Chapter 9

For a long, taut heartbeat, they held each other’s gaze – hands still joined across the polished tabletop, the firelight painting shadows and gold in William’s dark hair, soft orange glimmers in his eyes.

Then, very slowly, William’s brow furrowed, voice softer – more searching.

“You say you thought I’d taken another,” he murmured, thumb making a slow circle over the delicate skin of Est’s wrist, “but that was after you failed to sign my contract.”

He paused, lips parting on a quiet breath.

“That means that isn’t the true reason,” he concluded. “So tell me, Est – what really held you back?”

Est felt that gentle stroke of William’s thumb all the way up his arm – a fragile warmth at odds with the cold knot of uncertainty that had been lodged in his chest for days.

He looked down at their hands – his broad, calloused fingers dwarfed by the prince’s – and struggled to put it into words.

“I…”

He swallowed, gaze fixed on that graceful touch.

“I was scared,” Est finally confessed, voice so low it was almost a whisper.

“Scared of losing myself – my freedom.”

The words tumbled out, soft and raw.

“You offered me everything,” he went on, eyes lifting just enough to catch the deep blue of William’s gaze, “but all of it came at a cost. Being yours – and only yours – forever.”

And then Est broke their gaze, chin dipping as heat crept into his face.

“I didn’t know if I could give you that,” he said honestly.

He felt his heart thud at the admission, breath trembling in his lungs.

And then – before he could say anything more – he felt William’s fingers tighten gently around his wrist.

“You thought,” the prince murmured, voice so soft that Est had to lean in to catch it, “that being mine would mean losing yourself?”

Est froze at the quiet intensity in his tone.

“That I would take your strength, your will,” William continued – gaze never wavering – “that I would make you smaller so I could fit you into my world?”

Est’s breath caught.

And then, slowly – reluctantly – he nodded.

And the prince just… looked at him.

Looked at him as if seeing him clearly for the first time – not as the proud soldier who had impressed him at first meeting, or the beautiful, eager body who had once followed him to his bedchamber – but as a man with fears, with boundaries, with something deep and worthy behind those dark eyes.

“You shouldn’t have had to fear that,” William murmured at last – his thumb resuming its slow stroke along Est’s wrist as if gentling him.

Est felt the weight of the prince’s gaze like hands upon him – tender, careful, as if uncertain whether Est would pull away or stay.

“You don’t believe me,” William said again – the words gentled by a breath of a sigh. “And I can’t blame you.”

His thumb never stopped its slow, thoughtful circles over Est’s wrist, grounding him to the moment even as Est felt his heart thudding against his ribs.

The prince was so close that Est could see the faintest flecks of gold threaded through his dark eyes – eyes that had once held only an easy, teasing light, and now glimmered with something deeper, more fragile.

The silence between them was taut as a bowstring. Est could feel his own heartbeat against his ribs, each breath seeming too loud in the quiet.

And then William asked again, voice softer still – so soft it felt like a confession in itself.

“Have I ever given you cause to believe I’d take your freedom from you?”

That question lodged in Est’s chest like a weight.

He looked up – and what he saw on William’s face was not the smug amusement of a prince unused to being refused.

It was pain.

Confusion.

And beneath it all – a vulnerable sort of hope that took Est’s breath away.

“I don’t know,” Est murmured at last, voice trembling despite himself. “You never gave me cause, not directly.”

He dropped his gaze, fingers curling and uncurling in his lap as his thoughts tumbled loose.

“But we also haven’t known each other long and I thought…”

A shaky breath.

“That’s what happens, doesn’t it? To someone like me? I’m not high-born. I’m not part of this world. I was afraid if I took your offer – if I crossed that line and became truly yours – I’d become something less than myself. A possession. I’d be yours but you wouldn’t be mine.”

The confession spilled like water from a cracked vessel.

And still the prince listened, utterly still.

Est forced himself to continue, voice hushed and raw.

“You could have had anyone. Beautiful people. Noble people. Anyone who would never dare say no.” He finally glanced up, his brow furrowed with the ache of it.

“You chose me. That was intoxicating. And frightening.”

He laughed bitterly under his breath, rubbing his hands over his face as if to scrub away the shame.

“I kept thinking of my mother, my siblings. They’re all I have – they need me whole. I was scared I’d lose myself so completely in you that there’d be nothing left to give them.”

And then Est fell silent, his last words trembling into nothing as he kept his gaze fixed on his hands.

For a long, aching moment the only sound was the low crackle of the hearth.

And then there was the faint scrape of the chair as William rose.

Est tensed – uncertain what was coming – but instead of leaving, the prince stepped around the table and crouched before him, so close Est could feel the heat of him through his uniform.

