his sword while ministers and noblemen streamed past in waves.
And all the while, beneath the uniform and the rigid posture, his mind was nowhere near duty.
He thought about the morning – the heat in William’s voice, the way he said “I expect you tonight.”
He thought about those long fingers wrapped around a teacup, the flash of his bare chest, the smirk that had tugged at his lips when he said “Don’t worry – the guards won’t stop you.”
Gods, he thought about the last time they were together. The slow surrender in the carriage. William flushed and trembling in his lap, gasping his name.
And more than once, as Est stood behind the prince’s right shoulder in some endless chamber while a minister droned about coastal tariffs, he imagined dropping to his knees and opening his mouth – right there, just to see how long the prince could hold that princely composure.
At one point in the late afternoon, while exiting the high corridor of stained glass, William glanced back – just once – and caught Est staring.
One look. One heartbeat.
Blue eyes flicked over him, slow and cutting, before William turned back without a word.
Est exhaled slowly and adjusted his gloves. He couldn’t afford to be caught wanting. Not yet.
As the sun dipped and the palace lights began to glow amber, Est remained dutiful at the door of the final meeting – this one with Crown Prince James. It stretched long into the evening, voices low and private behind heavy wood.
Eventually, the door opened.
William stepped out, his expression unreadable, his tone clipped. “Est. You’re dismissed for the night. The evening guard will take over.”
Est gave the standard bow, low and crisp. “Yes, Your Highness.”
He turned on his heel, his face unreadable – but inside, something fluttered.
He hadn’t been summoned yet. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be.
He returned to his quarters – quieter and cleaner than most guards’ rooms, thanks to William’s influence – and moved on autopilot. He peeled off his uniform slowly, stretching muscles stiff from standing all day. Ate a simple meal brought in by a steward. Showered under hot water until the tension in his shoulders unwound just enough to breathe.
And then dressed – not in armor or finery, but in dark linen, clean and fitted. Enough to pass as a guard if questioned. Enough to move quietly through the palace without drawing eyes.
When the appointed time grew close, he made his way toward the prince’s private wing.
By now, the hallways were dimmer – bathed in candlelight, quiet but never quite still. Servants whispered past with trays and towels.
A few guards stood posted, but none stopped him.
He reached William’s doors.
No one else was present. No voices inside.
Est inhaled once, twice. His hand rested on the handle for a long second.
Then he opened the door and stepped through.
The chamber was warm, lit by firelight and the faint scent of smoke and bergamot. The bed was turned down. A tray of wine sat waiting on the side table, two glasses already poured.
But the prince was not there yet.
Est crossed the room slowly. Took the seat by the hearth. Stared into the flames – his back straight, his breath steady – but inside?
He was burning.
Waiting.
Est sat in the quiet, golden warmth of the prince’s chambers, still and composed, but with every moment ticking past, a dull, restless ache gathered in his chest. He’d waited before – was trained to wait, really – but this felt different.
He wasn’t waiting as a guard tonight.
He was waiting as something else entirely.
Time slipped by – slow, syrupy. The fire crackled, wind whispered against the tall windows, and still, William didn’t come.
It wasn’t disappointment that curled in Est’s gut. Not quite. He knew the weight of the crown, the unrelenting demands that pulled the prince in every direction. William had warned him that today would be long. But knowing didn’t help quiet the pulse of longing that beat steady beneath his skin.
Then came the knock.
Soft. Measured.
Est rose swiftly and opened the door to find a quiet-faced attendant with an elegant silver tray and two footmen trailing behind, carrying baskets and a lidded cart.
“For you, sir,” the attendant said. “From the prince.”
Est stepped aside, allowing them to move in.
They moved efficiently – setting out a selection of soft cheeses, sliced fruits, small flaky pastries, and honey-dipped nuts. A fresh pot of spiced tea steamed beside two goblets of wine. One of the servants placed a neat stack of books beside the bed: histories, a volume of poetry, and – to Est’s surprise – a worn, leather-bound novel he recognized as one of his favorites.
