Chapter 6

The two days that followed were a strange, aching rhythm of proximity and distance.

Est kept to his post like a proper guard – boots sounding softly on marble halls, hands never straying too far from the hilt of his sword. William was constantly surrounded by advisors and courtiers, eyes sharp with purpose and mouth set in a regal line as he attended to the business of his station.

And yet, for all the prince’s royal restraint, Est could feel the weight of his gaze.

More than once, across crowded corridors or at a council table, he’d catch William’s dark blue eyes fixed on him – lingering just long enough to leave heat coiling deep in Est’s belly.

And at night, when he finally tumbled into bed alone, exhaustion would close in – but so would other thoughts.

He would stare into the darkened ceiling, heart thudding, remembering that first night.
Remembering the heat of William’s hands and the taste of his kiss – the scrape of his breath against Est’s ear – and Est’s own body would grow tense with aching want.

“You could have him,” his thoughts whispered. “You could have him again.”

And in those restless, intimate hours before sleep took him, Est would imagine all the ways their bodies might fit together – hands gliding lower over his own bare skin as if trying to recreate the prince’s touch.

Yet for all that stirring desire, questions circled him just as tightly.

He thought of his mother, his siblings – safe and warm, yes, under William’s care, but dependent forever on this arrangement.
He thought of the title William had offered so smoothly. Paramour. Consort.

Est had grown up hearing tales of kings and princes – they took consorts and concubines and mistresses as openly as they took wives. Even William’s own father had several favorites tucked away in rooms much finer than these.

So why secret?

Why hide him, if he truly wanted him?

He thought about what William had offered and wondered if perhaps it was all just a fantasy.

One day – Est knew – William would marry some princess chosen for her lineage and wealth.
Some court beauty, sharp-tongued and trained in power games.

And what would become of him then?

Would he simply vanish into shadow once the prince’s attention strayed?
Would he matter at all after that?

Night after night these questions circled him like restless ghosts.

And yet – whenever he closed his eyes – what rose most clearly was the feel of William’s hands, the sound of his voice, the way his gaze never quite let go.

Est tangled himself in these thoughts, right up until the third evening, when a steward appeared with a message too simple to misread:

“His Highness wishes your company in his chambers tonight.”

He followed the steward across hushed corridors, breath quickening, hands damp against his sides as they stopped before those grand wooden doors.

And then they were opening, and William was there – waiting.

The prince was dressed comfortably for once – a deep green tunic unlaced at the collar, dark hair swept back and tumbling just so. A chessboard was set out on the polished table by the balcony, two goblets shimmering dark with wine.

“Est,” William greeted him with that small, knowing curve of a smile.
“Join me,” he invited – voice warm, rich as a caress.

And so they played.

Move after measured move, their hands brushed as they leaned over the chessboard – fingertips grazing fingertips. Est felt each contact like fire through his skin.

And all the while William never truly stopped looking at him – gaze dragging lazily over his face, his hands, down along his chest as if already imagining it bare.

“You’ve been thinking,” the prince murmured after a time, voice pitched low as if sharing a secret.

Est hesitated, a pawn held mid-air. “Yes, Your Highness,” he answered honestly.

That earned a slow smile, dark and warm.

“Of my offer,” William said – again a statement, not a question. “You’ve been wondering.”

And gods help him, Est had.

“And?” The prince took a slow drink of wine, eyes fixed intently on Est.

“You’re quiet,” he said. “That tells me you have questions.”

A glance flicked up through his lashes, lips dry.

“You spoke of me becoming your paramour,” Est went on, heart pounding faster as the prince watched him. “Why must it remain secret?”

That earned a longer silence – heavy and charged as William set down a rook with a soft clink.

And then the prince was leaning back in his chair, gaze dark as velvet, hands steepled before him.

“Because,” he said, voice like a slow draw of silk across Est’s nerves, “I will not have you used to reach me.”

A breath, a tilt of his chin – eyes gleaming in the candlelight as they locked on Est’s.

“Do you think I haven’t considered what would happen if my enemies learned of you? Of what you mean to me?”

And something shivered deep inside Est at those words – the raw honesty in them, the low possessive note that left him breathless.

“You would be hunted,” William murmured. “Used as leverage. I will not allow that.”

And then – deliberate as a kiss –
“You deserve better.”

The prince’s gaze held him like hands at his throat – powerful and inexorable – and Est felt heat stirring in him all over again.

Est held his gaze, pulse quickening.

And then – softly – William went on.
“I want you wholly mine, Est,” he murmured. “Your body. Your loyalty. Your thoughts when you close your eyes at night.”