When he spoke this time, William’s voice was threaded with a kind of sadness Est hadn’t heard before – deep and honest and aching.

“You deserve honesty,” William murmured, “so I’ll give you mine.”

“When I offered you my bed that first night,” he began, “I thought I was offering you one thing – a single night and an easy way to erase your debts.”

He paused, lips pressing together as if debating himself.

“Then you came to me,” he went on more slowly. “And you were so very different than I thought you’d be.”

Those blue eyes searched Est’s face – as if looking for permission to speak what was inside him.

“You weren’t just beautiful,” William whispered. “You were strong, gentle, careful with me. You weren’t the opportunist or the sycophant most men in my position would draw – you were real.”

Est felt heat rise to his face – a flush tinged with both pride and unease – but William held his gaze, voice low and sure.

“I didn’t expect you to stay in my thoughts after you left,” he continued, every word deliberate. “But God as my witness, Est – you did.”

A breath, caught in his throat – then the prince bent his head slightly.

“That is why I thought about you every day that followed,” he confessed. “That is why I hoped you would take my offer.”

He searched Est’s face then – hoping, perhaps fearing what he’d see – before drawing a long breath.

“And that is also why,” he said carefully, “I will give you a way out if you take a chance on me now.”

Est’s brow furrowed – uncertain.

William didn’t waver.

“You fear losing your freedom,” the prince said simply. “Your sense of yourself. Let me prove those fears unwarranted.”

His thumb finally stilled against Est’s wrist as he held him fast.

“Sign the contract,” he offered – voice steadier than it had been a breath ago. “And I will add a clause – one year. One year of my patronage, my protection, my… devotion,” William’s gaze softened with that word, “and at the end of that year, if you wish to leave – to reclaim your life fully for yourself – you may. No chains. No debt. Nothing to bind you if you choose to go.”

He let the silence hang just long enough for Est to truly hear him before going on.

“For the first year,” he continued, voice low and deliberate, “you may leave at any time you wish. No notice. No repercussion. No debt to hold you. The contract will be symbolic, more than anything else.”

Those dark blue eyes held him captive, so much softer than they had been across the chessboard, so much more earnest.

“You’ll come and go as you please,” William promised. “And at the end of the year – if you choose to stay – it will be because you want to. Nothing less.”

A slow breath left Est, tension melting by inches from his shoulders.

“And if I don’t?” he asked quietly.

“Then I will let you go,” William answered without hesitation, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly – not a smirk, but something gentler. “With my thanks for your service and my goodwill forever.”

And then his voice dropped to something close to a plea.

“Give me that year,” William urged. “And let me show you my word is good.”

His fingers unfurled to palm Est’s hand properly – warm and sure – as he searched his eyes.

“Take a chance on me, Est.”

A breath, then another.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

And Est – heart thudding and mouth gone dry – sat with the weight of that offer.

He saw the sincerity in William’s gaze – the way it glimmered there like something fragile and real.

He thought of his family.

Of his training and ambitions.

Of the ache that had built in him each night they’d spent apart – wondering if William truly meant what he’d offered.

And slowly, slowly – as if feeling his way in the dark – he felt his fingers flex against the prince’s palm.

Est searched him – as though looking for some hidden catch or artful deceit. But all he saw was honesty. All he felt was the steady heat of the prince’s hands cradling his own.

And something eased in him.

That knot of fear that had sat so stubbornly in Est’s chest began to ease – melting like morning mist under sunlight.

“You have my word,” William murmured, hands tightening ever so slightly around his. “And more than that – you have my devotion.”

That was what decided him.

“Alright… I’ll take the chance,” Est whispered at last – feeling his pulse quicken with a mixture of trepidation and a strange thrill.

The change in William was immediate – his blue eyes lighting with something fierce and beautiful.

And before Est could draw another breath, the prince tugged him gently, urgently closer – hands spanning his back – until they were standing chest to chest, heart to heart.

“You won’t regret this,” William breathed against his lips, so close that Est felt the words more than heard them.

And then their mouths met – a kiss that began softly, aching with the unspoken promise between them, then quickly deepened into something far more raw.

Est felt the first taste of him like rich wine – intoxicating and heady – and then William’s hands were moving, one cradling the back of Est’s neck while the other held him tight at the small of his back, pulling him flush against him as his lips parted to deepen the kiss.

Est answered with a low sound in his throat, fingers bunching in the fine fabric of William’s tunic as he yielded to the prince’s hunger – a kiss that grew deeper, hotter, until it was all he could do just to breathe.

And gods, it felt right – the careful brush of William’s mouth becoming a possessive claiming, his hands roaming slowly up Est’s spine, palms warm and sure even through his clothes.