Last came a sealed envelope, slipped discreetly into Est’s hand.
The note was short. William’s familiar, elegant scrawl:
Things ran longer than expected – they always do when James is involved. I’ll be back, soon enough.
For now, eat something. Read. Dream of me. And sleep in my bed – that’s an order.
– W.J.K.
Est stared at the note for a long time.
It wasn’t overly sentimental. There was no dramatic apology, no promise of a perfect evening. Just the thoughtfulness in the food, the books, the familiar tease of “dream of me.” But it was enough to make something deep inside Est go warm and painfully soft.
He sat back down, folded the note carefully, and tucked it into his pocket.
The fire still burned low, and the bed behind him was inviting – William’s scent faint in the linen, in the pillows.
Est poured himself a glass of wine. Took a few bites of the fruit and cheese, slowly savoring each one – like the prince had planned it, knowing his favorites, knowing what would help him unwind.
Eventually, he opened the novel and began to read. The room was so quiet that every turn of a page felt loud. His eyes drifted, occasionally, to the door.
But William didn’t come.
The hour grew late.
Est tried to fight the exhaustion tugging at him, but it was a losing battle. His muscles were heavy with the ache of the day. His mind, still restless, eventually dulled to the slow lull of words on the page.
With a reluctant sigh, Est rose. He turned down the bed – sheets smooth and cool to the touch, already carrying the faint, familiar scent of bergamot and clean skin – and slipped beneath them.
He lay there for a while, propped against William’s pillows, staring at the ceiling, still half-listening for footsteps, a door creak, anything.
But the room remained quiet.
Eventually, his eyes fluttered shut. His fingers curled around the fabric of the prince’s pillow.
And in the warmth of his absence – in the soft pull of linen and scent – Est finally fell asleep, dreaming of him.
________
The fire had long since burned low, casting flickering amber shadows across the walls when Est stirred – not from a dream, but from instinct. A whisper of sound, so faint anyone else might’ve missed it, tugged at the edge of his soldier’s awareness. Not danger. Familiar. Steady. The gait of someone who walked these halls like he owned them.
Which he did.
Est didn’t move, only let his eyes slide open – just a fraction – as he listened.
The door eased shut again. A rustle of fabric. And then the quiet clink of glass on glass.
William.
He stood near the hearth, already out of his outer robes, loose nightclothes hanging off one shoulder. His tunic was open at the chest, revealing the pale expanse of his collarbones and the sharp V of his sternum. Firelight licked golden across his throat, his hair falling messily over his brow. He looked like a painting – royal and human and heartbreakingly exhausted all at once.
Est watched, unmoving.
The prince poured himself a drink – something dark and amber – and threw it back without hesitation. His shoulders sagged with the motion, like he was finally letting go of the weight of whatever council or crisis had eaten his time tonight.
Est could have spoken. Could have greeted him. But he didn’t.
He simply watched, eyes soft in the low light. And something in his chest ached at the sight of William so alone, unaware, still wearing the day on his shoulders like armor.
So Est remained still, steady in the bed where William had told him to be, waiting.
Eventually, William turned – likely to blow out the last of the candles, to crawl beneath the covers and chase what little sleep he could before dawn came dragging him out again.
And then he stilled.
Because Est’s eyes were open, watching him.
William blinked. Then a smile – slow and genuine despite the fatigue pulling at the corners of his mouth – curved across his lips.
“Why are you awake?” he asked, voice low and rough with the hour.
Est didn’t answer right away. He simply pushed himself up a little, resting on one elbow, letting the covers slip down his chest.
“Long day?” he asked softly instead.
William exhaled through his nose and crossed the room to him, shedding the last of his nightclothes with a grunt. “Very,” he admitted. “But now… I’m feeling much better.”
He slipped beneath the sheets, all warmth and weariness, and leaned in to cup Est’s jaw with a tired tenderness that made Est’s throat tighten.
And then William kissed him.
Long. Deep. Slow.