He let that sink in a moment before adding – voice low and richer for it –
“You deserve my protection as much as my desire.”

And at that last word, Est’s hands flexed, breath shallow.

And then, as if sensing that Est was still turning it all over in his mind –
“There would be other rewards,” William said – fingers toying idly with a knight on the chessboard.

“Your mother would never worry again.
Your siblings – I would see to their futures.
Your sisters would have proper dowries, fine matches, titles if you wish it.”

He paused, gaze burning.
“Your brother? Established. Ready to carve his own path.”

And you – a pause that left Est breathless –
“You would never lack for anything. Except me,” William said darkly. “And that is something I intend to change.”

Est felt his whole body draw taut as a bowstring – breath trembling in his throat as William let his gaze trail once more down his body as if savoring him already.

And then – as though he sensed how much Est ached to lean into him –
“You have time,” William murmured, voice a slow, dark drawl that pulled low in Est’s belly.
“But not forever.”

A breath, the faint curve of a smile.
“I think you’ll sign your name on my contract,” he promised, husky and sure. “Sooner than you think.”

And as the prince’s hands brushed Est’s for a fleeting moment – warm and promising – Est realized with a shivering thrill that he believed him.

The game continued in hushed silence after that charged moment – the firelight glinting across carved pieces as they moved across the chessboard. Every so often their hands would brush, fingers grazing skin and lingering just a heartbeat too long. Neither of them spoke, and yet the quiet was anything but empty – full of unspoken desire and a thrumming awareness that grew heavier with each passing breath.

By the time the final pieces fell and the game wound toward its end, Est’s heart was beating like a trapped bird. The prince was toying with him – he knew it in the slow curl of William’s lips, the way those dark eyes never truly left him – and gods help him, Est was letting him.

A gentle knock broke the tension as two stewards slipped into the room and bowed.
“Your Highness,” one murmured, “your bath is ready.”

William gave a slow nod, gaze never leaving Est.
“Very well,” he replied – voice like dark silk.

More attendants appeared, some gathering up the chessboard, others moving with practiced ease to unlace the prince’s tunic.

Est felt a rush of heat up his neck at the sight of it – hands brushing over William’s shoulders, tugging loose silk so that pale skin was revealed bit by bit.

He rose, bowing his head politely and making a careful motion toward the door.
“I’ll leave you to your bath, Your Highness,” he murmured.

But William’s voice stopped him.

“Stay,” the prince drawled – one brow arched, lips curved into a knowing smirk.
“I’d like you to read to me while I bathe.”

That small, wicked glint in his eyes told Est exactly what kind of game this was – told him that refusing was impossible, that whatever control he thought he had was already melting like warm wax between those elegant hands.

And so he inclined his head again, murmuring, “As you wish, my prince,” feeling his stomach twist with a heady mix of nerves and thrill.

He made a show of glancing around for one of the books stacked on a nearby table as the attendants efficiently divested William of his clothes – belt sliding loose, tunic pulled back over broad shoulders, boots eased off.

And Est could hardly stop himself from stealing glances as more of the prince was revealed. The light played on lean muscle and smooth golden skin; the graceful curve of his spine as he moved toward the bathing chamber in only a light robe one of the stewards had just slipped onto him.

By the time Est found a leather-bound volume and followed after him into the bath chamber, his palms felt slick with nerves.

The bath was a wide marble basin filled with steaming water and strewn with fragrant petals. Candles glowed against gleaming tiles, and a subtle perfume hung in the warm air.

Est paused at the threshold as attendants gathered around the prince – loosening his robe and lifting it from his shoulders, helping him slip into the water with an easy grace.

And then hands were on him – pouring water over him, rubbing fragrant oils across his broad shoulders and down his back.

Est forced his gaze to the book in his hands.

“Where would you like me to begin, Your Highness?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tight as his chest felt.

“Wherever you wish,” William replied lazily – arms stretched along the marble edge, dark eyes already fixed on Est’s face.

And gods, that gaze was like a touch – slow and teasing and wholly indecent.

So Est began to read.

Lifting the book, he began to read aloud – voice measured, soft.

And all the while he fought to keep his eyes on the page.

Yet, inevitably, they strayed.

Every glance up was a struggle. Every time he dared look, there was more of the prince revealed – long arms draped over marble, chest rising and falling in deep, content breaths, droplets beading and rolling slowly down his body.

And every time, William was watching him back.

The prince’s gaze was an unyielding thing – slow, deliberate, dark with intent. It raked down Est’s form as if peeling back each layer of his tunic, seeing past linen and leather to the bare skin and steady muscle beneath.

And Est felt himself flush under the scrutiny.