By the time they finally broke apart, they were both breathless – lips kiss-swollen and eyes dark with heat, their breaths mingling in the charged hush of the room.

“I’ll make sure you never regret this,” William promised again, voice a husky murmur as he brushed his thumb across Est’s bottom lip as though unable to help himself.

And this time, Est believed him.

He felt it in every kiss-dampened inch of his lips, every lingering tingle on his skin – a thrill, and a certainty.

They were still pressed close – Est feeling the dizzy aftermath of that kiss humming through him – when a sharp knock shattered the charged silence.

“Your Highness,” came a voice muffled by the door. “My deepest apologies for the interruption. The King and Queen request your immediate presence at a family council in the east wing.”

William let out a low, frustrated sound, forehead tipping to rest briefly against Est’s as though wishing he could simply will the interruption away.

“I told them no summons tonight,” he growled under his breath, then straightened, dark eyes burning as they raked one last time over Est’s face.

“You make it very hard to leave,” he murmured – hands sliding up to cradle Est’s jaw – “especially when all I want is to taste you again. Thoroughly. Properly.”

Est’s lips parted on a breath that felt suspiciously like a whimper, and William kissed him once more – deeper this time, a slow, decadent claiming that sent heat pooling low in Est’s belly.

When at last he broke the kiss, the prince’s thumb brushed gently over Est’s lower lip – gaze dark with promise.

“I really do have to go,” he murmured, voice husky and thick with the effort of restraint. “Else I’d take my sweet time with you right here and now… and believe me, Est – once I started, I wouldn’t stop.”

He pressed one last kiss to the corner of Est’s mouth, then to his cheek – softer this time, more lingering.

“Rest up tonight,” William whispered, breath warm against his ear as he finally, reluctantly stepped back. “Because I have every intention of keeping you very much awake tomorrow.”

And with a final heated look – the sort that seared itself into Est’s thoughts and left him trembling where he stood – William turned and strode to the door.

The latch clicked softly behind him, leaving Est alone with the fading echo of that kiss, his lips tingling and his heart thudding wildly in anticipation of what was to come.

Est slipped from the prince’s chambers feeling as if every inch of his body were alight. The lingering taste of William’s kiss still clung to his lips, and his hands trembled faintly as he made his way through the torchlit halls to his own quarters.

Once inside, he leaned back against the door for a long moment – eyes closing, chest rising and falling as heat continued to curl deep in his belly.

He could still feel the phantom pressure of William’s hands, the slow hunger in his kiss, the way his voice had dropped to that husky whisper that left Est aching.

Drawing a shaky breath, Est finally pushed himself off the door and crossed the small, neatly kept room to where the contract scroll still rested on the polished desk – its royal seal glinting gold in the candlelight.

He ran a thumb across the parchment, feeling an odd, electric weight in his chest.

More a symbol than anything else, really – William had already made it clear that terms would be rewritten tomorrow, new freedoms and protections folded into them.

And yet…

Est picked up the pen before he could hesitate, ink glistening dark and rich as he held it poised above the blank space.

For a breath, he thought of his family – of his siblings’ futures, of his mother safe and comfortable.

And then, more urgently, of William – the curve of his lips, the way his hands had held him so carefully and so possessively all at once, the spark of something thrilling between them that no contract could truly contain.

With a bold, sure stroke, Est signed his name.

And as the ink dried, so too did any lingering uncertainty in his heart.

He left the scroll on the desk and moved to his bed, feeling the last of his tension melt into a hazy warmth as he stripped off his clothes and slid between the sheets.

Sleep took him slowly, dreams unfurling like silk – filled with the taste of William’s mouth, the weight of his hands, and the quiet promise in his voice.

And in those dreams, Est yielded completely – every inch of him already anticipating what tomorrow would bring.

_____________

The next morning dawned bright, the light spilling through the windows as Est took up his post just outside the prince’s wing.

When William finally appeared – dressed in a deep blue tunic that clung handsomely to his broad shoulders – their eyes met across the hall.

That single glance was charged like a spark across dry tinder; Est felt his breath catch, heat rushing to his face, and from the way the prince’s gaze lingered, William felt it too.

The morning rushed by in a haze of duties – meetings with councilors, supervising the palace staff, answering questions from stewards.

Yet every time they crossed paths – the prince sweeping by on some errand, his hand casually brushing Est’s arm, or pausing to murmur something low enough for Est’s ears only – the thrum of anticipation coiled deeper in Est’s chest.

That afternoon, just as Est was standing outside the council chamber, one of the prince’s personal attendants hurried up to him.