Not rushed or heated – but not soft, either. There was too much in it. Want and relief and something that felt dangerously close to gratitude.
Est’s hand came up to touch William’s wrist lightly, grounding them both.
He kissed him back. Gently. Thoroughly.
But when William leaned in for more, Est drew back just enough to rest his forehead against the prince’s.
“You should rest,” he murmured, brushing his fingers through the damp hair clinging to William’s temple. “You’re exhausted.”
William sighed, dramatic and reluctant. “I am,” he admitted, closing his eyes for a moment. “Gods, my head is killing me.”
He moved to lie down fully, face turning toward Est on the pillow.
Without a word, Est tugged the prince close, letting William curl into his arms.
There was something vulnerable in the way William folded into him, some quiet surrender that had nothing to do with titles or games. Just warmth. Just breathing.
Est lay there with him – one arm around his waist, the other tracing lazy circles into his shoulder blades.
And in that hush – beneath the canopy of royal silk and fire-warmed sheets – they finally slept, pressed heart to heart.
___________
Est woke, as he always did, at the first trace of light cresting the edge of the horizon.
The quiet was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of wind beyond the windows and the faint shifting of silk as he moved carefully beneath the covers. His limbs were trained into silence, his motions precise and efficient. He was halfway to sitting up, bare chest rising from the warmth of the bed, when a familiar weight pulled him back down – strong arms sliding around his waist and holding him in place.
“Where are you going?” came the prince’s voice – low, rough with sleep, and far too warm for the hour.
Est glanced down to find William still buried in the blankets, hair a mess of dark silk over one eye, cheek half-pressed into his shoulder. He looked impossibly soft in the pale gold light of dawn – nothing like the sharp-tongued prince from court.
“I have work,” Est murmured, keeping his voice quiet. “My shift starts at six.”
William huffed out a sleepy laugh, muffled against his skin. “You’re never off duty,” he said, tightening his grip possessively. “You’re here with me. That counts. Uniform or not – if someone came for me, you’d protect me the same, wouldn’t you?”
Est blinked, a breath caught between protest and helpless affection.
William leaned up slightly, still bleary-eyed, and added with a crooked, lazy grin, “So stay. No one will say anything.”
For a moment, Est hesitated.
Then he let out a long breath and lay back down, shifting until he was properly under the covers again. William let out a satisfied hum, immediately curling closer, his leg hooking over Est’s hip, head on his chest like it was made to fit there.
A few drowsy kisses were pressed to his skin – near his ribs, his sternum – before William settled with a deep sigh, warm and content.
Est lay there with him, arms around the prince’s smaller frame, fingers tracing soothing patterns along the slope of his back. He drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the slow weight of William’s breath rising and falling against him.
It was peaceful. Steady.
Until it wasn’t.
_______
Est woke with a sharp breath – his mind rising from the fog of sleep into something feverishly real.
Warmth.
Wetness.
Heat.
A mouth.
That was the first thing Est registered – not the cool kiss of dawn air slipping in through the windows, not the weight of silken sheets tangled around his hips. No, it was heat – wet, tight, velvet heat dragging slow over the length of his cock.
His breath caught.
Then his eyes snapped open, heart hammering as his hips jerked slightly in reflex.
A head of tousled dark hair moved beneath the covers, shifting lower between his thighs.
Prince William.
The prince was nestled between Est’s legs, shoulder to thigh, chest pressed to the mattress. His hands were splayed on either side of Est’s hips, fingers flexing against bare skin as he eased his mouth down again – slow, unhurried – taking Est inch by inch. his flushed lips stretched around the thick length of Est’s cock, eyes closed, lashes casting soft shadows across his cheeks as he bobbed slowly, deeply, like he’d been at it for a while.
Est let out a strangled sound – half gasp, half moan – as his hand instinctively gripped the back of William’s head, fingers threading through the soft dark hair.
“W-William – fuck,” he groaned, hips jerking slightly, unable to stop himself, hand flying to grip the sheets as his spine arched clean off the mattress.