His voice was steady at first, finding an even rhythm that kept him grounded.
But every time he glanced up, those dark, hooded eyes were waiting for him – glimmering with heat, lips slightly parted, gaze trailing slowly over him as if peeling him bare.

And gods, Est felt each glance like a caress.

The stewards glided around the prince, hands slick with oil as they worked over his shoulders and arms – long strokes that left his skin gleaming, fingers spreading across the broad expanse of his chest.

And all the while William never looked away – never broke that heavy, wanton eye contact that made Est’s mouth dry and his hands tense around the pages.

“You read well,” the prince murmured finally, voice like silk sliding across bare skin.
“Your voice is pleasant to listen to.”

And then – darker –
“You make a lovely sight standing there, all flustered and trying so very hard to focus.”

Est swallowed hard, breath catching in his throat.

“I’m only serving you, Your Highness,” he managed, heart thudding wildly as William shifted in the water – muscles rippling beneath a sheen of scented oil.

The stewards glided back at a wordless signal, and then it was just the two of them – the prince leaning back against the marble rim, arms loose and hands trailing idly through the water.

And his gaze – gods, that gaze – was like a slow, smoldering burn across Est’s skin.

“Read,” William commanded gently – a wicked curl to his lips. “Keep going.”

And Est obeyed – voice trembling now with a deeper edge of awareness as those dark eyes followed every flicker of expression across his face.

“You read well,” William drawled at last – voice low and rich as wine – “but I would much prefer your eyes on me.”

Est paused, heart stuttering. “My prince?”

“You’re making a game of avoiding me,” William teased – mouth curving into a wicked smile as he shifted against the marble seat and spread one arm casually along the bath’s edge.
“You can do better than that.”

And then – slowly – he ran his other hand through the water, palm skimming up his chest, thumb brushing over one dark nipple as if by idle habit.

Est swallowed hard and lowered the book.

There was nowhere to hide.

“Closer,” William ordered, softly – his tone more invitation than command.

And Est obeyed – breath trembling as he crossed the marble tiles. The scent of jasmine and warm skin hit him like a tide as he paused just outside the bath’s edge, hands clenching at his sides.

“You won’t look,” William murmured, voice husky – so near that Est could feel the heat of him now.

And then, wickedly gentle, “Why?”

Est’s gaze finally met his prince’s – and held.

“You’re…” he began, lips dry – and then stopped, breath caught.

“Speak,” William urged – one elegant brow arched.

“You’re… very beautiful…” Est finally breathed – honesty breaking free, voice rough with something deeper than nerves.

And gods, the way William smiled then – slow and dark – was enough to rob him of breath.

“You’re trembling,” William noted softly, mouth quirked in amusement.

“Your Highness,” Est managed, throat dry.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t want to look,” the prince assured him – voice husky, his dark eyes unblinking. “You can look all you want, Est.”

And gods, he did.

The bath was a glowing world of softness and shadow as William eased back into the water – arching slightly so the candlelight danced across his skin, hands moving with unhurried grace as they traced his own body. Every slow touch was deliberate; every heated look a spark that leapt between them.

And Est could hardly breathe – could hardly do more than stand there and burn.

“You sound sweet,” William began lazily, dragging his fingertips slowly across the surface of the water, making it lap gently at his chest. “I want to hear you say my name. in your sweet voice.”

Est’s lips parted.

“Say it,” William urged – gaze heavy-lidded, one brow arched.

Est’s voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Your Highness…”

That wasn’t what William wanted – clearly – because his eyes gleamed with something hungrier.

“My name,” he coaxed – so softly, so intimately that Est felt it settle in his bones.

“William,” Est breathed – shaky and bare.

And gods, how the prince’s smile darkened at that.

“You say my name as if you want to taste it,” William murmured.

He leaned forward then – close enough that their breaths mingled – one broad hand lifting, damp fingertips ghosting along Est’s jaw.

And then lower – down the column of his throat, then the hollow at its base.

“Do you?” William’s voice was a silken growl.

Every inch of Est felt raw and heated under that gaze. He couldn’t speak.

And William chuckled – a dark, warm sound.

“You want me,” William murmured – the words warm and rich, heavy with meaning – “I can see it all over you.”
His lips curved as his hand reached up – slowly, almost idly – and brushed knuckles against Est’s cheek.

A single damp thumb skimmed the edge of Est’s mouth – gentle and aching all at once.

“You want my hands,” William continued, voice dropping to a velvet murmur, “my mouth… my weight. My cock.”

And gods, Est could hardly breathe.

“But you will have none of that,” William finished – and Est felt as though he’d been stripped bare with a single stroke of the prince’s words.