“Sir Est,” the young man began with a deferential bow, “His Highness will be leaving the capital in a few hours. Everything is already arranged – his carriage, supplies, and a small guard. You’re to accompany him as his personal bodyguard.”

He added, “He also suggested you begin packing immediately. I’ve already had your duties for the day covered.”

Est thanked him, his heart thumping faster as he turned and made his way quickly back to his quarters.

As soon as the door shut behind him, questions began swirling through his thoughts like a rising storm.

Why this sudden trip?

Was it official work, or one of the prince’s whims?

How far was this private residence, and how long would they be there?

More urgently – would they finally have time, truly alone, to speak again?

Or touch?

Est paused with a folded tunic in his hands as a vivid memory of the prince’s hands on him last night sent heat spiraling low in his belly.

He felt his face flush at his own thoughts and muttered a breathless, “Get a hold of yourself,” under his breath – though his hands still trembled as he packed.

He moved more quickly then – folding clothes, buckling his belt, selecting what was most practical and what was most presentable.

And between one task and the next, he kept circling back to the same thought:

How long would it be until they were finally alone again?

How long until the prince was kissing him as if they had all the time in the world – until Est could feel the slide of those hands across his skin again, and more?

He shook his head, breath catching at the very thought, and set to fastening the last buckle on his satchel.

When he left his quarters to help coordinate the carriage with the other attendants, his face was schooled into its usual calm – but inside, Est’s blood ran hot with anticipation.

By the time Est returned to the front of the palace, William was finishing up the last of his goodbyes.

The king and queen exchanged brief, formal farewells with their son at the top of the marble steps, and then William was striding down to the grand courtyard with his usual easy grace – cloak swirling, an amused glint in his eye as he spotted Est already waiting.

Est fell into place at his side without a word, hands clasped behind his back, eyes trained politely forward even as his heart kicked up a notch.

Two carriages were assembled in the cobblestone courtyard – one lacquered black and trimmed with gold, the other a more modest wagon stacked high with trunks and crates. Beyond them, a dozen mounted guards held their restless horses, with a small knot of servants awaiting their orders.

At William’s signal, everyone began to move – trunks were loaded, servants clambered into their wagon – and Est followed his prince up into the velvet-lined interior of the royal carriage.

He sat opposite William as the door swung shut, hardly daring to breathe as the carriage jolted into motion.

The first stretch of the journey was a quiet one – William smiling and waving through the window at nobles and commoners alike as they moved out of the capital, Est sitting rigid and silent, hands braced on his knees.

Every so often, though, Est felt the prince’s gaze slide across him like a warm caress, making him ache with questions he didn’t dare speak aloud.

And then, at last, they crossed the city gates.

The rhythm of hooves and wheels changed on the country road – and just like that, William pulled the velvet curtains shut with a decisive sweep of his arm, plunging them into a dim privacy filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing and the faint creak of leather.

The prince slouched back into his seat, dark eyes gleaming as they fixed on Est.

“You’re too quiet,” William murmured, his voice pitched low, a smile playing at his lips. “Surely you have questions.”

Est’s mouth felt dry. “I do, Your Highness,” he began carefully, gaze flicking to the prince’s hands – strong, beautiful fingers – then quickly back up.

“Mm,” William rumbled, savoring Est’s obvious struggle. “And what might those questions be?”

Est fought the urge to shift in his seat. “Where we’re going,” he managed after a beat, “and… what work you have there.”

That smile of William’s deepened, slow and knowing.

“Oh, my destination is my private residence – this you must already know.” he drawled. “And as for my work…”

He let his gaze drop deliberately – skating along Est’s chest, his arms, his hands – then back up again, dark and intense.

“My work is you,” William finished, savoring the words like aged wine. “Every inch of you. Every sound you make. Every way I can have you, again and again.”

Est’s breath hitched – a flush climbing up his neck as heat pooled low and sharp in his gut.

“You mean…” he began, voice husky without his permission.

“Yes,” William murmured, leaning forward until their knees brushed and Est could feel the subtle weight of his stare. “Your hands on me. My hands on you. How you’ll look when I kiss you so deep you can hardly remember your own name.”

A pause – charged and electric.

“You thought you could hide those questions from me,” the prince whispered, “but I can see you so clearly. Tell me, Est,” – his voice dropped to a near-growl – “do you feel as impatient as I do? Do you wonder what it will be like to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but you?”

And with that, he reached out – palm warm and sure as it curved around the back of Est’s neck, tugging him a breath closer across the scant space between them – eyes never leaving Est’s.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” William promised, his thumb stroking just beneath Est’s ear as the carriage rocked them into deeper privacy, into deeper hunger.