William pulled back with a low hum, mouth glistening, breath warm and heavy against the base of his cock. He looked up through thick lashes, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.
“Good morning,” he said, voice thick and lazy, like he hadn’t just dragged Est out of sleep with the most sinful thing he could imagine.
Est blinked at him, still catching up, the air leaving his lungs in a slow exhale. “You’re – gods – you’re impossible.”
William grinned, wicked and satisfied, and pressed a kiss to the inside of Est’s thigh. “You were leaving,” he murmured, the words muffled against skin. “Couldn’t have that.”
“I told you,” Est said roughly, “I have duties – “
“You have me,” William interrupted, licking a long, deliberate stripe up the underside of his cock. “And right now, I think I should be your only priority.”
Est’s head dropped back against the pillows, one arm thrown over his eyes as a shaky breath tore from him. “You’re a menace,” he muttered.
But his hips bucked the moment William’s lips closed around him again – soft and hot, cheeks hollowing as he sucked him in slow and deep. It was a luxury Est didn’t know how to process, didn’t know how to handle – the way William moved like this was a gift he’d given himself, like he wanted to do this, like the idea of Est coming undone in his mouth was a pleasure all its own.
“I – fuck, you’ll make me come,” Est gasped, a hand flying down to tangle in the prince’s soft hair. He looked so unfairly good there, lips wet and pink, neck flushed, the open collar of his nightshirt hanging off one shoulder. His skin glowed in the soft dawn.
William finally pulled off with a wet sound, a smug, breathless smile curving his lips. “That’s the idea,” he whispered, licking a stripe up the underside, “you looked too good to resist. And I’d neglected you last night.”
Est groaned, thumb brushing over William’s wet lower lip.
“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, but it was worship, not reproach.
“And you’re already so hard for me,” William teased, ducking back down to lick slow circles around the head. “You were leaking in your sleep. So needy.”
And gods, it felt so good.
William was teasing – not rushed or greedy, but slow and thorough, like he was trying to memorize every sound Est made. He sucked gently at the head, tongue flicking against the slit, then pulled off with a quiet pop, letting his spit trail between them before licking a glistening line back up.
Est’s abs tightened.
“Beautiful like this,” William murmured, stroking him lazily with one hand, eyes devouring the sight of Est laid out beneath him. “All flushed. Breathless. I should’ve done this sooner.”
“Then stop talking,” Est growled, half feral now, voice thick with need.
William laughed, pleased, and obeyed – taking him in again, deeper this time, until his nose pressed to the base and his throat fluttered around him.
Est swore, loudly, hand flying to his hair. “Fuck, William – “
The prince moaned around him, eyes fluttering closed as he bobbed his head in a slow, rhythmic pace – enough to have Est gasping, thighs trembling.
Est tried not to thrust – tried to hold still – but the pleasure was edging on unbearable. Every time William pulled off just enough to tease the tip with a flick of his tongue, only to take him again, Est’s body bucked, helpless.
“You’re going to kill me,” Est groaned, half-laughing as he looked down – and gods, the sight alone nearly undid him. The prince, with his soft lips wrapped around his cock, spit glistening at the corners of his mouth, hair messy, eyes dark with hunger.
William pulled off slowly, stroking him with slick fingers.
“I’m just making up for lost time,” he said with mock innocence. “You teased me so much that night in the carriage. Thought I’d return the favor.”
Est let out a sound halfway between a moan and a warning. “William – “
The prince bent down, kissing the flushed tip before swirling his tongue around it. “You close?”
Est’s jaw clenched. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
William hummed and sucked him in again, lips forming a perfect seal, pace faster now, wet and obscene. Est felt himself racing toward the edge, heat coiling tight in his gut, hips stuttering, mouth open with a choked gasp –
And then –
William stopped.
Pulled off with a soft, wet sound.
His hand left Est entirely.
And Est froze – body taut, teeth gritted – as the climax that had crested so beautifully crashed back into aching denial.