He froze – breath stalling – and William smiled like a blade.

“Not tonight,” the prince crooned, his voice wrapping around him like silk and steel. “And not tomorrow. Not until you give me more than a lingering glance and a fleeting kiss.”

His gaze burned into Est – dark and deep – as if reading every thought he had.

“You want my hands on you,” William whispered – leaning closer, lips brushing Est’s ear with scorching softness – “you want me under you, around you. You want to feel my body yield to you, again and again.”

Est’s hands fisted against marble, trembling.

“Then sign the contract,” the prince breathed – a shiver in every careful word – “declare your unwavering loyalty and bind yourself to me.”

And then – just like that – he drew back.

Est’s lips parted – want and uncertainty and need warring in his chest – but William was already sinking back into the bath, water swirling around him like silk, all deliberate grace.

“You will get to touch me,” he continued – gaze lidded and satisfied – “but only once you truly belong to me. Once your name is signed, your life – your body – mine.”

And the promise – gods, the promise – was there in his eyes.

“Until then,” William finished – dismissive and deliberate – “you will wait.”

And though every inch of Est screamed to lean in, to taste, to take – he bowed his head instead.

“Yes, my prince,” he whispered – voice hoarse with something aching and dark.

And William smiled – sharp and slow – hands idly stirring the water as he spoke one final time, so close to a growl:

“Go,” he told him softly. “And remember my hands. My mouth. Remember every touch you didn’t receive tonight.”
His gaze held him – unyielding – like a tether drawn tight.
“Because once you sign,” he added – a dark promise in every word – “you’ll have all that and more.”

And as Est finally turned away – trembling, heart racing, heat like a brand beneath his skin – the prince simply watched him go, a knowing glint in his dark eyes.

And Est knew – gods, did he know – that he was already halfway to signing, halfway to belonging.

______________

That next night, Est’s pulse was already racing before the steward had even finished announcing that he was summoned.

The corridors to William’s chambers felt longer tonight, every echo of Est’s boots on marble matching the restless beat of his heart.

By the time he reached the prince’s wing, he felt every inch of himself humming with nervous anticipation.

When at last he crossed the threshold into the prince’s rooms, he noticed it at once – the quiet.

No attendants. No guards.

Just the prince.

William was waiting by the hearth, lounging in a deep chair with a glass of wine dangling between his fingers. His robe was tied loosely at his waist, green silk shimmering in the firelight, leaving an artful V of bare chest visible as he watched Est enter.

“You’re prompt,” William remarked – a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Come.”

Est obeyed, hands clasped behind his back as he stopped before him.

And for a long moment, William just looked – gaze raking up and down Est’s uniform, deliberate, possessive.

“You can lose that stiff look,” he drawled, lips twitching. “There’s no one here but me tonight.”

Est inclined his head, mouth dry, and William reached out – fingers brushing briefly across his knuckles as he passed him a glass of wine.

“Drink,” the prince invited – dark eyes hooded as Est took a cautious sip. “And then, I’d like you to read to me.”

With a graceful gesture, William pointed to a small table where a slim leather-bound book was waiting.

Est obeyed, hands steadying as he accepted the glass and took a cautious sip. The wine was rich and deep, its sweetness blooming across his tongue.

“You look good tonight,” William murmured – letting his gaze trail brazenly up and down Est’s body as if savoring him. “That uniform suits you.”

Est’s face warmed. “Your Highness…” he began – uncertain whether it was protest or invitation.

William chuckled. “Relax,” he purred. “I only mean to enjoy your company tonight. Nothing more.”

That dark look told Est exactly what William wished.

They sat together for a time – making easy small talk, the firelight gilding William’s profile as he spoke, his hands graceful as they gestured. Est listened, watched, sipped at his wine – feeling the tension in him winding tighter with every glance that lingered too long.

And then, as though some unspoken signal had passed between them, the prince set his glass aside and rose in one smooth motion.

“It’s time,” William mused – gaze gleaming as he paused by Est’s chair. “Come, read to me.”

Est retrieved the book – hands tracing the fine binding – then paused, glancing at the cover.

And that was when his breath caught.

The title was unfamiliar – suggestive – and as he skimmed the first page, heat rushed up his neck.

It was an erotic tale.

Very erotic.

_____________

Seems like Est is having trouble deciding… Maybe, just maybe, William can yet convince him to sign the dotted line. 

You will have to wait to find out though. Ooops. 

Gave two back to back exams today – and yet made time add the finishing touches on this chapter – only for y’all. Only for all the support and appreciation y’all show me. 

ENJOY! 

And have a great weekend!