The carriage wheels thudded rhythmically along the road, the sound like a distant heartbeat. The only light came from the narrow slit at the top of the curtains, painting the interior in long, rich shadows.

Est could feel every ounce of William’s attention on him, even before the prince reached forward and hooked two fingers under his chin, tilting Est’s face up so their eyes met.

“You’re still quiet,” William murmured, his gaze hot and dark. “Tell me what you’re thinking…”

“I know you must have thought about me these past days. About my hands on you.”

A deliberate pause as his thumb brushed Est’s bottom lip, then dragged slowly across it.

“About my mouth. About my body. Have you thought about,” he continued, voice lowered to a husky purr, “what I taste like? What I feel like wrapped around you?”

Est felt heat surge through him, breath catching – but before he could find his voice, William leaned even closer, so close his lips ghosted along Est’s ear.

“You must have,” the prince breathed, his warm breath sending a thrill down Est’s spine. “The way you kissed me that night… you were dying for more.”

He pulled back just enough to let Est see his wicked smile, then leaned in again – hands finding Est’s shoulders, hands sliding lower – tracing the muscles hidden beneath his uniform with bold, deliberate strokes.

“I kept thinking,” William continued in a dark whisper as one hand drifted slowly to Est’s thigh, squeezing, kneading possessively, “about having you under me. Your hands in my hair. Your mouth on my cock. The way you’d look as I fucked myself deep into you – so deep you’d feel me for days.”

He paused to kiss the corner of Est’s mouth, breath a near-growl.

“Or maybe,” he said, his lips ghosting against Est’s as his hands traveled higher up his leg, “you’d rather I ride you. Take you until you can’t move. I’d have you so wrecked, so full, that every moan you make would beg for more.”

Est was trembling, hands flexing on his knees as William’s touch followed his words – palm smoothing up the inside of his thigh, fingers stroking closer and closer to where Est was already straining against his breeches.

“You can pretend to be shy all you like,” William purred, his dark eyes never leaving Est’s, “but I can see the way you’re looking at me. How hard you already are. Tell me – do you want me to taste you tonight? Do you want me on my knees, lips wrapped around you, taking you so deep I gag?”

His voice was pure velvet sin as he spoke, thumb rubbing tantalizing circles against Est’s inner thigh. Each filthy word was like a spark – heating Est from the inside out, sending a helpless shudder through him.

Est swallowed hard.

He’d been so quiet until now – stiff with restraint, eyes fixed anywhere but the prince’s lips.

But William’s words kept coming, low and hungry.

“You want it, don’t you?” William purred, his hand sliding higher on Est’s thigh. “Want to see me fall apart for you. Ride me. Break me.”

Est’s fingers twitched.

A heat stirred low in his belly – not just arousal, but something sharper. Possessive. Commanding.

His breath came out a little faster. And when William leaned in once more, all tease and heat and smug confidence –

Something in Est snapped.

His hand shot up, fisting in William’s hair.

And he yanked the prince toward him – not roughly, but firmly enough to make William gasp, startled, eyes wide.

Est’s voice was quiet. But his words landed like a punch.

“You talk too much.”

William blinked – lips parted, shocked into silence.

And Est didn’t wait.

He kissed him.

Hard.

Teeth catching on William’s lower lip, pulling, biting – claiming.

William moaned into his mouth, the sound half surprise, half surrender.

Est kissed him like he’d been holding back for weeks – all teeth and hunger and heat. He poured every ache, every buried want, into it. His fingers tightened in William’s hair, holding him exactly where he wanted.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were panting – flushed, lips swollen.

Est stared down at him, gaze dark and steady, voice low.

“You’ll be the one taking it.”
“You’ll beg for it.”
“And I won’t stop. Not until I’ve fucked you full and leaking.”

William trembled – chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths.

And Est, finally, sat back with slow, deliberate ease.

Calm again. Composed. But now glowing with quiet, absolute dominance.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

The silence between them sizzled with everything that was about to come.

And the prince?

The prince didn’t look smug anymore.

He looked ruined.

And ready.

And Est just leaned back in the seat again – calm, silent, his touch withdrawn – as if he hadn’t just undressed the prince with nothing but a handful of words.

He didn’t say another thing.

Because he didn’t have to.

William was already shaking.

And Est hadn’t even laid a finger on him yet.

____________

You guys better prepare yourselves for what’s coming in the next chapter – because when they finally get their hands on each other – it will be… explosive? heavenly? filthy? desperate? rough? hot?  – everything and more.

When top Est emerges – we will all bow down and pay our respects haha saghakfjdkj.

Anyway, hope y’all liked this chapter!

Cheers!