“What the fuck,” he breathed, eyes flying open, staring at the ceiling in disbelief.
William sat back on his heels between his thighs, cheeks flushed, lips wet, a devil’s smirk tugging at his mouth. “You’re cute when you beg.”
Est glared, panting. “I wasn’t begging.“
“Yet,” William teased. “But you were about to come without permission. That’s not very obedient of you, is it?”
“I wasn’t and – you’re insane.”
“And you love it,” William murmured, bending to kiss his hipbone, to lick a slow stripe back up his cock without touching it fully. “But fine. You want to come?”
Est gave a strangled noise, his patience a fraying thread.
William leaned closer, breath warm on the head of his cock. “Then make it worth my while,” he whispered, eyes gleaming. “Tell me how badly you need it. How long you’ve wanted to come in my mouth. Beg.”
Est swore low under his breath. “You are a fucking menace.”
“And you’re still hard,” William said sweetly, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “So? What’ll it be?”
Est narrowed his eyes, jaw working – but he was trembling now, breath shallow, his cock flushed and throbbing with need.
Finally, voice ragged, he said, “Please. I need it.”
William blinked, slow and pleased. “More.”
Est let his head fall back. “I need your mouth,” he ground out. “Please, William.”
The prince’s expression softened – just barely – the teasing edge folding into something darker, more intense.
Without another word, he leaned in again, mouth hot and slick as he took Est back in, sucking with purpose now, fast and filthy, fingers digging into Est’s thighs to hold him down.
He was relentless. Slow, deep, obscene.
Est bit down on a curse, panting now. “Gods – “
William gave no response beyond another low moan and the slick, messy glide of his mouth moving – sucking and licking with such maddening control that Est’s whole body trembled.
It was too good.
Too much.
And when William began to hum around him – his tongue swirling lazily as his hand cupped Est’s balls, rolling them gently – Est felt the tightening in his spine, the warning burn low in his gut.
“Sh- stop – stop,” he gasped, tightening his grip and tugging William off him with a wet, lewd pull.
William looked up, mouth shiny, pupils blown wide.
Est stared down at him, chest heaving. “No more,” he growled, voice thick. “I’m not coming in your mouth.”
William blinked slowly, lips pink and swollen. “You didn’t like it?”
Est panted, trembling with restraint, and then grabbed him – fist in William’s nightshirt, dragging him up roughly for a kiss.
Their mouths crashed together, slick and hot, the taste of Est’s arousal still on William’s tongue. The prince groaned as Est licked deep into his mouth, hands gripping his hips and hauling him close.
“I liked it too much,” Est snapped, hauling him upward by the arm. “But I’ll say this once – I’m not coming anywhere but inside you.”
William’s breath hitched, eyes darkening instantly.
“You – ” He laughed breathlessly, licking his lips. “You’re filthy.”
Est sat up, dragging William closer until he was kneeling astride his hips, the slick head of Est’s cock brushing against the cleft of his ass.
“I’ll show you filthy,” Est whispered against his lips. “Now get the oil.”
The prince’s breath shuddered.
He didn’t argue.
Still flushed, still half-hard himself, he reached blindly for the small crystal bottle resting on the bedside table. Uncorked it. Poured a generous amount into his palm.
And then, without breaking eye contact, he reached between them and slicked Est’s cock thoroughly – fingers sliding, stroking him from base to tip in slow, obscene motions.
Est grunted, every muscle tense. “You’re playing with fire.”
William just smiled, dirty and unrepentant. “Good.”
Est hissed as William wrapped both hands around him, slicking him up.
William straddled him slowly, rising onto his knees. Est’s hands found his thighs, holding him steady, eyes locked to the sight of William lining himself up – guiding the flushed, leaking head of Est’s cock to his entrance.
“Fuck,” Est breathed, unable to look away.
William’s thighs trembled, breath catching as he sank down.
Slowly. Carefully. Inch by inch.
William’s mouth fell open, a trembling moan escaping him as he lowered himself, his rim stretching wide around Est’s cock. It wasn’t effortless – he was still tight, still flushed and gasping – but it was practiced. Familiar. Willing.
And it made Est lose his fucking mind.
“Gods – ” Est hissed. “You’re so tight. Always so fucking tight for me.”
“Est – ” he whispered, back arching as Est filled him completely. “So full – Est – “
William’s thighs trembled as he bottomed out, settling fully in Est’s lap. “I need it,” he whispered, voice breathless. “I need you inside me like this.”
Est cupped his hips, holding him steady. “You take me so well,” he whispered, brushing his thumbs over William’s trembling waist. “Every time. You were made for this.”
William moaned, low and wrecked, and began to move – hips rolling in slow, deliberate rhythm, his breath hitching with every downward thrust.
Est watched him, eyes greedy and hungry, mouth parted.
William looked ethereal – flushed and golden, head thrown back, hair mussed from sleep, cock hard and dripping against his belly.
Est reached up, brushed fingers over his chest – teasing at his nipples, watching them harden under his touch.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” Est whispered, voice rough.
“Then don’t,” William panted, riding him harder now, hands pressed to Est’s chest for balance. “Take everything – fuck – use me.”
Est growled, sitting up suddenly, wrapping his arms around William’s back and driving up into him.
William cried out, arms clinging to Est’s shoulders as he was lifted, cradled, fucked through in deep, devastating strokes.
They kissed again – long and messy and full of open-mouthed panting – and Est rolled them, pressing William into the bed, lifting one of his legs over his shoulder.
“You wanted this,” he rasped, dragging his cock slowly out and slamming back in. “You’ve been dripping for me all morning.”
William sobbed under him, eyes wet, mouth parted.
“Say it,” Est demanded, fucking him slow and hard. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m – yours,” William gasped, thighs trembling, fingers scrabbling for purchase on Est’s shoulders. “Only yours – please – “
Est bit his shoulder gently, soothing it with his tongue.
“I’m going to come inside you,” he growled, fucking him faster now, deeper. “You’ll feel it all day. You’ll walk into your meetings dripping, thinking of me.”
William let out a sound that was half sob, half whimper – and Est felt him clench, felt the way his whole body trembled from the words.
“Please – yes – more – “
“You want to come, don’t you?” Est bit out.
William nodded frantically, hand sliding between them to stroke himself.
“You only get to come when I say so.”
That made William sob – but he didn’t stop moving.
“I’ll fill you up,” Est growled. “Come so deep inside you you’ll be leaking for days. You want that?”
“Yes – please – Est, please – “
And that was all it took.
Est grabbed him hard, shifted, and drove up into him with long, punishing thrusts. William’s back arched, legs trembling, mouth open in a perfect, broken O.
“I’m coming – gods, I’m – “
“Come for me,” Est ordered.
And William shattered.
He came untouched, with a moan so loud Est had to cover his mouth with a kiss – his body convulsing, milking Est’s cock as he pulsed inside him moments later, groaning deep into William’s throat.
William’s body clenched around Est’s cock so tightly it pushed him over the edge too.
Est cursed – loud and raw – as he slammed into him one last time and came deep inside him, pulsing hard, emptying himself in thick waves.
They stayed like that, trembling and locked together – Est still buried deep, William boneless beneath him – until the world faded to breathless silence.
“You should try sleeping in more often,” he said, breathless and smiling.
Est laughed once, hoarse. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Est turned his head. Met his eyes.
“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t.”
William leaned down and kissed him – slow, deep, tasting of sleep and salt and morning heat. And then he collapsed into Est’s arms, with Est still buried deep inside him, sighing contentedly as he curled back into his chest.
“Ten more minutes,” he mumbled.
Est wrapped his arms around him, eyes already fluttering. “Take twenty – my prince.”
_________
Well – what can I say – they’re both INSATIABLE – at least when it comes to each other.
Lots of exciting things coming up in the next chapters.
Hope y’all enjoyed this one!
And as always leave your thoughts in the comments!
